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rainrot4me · 7 months ago

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Jeff the Killer General Headcannons

Summary: Basic, SFW, and NSFW head-cannons. My personal thoughts, feelings, and opinions about Jeff as a character.

TW: NSFW below the cut, minors dni! Above the cut is sfw!

Words: 2.6k

A/N: NSFW is reader with female anatomy.

Basic:

- Big isolation guy. He enjoys pestering people or hanging out, but when it comes to personal things like missions or killing sprees, he prefers to be alone. His head’s already loud enough that he doesn’t need to add to it when he’s trying to focus.

- Blunt. Like to the point it’s a drag to even talk to him sometimes. He doesn’t really give a shit about anyone or anything besides himself, so why would he need to hide what he actually wants to say?

- Dangerously short temper. It barely takes one nasty remark or even a hint that you have ill intent towards him before the killer is on your ass. Would rather beat the shit out of you than take the time to reconcile.

- A STARER. Has absolutely no remorse when just boring his eyes into someone, eyes wide and horrifying. He loves to watch every expression as he’s ending someone’s life, every bit of anger or fear, but especially the blank stare in their eyes afterward. You catch his glance all the time, and instead of looking away politely like a normal person would, he just smiles as he glares even harder.

- Loves story based video games that Ben shows him. Life is Strange, Night in the Woods, and What Remains of Edith Finch. Has to play them all in their entirety before he can do anything else, so he’ll be glued to the couch for days.

- Has a difficult time with names, so he comes up with nicknames or terms to make it easier. “Twitch” - Toby, “Sockets” - Jack, or “Glitch” - Ben. Don’t worry, he’ll give you one, too.

- A laugher. When he’s in pain, when he’s sad, when he’s happy, that man is laughing. Choked out dry heaving chuckles or tipsy short airheaded giggles, it doesn’t matter, he will be laughing.

- Terrible sleep paralysis and nightmares keep him up during the night, the most sleep this man will ever get is a little over 3 hours. It really doesn’t help his mood, either.

- The scars on his cheeks used to bleed and get infected so bad he could barely shut his mouth due to the swelling. He would numb it down with pain killers and anything he could find, but it wasn’t until Slender tried to make him into a proxy that they eventually sealed and scarred over, creating wide gashes (weird cryptid powers).

- Thinks about his brother every waking moment. He feels so much pent up regret and sadness concerning Liu, but refuses to search for him or even shed a tear. This sends him into mental breakdown episodes, and sadly, the only relief is just to create more carnage.

- Actually really hates violence unless he’s the one delivering it. Doesn’t like violent movies or music because they romanticize everything he hates about himself. Any media he enjoys is either really bland or really toned down, stuff that won’t trigger him.

- Cuts his own hair, and yes, he’s horrible at it.

- Messed up his appearance to make himself ‘beautiful’, but just ended up so disgusted and ashamed of himself in the long run. When his mental fog gets bad, he’ll just stand in front of the mirror and stare at himself, letting every negative thought wash over. Outside, he’ll brandish it like a weapon, something to get victims to submit. But on the inside, it’s just a nasty reminder.

- Showers only when it gets to the uncomfortable point. He doesn’t have the time or energy or wash himself every day, but when it gets to the point he feels the blood and grime subconsciously, he’ll get over it. Even if he does wash himself, half the time actually in the shower is just letting the water run over him and staring at the tile wall.

- Gets all of his money and random trinkets from victims. Proceeds to spend all that money almost immediately after on a pack of Blue Moons. No orange slice, either.

- Messy, disgusting room. Has no healthy habits of keeping him or his space tidy, so it’s always near disastrous.

- Even though the media and lots of outlets perceive him as this insane maniac killer, those were all big stories from his teenage years. Even though he doesn’t feel like he’s matured, he’s definitely found a happy medium away from spree after spree of slaughter. He still itches to take down a whole neighborhood, but he’s found his ways to cope.

- Very good at hand-to-hand combat. He wields a knife if things get a little rough, but prefers to use his hands to do the dirty work. Makes it feel more personal to him.

- Late-night kitchen demon. You’ll find him rummaging the fridge or making a bowl of cereal in the complete darkness, but he’ll swear up and down it wasn’t him.

- Annoying, painfully so. Hell wrack EJ’s ear off or pester Toby about little things, but he can’t help but get giddy when he sees he’s ticked them off just enough.

- Really agile. Had a thinner build, but muscle definition and tension really adds to the aesthetic. Really defined v-line and hips bones, as well as carved out shoulders and collarbones. Looks like a beefier skeleton, but hot.

- Lip piercings. Snake bites. They’re not healed and they’re not pretty, but he thinks they look badass.

- Scars and jagged pieces of flesh everywhere on his body. They’re either from mission aftermaths, rough targets, or his own doing, but they’re all gnarly and barely healed half of the time. They hurt terribly, but he’s constantly cracked out on painkillers that he doesn’t even care anymore.

- Enjoys the shoegaze music genre. Aldn, Wisp, Elita, Deftones, and surprisingly, The Cardigans and The Cranberries. They remind him of his childhood.

Dating Him/SFW:

- “Baby” “Babe” “Cunt”

- Big words of affirmation guy. He’ll act disgusted and shove you off, rolling his eyes about your sweet words- but in reality, he’s gushing so hard he can’t stand it. Reassurance makes him feel more loved than anything.

- The fastest ‘enemies or lovers’ troupe you’ll ever experience. It’ll only take one face-to-face argument before you both get too close and he’s pulling you in for a rough make out. He’s bad with emotions, what makes you think he wouldn't be bad at reading love/hate signals too.

- HATES to show any sign of weakness or adoration. If you’re laying with him or holding his hand, as soon as someone enters the room he’s shoving you off. It’s not that he doesn’t love you, it’s a deep-rooted fear that someone will use you against him.

- If he’s spent the night in your bed, he will always be gone by the time you’ve woken up. Out of fear of vulnerability, he will only fall asleep after you and wake up before you, otherwise he just won’t stay with you at all.

- He’s like dealing with a little kid. Yes, he’s been through heaps of mental anguish and trauma, but he’s gone through all of that without a hand to hold. In some sad way, he sees something motherly and comforting in you which drives him to latch on and become dependent. It's weird, but so is he.

- Jealousy problems. Big time.

- “He touched you. So I cut his arm off. What is so hard to understand here?”

- Needs to be bossed around. He can and will rot in his bed all day unless you tell him to get up and do something.

- Absolutely melts when you kiss him unprovoked. When he doesn’t force you or tease you into one, but when you decide to kiss his face or hands on your own terms. It’s his favorite thing.

- In his manic brain, he wants something calm, someone who can settle him out. You offer him stability and a chance to unwind and that’s really all he needs.

- As a nervous response, he’ll intentionally push you away if he knows you like him. He holds a lot of regret, so he doesn’t want to drag you along with the rest of his baggage. Will say and do things he knows will hurt your feelings so you leave on your own.

- “And what made you think I’d want you? Because we kissed? Hah! How cute.” Meanwhile, he’s in his room pining himself to shreds.

- Watches you sleep constantly. Doesn’t matter where you are or how far, he will trek through your window or into your bed to watch you snore quietly against your pillow. He likes the vulnerability of it and acting as your ‘protector’, like you have no choice but to rely on him in this state.

- You are the last person Jeff wants to break down in front of, but when it eventually happens, and you’re there with open arms- the killer can barely breathe from how full his heart feels. The feeling of just being able to sob and bury into your shoulder while you rub his back is incomparable.

- Possessive AND protective to a fault. Wants everyone to know you’re his, but at the same time, really enjoys when you flaunt yourself so he can stare down the wandering eyes and really show them who they’d be messing with. Either way, eats it up when you feel good about yourself and safe in him.

- Nasty, terribly toxic relationship. You both bounce off of each other and are constantly arguing, but you both get over it because you’ve grown codependent. There’s nothing ‘casual’ about the two of you, you’re either fuck buddies or desperately clawing at each other for survival. Jeff is an obsessive guy, he either wants everything to do with you or he’ll hide away and tear himself apart over you.

- Jewelry is such a yes for him. If you’re wearing thick earrings or chunky necklaces that brighten your face, he eats it up. He’s such a sucker for silver.

- Does not ask for kisses, he takes them.

- “C’mon baby, I can’t help it. You’re just so fun to mess with.”

- Since he doesn’t sleep much, likes to lay on his back while your head rests on his chest/shoulder. He’ll tangle his fingers through your hair or brush your cheek with his thumb while he stares at you or the ceiling. Even when he has doubts about you loving him, your body always subconsciously shifts towards him while you’re snoozing, and it makes him feel just a little better.

- Fake punches/hits you when he’s bored. Will hold his hands up and box at your face but never making contact, just enough to have you side-eye him. He thinks it’s funny.

- Shoulder kisses.

Dating Him/NSFW:

- Can and will touch you inappropriately no matter the circumstances. His rough hands groping your ass or shoving between your thighs to give flirty little touches in front of everyone, his shit-eating grin when you get embarrassed.

- “Stop glaring, sweet cheeks. I know you want me.”

- Will fight to his dying day that he’s a top, but as soon as you even give him a glint of dominance or snap at him, he’s folding so fast. Dominant person, submissive lover.

- Killing machine on the field, pathetic ass bottom in bed. It takes forever to get to that point, but once he’s mentally checked out and half-drooling on the mattress, he’s so pliable and lightheaded he’ll take it with ease. You have to really work for it, but Jeff trusts you/wants it bad enough subconsciously that he’ll force himself to go into a subspace.

- All-time favorite position is laying you out on your back, one leg up on his shoulder while the other is being held down at your side. It really opens you up and gives the nastiest, most lewd noises that have him pussydrunk. Bonus points for reaching a hand in to choke you.

- “And to think you were beggin’ me to stop while your pussy is soaked. I mean, look at you, babe. You’re suckin’ me in somethin’ awful.”

- CHOKING. Either you or him, he gets off on it so bad. Choking you is so satisfying, he loves the resistance and struggle as you gasp for air, face flushed and eyes rolling with his fist around your throat. Meanwhile, if you’re choking him, his body nearly convulses from the pleasure. He loves the lightheadedness and pressure of it, hoarse chuckles as both of your hands grip around his neck and just squeeze. He thinks he could cum just from being strangled.

- “What’s wrong, baby? Lil’ too much? Ah- You’ll get over it, just open up f’me.”

- Hair pulling, strangling, biting, smacking—really anything that’ll cause pain.

- Standing side-by-side in the mirror, his body is littered with nasty cuts and scars while yours is littered with pretty bite marks and hickeys. He loves it.

- Eating you out is so tiring, but it’s all worth it to look up and see your heavy, glassed-over eyes beaming down at him, lips parted as you’re gasping.

- Hard, quick thrusts that have you gasping and yelping. His hips snap against yours rhythmically until you throw your head back, then he leans in close and shifts his knees closer to really speed up. He never has a set pace, but prefers always adjusting to whatever has you making the most noise.

- “C’mon… Louder- Hah- I’m not stoppin’ till you’re cryin’ for it.”

- A bitch fight every time you two get together. Bickering with the other about ‘who can last longer’ or ‘going until you beg for it’ and it irritates the shit out of both of you. Gets you both riled up that you’re more fighting than fucking, but by the end, you’re both dead exhausted and reduced to panting messed laid out on top of each other.

- Refuses to pull out. He can’t get you pregnant, Slender made sure of that (God help if this heathen was allowed to procreate), so it’s either in your cunt, ass, or mouth, nowhere else. Even if he’s jerking himself off, he’ll wait to cum until he can get to you and finish himself out.

- Stands over you and stares hard enough until you’re reduced to your knees, words never even leaving his lips before you’re unbuckling his belt and shifting his jeans down. He’s fought you enough, sometimes you like to just be good for him.

- Pulling him in by his belt >>>>>>>>>

- Eating you out or sucking you off so much that drool leaks from his scars, eyes so hazed and soft as he hums and moans against you.

- “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

- Fucked you with the handle of his knife because you read something about it in a book and wanted to see if it actually felt good. He was weirded out at first, but when he watched you jerking your hips and mumbling for him to fuck you, he’s never fucked his cock in faster while rubbing the blunt of the handle against your drooling clit. Same thing with running the blade against your skin. It just elicits some reaction out of you that he can’t understand, but it turns him on terribly.

- Has a big thing for cop x prisoner roleplay actually.

- “What? Officer, how am I supposed to finger you with these handcuffs, hm? I guess you’ll just have to let me go, yeah? Or do you not want it as bad as your pussy leads me to believe?”

- Really loves fingering you while he’s buried in your ass. Curling his fingers up to make you arch your back just a little more, having your head spinning from the overstimulation… yeah.

- A 2-3 round champion. He’ll never be able to just cum once and be satisfied, regardless if you’re ready to stop or not, he’s forcing his cock back into wherever it was or in a completely different hole and riding himself out to his next orgasm. If he’s not shaking and on the verge of passing out after sex, it wasn’t good enough for him.

- “Jeff, stop! We could get caught!” “Or you could just shut up and take your panties off. You’re soaked, there’s no point in fighting me when I’m already this hard… C’mon, baby, give me your hand or something…”

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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caffeinewitchcraft · 1 year ago

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The Mayor's Daughter and the Outlaw

Summary: After ten years, you've finally got your shot at your revenge. You've found the Hero. You have him in your sights.

-----

Pull the trigger.

You’ve worked too hard not to pull the trigger. The sweat, blood and tears you’ve shed have been the least you’ve given to be here. The air is crisp and clean nearly a hundred feet up in a pine tree overlooking a remote forest. You’re probably the only person in the world capable of spotting the brown, camouflaged building spanning the length of the small river running through the valley. There’s a hologram of the river it’s covering playing over the building’s walls. Hell, there are even birds flicking occasionally across the illusion, not often enough to draw attention, but just often enough their movement sends your eyes darting to other trees, trying to find where they went.

You breathe in the scent of sun-heated sap so slowly that it takes a solid minute for your lungs to expand. Your pupils flex and adjust whenever the wind rocks your tree. The window you’ve been staring at for the past hour remains in your focus.

The Sun, hair just as fake-gold as it was ten years ago, sleeps on. He’s definitely older now that you can see him in real life instead of on magazine covers or under studio lights. The skin of his neck is loose and folded under the weight of his chin drooping towards his chest. His eyes flicker under his eyelids. The bastard still has the audacity to dream. His arms are crossed over the sun motif emblazoned across his breastplate, his dust-covered boots kicked up on his desk so you can see how worn the soles are. Judging by the way his lips tremble, he’s snoring.

Pull the trigger.

You exhale. This is when you should do it. When your shoulders drop and the wind dies so that, for a moment, the world stands still. There are no whispers across the canopy. Every bough is frozen. The reflection of the sun in the river is overcome by a well-timed cloud and the Sun’s head tilts back to expose the long line of his throat.

The trigger presses back against your finger like an eager puppy. There’s nothing special about the bullets, nothing special about this gun. It’s not the right weapon for what you’re asking it to do, but you’ve had longer and harder shots. You know that you’ll shoot true and the confidence steadies your hand even more. You smoothly pull--

If you kill a Hero, there’s no going back.

Your pupils dilate at the memory. For a moment you don’t see the Sun; you see her with her face burned as red as her prom dress. You try to dispel the image, try to remember that she didn’t die in her prom dress, but it’s too late.

I want you to live, Elian.

You’re suddenly aware of how your lungs ache and your legs burn from the way they’re wrapped around the tree and the bark is digging into your cheek and your fingers are like ice on the trigger. You’re out in the middle of nowhere. This is the Sun’s private residence. The security must be insane even if there doesn’t seem to be anyone else around. What’s your exit strategy again? Your thoughts scatter as her voice rings through your head again.

More than anything, I want you to live.

-------Ten years ago----

You’re what the heroes tactfully call a nuisance. A juvenile delinquent with powers, aka a kid that the police aren’t equipped to handle and the local Hero chapter is too overqualified and too understaffed to address often.

Your moral compass has never had a true north and it only gets worse the more your powers develop. Soon you aren’t just stealing your mom’s car – you’re stealing the neighbor’s and then the neighbor’s neighbor’s and then the neighbor’s neighbor’s neighbor’s until you’re breaking into houses at the top of the hill and joyriding in a car worth more than your entire neighborhood together.

You find out pretty quickly that the heroes care a lot more when money is involved.

You spend your first night in jail after getting chased for three hours in a neon green lambo by the four heroes packed like sardines in a standard issue SUV. It’s laughably easy to out-drive them, choking around corners and careening down alleys that you scouted in the afternoon. Honestly, it would have been easy to get away, but your mom called just as the tank hit empty, asking when you were coming home. You decided to give the heroes a break before they decided to play too rough with a minor.

Mom isn’t thrilled when you tell her you won’t be home in time for school tomorrow.

You kind of expect to be sent to prison the next day when you find out just whose car you stole. The Mayor’s daughter’s car, bought new for her seventeenth birthday a month ago. There are two open secrets about the mayor. One, he’s probably one of the heroes that protect the city judging from how much he praises them every time there’s a mic nearby. Two, he loves his daughter more than anything else.

So when you’re released the next day with a slap on the wrist? Yeah, you’re surprised.

When you’re released the next day to find the golden-haired, blue-eyed Mayor’s daughter waiting outside? Having just bailed you out?

You feel fear for the first time.

“You could have at least crashed it,” she says when she notices you gaping at her from the end of the parking lot. She’s leaning against the hood of a black SUV that looks a lot like the one the heroes chased you in last night. She waves a hand in the air. “Dad says the dents you put in the side will be out by tomorrow.”

Fear, apparently, makes you snarky. “What, you wanted to spend another week getting chauffeured by a hero?”

Her brows jerk up towards her hairline. She throws a glance over her shoulder. “You seeing ghosts? Nobody’s in there. I drove myself.”

“Good for you,” you say. You think you smell. They didn’t give you access to a shower last night. You’re upwind from her and damnit why are you embarrassed if you smell or not? Your chin jerks forward in a challenge. “You gonna give me a ride back home?”

You’re joking, but she nods like it was the plan all along. “Let’s go.”

Is that an answering challenge in her words? Your teeth grind as you force yourself forward. “Very kind of you,” you chirp, swinging up into the passenger seat. The car smells like leather and justice. “Just drop me off on the other side of the train tracks. I can find my way home from there.”

She snorts. “Is that a Footloose reference? Very dated.”

You stare at her profile. “…No. I literally live on the other side of the tracks.”

She flushes. “Right. Well…I’m not dropping you off yet. I want to talk first.”

The doors are locked. You swallow as she carefully pulls out of the parking lot and then guns it into the road without looking. Luckily, no one’s there. “Talk? About what?”

“About how you’re going to steal my car again,” she says. “And this time you’re going to crash it right.”

“You hate the color that much?” you joke.

Her tone is not joking. “You have no idea.”

You don’t find out her name until dinner when your mom’s managed to entice her into a third slice of homemade pizza. She stares down at the slice while your mom waves for you not to stay up too late before going to bed early. Gamely, you’re already on your fifth helping. Criminal activity takes a lot of energy.

“Does your mom know who I am?” she asks.

“Like, in theory,” you say. You’re full and warm as you lean into the hard wooden back of your chair. Mom added olives to your side of the pizza. “She probably doesn’t know you’re the Mayor’s daughter though. Just that he has one.”

“The Mayor…right,” she says. Her jaw firms. She flicks some olives off her pizza and then eats half the slice in one bite. “I’m Gina.”

“Elian,” you say instead of No, you’re the Mayor’s Daughter. You refill her soda cup before your own, just to show her you can be fancy and have manners too. She’s so out of place in your family’s one bedroom apartment. Her shirt is crisp and white, her gold necklace so shiny, that it’s like there’s a sepia filter over the eggshell walls and oak cabinets. “Sprite. Only the finest for the lady who bailed me out.”

“I’m thinking you can take my car next weekend,” Gina says so abruptly you nearly spit out your soda. There’s a hard light in her eyes. “Dad’s out of town for…business. He won’t notice for a few days. You take it, you get out of the city, you drive it off a cliff once you’ve wrecked it doing donuts or whatever.”

“A cliff?” You know exactly where she’s talking about. There’s an abandoned quarry about an hour outside of town. You shake your head. “That’s where people dump bodies. No way am I going out there.”

“They find bodies there because it’s outside of Hero Force’s patrol,” Gina says. She waves her hands in the air so the yellow light from the inset ceiling lights catches on her golden manicure. “If you think about it, it’s the best place to dump a car. Especially when the heroes are going to be out of town.”

You stare at her. “Did you just admit your dad is part of Hero Force?”

Her eyes skitter away from yours. “No.”

“Your dad is out of town next weekend.”

“Yes.”

“And the heroes?”

“Maybe they’re traveling together.”

“I don’t think anyone is supposed to know when the heroes are going to be out of town. Isn’t that like a national secret, or something?”

“We’re not a big enough chapter for it to be a national secret,” she denies. She bites her lip. “Probably a state secret though.”

You stand and your chair chatters against the linoleum. “No. Absolutely not.” It’s time for Ms. Mayor’s Daughter to leave.

She scrambles up after you, following you into the living room. “Why not?! You already mess with the heroes. Weren’t you the one who kept breaking into the mall on a motorcycle? You hijacked one of their delivery trucks a month ago—”

“A food delivery truck,” you say. “Which was more of a commentary about the city’s investment in Hero Force luxury rather than after school programs—” You bite your tongue. You spin so that the couch stays between you. You glance at your mom’s closed door and consciously lower your voice. “How do you even know that?”

“I’ve been watching you,” she says. She laughs without humor, dragging one hand through her golden hair. “Sometimes living in this town is like being in a simulation. We have four A-class heroes for a population of 30,000 and everybody loves them. Nobody thinks it’s strange to have walking nukes in a small town. They love my dad. Did you know no one’s even run against him for the past two elections? It doesn’t matter what he does. He owns this place and these people. He has – could commit murder and it would be justified. People would think it would be justice.”

“He loves you,” you say weakly. Isn’t four heroes a pretty normal number? Sure, the ones in your town are big names, but that’s not weird.

Is it?

“He loves me so he gets to be a tyrant?” Gina scoffs. “If he’s even capable of love.”

“I’m not going to mess around with heroes’ civilian identities just because you’ve got daddy issues,” you say. When hurt flashes across her face, you wince. “Sorry. But it’s one thing to mess with heroes in masks, okay? Messing with a hero’s family—”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem when you were stealing my car the other night.”

“That was before I knew your dad was Mr. Solve or whatever—”

“The Sun,” Gina says.

“What?”

“My dad’s the Sun.”

“That,” you say, “is so much worse. Didn’t he burn some minor villain’s eyes out last week?”

“Yes,” Gina says. Her mouth twists. “The guy got off easy compared to some others.”

You stare at her, momentarily speechless. “And you wonder why I’m not going to antagonize the guy?”

“But you already do,” Gina says. Her eyes are glinting. She looks so out of place against the dim interior of your home, a radiant girl dressed all in white and gold. She rounds the couch and snatches up one of your hands between two of her own. “Everyone else loves my dad. Except you. My entire life, and you’re the only one who dares to make—make statements about Hero Force consumption by stealing their deliveries or make the heroes chase you around an abandoned mall on foot like regular people. You challenge them, Elian. All I’m asking is that you do it again.”

“That sounds like a lot more than just crashing your car,” you say. Your voice sounds very far away. You never thought of your actions as so noble. There’s a tingling in your stomach that you’ve never felt before and your hand is so warm. She sees you. You shake the fantasy out of your head. “I—look. I’m flattered, but I’m not your guy. The heroes know my face. It’s only a matter of time before I get sent to whatever detention super-powered kids get sent to. I have to graduate high school.”

Rather than discourage her, Gina presses closer. “What if I told you there’s a way to do both?”

Her closeness fogs your brain. “Both?”

“Take the heroes down a notch and maintain your identity,” she says. She releases you and whirls to get her purse off the couch. “I can help you. We can train so that the heroes never recognize the new you. You can use your powers in new ways. And you can wear this.”

She thrusts a piece of chewed leather into your hands. A mask.

“I’m thinking,” she says, “we call you Outlaw.”

------ Now ----

You can’t shoot. Night is falling by the time you admit it to yourself. You press your back against the rough bark of the tree and stare up at the first stars. You cradle your gun in your hands.

The bloodlust is still there. You aren’t a fair lily incapable of staining your petals red (as red as her). So why can’t you pull the trigger? Because of her ghost? Her last message to you?

If you kill a Hero, there’s no going back. More than anything, I want you to live, Elian.

You grind your teeth. Easy for her to say. The dying never have to feel the weight of consequence. They can just say whatever the fuck they want.

You aren’t thinking when you climb down the tree. Your powers give you a lot of things – speed and healing, an instinct for the outdoors, and excellent eyesight. You don’t need to look to find one branch and another, dropping to the forest floor in ten-foot increments. By the time your boots hit the ground, you know what the problem is.

Unlike your other kills, this one is personal. It was never going to be enough just to see him dead. You need him to know why you’ve got him in your sights.

The Sun is an old school hero. The traps you were so afraid of are predictable, turns out. You pick your way around bear traps and landmines, sharp eyes easily picking out silver trip wire when it glints in the moonlight. There are cameras, but there’s likely only one person with access. In the past ten years of following the Sun, you’ve learned two things about him.

One, he’ll kill the things he loves before he loses them.

Two, he doesn’t trust anyone but himself.

You get to the building inside of an hour. The first floor is hidden by steel shutters and there’s no light peeking out from behind them. The second floor window where he’d been sleeping for most of the day shines with the faint blue glow of a television.

The front door looks like a bank’s with how thick it is. There’s a keypad and a biometric scanner you don’t have a prayer of hacking.

That’s okay. You’ve already seen your way in.

You climb up the nearest pine tree. The Sun likes to think of himself as a competent hero, but too many mayoral kickbacks over the years made him soft. He surrounded himself with powerful heroes and never once struggled to win. Because of that, he’s missing some caution and common sense. The building’s first floor is locked up tight, but the windows on the second are regular glass.

And he hasn’t trimmed the tree line back far enough.

You fire your first shot of the night into his empty desk chair, exactly where his chest had been hours earlier. Immediately a siren sounds, and the TV glow coming through the office’s open door is consumed by bright light. You run two steps and then leap, neatly flipping through the empty window frame. Your boots slide for a moment on the broken glass and you catch yourself on the edge of his desk. There are medical papers scattered across it, prescriptions and diagrams of the face and eyes and heart.

You chew your cheek at the sight of a pill bottle. There had been rumors that the Sun is sick with his own radiation poisoning. It’s good you’re here before nature runs its course.

The siren wails for another beat before dying. The silence rings. Your heartbeat picks up as your ears strain to hear if anyone’s coming to meet you. Strange. The Sun had to have been the one who shut off the alarm.

So where is he?

You hold your gun out in front of you and check your mask. The Sun knows who you are by now, but you want him to see the mask she gave you. The handsewn leather, patched more times than you can count, is recycled from one of his old leather jackets. It feels oddly poetic to be dressed in the first iteration of your costume, cowboy hat tipped back and a biker vest embroidered with the name she gave you.

Is the Sun hiding? You creep out of the office, eyes darting from the quaint landscapes hanging on the wall to the tasteful wooden floors. The Sun’s safe house feels more cabin-y than you expected. The property deed has been in his name for the past fifteen years. Did Gina ever visit? Her ghost runs ahead of you, golden nails dragging along the peach wallpaper to the first open door on the left. She looks over her shoulder and smiles.

There are times when you’re glad for the afterimages your brain conjures. This is not one of those times. You don’t think she’d be happy to see what you’re about to do.

You swing around the doorway gun first, a snarl on your lips. “You old bastard, drop what—”

The smell of antiseptic hits your nose first, dashing away the red haze filling your vision in an instant. A TV murmurs against the wall, some rerun of an old western, but it’s not what holds your attention.

There’s a bed in the center of the room. The Sun sits at bedside, his attention wholly invested on the hand he’s holding up. Carefully, he applies gold paint to the nails without once looking up at you.

The woman in the bed is obscured with white gauze and beige compression bandages. Her breathing is soft and even. The one eye you can see is closed and still. No dreaming, no awareness.

“Outlaw,” the Sun says. He gently sets Gina’s left hand down on her stomach and picks up her right. He squints at her pinky nail. “Close the office door, would you? I don’t want the heat to escape.”

“What,” you breathe, “the fuck.”

-----Ten years ago ----

It’s a good year with Gina. You never realized how friend-starved you were until she was there, over at your house every day after school. She always makes it sound like she’s coming over to talk about the Outlaw thing, but there’s other stuff too. Movies and cooking and tutoring.

“Life is about balance,” Gina says sagely during one such tutoring session. “Besides, even heroes don’t go on more than two missions a month. We’re doing just fine.”

There’s always a pressing need to do more though. Whenever you pull off a particularly daring heist, she smiles this secret and pleased smile that makes your stomach flip. Sometimes, when the two of you watch news coverage of your getaways, she murmurs how impressed she is, how smart you are, how cool your powers are.

It makes you want to do anything for Gina.

You’re watching the news one day, waiting for a recap of how you stole the Sun’s favorite shield from the armory, when a rare story comes on. A Hero is dead, some guy named Ibis from Atlanta. There aren’t any leads to the culprit except for eyewitness accounts of a mysterious, winged super-powered individual flying low over the city, hiding in storm clouds.

“I’d kill a Hero,” you blurt out.

Gina jerks so hard that the popcorn bowl goes flying out of her hands. She doesn’t seem to notice. “What?”

“N-not your dad or anything,” you say quickly although yes, if you had to kill anyone, you’d start with the man who makes Gina cry like that. “Just…in general. The news anchor said Ibis was connected to a civilian’s death, right? I could kill a Hero like that.”

“No,” Gina says. She drops off the couch to kneel by you. “No, Elian.”

You flush like you’ve done something wrong. You sink into your hoodie. “I’m not going to, I’m just saying—”

“If you kill a Hero, there’s no going back,” Gina says. She’s too close, so close that you can see the flecks of gold hidden in her eyes. “Your life—it’s not like what we’ve been doing. Dad’s got rules when it comes to stealing. But if you kill a hero?” She shudders. “I want you to live, Elian.”

“I got it—”

“Please,” she blurts out. The plea in her voice makes you really look at her despite the pounding of your heart. Her eyes are wild and her mouth is pressed into a thin line. “No matter what. Promise me.”

“I—” No matter what? You slowly shake your head, trying to get away from the instinctive desire to agree with her. “I-if someone is really bad, I’d—”

“Elian—”

The tension makes you truthful.

“If your dad hurt you, I’d kill him,” you say. When she rears back, this time you follow. You brace your arm against the couch so you can lean into her space. With your other hand, you trace the fading burn on her cheek that could pass for an old sunburn if you didn’t know the truth. “I know you don’t think he will, but he’s been erratic lately. And I know about his temper. If he hurts you, I’d kill him.”

The air thickens between you. It’s rare that you don’t back down, but you’re not backing down now, staring into her eyes. Competing wills. For a moment you let everything you feel come to the surface. Your frustration when she visits with that fucking shadow in her smile, the helplessness when there’s another burn on her arm, the adoration when she’s just there.

Gina shudders and looks away first. She licks her lips. “I—I…appreciate what you’re saying, but I’m fine. You agreed I got to make the rules for Outlaw. I’m telling you one. Don’t kill heroes.”

She’s pulling away. You do too, falling to her side and sitting next to her rather than hovering over her. You try for a careless shrug but fall short. How can she make you feel so powerful one second and so powerless the next? You avert your eyes. “I won’t kill heroes,” you promise.

You hear her suck in a breath. “Good. Because I need you alive.”

“I do like being alive,” you say and don’t finish the sentence with with you.

“We’re done studying,” she decides. She darts up towards the kitchen. “I’m getting another bowl of popcorn before we start the movie. You want some?”

You stare at your reflection in the dark TV. Your jaw works. Finally, you say, “Nah. I’m good. I’ll just eat it off the floor.”

“Don’t be gross, Elian!”

------Now.----

“I will regret that day for the rest of my life,” the Sun says. He hasn’t looked at you once. His eyes are glued to the steady rise and fall of Gina’s chest. He times his breathing to hers and then sighs. “What a fool I was. Drunk on power.”

You’re standing on the opposite side of the bed. Your gaze flicks from Gina to him and back again. “Is she ever conscious?”

“It’s a medically-induced coma,” the Sun says. “The doctors say she should wake up any day now that most of her injuries have healed. Her last surgery was the final one. Now it’s up to her.”

This might be the first time in ten years that you’ve breathed. You suck in air greedily and imagine you can taste her scent under the layers of sickness and medicine. “They told me she died.”

“I told Hero Force you did it,” the Sun says. There’s no remorse in his voice. “They always tell villains they were successful, so they don’t try again.”

A decade of rage slides around your ribs. “You fucking bastard.”

“I did think it was your fault ten years ago.” He carefully picks up Gina’s left hand again to apply a second coat. It takes all your willpower not to slap him away from her. “If you hadn’t stolen Hero Force data, I wouldn’t have had to come after you with my full power. She would never have been in the line of fire.”

You’re fists shake at your sides. “I didn’t steal Hero Force data, I stole your fucking car. Don’t rewrite history.”

“There was Hero Force data in that car.”

“It was your Porsche, your civilian Porsche!”

“My fault to have left sensitive data out,” the Sun says. His confession surprises you into silence. “But I had to get it back no matter what. Then I blamed you by thinking how if you’d only asked me to take my daughter to Prom, I would’ve known she was in the car.”

“She’s not your property and it’s not the 1800s, of course I didn’t ask if I could take your daughter to—”

“I’m telling you what I thought,” the Sun interrupts. He finally looks at you. He looks worse than he did earlier, the years cutting deep lines into his face. There are black bags of exhaustion under his watering eyes. He breathes out shakily. “I had to tell myself it was your fault. It was the only way I could survive, Elian.”

Your real name shocks you. You stumble back. “How do you know that name?”

“She calls for you sometimes,” the Sun says. He drags a hand over his face before grimly returning to his daughter’s nails. “She’s never been really conscious for long. The d-damage took a long time to heal. But when she’s awake, she calls for you and she calls for Outlaw. Wasn’t hard to put the pieces together.”

Your chest throbs. “I should have been here. You should have—I could have—”

“Blaming you let me keep her by my side,” the Sun says. “I don’t expect you to forgive me or even understand me. But I…I regret more than anything what I’ve done to my daughter.”

“You’re going to regret it even more,” you say. The rage you feel is like a tidal wave. Ten years. Ten years. You could have held her hand through her recovery. You could have been there for her. And this selfish asshole who never even loved her like a father should took that away from you. You remember your gun. “You never deserved to be her father.”

“I didn’t, did I?” the Sun asks. He sets her hand down and swallows hard. He looks down the barrel of your gun without flinching. “She says one other thing, you know. When she asks for you.”

The curiosity stills your trigger finger. “What?”

“She says, Don’t kill heroes.”

Your face contorts. There’s the memory of popcorn in your mouth and the heat of her eyes on you. “Yeah, she said that to me before too. Back when I offered to kill you the first time.”

The Sun hangs his head. If he’s surprised to hear that, he doesn’t show it. “I wasn’t a good father.”

“No. But she didn’t want you dead.”

Understanding dawns. “Don’t kill heroes.”

“Exactly.” You tilt your head. “Do you feel like a hero?”

His lips tremble. His gaze drifts back to his daughter. Her eyes are flickering under eyelids. “I—I—”

The trigger presses back against your finger, eager and ready. “Do you?”

He licks his lips. “N-no,” he whispers. He closes his eyes. “No, I don’t suppose I do.”

This time, it’s easy to take aim. Steady your breath. And—

Fuck.

“Leave,” you say. You drop your gun back to your side and scowl when the Sun’s eyes fly open in surprise. “If you do what I say, you’ll live long enough for Gina to decide what to do with you. Leave and don’t tell anyone about this.”

The Sun shakes his head. “No, no I can’t leave her—”

“Then die here,” you snap. You bare your teeth at him. “Leave. We’ll be gone in a week. Maybe she wakes up and calls you. Maybe she—” You take a deep breath. “Well. Maybe she doesn’t. Either way, your part is done here.”

“I need to be there when she wakes up. Please, I’m her dad—”

“You’re her murderer,” you say. More than anything, you want to pick Gina up and run out of here before the Sun can stop you. You eye the monitors and know three people you need to call for advice before you even attempt to move her. A week should be just enough time to disappear. “You think you deserve to stay by her side?”

The Sun opens his mouth twice before he finds words. “I just—let me stay until she wakes up. That way I’ll know.”

“I spent ten years thinking she was dead,” you say. “You can last a month in limbo. If I have to ask you again, we’ll finally see who’s stronger now that I’m all grown up.”

The Sun picks himself up slowly. You think he cries. You’re not sure. He may even plead with you again. You’re deaf to it. Your brain has given up on splitting your attention and every atom of your being is homed in on Gina.

She’s alive. She’s alive.

You kneel at her bedside and wait for her to wake up.

----

Thanks for reading! If you want to read more of work or get access to stories like this a week (or more!) early, please consider checking out my Patreon (X)! This week's short story for my Triple Shot and above tiers is about a world where being loved adds years to your lifespan!

Based off this prompt (X): Love determines how long you live, some people are in their hundreds, but some don’t even live to be 20.

#my writing #short story #superheroes and villains #my superpowers

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pjackk · 1 year ago

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Extremley Urgent Action Needed

Hi everybody i hate to to it but im in a realy bad spot and ive been pretty much bummed out really badly lately and lots of people on here are actually being really bad to me constantly and telling me lots of mean shit all the time and im pretty much in a super bad spot because im mentally fucked up badly right now and the theres some some holidays and shit comign up and i dont give a fuck about heaven or hell cuz my life is fucked anyways and going to shit so i dont know how it could really get worst but i pretty much want to treat myself and practice self care by making the right choices for me and getting shit that i really want as a gift to myself since nobody else will ever get me free shit since im a societal freak and a piece of shit apparently and something i really want is a Cast Iron Money Man

So the great part about the guinness Stout moneyman is that on top of making me enjoy my life for once in my fcking life if i had him it would teach me how to save my coins and put them in a safe place so they dotn keep falling down the drain because whenever im counting my pennies and other brown or shiny colored coins its always in the sink cuz thats the only place not filled to the brim with stupid shit i keep finding LOL i keep finding shit on the ground and in the trash and its often interesting as fuck shit like a stick that would be realy goood for turning into a weapon if needs to be if i was attacked from every angel a great way to fight them and a perfect advantage to have is to have the range advantage so if the thieves and other bandits were coming at me with knives and shit i would be able to bash them with my stick and maybe break there bodys while im at it and i could legaly say i killed them to defend my self and all my other shit so anyways theres tons of shit everywhere and since i just throw away my dishes when im done with them because they are way to dirty and beyond even the level to get it cleaned no more cuz shit is dried on there and wont come off if i make it wet i just gie up so that means theres never shit in my sink exept for the coins when im counting them but the big problem is i dont have a money man made out of cast iron to keep my coins safe so they fall down the drain and when i try to pop them up by dumping oil in the drain and using gargage disposal switch it just crunches them up and shoots fragments into my glasses and always breaks my glasses so i always have to get new glasses since they are always breakign whenever i lose my coins but the big problem is since i dont have my coins no more since they all get all torn up and shit its super hard to afford new glasses or food at all even though i dont technicaly have to eat its always fun to eat yummy shit so please consider to send me money to help muy shit as fuck mental get better and invest in my prosperity i promise u it will trickle down to u and u will benefit from my well being im actually working on a new CD right now with dope as fuck music but its realy really hard to be creative when i dont want to get out of bed because im always hung tf over from drinking a shit load of top notch gin a the pub all night and feeling super depresed basicaly my Guinenss beer Shaped money man would be a perfect way to solve my problems let me know if u want to help by clicking the beer above and giving me money to spend on my cast iron money man

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roseyodditea · 4 months ago

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Hiiiiiii, your works are all lovely! I really love how you potrayed all the characters you write! Send you lots of love!

May I request Harumasa x reader, which reader's job is like in the same division as Jane Doe and reader also have many identities. That somehow stumbled upon a fate meeting Harumasa times to times with their many identities, but with Harumasa's skill, he connect the dots with every meeting with reader no matter how many identities or conditions they met and then gathering her guts to get to know reader more👀

Sorry for bothering! Hope you always in a good conditions!

Failed Investigations - Harumasa x gn! Reader

Summary -> 1.9k Words. You are an undercover officer for Public Security who encounters an unlucky situation named "Asaba Harumasa" in your investigations Warnings -> None A/N -> Sorry it took a couple days! Life got in the way. I got a little whimsical on this one I won't lie. I wanted something fun since classes start soon.

Today was finally the day you could get out of this hellhole and get back to your comfy PubSec desk for a little bit. This undercover mission in this gang of hollow raiders seemed to go wrong at every single step of the way and you were just trying to hold on at this point. Jane owes you so many favors after you took this mission for her. Deep cover was more her style than yours.

You leaned back against the uncomfortable concrete wall, watching a group full of idiots gamble what little money they had earned from the recent break-ins away on a card game. Standing up and stretching, you take note of the time and know your salvation will be here in less than an hour. Less than an hour and you’d be back on your team, shoulder to shoulder with officers and no longer doing undercover work.

Down the halls you heard screaming, the sound of the door breaking down, and the sound of weapons clashing. Now PubSec was a mess and a lot of things could change and be different, but them being early was not a possibility in the slightest. You had a choice here. You could either hope and pray to whatever higher power was out there that it was just your coworkers, or book it and have to explain to Zhu Yuan that your investigation was ruined.

“They’re in the rafters!” The shout from one of the hollow raiders made your decision for you. You were already on the move when you caught the glimpse of an arrow flying and embedding into a canister of ether, exploding to create a cover of ether dust that burned the lungs and eyes. You dash to an exit that wasn’t as well known, only to catch a flash of someone charging right towards you.

You caught the brunt of two blades propelled by the body weight of a man you had dreamed of meeting on your two hunting knives, deflecting them away. You didn’t have time to stagger before he was delivering practiced blows and you could barely keep up. If you were brought into the custody of the HSO, PubSec wouldn’t be alerted for far too long, and you had a bigger fish to catch than what Section 6 was currently flushing out of the abandoned warehouse.

“Let me go, it’ll be worth it!” You tried to plead as you were on the defence, deflecting blow after blow, thankful H.A.N.D and PubSec training was close enough for you to defend against him.

“Likely story.” Harumasa scoffs, starting to put more electricity into his attacks. Two more blows and you had a plan, remembering what happened to the canister filled with ether.

Oh Zhu Yuan was going to kill you for the paperwork you were about to generate.

“Sorry!” You warn before meeting his electrified blades with yours swirled with ether, the reaction causing a cloud of ether dust to explode and fill the air. Harumasa was caught off guard, erupting into a fit of coughs as he stumbled back away from the cloud of ether, giving you more than enough time to dash out the exit, the rest of Section 6 too distracted with the other hollow raiders to notice you slinking away.

**********

“I’m sorry Officer (l/n),” your team lead lied to your face. “Your investigation was incomplete so you won’t get the bonus on your next paycheck. We’re also putting you on a different case since we believe you were made by the other hollow raiders.” “You have got to be kidding me.”

**********

Messing up one assignment wasn’t the end of the world. In your line of work it was honestly expected. Maybe having a case ruined by *the* Asaba Harumasa was more of a blessing than a curse. That was the closest you’ve ever gotten to having a conversation with him.

You looked in the mirror, happy with your new haircut and dye job. You had gotten too good at this, hot swapping appearance between every case. You grabbed the SFX makeup kit and decided that this identity would at least have a cool looking scar on an eyebrow. Pleased with the unrecognizable state of your face you packed everything away and went to your next assignment.

This was an easy one. You were to take part in some sort of drug ring to try to trace the source so PubSec could have one last public win for this quarter. This sort of cut and dry undercover sting was definitely more your style. You stepped out of your car to go stand by the statue near the Ballet Twins Hollow, waiting for the dealer as you watched the shifting hues of the hollow. Part of you felt like something was wrong. You looked over your shoulder and-

Oh for fucks sake.

“For what they are, it’s a damn shame they’re so pretty.” Harumasa said as he leaned against the railing. Seems even the ears of a trained PubSec officer were no match for the silent steps of a Scout.

You stared hard at the hollow, trying not to let your nerves show. Surely you were unrecognizable enough for him to not clock you the second you opened your mouth. “Maybe the bright colors are like the patterns poisonous animals have. Warning about the danger, ya know?” Harumasa looked over and let out a little noise, looking at your face a little too long to be comfortable. “I suppose so. It’s not safe out here this late for civilians.” Your brain kicked into third gear, trying to come up with a believable excuse that wasn’t ‘yeah I’m here to meet a drug dealer and you’re really messing up my investigation right now’. You went to pat your pocket and… oh you didn’t even have your badge on you right now. “Just out here for the view. I like keeping track of how much the hollow is shrinking. You can see more and more of that tower every week.” You tried to sound like a hopeful civilian. “Makes me think that everything is gonna be okay… That all of this is worth it.” Harumasa glanced back at you, a flash of recognition when you said ‘worth it’. Crap. You said those exact words to him back in the hollow, didn’t you? There was no way your accent was that recognizable.

“Yeah.. It’ll be worth it.” Harumasa said and looked around. “There’s the person I need to meet up with.” He said as an ungraceful exit and just left, walking up to the drug dealer you were supposed to be investigating.

Another investigation ruined by Asaba Harumasa.

**********

“Officer, you’ve really been off of your game recently. Do you need to be assigned fewer cases?” Your team lead looked at you like you were stupid.

“No. Just give me something that can’t possibly be linked to H.A.N.D.”

**********

You brushed the wig into place, settling into your next cover story. This was a simple case another undercover operative had set up for you. In and out, cut and dry, not a chance that you’d see that smug smile and golden eyes. You put down the brush and let out a laugh to yourself. You had met a man you admired and looked up to twice. There had been many events where PubSec and Section 6 were in the same spot and you tried to build up the courage to go introduce yourself to the team, but you never did. You never thought you’d end up having two investigations in a row ruined by the man who made you so nervous.

You dressed yourself in the dark clothing, making sure your lockpicks were in the case as you slipped them into your pocket. PubSec was going after a corrupt rich guy who was mining in a hollow or something (you weren’t really paying attention to why you were doing this), and you needed to break into an apartment and steal a flash drive so the man could destroy it. There was enough anonymous contact that PubSec couldn’t move in until you handed the drive and could get him on a possession of stolen property charge. Whoever this man was, he was important enough for the commissioner to actually sign off on you robbing someone.

It took a few hours for you to see your way in. You had changed to wear a maintenance uniform so no one would question you in the hallway. You were sure the apartment was empty, no one was looking… perfect timing. You easily picked the lock, slipping in and looking around at the rather messy apartment. You stepped into the bedroom and started to dig through piles of prescriptions and pill bottles that piled on the desk. You saw a flash of shiny metal before successfully picking up the flash drive. You started to shift the papers and bottles back to where you found them when a label caught your eye.

Harumasa, Asaba

“...are you fucking kidding me…” You mutter and let out a breath, only to hear the lock on the front door start to click. You were going to kill your team lead. Someone should have told you who’s apartment this was! Who did this get past!?

You ducked through the living room right as the door was opening and slid out onto the balcony, holding your breath as you heard the footsteps. You pressed harder against the wall as you heard the balcony door slide open.

“...three times is just unfortunate.” Harumasa looked at you smirking. “You’re telling me.” You tried to laugh.

“Should I arrest you?” “Probably not.” Harumasa laughed at that. “Why are you on my balcony?” “That’s classified.” You both looked at each other and down to the drive. Harumasa suddenly changed demeanor. “Who’s side are you on?” “PubSec. You’ve ruined three investigations of mine now, by the way.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” He promises, still with that smirk on his face. The silence between you two was palpable, the air heavy and thick with the same feeling you’d get whenever you tried to gather the courage to talk to him. You cleared your throat three times in the same nervous pattern you had built up by habit and Harumasa’s eyes lit up with the sudden recognition. “That’s why you look so familiar, it’s you!” His tone made you panic, but not in the way you were panicking just moments before. “What do you mean?” “You’re the PubSec officer who always awkwardly loiters around HSO booths during conferences!” In all of your years of being an undercover officer, you had never known shame and humiliation like this. “Oh my god I’m not here.” “It’s you! You’re the officer who once answered ‘newspaper’ to Yanagi asking if you felt alright!” “STOP!” You walk into his apartment to try to leave.

“I watched you fall off a chair taking down a banner six months ago during the VR event!” “NO!” You shriek in humiliation and get out of that apartment as soon as possible, slamming the door as you hear laughter coming from inside. You got maybe three steps down the hallway when the door swung back open.

“I saw a rookie officer miss so badly they tased you by accident!” He shouts to you as you practically sprint away from him.

Additional A/N -> My writings seem to be getting longer and longer... lmk in the replies if you personally prefer longer or shorter oneshots.

#oneshot #asaba harumasa #harumasa x reader #zzz harumasa #harumasa x you

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docprof · 5 months ago

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Mene mene tekel upharsin Part 5 - NATO Ukraine USA stand defeated

The money laundering of Democrats Obama Biden Kamala Harris is bleeding USA to DEATH... the empire is crumbling.... Ukraine is dead with no soldiers left to fight .... over 1.1 million UKRANIAN Soldiers are dead... NATO is rendered toothless demilitarized with over 600K NATO soldiers dead... so much so that FRANCE is desperately urging , EVERY EU Nation to send soldiers to Ukraine ; to which Poland and most Violent Russophobe Eastern European states refused...

The reason is simple.... they all know, they can't survive on the battleground ... it is a different thing, to shout from your chairs and chambers , but in reality even British Army , as per their own internal assessment, can't last for a week against Russian army....

In a master chess move Putin and Erdogan of Turkey reached a deal pitching NATO Vs NATO... Turkey forces are fighting USA backed militia in Syria... Sec Blinken had to rush to Turkey to urge them to not kill all NATO militia in Syria ..... Vultures have started gathering... Erdogan is talking of cancelling 100 year old WW1 treaty and re-enacting OTTAMAN Empire ... the ancient battle ground has opened up... all this thanks to inferior USA weapons and technology .... and the weakening of the USA .... thanks to stupid American voters who kept Democrats in powers for so long .... they have done nothing but looted USA and pardoned the corrupt .

America is trying to win an imaginary war by propaganda like it always has... USA is on its knees; few steps away from surrendering or breaking away... Can Trump Save it? Perhaps not... hence he is proclaiming to make CANADA and MEXICO American states... The dethroned bankrupt empire of lies and deceit can now only rule its own neighbors... Kiss Rule based order good bye....

While delusional Ukrainian NATO Europeans are dreaming of Russia breaking and surrendering .... not knowing their master is about to desert them... to save itself... from nuclear oblivion.... loser NATO Ukraine EU can't dictate terms and will not be allowed to.... ad infinitum WWIII...

Nothing unites the human playground quite like one intrepid soul willing to stand, fight, and humble the bully.

The tripartite alliance of Russia, China, and Iran is an adversary more than adequate to roll back imperial rule by leaps and bounds, and in a relatively short span of time.

Many of the “middle powers” can also see which way the wind is blowing, and are positioning themselves accordingly. Spheres of influence are being aggressively pursued and secured in every quarter of the earth.

And perhaps most meaningful of all, they are cooperating to progressively repudiate the empire’s debt notes as the coin of the realm. They have come to understand that a prerequisite to “fixing the world” is to return its money system to a much more equitable and sustainable basis.

An alternative currency is coming... USD will come to an end much sooner than FED would have stupid americans believe.... The corruption of Obama Biden Harris Democrats has rotted America to the core ... USA lost the big war...

The DEATH OF EMPIRE IS MARKED........ whether it goes down slowly, or takes away whole earth in a fit of rage, by launching nuclear war which it can't win.... remains to be seen .... having lost the traditional proxy war .... with armies no longer willing to fight as proxy for it....

USA Democracy farce and hypocrisy stands exposed with increasing governments calling it out... including the majority nations in the UN...

It appears Russia has cut the empire into pieces.... it has achieved what Gorbachev and soviets compromised to not achieve for peace... The days of americans will be numbered with poverty , hunger and reality shocks, as World economy, decouples from the USD over coming years.... No more money printing will save the EMPIRE or turn the tide..........

PART 6 TO COME.....

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ghost-proofbaby · 10 months ago

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I'D GO BACK TO DECEMBER, TURN AROUND AND CHANGE MY OWN MIND.

summary: eddie can't sleep, and decides to write a song. you join him.

warnings: strong language, angst, minors dni

wc: 5k+

a/n: if you're curious about the song eddie is writing & showing to sugar in this chapter, it's take aim by sleep token <3

☆ prev chapter | masterlist | next chapter ☆

Eddie never thought he’d get this far.

Not with the band, not in life, and most certainly not with you.

It’s all he could think about as he sits in his studio, still reminiscing on the time he’d spent sat the edge of the bed this morning. Precious time spent as he’d watched you curl into his sheets, a faded trail of mascara still visible along your cheek. He’d expected you to up and run the moment it was all over; he thought you’d sprint to the finish line, to his front door, to the elevator. He had assumed you’d be eager to get as far from him as possible in the aftermath. But then, you didn’t.

You’d clung to him for just a few moments longer than necessary. You’d let your nails sink into his skin for a few blissful extra seconds, and let your lips graze against his shoulder with the softest of panting breaths. And although he had enjoyed it, he doesn’t know what to do with that. He’s at a loss for where to go now that you still allow him the comfort of your presence as you stay wrapped up in the ruffled sheets of his bed, as you take intentionally deep breaths that he knows are laced with the scent of his cologne.

He thinks you’re asleep. He hopes you are.

He’d almost forgotten how it felt – the privilege of watching you in this state, face relaxed and chest rising and falling with every breath that veers just shy of becoming a snore. The way your lashes brush the delicate skin beneath your eyes, the way your hand contracts into a weak fist against the deep black of his sheets on occasion, the way your lips part more and more with every second you fall into a deeper rest. It’s mesmerizing – it’s homely. For the first time in years, since that last tour he had embarked on before losing you, he feels peace. It’s a sizzling warmth that crackles in his lower ribs first, gently licking its way up his spine until the emotion settles in the back of his throat. You’re here. He had felt you, held you, had you, even if only momentarily, and you’re still here.

It all haunts him, the only thing he can think about as he sits in the room across the hall from you now, a heavy guitar in his lap and a fractured memory falling off his lips in quiet hums.

“So take aim,” his falsetto tone is so gentle, so whispered, it’s nearly broken as it rolls off his tongue. His teeth don’t grind together like they normally do during his writing process, his fingers don’t flutter and falter as they find the reach of a melody against strings entirely natural.

For once, the music is coming to him as easily as it once had. The way it had during summer days at your side, during late autumn nights while the two of you loitered on picnic tables at the edge of the forest surrounding the trailer park.

It’s the simplest of melodies, the muddiest of lyrics, but they’re still coming naturally.

“And when I see you waking up, and it sends me shivers,” he murmurs, voice hardly melodic as he plucks along a few individual notes, “How you love like weapons kill-”

He cuts himself off with a sudden sigh. What the fuck does that even mean? Love like weapons kill? He can already hear the producers, all the men in business suits who throw money at him as they demand his heart and blood, scrutinizing the nonsensical poetry.

“Like weapons kill?” he scolds himself outloud this time over the line, still desperately trying to whisper as to not wake you, “What the fuck does that even mean-”

“Sounds like this person’s love is dangerous, especially in the wrong hands.”

Everything freezes as your voice carries from the doorframe. Eddie looks up in an instant, aware of just how ridiculous he currently looks. Clad in nothing but his boxers, hair still frizzy from your recent activities.

But something instantly thaws just as quickly as it had chilled at the sight of you.

You’re wearing one of his t-shirts, an older one that he’d buried in some drawer long ago when he’d first moved in. One of the first merch designs for Corroded Coffin.

The fabric has been stretched out in odd places from the years of previous wear, and the neckline exposes just enough of your skin for him to see traces of his bites he’d left behind, visibly blooming beneath the skin when the light hits them just right.

He wonders how long it would take them to fade if you choose to leave now.

“What?” he finally questions, aware of just how long he’s been staring. Each blink is slow, rhythmic as he begins to settle the guitar onto the stand to his right.

You’re quick to shake your head, “No, uh, I- I didn’t mean for you to stop. Please, by all means…” You trail off, waving in the air between the two of you, motioning for him to keep the guitar in his hands.

He’s under your entrapment, left with no defenses as he keeps the acoustic Yamaha in his lap. “What did you mean when you said it sounds like the person’s love is dangerous?”

He watches the fall of your face carefully, easily spots the internal war that begins to take place behind your solemn eyes. Maybe he’s gone too far, maybe he’s pressed further against the precipice than he should have-

“Weapons don’t always kill,” you say slowly, taking further steps into the room. He tries not to think about the way you’re the first person besides himself to be in here, in a space he considers so holy, “A gun is just a gun, a knife is just a knife. We all know what their purpose is but… well, they only kill when the person wielding them wants them to, you know?” your brows are furrowed, arms crossed as your fingertips dig into your flesh nervously. He catches the way you nearly bite your lip before deciding against it, and he also catches the apology on the tip of your tongue when your eyes shoot up to meet his, “Shit, I’m psychoanalyzing your lyrics, I’m sor-”

“Don’t be sorry,” he interrupts, trying to fight the grin wanting to spread, “I’m just glad it makes sense, since I was only… Well, it just sounded good, you know?”

It’s exactly as he saw you. You had the power to kill him, to let him back in. To lay your weapons down as you gave up the fight or set your aim directly on his chest.

Selfishly, he’s hoping for the latter. He’s hoping you paint a bullseye right across his sorry existence, make him your chosen once more, especially after tonight.

“You used to do that a lot back in the day,” he forces out around a lump in his throat right as the realization hits. This scene is a familiar one; if you were to replace the small makeshift studio he’s built in his home with his bedroom back in Hawkins, Indiana, it would be a frame-for-frame reenactment of how many afternoons went between the two of you, “I think at this point, you deserve writing credits on half our earlier shit.”

“Just because I can tear your words apart doesn’t mean I did anything,” you’re quick to shake your head, and your steps are more sure as you sit down on one of the stools in front of him, “The words were yours to begin with. I’m just like any other adoring fan in the crowd.”

Except you’re not in the crowd.

You haven’t been for so long, he almost forgets what it’s like to look across a crowd flooded with the house lights and see your vibrant smile. It used to be his anchor during performances, and now it’s been nothing more than a ghost haunting him at every show. Always searching, always coming up empty handed. An empty, hollow ache to make his entire existence churn as he realizes not a single person in that sea of faces are the one meant to hear the words he was belting messily against a mic.

They don’t get the little gasps of pain between lines, they don’t get why he’s played hard enough to make his knuckles bleed during a few performances. They just think it’s hot, according to the tabloids and online chatter. Another layer to the bad boy persona, to the version of him that has become so ostracized as a poor passionate fool with a nice face.

“Are you okay if I join you?” you say suddenly, shifting as if you think his silence was meant to be an invisible nod towards the door, “I can leave-”

“Please don’t,” he nearly gasps out, desperate to keep you right here. In his line of sight, in his apartment. Just the word leave triggers his fight or flight. “I mean, you can stay. I don’t mind. I was just fucking around, anyways.”

He’s missed doing that. Missed plucking aimlessly at an instrument with you nearby, humming pointlessly as he can see a serene grin spreading across your face in his peripherals. He misses when the music felt good.

When you were both the muse and the audience. Guaranteed. Only one of those is a solid bet these days.

You snort a little, and he notices the way your eyes are still bleary, “Just fucking around? If I were the one just fucking around with a guitar, it would sound way worse.”

“Oh, c’mon. It wouldn’t be that bad.”

“Did you forget the one time you tried to teach me guitar?” you blurt it out so recklessly, like a photo album of memories spitting out an old faded polaroid. Something that’s gathered enough dust in the attic to make you both choke, “I was hopeless.”

He remembers. God, he remembers.

You, sitting on that shitty mattress in his old bedroom. All the creaks in that homely trailer and the smell of the summer heat just outside the window. Back in the days when there was always a pillow on his bed that reeked out your shampoo, back when he probably would hardly have to sift through his laundry to find one of your missing socks in the piles.

When you kept a spare tube of chapstick on his nightstand. When there was a toothbrush just for you that Wayne had bought and never said a word about, a silent gesture to welcome you into the Munson home. When Eddie could almost guarantee he’d always be coming home to you, there, in his space and in his heart. A comforting blanket of security that was torn from him too quickly and by his own two hands.

“You weren’t hopeless,” he scrunches up his face, even though he also remembers those had been his words, not yours.

They had been said through laughter, though, that day. The guitar had looked so clunky, so awkward, from the moment he’d sat it in your lap. The two of you spent hours trying to teach you the simplest of chords. With Eddie perched in front of you, nimble fingers trying to guide yours to correct placement. And then, once the two of you finally began to slip down the precipice of giving up, it had been you sitting between his legs, his entire body cradling yours as his hand hovered over yours to ensure the right notes were played.

“God, you’re hopeless,” he had cackled when you’d broken out of frustration and strummed violently at the guitar.

Something about the simple notion had drained the aggravation, though, and you’d joined him as you laughed, “You’re the rockstar, not me! If you want me in the band, I can just play the triangle or some shit.”

“You don’t have to lie,” you mumble softly, ghost of a smile tilting up the corners of your mouth, “I’m not very musically inclined. It’s okay.”

He has an idea. A terrible, terrible idea. You’re going to say no. It’ll end even more catastrophically than when he’d asked to kiss you.

“We should try again,” he says anyway, immediately standing and walking to the couch along the wall, nodding for you to follow him, trying to not overthink it, “C’mere.”

He stands and waits. Prepares himself for the rejection. Prepares for you to tell him a stern no before you race back into the other room to gather your things and leave him once more.

“What?” you laugh instead, looking between him and the seat he’s motioned to.

“C’mere,” he stresses, throwing all caution to the wind.

The worst you can do is say no. The worst you can do has already been done.

It’s all hesitation when your hand grips the edge of the stool, waiting till your knuckles turn right before you slowly rise. This is it, this is the part you reject him. You turn heel and run, and-

You walk over to him. Timid steps aside, the shake he can see in your hand when you fiddle with the hem of the shirt aside, you walk over to him.

“I haven’t gotten any better,” you warn him when you pause right in front of him, staring at the guitar he holds by the neck with wide eyes, “I’m still going to be hopeless.”

“That’s okay,” he assures, and means it entirely, still stunned that you didn’t turn him down, “I’m still a shit teacher,” you open your mouth, clearly about to argue with him about that, but instead he just leans down and pats the cushion next to the one he drops down onto, “Sit, Sugar.”

You’re wringing your hands in front of him, “Won’t your neighbors get pissed off at people playing guitar at three in the morning?”

“I don’t have neighbors,” he cringes the moment he corrects you. He sounds like a rich asshole right now in the grand scheme of things, and he knows it, “Besides, the room is soundproof.”

“The door’s open-”

“I can close it. Don’t worry.”

Your excuses have officially run dry. You both know it as your eyes finally flit back to that empty seat.

“Fine.”

You sit yourself down, or perhaps more aptly described as throwing yourself down beside him. There’s a huff of air that escapes from the action, laced up with all your defeat, but he also can still see that damn smile beneath the surface. As if you’re actually excited, and you’re actually about to enjoy yourself. The dramatics are all for show, but he still takes the time to pass you the guitar before he does exactly as he promised – he gets up and closes the door.

Immediately, the air is heavy with a new sort of intimacy.

It was easy to ignore earlier when he’d been distracted with his lips on you – on your lips, on your neck, on your cunt – but there are no diversions now. Neither of you can avoid the fact of the matter; you’re here, with him, alone in a confined space. Just the two of you and the four walls to bear witness to whatever was about to happen. It could end in tragedy, it could end in laughter, it could end in awkwardness – this story can end a million different ways, and at the end of the day, only the two of you will have to know.

It’s always been like that when it comes to the two of you. You’ve always been an indirect secret of his, something not purposefully hidden but instead fiercely protected. All the songs never handed over to producers, all the lyrics that paint out all that has transpired in a scarlet maroon.

You’ve always been a private matter for Eddie. An untouchable topic never up for discussion. Ending up here is fitting.

He tries to not stare too long at the way the guitar is pressing into your bare thighs as he takes his seat once more, dramatically clapping and rubbing his hands together, “Alright, what song do you want me to teach you?”

“I get to choose this time?”

You’re teasing him. A sly smile has broken out of its cage, your eyes staying downturned as you trace over the body of the guitar.

Maybe he shouldn’t have closed the door, not when it’s clear the two of you have become nothing more than a dusty book of memories to recreate.

“Hey, in my defense,” he puts up his hands, putting on a show. Desperate to make you comfortable and to watch you thaw as he had when you’d entered the room, “Metallica is a perfectly reasonable staple to learn on guitar!”

“For you!”

“Oh, no, we are not doing this,” he holds up a warning finger that you instinctively reach out to swat away. The icicles are clearly dripping, and the warmth is returning to your face, “You loved Master of Puppets just as much as me, if not more.”

“I-” you start to exclaim, before you stop yourself. He just thinks you’re being funny at first, but then he watches the grave look pass over your features. That misty look you’ve gotten in your eyes, the same one he knows he wears most nights as he writes in this alone in this room. Someone lost in the passage of time, recalling a place they can never go back to.

“Don’t hold back on me now,” he tries to joke. He wants to hear the words you’re struggling to swallow down – needs to hear them.

And he almost immediately regrets that selfish craving.

“I loved it because you loved it.”

Your words are a whisper in the night, and he’s not even sure if the walls could hear you.

He’s quiet, and you’re clearly embarrassed. Nervously tapping at the instrument in your lap as one of your feet begging to bounce, lip being tugged up right between your teeth as you stare straight ahead. It’s hard. Being this vulnerable, learning one another again, is no easy feat.

And then you have to go and do that thing he’d so terribly missed, where you can’t sit in the silence. Your mouth runs faster than your mind as you try to fill what was quickly becoming an awkward silence.

“I don’t mean I don’t like Metallica. Who doesn’t like Metallica? I just mean- I meant-” you pause and take a deep breath, leaning into the guitar, almost crumpling into yourself, “I just mean that I loved the song so much because I saw how much you loved it, and you make it hard to not love the same things as you do. You have this way about you when you get excited about things. The way you would light up, and then you’d go and insist we drive around at night blasting it, and- I mean- how do I not fall in love with that song? Every time I hear it, all I can think about is you, in that stupid van with the windows down, screaming along to it.”

Hear. Not heard.

Present tense. Not past tense.

“I get it,” he croaks out, clearing his throat, nodding as though this type of information isn’t a stab to all the wounds he’s been nursing for years, “No, yeah, I get that. Makes sense.”

I loved it because you loved it.

The inescapable process of love – to absorb the things the one you love cares for, to find joy in the things they find enjoyable.

It makes sense, because he went through that process, too. Still does, even to this day.

He still orders his coffee the way you used to, because the sweetness on his tongue reminds him of your sleepy eyes whenever you’d take your first sip of the day. He still pours his chocolate candy into his popcorn at the movies, because you’d once claimed on a date it was not only the best way, but the only correct way to achieve ultimate sweet and salty delight. He still prefers the winter to the summer because of you, he still uses your favorite brand of pen to write all his songs, and he still uses the guitar pick you’d gotten for him on your one year anniversary. He has better picks now – he has an endless array at his disposal, all varying in thickness and material in order to achieve what would be the perfect sound for each individual song, but none of them sound perfect except for the one you gave him.

“Teach me the song you were just playing,” you suddenly insist, unaware of the spiral you’ve caused.

“Huh?”

“I want to learn the song you were playing when I walked in,” you explain, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before, but it sounded nice. Talk of love being a weapon, you know, aside.”

You don’t realize it. You don’t know.

“Oh, it’s not-”

“I don’t care if it’s not beginner friendly-”

“No, I mean-”

“I’m going to butcher whatever song you throw at me, anyways-”

“It’s an original.”

Time doesn’t slow – it just stops. Pauses in the harshest of ways, with your lips still parted and his eyes still oversized as he looks to you.

It’s an original, and it’s about you.

“It’s from Corroded Coffin?” you ask, voice a bit squeaky with what must be humiliation, “Oh, I didn’t know. Sorry, I haven’t really… stayed caught up on your guys’ recent stuff. Sorry.”

You’re apologizing too much. He doesn’t even have the heart to tell you that he’d felt lucky you’d even remembered the band’s name, let alone would he have expected you to have listened to any recent music from them.

“Don’t be sorry,” he dares to scoot just a bit closer, already waving it all off. If you want to learn the song, he’ll teach you the song. Or, at least, what he’s written of the song, “It’s unreleased. Not even finished yet, actually. You’re getting a Corroded exclusive. Fair warning, though - if you tell the press, Matt will hunt you down.”

One snort from you, and the dust disappears. All the ice, all the dust, all of the past that clearly still had such a chokehold on the two of you is entirely forgotten.

He’s done it – he’s made you comfortable again.

It may take him a few tries to get it right, but he’s certain he can reteach himself this part. The part where he’d always been able to read you without a single word, and he’d always been able to make you feel better no matter what situation the two of you found yourselves in.

“Oh, please,” you play along, lifting one hand as the other continues to balance the guitar, “Don’t sic Matt on me. I’m absolutely terrified.”

“You should be. He may not seem like it, but he can get scary,” Eddie continues with the joke, half telling the truth as he begins to position the two of you. His hands hover away from your skin, but it’s a clear motion for you to turn just enough for he can have his hand hold the neck of the guitar instead of yours, “Speaking of which, please remind me to call him back in the morning. Also, maybe have an ambulance on speed dial, since I hung up on him earlier.”

You laugh so hard your entire body bumps against his, back half way pressed to his chest. It’s a careful arrangement, and he wonders for a moment just how long he can draw this all out to keep you close to him. How many songs he can pull out of his ass, how many mistakes he can deliberately cause at a careful rate. Just enough to prolong the lesson, but not so many that you get frustrated enough to give up.

He also wonders if you’ve caught on to the hidden question of your presence in the morning.

“I’ll remind you after we get breakfast or something. Don’t want you dying with an empty stomach,” you jest, and you confirm.

Breakfast. You’re staying the rest of the night.

You’re still giggling as he jokingly rolls his eyes, and he finally decides to focus on the task at hand, “Okay, okay. Enough fucking around. I’m gonna start off with me forming the chords, and your only job is to strum. Fair enough?”

“With just my hand? I don’t have a p-”

Right on cue, he produces the pick. The only one he dares to touch when performing alone at home. As though he’d just been waiting for you to bring it up.

And he had been. Waiting, pretty and patiently, for the big reveal.

It’s another moment for you to swat him away or run away from it all, but all you do is look gently at the relic and smile. When you take it from him, pinching it carefully between your fingers, you take a second to just smile at it.

You don’t have to say that you know the pick – the smile says it all.

You switch it to your right hand just as Eddie’s left hand curls around the neck. His fingers are quick to press into the strings just as he had been before you’d interrupted, calluses finding familiar solace in the formation of a B note.

“Alright,” he softly begins to instruct, “So, I’m still playing around with it. But, I was doing a pretty simple strumming pattern.”

“Strumming pattern,” you hum, echoing his soft tone, “I remember that one from our first lesson.”

“Good. The pattern was down, down-up, down-up, down,” As he explains it, he watches your hand try to follow along. You fumble a bit, moving slower than his mouth, so he just repeats himself, “That’s alright. You’ve got it. Down, down-up, down-up, down. Put some stress on that last downstroke.”

The second time, you follow along a bit better. The pick still catches oddly on a few of the strings at random, and none of your movements are quite as natural as his had been, but you’re getting the gist.

You stagger through the strumming a few more times, becoming more and more comfortable, movements becoming more languid before Eddie finally begins to sing out the lyrics that had been formulating before your arrival.

“Wait,” his voice cracks a little with the falsetto, making a conscious effort to be quiet when his mouth is so close to your ear, “Won’t you wait for me?”

He’s timing it to match your slower strums. Bending the song right at your will.

“Don’t you bathe in rivers? Don’t you feel alive?”

It works better like this. A calmer tempo, letting him draw out syllables until his breath runs out.

“And when I see you waking up, and it sends me shivers,” he tries not to flush as his cheek nearly brushes your shoulder, praying to some nonexistent God that you won’t pick up all the hidden meaning behind the words. He even takes a deep breath when you nearly lose your grip on the pick, earning you a few extra seconds to reorient yourself before he continues on, “How you love like weapons kill.”

You had had a choice. You had had the power to kill him, or to let him back in. A choice in choosing to set your aim directly to him.

You’d chosen the latter. Maybe not permanently, maybe not forever, but for now.

For just a few seconds now, he gets to be your chosen once more. He doesn’t care how long it does or doesn’t last; he drinks it in like a starving man, desperate for every last drop of serenity you’re willing to offer him here during the witching hour.

Somehow, with only that thought and revelry weighing on his mind, he can only get out one lyric for the chorus. The only one that makes sense, in the here and in the now, with you.

“So take aim, at me for once. Just take aim, break me apart.”

His fingers work effortlessly with the strums still administrated from your hand. Positions changing so that you were strumming out notes of E, of a D minor, of a G sharp. He’s fumbling just as much as you are as it all comes together. It shouldn’t sound like a song yet – all the notes are sort of getting lost as Eddie tries to come up with them on the spot, and your strums aren’t entirely evenly paced with the same skill as a musician. Half the lyrics are a mumble or hum in lieu of actual words.

But it does. It sounds like the best song he’s ever written, and he thinks it’s solely because you’re there.

“Call, won’t you call out my name? Like a curse in this world? Like a battle cry?”

Your actions stop at those lyrics, and he hardly has time to process when you turn your head to him suddenly. He was so caught up in it all, he hadn’t been thinking. Just singing, just whispering, just getting spun right into the web of the feeling of your body against his and the indent of the body of the guitar digging deeper into your thigh.

“Sorry, was I too l-” he begins to apologize, worrying that maybe his tone had been irritating or too close to your ear. He could imagine how quickly it might get old-

“Eddie.”

You don’t call it out. You whisper it out, softer than the smoke of a candle blown out in the dying light of an evening wasted. Nearly silent.

You don’t say it like a curse. It falls like a prayer of wonder from your lips, as if there’s a space permanently left on your tongue, only for it.

And it’s not a battle cry. It’s the raising of a white flag as you look at him with glossy eyes and bated breaths, laying all your weapons down, even if for only a moment.

Whatever aim you have left to offer him, it’s of the most tender degree.

He’d whisper your name back to you, offer you the same formality and care you’re showing him, but you steal every word out of his mouth when you lean in and put your lips to his.

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#ghost's stories #maroon #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things

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gremlingottoosilly · 2 years ago

Text

"If you need to be mean"

Konig just got his promotion to colonel. It also came with deployment in a terrorist-ridden country, but at least he would get an adorable, civilian you as a prize. TW: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in young 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig perspective Word count: 5213 My AO3

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

König hates this fucking country.

Shithole in the middle of nowhere, with literally nothing going on – some border quarrels with some terrorists that are desperately trying to settle into the big war on terror that won’t achieve a thing and would be meaningless anyway. No one wanted to actually station here – this is why they promoted him so quickly, just so they could send him away like a pack of garbage they can’t give two shit about throwing out.

He never even wanted this promotion. Too much work, too many people, never enough time to relax. Payment is sweet, of course – if he only had time to use any of this. He is too old for new titles, you can’t teach old dog new tricks – and, quite frankly, he does feel terribly old while doing nothing but pushing papers and listening to some useless fucking recruits with their reports.

Job is simple – stay on the base, make sure that the locals won’t become too villifed to the soldiers that are supposed to protect them, even though he already knows how people would feel about the PMC stationed in their city. Fights with occasional resistance from the outsider force that decided “Hey, let’s just annex our neighbor, what could possibly happen?”. He doesn’t know a lot about this country – but if they have enough money to hire KorTac to help the local forces, he might be quite interested. If he only had energy for that anymore – between relentless paperwork and occasional yelling at his stupid fucking nonsense of rookie – seriously, it feels like they hired a bunch of edgy 12 year olds instead of normal soldiers.

Job is simple and he finds himself bored to death because this isn’t what he enlisted for. He wanted to fight, to kill, to burden this urge to hurt people who once wronged him with someone who is – probably, maybe, somehow – deserve it. Not really a noble cause, but he stopped playing knight in shining armor once they used him as an infiltration weapon instead of what he actually wanted. All hopes and goals in his life were buried deep with his first sniper rifle – and rude comments about his inability to sit still, even though he is still as good at being a killing machine as a human being possibly can.

— Sir! We, uh, have a problem to report.

Gut.

A problem – this sounds as exciting as it can be. Last time his brigade got a problem, it was about some new recruits falling down with stomach ache because of the forged alcohol they were drinking. Also that one time someone tried to burst their way into the base – not fun, since officers took care of him, but it was at least something to do except for reading and scrolling through various housing options like he actually has a use of buying something with more than one bedroom. Like someone would look at him and love him – enough to pass through some easy fling and start living with him. No one would do that – even his parents couldn’t.

Still, the problem sounds exciting. Maybe, he could actually go on a mission instead of feeling useless. They promoted him just to pin on the wall like a trophy.

— Repost immediately, soldier. What is it?

— A civilian, well…a civillina woman…lady, broke the curfew.

And here it is. Not an unexpected attack from his enemies, not even a drunken fight that someone from his subordinates decided to join and ended up getting their asses kicked. Is this what years of service come to? Watching over some stupid club girls broking the easiest fucking rule to follow, like getting home at midnight is a completely alien experience for them. One of the things he hates about his rank – he is used like a public figure, giving speeches, trying so hard to come up with something other than “Ja, we will kick asses of everyone who tries to infiltrate your country, don’t worry” and then he has to act like he knows what he is doing. Which he obviously doesn’t. If there was a way to just give up his rank and become a shadow again, a monster under a terrorist’s bed, he would do it. Without even a second to think.

— Send her to the police. We aren’t supposed to deal with…

Then comes the second guy – he doesn’t even remember his name, fuck this, he is supposed to be a father to his troops, or big brother at least, but he couldn’t give less of a fuck to someone weaker – inferior, smaller, someone who will die within a week or so in his first battle because apparently, higher-ups just love recruiting spineless teenagers now.

Second guy comes to the room, holding someone very firmly by their hand – and König isn’t religious, he isn’t even sure when was the last time he was at any church, the little prayers his grandma used to sing is long forgotten for him, but he sees your face and almost believes in angels.

König is too old for this shit, again, he hates this country, his team, his rank – then he looks at your face, the way it twists with fear and nervousness because of course, one of his dumb subordinates is holding you too tight and the softness of your flesh – why in the world you are wearing such light clothes, it’s night outside, you will catch a cold and he would give you his jacket, but that would drown you under the weight of it, and he don’t want you to smell the alcohol he has on his clothes, terrible coping mechanism with boredom, and he might just give you something else, maybe, like his shirt or a…

Wait a minute.

He doesn’t even know your name, even though he is sure this is something gorgeous and would look perfect next to his last name, but he looks at your face and all the years of his military training is suddenly washed away because he can’t even muster a thing out of his mouth. Thank god no one is forcing him to stop wearing his hood – he wouldn’t be able to survive otherwise, not with how hot his face feels right now. You are nervous, this is obvious, since you broke the curfew and went on the streets past 11 pm. He should just bring you to the police, he isn’t even sure why his soldiers would bring some random civilian to the base. He immediately wants to give this private a raise – for bringing him a goddess walking on Earth. Angel, succubus, all of the fancy names and…it feels like he is going crazy. And he should compose himself. Be a good example of a rotten mercenary commander.

— Why were you breaking the curfew, miss..?

He hates how squeaky his voice sounds, even after all the years in service he can’t get rid of that boyish tone and nervousness every time he is talking to women. All the fear is immediately washed away after you tell him your name – and it’s gorgeous, perfect, feels like something he can devour, something he can moan in the depth of the night while using his hand as a poor substitute for the warmth of your body.

The pause lingers too much and he already suggests just…taking you. To further investigation. to see if you are really just an innocent person caught up in breaking the rules or an enemy spy – which would give him the perfect opportunity to interrogate you and hold you for a bit longer. He wants you to be a problem, actually – that would give him the authority to hold you here, to think about you in a way that won’t immediately make him a bad person.

— Went to the pharmacy. Forgot about the time, I’m…I’m sorry.

You look guilty and weak and nervous obviously – a good girl caught up in the reality of her home country now implementing new rules just so it won’t get annexed by their neighbor. He wants to protect you – or give you the real reason to be scared of him. He wants to be good, but you look too cold in those clothes and he wants to give you something more. Or warm you up in a different way – which makes him feel horrible, his skin crawls and hands are fidgeting again even though he is almost sure he forgot about that habit after a few trigger-happy moments with the enemies.

— Pharmacies should be closed by this time. Why were you here so late?

Soldier that brought you here left you with König – colonel, you saw him in the newspapers and on TV, some public speeches while concealing his face in various ways. You don’t trust him, don’t trust the mercenaries – how can you believe that they are going to save you if they don’t even dare to show their faces? He is even scarier in person – big, hulking, too muscular to feel safe, with something like a sack thrown over his head. You want to forget about the medicine you bought and just run away, but that would only mean outright saying that you are guilty.

You brace yourself and try not to feel too small, but König just wants to wrap his hands around you and throw that weak body of yours on his shoulder. Not letting you go away. Ever.

— I…got lost. Sorry, I know what this looks like, but I just changed the apartment and…look, this is a bog misunderstanding. I have my documents, I’m local! Not some spy or anything, I promise.

Too bad – you would have the opportunity to escape if you were an enemy. Some evil and wicked femme fattal that is here to seduce him and get the important information out of him – but if you are telling the truth and nothing, but a civilian, he isn’t sure that he could save you from…falling to his hands. It’s stupid, he should really just find someone to fuck, he is getting desperate over the first cute and gentle girl he saw in this place – but really, do he has a chance with a soldier if just a helpless weakling like you can make him kneel? He needs to compose himself.

— You really shouldn’t be out so late. There is a reason the curfew is upheld. It saves you from the danger.

— For now the only danger after midnight is your soldiers, apparently.

Your breath hitches as you understand what you just said – god, who was holding your tongue and making you blurt this in front of the fucking commander? You might have had the chance of just escaping before, you weren’t doing anything wrong, you know that some of your friends were breaking the curfew after a party or late visits, but they were never held to the police or martial law – soldiers are understanding of the situation, no one from the young people actually wants to stay in their houses no matter the threats war can bring. You might have the chance of going out with nothing but some harsh words about those stupid younglings ignoring the rules – but now you insulted his men and this will probably bring you to jail for the night at least or something even more…

He laughs. And the sound of it makes your cheeks warm.

— Ja, I can understand why you would say that. But you shouldn’t break the curfew.

You feel like winning a lottery, but the prize isn’t money – it’s the chance of getting out of this creepy building and going home to your warm sheets and slight smells of devastation and loneliness.

— I’m really sorry, sir, I won’t do this again. Promise.

You look guilty, and König loves this expression. The softness of your face, the way your eyes are filled with tears when you think he would actually make you goto jail or do something even worse. He relishes in this power over you – even though he doesn’t mingle with civilians, always keeps a safe distance with women around him, never dares to even give them a careful look. He wants to take you away – protect from the world around you, from this fucking place, from all the dangers. The only thing that is dangerous to you seems like him – because he is the only one with power here, the only one who can decide whether he wants to behave like an asshole and lock you away or…

— I can’t just let you go. Let me…I can escort you to your residence so I can make sure you actually went home. And not somewhere else.

He looks at your pharmacy bag – it's a shitty plastic one, transparent and see-through. He understands immediately why you would decide to run to the pharmacy so abruptly even within the vicinity of the curfew – and the fact your bag contains pads and pain medicine only makes him want to scoop you in his arms and get you to his quarters. Government gave them a pretty nice location for the base and he, as the commander, got a bedroom that won’t even make you think about the military. Perks of quartering outside of base, even the barracks are nicer than the ones at home – and he would love to introduce your sore body to the comforts of warm sheets.

You look at him, surprised and nervous, your adorable lips twists in a pout as you think about your options. You can’t really say no, this can make him angry and resentful – and these aren't emotions you want the local military personnel to feel about you. He is also scary, and stares too much – you don’t want him to look at you like this, both surprised and depraved, but something in his figure still makes you trust him. Maybe it’s that weird propaganda about them protecting your country – he is a public figure, he can’t be evil, right? Maybe it’s just the way his hands fidgets as if he is nervous about your answer – or little cracks in his voice that makes you blush just a little every time you hear it. Or you are simply too tired to not comply.

— I, um…are you sure? You must have some other things to do. I don’t want to be a bother, really.

— I want to protect you from harm. Nights are dangerous.

You want to say that it’s okay, you spend more time in this country than he is – and you know every little corner of the city by this point, no matter the military outposts and destruction. You also want to say that this is creepy as fuck and you don’t want a random guy to just know where you live – but you can’t say that, you are already almost buried yourself with that long tongue of yours, and the only thing you want to do right now is just drink your ibuprofen in peace and get teleported to your bed.

You want to say no, but it almost feels like something romantic and even though he isn’t showing his face, the view of his muscles, bursting out his clothes and body armor, enough to make you agree. You can regret that decisions later – but with the way his eyes light up like he is a puppy, you probably won’t.

— Okay. I…I mean, if that’s okay with you, sir.

— I live to serve. Und ich diene gerne jemanden, dir so bezaubernd ist wie du.

— Sorry?

It sounds like German, and the way he pronounces it makes you feel like it’s something important – but you don’t want to ask for translation, he mutters it under his breath, Maybe some curses about stupid girls getting caught by his soldiers and how he needs to escort them to make sure they are not enemy spies ready to put their knives in his back.

— Just show the way.

He is awkward, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, he looks at you and fights the urge to just squish you with his hands. You are pouting, your hands are trembling, and you are shaking – maybe from the cold or just from fear. König hates himself for not understanding whether he wants you to be scared of him or not. There is something dark, predatory almost, in having someone as adorable as you shaking like a leaf – but he also wants to just scoop you in his hands and make sure you will never be afraid of him.

He is awkward, silent, he goes on the open side of the sideroad like protecting you from any vehicles that may cross the road at this hour – even though the only ones who are allowed to move at this time of day are hospital workers and his soldiers. His hand looms over your side, like he is not sure whether he wants to just grab you by your shoulder or allow you to lead in a more simple way. You feel protected in a way – you can’t even read his expressions because of that weird mask he is wearing, but his eyes are strangely warm every time he looks at you and thinks you are not looking at him.

König wants to talk, but he isn’t sure what he even can say to you. The weather is nice? It’s the night, a cold one, and he doesn’t want you to catch some weird illness, but he also doesn’t want to seem like a creep by giving you his jacket. He would do so in a blink of an eye, he would die seeing your smaller body wrapped in his clothes like a nice little gift – but he knows who he is. Monster, giant, always too much and never enough, zero experience with someone who is one his one night stand in some lousy pub when he hates himself a bit less than usual. And you smell clean, civilian, sweet almost, he feels like a dog by just looking at the way your cheeks are blushing from the cold weather.

He wants to initiate the conversation, know what you like and dislike, maybe learn your opinion about the situation – many locals dislike military presence, he understands this, KorTac isn’t known for being the best guys around here, but they get the job done, however bloody this might be. He would give away anything to just be able to talk – to speak like a normal person, without scaring you or making you think that he is weird. It’s borderline embarrassing, over the many years of his life he was thinking that he would outgrow his anxiety somehow – and here he is, fidgeting with the stupid anti stress toy in his pocket that his therapist gave him, not knowing how to talk to a girl in his grown up years.

— You’re local.

It doesn’t even sound like a genuine question, it’s more like a threatening statement and he doesn’t like the way it sounds. He can’t gave it back now, it would be even weirder, he just wants to calm down and breathe, but even this is fucking impossible when every time he looks at you, it seems like you are only getting prettier.

— Lived here all my life, sir.

You’re nervous, and he at least finds some comfort in this – he is not the only one who is scared here, even though he understands that you will surely be more scared than him. But it still comforts him just a little, knowing that you are in roughly the same boat – he can smile under his hood and attempt to at least pretend to be normal. Even if this would be literally impossible for someone like him.

— Where do you work?

It sounds like an interrogation and you are not sure if you want to answer truthfully – he isn't trying to force you right now, he isn’t even touching you no matter how closely you are walking, but you are smart enough to understand why telling a random man you just met where you live and work is a bad idea. Even if the man itself is a prominent figure in protecting – or not – your country and literally walks you home because you got lucky to not be sent to the police for breaking the curfew. You would just lie to him about where you work and, hopefully, never see him again – but it’s not just a random guy you met on Tinder. He probably has the resources to check if you really work in said place and if you didn’t and just lied to him then, well…he isn’t threatening you, but your overthinking is enough to make you scared.

— Just a waitress. Cafe I work at isn’t very far from my apartment.

You even tell him the address, all while praying he won’t visit you at work. He has the right, of course, especially if he would leave a good tip, but military personnel staying at your cafe probably won’t be good for business. Clients may go away, and that would mean leaving you without tips – and then you can kiss your shitty apartment goodbye. He probably won’t visit you, he is just asking this to fill the awkward silence and check whether you are a spy or not – how confident your answers are, if your story checks out or not. He is a colonel, he must have a lot of other stuff to do instead of chasing over some rule breakers.

— Hm.

König already knows where he will be eating every day from now on. But…hell, can he do this, really? It would probably be very awkward for both of you, and you may think that is stalking you, which he definitely is, but doesn’t want to show it yet. He can give you a nice tip every time, he sure as hell has money for it, but then you would think that he is trying to buy you, which he would of course try to if you would be fine with it because honestly, girl as adorable as you should get all the nicest thing she wants to, and he can provide for it, but his damned awkwardness would never let him outright say this, which would lead to a very uncomfortable situation and…

— We might need someone local to help with operations.

Nailed it. Right?

— Wh…what do you mean, sir?

You look scared, nervous, he doesn’t want you to be scared, you’re supposed to feel safe around him! He might hate higher ups for giving him this rank and sending him to this fucking country, but he will protect you no matter what. He wants to be useful, for people to stop being scared of him – to start liking him instead, even if some cold, dismissive way of just stopping bothering him with stupid stuff. He would allow you to bother him all the time, he would protect you and make sure you are alright – you just have to let him, that would be really easy and…

— We’re strangers here. Lots of operations crossed because locals refuse to cooperate. We might need a guide out here.

He sounds nonchalant, like he doesn’t really care about your answer, but the grip of his hands is stating otherwise. He throws you nervous looks, cold eyes flickering with anxiety as you take your time to answer, secretly hoping that you would get home before you’d had to state this. It doesn’t feel like a genuine question, more like a statement again. More like you don’t really have an option to say no, since he still has the power over you. Since he still looks and sounds like someone who can and will throw you over his shoulder and use it as a cannon folder.

— I…I’m not sure, sir. I have to work at my actual job.

Can he blow up your cafe? That would greatly diminish the chances of bumping into you on a romantic Sunday morning, ordering coffee just the way you secretly like it, and then leaving you a very generous tip that would immediately show you what a sophisticated and loaded gentleman he is. He can say that enemies did it, and then he would execute those poor people for ever messing with civilians. He can also get some people from the government to close it, so you wouldn’t have any place to work and then you would be simply forced to work with him – and help him get out of this country as soon as possible. He would pay you well, of course, and being your boss would be a very…interesting experience for him.

— Are you sure?

You bite your lips and it's proven to be a horrible idea in such terrible weather – your skin breaks easily and you feel the blood in your mouth. Nice – now you would have to invest in lip balms again even though you are sure as hell that even yesterday the weather was nice. Colonel – König, you remember his callsign, no names of course, some twisted secret identity over protecting people who can literally kill you and won’t have consequences – look at you and you can swear to god that his eyes are narrowed, studying your features a bit more. Is he going to kill you for refusing the…job offer? Demand of working with mercenaries to protect your country?

— Sorry, I…I really need to think about this. And get at least two weeks notice from my job.

He is too focused on the way blood is glistening on your lips. He wants to lift the lower half of his hood and lick every little drop lingering in your mouth. Kiss this little wound until you would turn into a moaning, crying mess under him. Hold you so tight, he would leave bruises in places his fingers were – all while you are allowing him to. He isn’t delusional enough to think you like him the way he adores you already, but he is delusional enough to imagine you would comply with him mostly – he is a great person. Except for almost everything, of course.

The road to your home is lonely, no one around, obviously. People aren’t breaking the curfew on the main streets – except for you, apparently, they are tending to do stuff in the shadows if they need something to go out at night. He looks at every street light with suspicion, almost wanting for someone to try and attack you – that would allow him to be your hero, protector, to put out all of his pent-up aggression on someone else while being praised for it. He wants someone to try and kill him just to feel a bit more alive – but then you stop in front of the house, and it only takes one look for him to decide that no, he isn’t going to let you go that easily. He may not be a good or even decent person, but he is not allowing an adorable little thing like you to live in that fucking rathole.

— You live here?

— Yes. Thank you for, well, looking after me. I know that I broke rules, I won’t…won’t do that again. Sorry.

— No.

— What do you mean “No”?

Is he going to inspect your apartment? You are pretty sure that you left your bed in a very chaotic state and there is more than one pair of panties lying on the couch. Not even speaking about how horrible your living conditions are – tiny apartments, barely enough space for one person fitting in 20 square feet with all of their stuff inside, and an overwhelming desire to blow something up each morning when one of your neighbors is fighting again.

You don’t have anything to hide, but you are getting pretty tired of people who just think that because they sold their bodies to the military, they can do what they want.

— It’s a horrible place for a girl to live.

Hey! You might hate your place, but even that rathole of an apartment doesn't deserve something like this.

— Well, it’s not a castle, but…I manage.

— Don’t you have another place to sleep?

He is fighting with the urge to invite you to the base instead. Far greater place for a little goddess like you, much nicer than…this. He has to physically restrain himself from throwing a hand on your shoulder. He just stared, hoping that you would pull a prank on him and actually has some better living conditions – he can’t bear thinking about you in that kind of life instead.

— It’s a nice one, really! At least I don’t have to live with roommates.

He can be your roommate. No, not even like this. He can buy you a freaking house if you would want, just pick a place, preferably in Austria, and that would be easy. He would love to just provide for you, to get to live with someone as adorable – as in need of protection as you. He understands that being this delusional is off brand even to him and his wild fantasies, but he spends too much time hating his work lately, and he needs some outlets, breathing room to just drown himself in fantasies about a nice girl who can actually like him. Who can be his everything, a cure to fix him even though his therapist says such expectations from your partner are toxic and codependent.

He knows that he can’t say anything to you right now. If anything, you would dismiss any of his worries and just call him a psycho – would be right, probably, he doesn’t even know why he is so obsessed with your safety all of a sudden. He is only self-reflective enough to understand that he can’t act right now, no matter how much he would want to. He can only sigh and let the situation go, for now. He can always just show up at the place you work at. Totally not creepy at all, definitely, completely.

— Be safe, hase. This time is very dangerous for a girl like you.

— It’s…okay, really. You don’t have to worry about me, sir.

Oh, but he wants to.

Oh, but you want to run up the stairs and close the door behind you as fast as you possibly can. And maybe, just maybe, give him your number – definitely for consultation about the safety and how you can forfeit from breaking the curfew later in life.

He puts a hand on your shoulder, large fingers tracing over your thin shirt, and goosebumps that are running on your skin aren’t from just the cold weather. You feel ashamed for kinda liking the situation – you are creeped out by him, you are curious about him, and you kinda want him to do something else. But he squeezes the soft flesh of your shoulders, rolling a bit lower, to your back – and then lets go. You breath hitches as he takes a step back, clenching his hand as if fighting the urge to do something else.

— We’ll meet again.

You just nod, not sure if you want it or not. König makes a point to determine which apartment is yours based on the window placement and pay you a visit in his leave time.

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod x you #cod #konig mw2 #konig x you #konig cod #konig x reader #konig #reader insert #yandere cod #yandere x reader #yandere konig #yandere male

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americaswritings · 1 year ago

Text

When we stole the night

Warnings: violence, mentions of killing, Coriolanus being himself, his thoughts, mix of book/film elements

Summary: When Coriolanus is send into the arena to get Sejanus he doesn't make it out and has to hide in the tunnels. That is where he finds you, his tribute.

Words: 3.2k

Pairing: Young Coriolanus Snow x reader

Masterlist | Hunger Games Masterlist | Add yourself to my taglist!

Coriolanus was running.

He was surrounded by darkness, the light in front of him where the peacekeepers secured the gate the only source of light apart from the dim moonshine.

Hundreds of thoughts were running through his head, at the top of them images of killing the boy, but he pushed them away.

Buried the anger and resentment he felt towards Sejanus, who had roped him into this situation just because he felt guilty for Marcus’s death and couldn’t move on from his life at the district.

Fear and the panic of suddenly becoming prey clouded his mind and he could barely think straight as he ran for his life. Something sizzled through the air next to him, so close to his ear that he stumbled in shock and lost his footing for a moment.

But he didn’t dare to look who had thrown the weapon, could only hope that it had been their only one as he tried to find his pace again.

His leg was burning, a pain he tried to ignore but slowed him down drastically as he attempted to catch up with Sejanus, who was at the gate now.

Despite the immediate medical attention Coriolanus had received when he had gotten injured during the bombing attack from the rebels, there had been too little time for the wound to heal and with every step he took he was slowing down.

It was only a matter of time until they got to him.

The adrenaline was pulsing through his veins as he heard Sejanus yell his name. Breaking out of his narrow focus for the gate he looked up just in time to see Coral launch an attack at him. He ducked, stumbling as his bad leg gave in and he almost fell.

Turning, he saw that Sejanus was already halfway through the gate. The boy hesitated and for a moment it looked as if he would come back for him and Coriolanus felt relief flooding his body, but one of the peacekeepers grabbed him by the upper arm and dragged him behind the gate before he could.

Then the gate closed. Locking him in the arena with the tributes.

Coriolanus had no time to wrap his head around what had just happened, because he had to dodge another one of the girl‘s attacks. Soon the other two of her little murder gang would have reached him and he would stand no chance again them.

They would kill him.

He would die. In the arena. By the hands of tributes.

Alone.

The Capitol would spin a pretty story about his death like they had done when Clemensia had been in the hospital after the snake bite and no one would ever know the truth about what had happened to him.

Except Sejanus.

But his father would use their money to propitiate the Capitol and effectively silence his son and Tigris and the Grandma'am would never find out why he had never made it home.

He couldn‘t imagine a more undignified death.

So he ran. Not towards the gate, but in the opposite direction, away from his chance at freedom and into the shadows.

Coral and the others had not expected his move and it gave him a head start to make it into the tunnels and disappear.

He knew they would follow him, so he kept running, sliding down rubble, rounding a corner and hiding in a niche. Then he held his breath and waited.

If he was lucky and they didn‘t find him here, he could wait until he was certain they were away far enough and try to make it to the gate.

But Coral and her gang weren‘t the only ones he needed to worry about and he pressed himself farther against the wall when he heard a pair of footsteps approach.

It was Reaper.

Coriolanus waited for him to pass. He wouldn’t try to engage another tribute, not if he could prevent it. Better if less of them knew he was here.

Although it wasn’t like their knowledge would pose any danger to him once he was out. Only one of them would get out of here alive, the rest would take his secret to their graves and he would damn well make sure it was you.

You.

Coriolanus blinked and took a breath. You were here, somewhere.

No, he couldn‘t get to you. It was stupid to try and find you. He needed to get out of here as fast as possible, not waste precious chances to do…what?

See you? Make sure you were okay? There was nothing he could do to help you here and now and his presence only drew more attention towards you.

He thought back to the promise he had given you just last night, to do everything to keep you safe and get you out alive.

It was still true, but although he had felt helpless in his seat watching you fight and run for your life on the screen, he now missed that front row seat. He couldn‘t do anything here for you without risking his own life as well and that had never been on the table before.

And what if the day in the arena had changed you?

What if you would turn on him just like the others had? Tribute rather than friend, lover, whatever this connection between you was.

Just minutes - or had it been an hour already? - had turned him into a killer. He had killed a boy. Bobbin, he remembered his name was.

Had the arena done that to him or had that always been inside of him and it was true that the arena only awoke what was trapped inside everyone?

Shaking his head Coriolanus pushed the thoughts away. He couldn‘t allow himself to go mad. With each minute passing his chances to leave the arena alive and unharmed lowered and he could visibly imagine Dr. Gaul writing him off as she fed her snakes.

No.

He would get out of here, alive. Whatever it took.

Getting up from his crouched position Coriolanus stretched his aching limbs before crawling out of his hiding space. He didn‘t know if it was safe yet, but he couldn‘t wait longer.

He would take the leap of faith.

Every step he took echoed twice as loud through the tunnels and he had to force himself to take even breaths. He hadn‘t realised how far he had run into the tunnels and he felt his hopelessness grow when there was no sight of an exit.

When he rounded another corner he suddenly heard a noise. It was right behind him and as he spun around he could only think of what a waste his death was. What a tragedy.

“Coriolanus?!“

Your voice echoed loudly, even though you had barely more than whispered. He was frozen, his eyes locked on yours as shock faded into relief.

He wouldn‘t die. At least not now.

“What are you doing here?“ your voice rose and you took a step closer, your eyes squinted in the darkness as they searched his face.

His raked over yours and then your body as well. Your clothes were dirt stained and your face was a little bruised but apart from it you seemed unscathed.

He had believed so, but seeing it with his own eyes brought him a different kind of reassurance.

“I uhm“, he stumbled over his words, struggling to retain composure. You looked at him expectantly, your eyes wide and curious.

But Coriolanus hesitated. Could he tell you the truth? Could he still trust you?

When he swallowed and furrowed his brows you grabbed his arm. “Tell me later. We need to find a better hiding spot. I heard you a mile away and if I did, I am sure others did too.“

He nodded, glad that he didn‘t have to explain himself just yet and earn a few more minutes to think of what he could tell you.

Your hand was still wrapped around his arm as you turned and guided him through the dark and it slid downwards, reaching his hand and locking your fingers. Coriolanus wouldn‘t admit it, but the touch relieved his unease a little. It felt good to know you were here and guiding him, that he wasn’t alone anymore.

He didn‘t know if he could still trust you, but he wanted to and despite a warning voice in the back of his head a part of him did.

Only yesterday he had cupped your face and whispered promises in your ear and he refused to believe you weren‘t that girl anymore until you showed him otherwise.

You led him around a few corners until you stopped, climbing through a little opening between the rubble. He watched you disappear in the hole, crouching down to inspect it.

It was small and he was much taller than you, but then your face appeared at the other side and you waved at him with a confident smile. What good of a mentor was he if he hesitated now?

It was a struggle to get inside and he painfully hit his knees, shoulders and head a few times, but at least it would keep larger opponents outside.

And if anyone wanted to get in you would hear them and kill them before they even got the chance to raise their own weapon. It was the perfect hiding spot.

Maybe he could just wait this out, he thought. The other tributes could kill each other while he sat here with you until the rescue team would show up and get you out.

But that was too good a fantasy.

He knew that the Capitol didn‘t have any cameras in the tunnels, so no one would know he was here with you, but his absence wouldn‘t go unnoticed and he doubted they would crown you the victor, if he stayed with you.

None of the other mentors were in the position he was currently in and although Coriolanus couldn‘t find any benefit of his miserable situation he could easily imagine the capitol and his classmates arguing that it was an unfair advantage.

As if he had volunteered to be sent into an arena full of tributes that were out to kill each other, but probably unite over the idea of killing him, someone from the capitol.

And what about you then? Would you stick to his side or abandon him for your own sake?

Or worse, what if you betrayed him?

It would earn you the sympathy of the other tributes for certain, something that could be the defining factor of your survival. But would you be so calculating, so cruel and betray your own mentor?

He watched you slide down next to a wall and you hugged your knees in, probably to keep yourself warm. He wasn’t feeling cold, but he hadn‘t been in here for as long.

Looking up at him standing there you patted the space next to you, letting out a mixture between an amused and bitter laugh as you saw his hesitation. “Come one, I won‘t bite and I swear I don‘t have rabies.“

He grimaced slightly as he thought of Jessup‘s death and how he had hunted you through the arena. It hadn‘t been so long ago and yet it felt like ages considering how much had happened since then.

Deciding it wasn‘t likely that you had waited this long and brought him here only for you to try and kill him now Coriolanus closed the distance and took a seat next to you.

He stretched out his long legs, glad to finally keep the weight off of his bad leg.

“So“, you began and he noticed your gaze on him from the periphery of his vision, “you never told me why you‘re here. I‘m mean, not that I am complaining. It‘s nice to have some company, especially such lovely one, but it‘s a little…unexpected.“

He noted your hint of flirtation with a smile. It made him feel more in control and fuelled his hope that the girl he had said goodbye too wasn’t gone. “For me too“, he stated, turning his head so he could look at you.

He didn‘t know if he could trust you, but here in the arena you were his best chance of survival. And as your mentor he could help you more from the outside, so you had an interest on keeping him alive and get him out of here too.

Besides, he wanted to trust you. And he hoped you had more than your own motifs in mind when it came to his survival.

“Dr. Gaul sent me here.“ He decided to tell you the truth. “Sejanus bribed the peacekeepers to let him in here. He wanted to scatter breadcrumbs or something for Marcus. It‘s a ritual they have in his district.“

He tried to keep his voice neutral, but you knew him well enough by now to hear the hint of dismay in it.

“I think that‘s brave of him“, you said after a moment of silence and when he furrowed his brows he realised you had been testing how you would react to his words.

“But also stupid“, you continued, “I doubt the capitol is going to let anyone see it.“

He sighed. “They don’t. They froze the frame and his father will make sure he won‘t say a word about it.“

“So he got out?“ Coriolanus nodded, the image of the gate closing behind Sejanus back in his head. “He did.“

“But you didn’t.“ He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning his head against the wall. “How come they sent you? Why not just their thugs?“

“They figured he would just make a run for it, if he saw them. And then they would have a much harder job at containing him and keeping the public from knowing.“

He pressed his lips into a thin line. “And because apparently everyone thinks Sejanus and I are best friends I was the lucky one to get the job.“

When he opened his eyes yours were focused on his face and he realised how close you were sitting. “You‘re not? Friends, I mean.“

He pushed out a breath and pinched the space between his brows. “He lived here for years now, but he still acts and thinks like district.“

He practically spit out the word and you shuffled away from him a little. “I am district, Coriolanus“, you reminded him, trying to hide your hurt but failing. “You think you‘re too good to be friends with us?“

He bit his lip, frustrated at himself for his mistake. This slip-up. He hadn‘t meant it that way. You were different…

You had just been born at the wrong place.

Yeah, the more he thought about it, the more he could see it, you as a part of the capitol. With less mud and stains of course. And a class on etiquette to get the district out of your system. Tigris would make the most enchanting dresses for you and every man and woman would bow their heads when the two of you emerged. A Snow and a victor.

“I didn’t mean it-”, he began, but you shook your head, cutting him off.

“I think I know exactly what you meant.“

Silence settled between you and it felt uncomfortable and heavy.

“You think you‘re better than us. Just because you were born here and not there and you’re wearing that uniform doesn‘t mean your life‘s worth more than ours“, you stated after a while and he swallowed.

“I know.“

Did he?

“Do you?“

“I killed someone today.“

You inhaled and he saw you were staring at his face with undivided attention, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. Staring at the wall in front of him he continued. “He was just a boy. Bobbin, I think his name was?“

He dared a glance towards you for confirmation and you nodded. Your face was a carefully composed mask of guardedness and he quickly looked away again.

“I didn‘t want to hurt him, but he attacked me. I didn’t have a choice. I had to kill him.“

Coriolanus wondered how he looked to you now; his red university uniform creased and filthy, hiding in a cave and fighting the tears as he confessed his sins.

“Hey“, you reached out and gently touched his chin to turn his head to you. “You did what you had to do.“

His eyes found yours and he seeked your reassurance, clinging to it like a lifeline.

“It was horrible. But-”, he cleared his throat, preparing himself for his next revelation, “it also made me feel powerful.“

You took a sharp breath, fear and uncertainty dancing across your eyes until you won back your composure.

“We all do things in here that we‘re not proud of.“

He had feared your judgement. Had feared that you would turn your back on him now that he had exposed this dark part of him, but instead there was understanding in your eyes.

And he knew you would never betray him. You could have left but you were still here. Still with him.

“So what‘s your plan now?“

You studied his face, but you looked tired and even though his own exhaustion was wearing him down he thought about offering to stay awake and keep an eye out so you could rest.

“I need to get out of here“, he said simply, because it was the only thing he was sure of. You nodded, but he caught the hint of disappointment on your face.

He should leave now, use the last hours of the night and get out of this hellhole and back to his own, safe walls.

But he couldn‘t bring himself to get up and risk his life again. Not when he finally had a moment to relax after the last hours had been nothing but stressful and not when this could be the last time he saw you.

The last time and the first time you two had for yourselves, without cameras watching you or anyone questioning your connection.

“Yeah, that makes sense“, you agreed, but he heard the strain in your voice. You were exhausted and worn down from the constant fear, the terror and the need to keep one eye open at all times.

“But…that can wait a little.“

You furrowed your brows. “Are you sure? Aren‘t they going to be suspicious, if you don‘t get back soon?“

He shrugged. “I am just going to tell them the truth. That I got attacked and had to hide.“

“And you won‘t get in trouble?“

He was almost touched by your concern, but decided to conceal it with amusement. When you noticed his look you rolled your eyes. “I was just checking, because I need my mentor to get me out of here alive. I can‘t have him rot in chains somewhere.“

“Right”, he nodded with a smile, but quickly grew serious again. “They are the ones who got me here in the first place so I doubt they get to have a say in how or when I make it out.“

“Thank you.“ Your voice was barely above a whisper and he drew you close, his hand gently moving up and down your arm.

Coriolanus couldn‘t do much for you. But he could stay now, pull your body close to his to provide you with warmth and stop your shivers and let you rest.

Even if it was just for a night, he would be there for you.

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otomehoneyybearr · 1 year ago

Text

Ikemen Prince 4th Anniversary Eve

Gilbert & Azel: The Relationship Unbeknownst to Anyone

Somewhere on a certain day—

Gilbert: "---I've always wondered if the conqueror beast and the sacred beast were one in the same."

Gilbert: "Both being evils of the world that control people and manipulate them as they please."

Azel: "I agree with the evil part. You and I would be better off not existing."

Azel: "We are both nuisances to the world, after all."

Gilbert: "Should we die together then?"

Azel: "You mean kill each other."

Gilbert: "That’s right."

Azel: "Disgusting."

Gilbert: "Agreed."

Azel: "So?"

Gilbert: "Hehe, no need to rush. I've went through the trouble of preparing food and drinks, so why not enjoy it first?"

Azel: "I'm having alcohol, while you're having water?"

Gilbert: "Oh, so you noticed."

Azel: "I am a god, after all."

Gilbert: "More like a con-artist, right?"

Azel: "That's another way to put it."

Gilbert: "Haha, you're not denying it."

Azel: "The title isn't that important."

Gilbert: "Really? I thought you’d be particular about it."

Azel: "Not at all. At least with you, being god or con-artist doesn't matter."

Azel: "I'm just a 'nuisance’ in the end, aren't I?"

Gilbert: "So you realized that."

Azel: "Just how many times do you think I've confiscated the weapons you smuggled into my country?"

Azel: "Can't you stop that? It's increasing my overtime and it's annoying."

Gilbert: "It only takes time because you carefully disassemble the firearms and send them back each time."

Gilbert: "Is that your hobby or something?"

Azel: "Do you want to be called a carefree rich boy?"

Gilbert: "Oh, so it was actually a declaration of war."

Azel: "If you understand that much, then don't bother asking. Tanzanite is the land of the gods,”

Azel: "So you should’ve realized by now that your spies and schemes are powerless in my sacred domain."

Gilbert: "Hmm, that's troublesome."

Gilbert: "It seems I miscalculated how difficult 'cleaning up' Tanzanite would be."

Gilbert: "Or perhaps I should say I underestimated you."

Gilbert: "Tanzanite has the lowest return rate for spies among the major countries."

Gilbert: "Currently you’re the only one from your country that's noticed my plans—No, more like, you're the only one at all."

Gilbert: "I thought that I could gather some information from you by sharing a drink, but..."

Gilbert: "You're quite hard to read. Is this what a god is like?"

Azel: "Donations are always welcome."

Gilbert: "Unfortunately for you, I only believe in myself."

Azel: "I figured as much. Spending time on you could be considered a waste."

Azel: "...Though a free meal does have its value."

Gilbert: "Haha, if you get along with me, there might be even better things in store for you."

Azel: "Not happening."

Gilbert: "Oh, that was an immediate answer. Despite us being somewhat similar."

Azel: "That's just slander."

Azel: "I don't distrust human potential as much as you do."

Azel: "Humanity doesn't need gods or beasts."

Gilbert: "...Is that so?"

Azel: "Want to bet?"

Gilbert: "Sure, sounds interesting."

Gilbert: "Your schemes are like mirages, vague and hard to grasp, but..."

Gilbert: "I'll bet on the foolishness of humans."

Azel: "Then I'll bet the opposite."

Azel: "I'll bet on the potential of humans."

Azel: "They have the ability to cleanse themselves. They can recognize and atone for their mistakes."

Azel: "Make sure to prepare your money, Disaster boy."

Gilbert: "You too."

Some little notes I had:

*: There's a possibility of Azel being older than Gilbert, seeing as he would attach things like (ーくん)-kun or (ーちゃん)-chan to the nicknames he gave Gilbert…That or Azel's was just trying to antagonize him.

**: Alternative interpretation of the nickname carefree rich boy could be 'airheaded/thoughtless young master'

***: Alternative interpretation of the nickname (厄災くん or yakusai-kun)Disaster boy could be 'Mr. Calamity'

I wasn't sure which of these interpretations would fit Azel's dialogue more, so I wanted to leave these notes so that everyone can get a general sense of the word/nickname.

Master List

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#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri translations #ikepri jp #ikepri spoilers #ikemen prince spoilers #ikepri gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri azel #azel radwan

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stinkysam · 3 months ago

Text

Choi Subong "Thanos" - I know you.

Warning : mention of child rape (very brief), death, killing

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : “reader used to be an actor, when he was young and then had a downfall after a scandal that he didn't have control over, and then it just got worse when he got older and one day a man approached blah blah you know what happens and he ends up in the Squid game and being old(old like In-ho) they won easily red light green light having it played in his childhood and that it surprised him some people actually recognised him and that one of the people being Choi Su-bong”

Reader : male (you/yours)

A/N : bold is in English // Someone lives in this one uwu (who will it be ? 👀) // 6K8 words

Thanos only noticed you during the first vote when your number was called. You walked calmly toward the buttons and without hesitating you chose O. You took the blue patch they handed you and went with the other Os as you placed it on your chest.

You seemed familiar, but Thanos couldn’t find out why. You had voted O, which meant he could have a closer look at you once he’s been called to vote.

When it was his turn, he picked O without hesitating as well. It was an obvious choice for him. But as he took his patch, 456 spoke out against the ongoing vote, trying to wake everyone up and asking them to regain their common sense.

Thanos looked at him, eyeing you briefly. You weren’t looking at 456, but your head was slightly turned toward him, listening.

Although some people argued back, you stayed silent. Looking at the people who hadn’t voted yet. You wondered if this will make some of them change their minds.

The vote started again after an armed triangle threatened 456 with his weapon, making him stand with the other Xs.

In the end, Os were the winners. You sighed, slightly relieved. Someone patted your back in celebration and you even saw a purple haired man belly bump someone in the air.

Some people were really enthusiastic, you couldn’t help but smile at it.

Soon, the calm returned, everyone standing by their beds, getting to know each other, chatting.

Then came time to eat, everyone was behaving, standing in lines to get their food.

You sat on your bed, eating, eavesdropping on what was being said by your neighbors.

On the bed next to yours, 230 and 124 were talking. Ranting about another player who made them lose a lot of money. The more they talked, the more upset they became. It’s like they were riling up one another inadvertently, it was a bit fun to watch.

But then they stood up, walking toward him, you supposed. You watched them speak calmly at first until it quickly escalated. 230 slapped the man making him jump on him.

You let out a small smile as you saw the three of them fight. Young people and their fiery…

You took another bite of your rice wondering what was gonna stop them. Will they stop themselves ? Or will armed guards interrupt ? Or maybe another player ? Will the man die ?

Your thoughts were interrupted when 001 stood up, calling the young men out.

You watched, impressed, as he grabbed 230 by the throat and kicked 124, sending him on the floor, holding his leg in pain.

001 let go of the purple haired boy who rushed back to him, not understanding he didn’t stand a chance. He was punched in the stomach, doubling over in pain before his arm was twisted, joints cracking loudly, sending him to the floor as well. You grimaced.

The older man was above 230, strangling him, one fist in the air to punch him if necessary.

And finally, he let go of him, the younger man rolling over, coughing as he regained his breath.

You watched as 230 slowly crawled back to his bed, 124 following him, cursing as he struggled to climb the ladders to his bed.

“You okay kid ?” You asked 230, slightly amused. He glared at you, before giving you a double take and frowning.

“I know you.” He finally said with a hoarse voice, pointing at you with his free hand, his other one by his throat, trying to soothe the pain.

You raised your eyebrow, surprised. Could he really know you ? It’s been a long time since someone recognized you and he was a bit young to have seen your movies in theaters.

He continued looking at you, getting more confident with each passing second.

“Yeah ! You’re… uh, [Last name] [Name]. You played in-”

“Yeah I know what I played in.” You quickly said, waving him off. You sighed. Ah, seriously… “Aren’t you a bit young to know my films ?”

“What are you talking about ? I can just watch them on streaming platforms.”

“Ah, right.”

“You’re a fucking legend, man, what are you doing here ?”

It seemed that the embarrassment of losing in front of everyone and the pain was long gone. He moved on fast. Heh.

“Take a guess. Why are we all here ?”

“How can you have debts ? Didn’t you win shit tons of money with the movies ? They were so popular ! Only dumb people have not seen them.”

You shrugged.

“Do you know why I stopped ?”

He nodded.

“…Yeah, you got accused of having sex with kids or something.”

“Not me.” You corrected dryly. “My co-star. When it was found out, that bastard accused me of helping him with it. Put all the blame on me. Though it was a lie, the public blamed me for not saying sooner what was going on. Why the fuck would I know what he does with his dick ?!” You sighed, rubbing your face, getting frustrated over it again.

“Fuck. Why didn’t you kill him ?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded.

“I don’t wanna go to jail ?” Wasn’t it a logical reason to not kill someone ?

“I would’ve killed that man.”

You chuckled.

“I believe you.”

You stayed in silence for a while, before 230 spoke again.

“I’m Thanos. I’m a huge fan.” He said, holding his hand out for you to shake.

“Tha…nos ?” You thought for a moment. Grabbing his hand slowly, shaking it briefly. “Oh, I think I’ve heard about you. Didn’t you do a rap battle ? How did it go ?”

He looked away in silence, slightly embarrassed.

“I lost.”

“Oh.”

“But it was unfair, I shouldn’t have lost over what happened.” He groaned, upset, rubbing his hair in frustration.

“And what happened ?” You raised an eyebrow, curious.

Another rapid silence.

“I forgot my bars.” He replied quietly.

“Your… Oh.” You stayed silent for a few seconds, unsure of what to say. There was nothing you could say to help him feel better about it so you leaned closer and patted his shoulder awkwardly.

“When we get out of here, let’s take a selfie together.” He said with a smile. “The fallen legends.”

You scoffed, chuckling at his words.

“Oh, so you’re a fallen legend ?”

He looked to the sides, thinking.

“No. I’m still a legend. Not a fallen one.”

“But I am ?” You asked, a smile tugging at your lips. “Woah, what a fan you are.”

He laughed.

“Alright. I’ll caption it ‘The still legends’ then.”

You snorted, amused.

“Okay. Don’t die then.”

“No way.” He smiled, confident. “Nothing can get in my way.”

You continued talking till night time came, getting to meet with the team he managed to create in such a small time, him, Namgyu and Gyeongsu.

The lights were off and everyone was in their beds, trying to fall asleep. Some succeeded faster than others.

Thanos fell asleep before you, you could hear him snore and talk in his sleep. It was a bit funny.

He didn’t seem like a completely bad kid, but you couldn’t really care for someone else in here, right ? What if you team up and have to kill him ? You couldn’t trust this place.

You listened to what he was saying, although half of his sentences or words were missing, trying to imagine what he was dreaming about. It seemed like a better place than here.

Morning came quickly, music accompanying a voice through the speakers announcing the imminent start of the second game.

You got out of bed, stretching and walking amongst the others before being told to exit the lobby.

As you walked up and down the slim and twisted corridors, you wondered how big the place was. Will you do all 5 remaining games in the same room ?

You weren’t particularly stressed, if you had to die, then so be it. At least you’ve tried. You had nothing waiting for you. Yet seeing Thanos and Namgyu play around, uncaring about the deadly game awaiting you all helped you relax a bit more.

You entered a big room and as the door closed they announced you had 10 minutes to form teams of 6.

Thanos and Namgyu looked at each other, before turning to Gyeongsu. That made a team of three.

Should you play with these kids ? Or find yourself another team ? You doubted that there would be only one survivor by each team, but you couldn’t be sure of anything.

“Sir, you’ll play with us, right ?” Namgyu asked with a smile, already confident you’d say ‘yes’.

You looked at him, thinking, while Thanos stared at you expectantly.

“Sure.” You finally said, shrugging.

“Yes !” Thanos closed his fists happily.

“We need two more then.”

“I already found one we could take with us.”

“Ah ? Who ?” Namgyu asked as you all looked around to see who had caught Thanos’ eyes.

He pointed somewhere before walking in that direction confidently. You slowly followed him, trying to look for another future team member at the same time.

He stopped behind a girl.

That could be good for the team. Some games were mostly played by girls, she could be of help. Unless she hasn’t played them.

You listened as Thanos and the girl spoke, wondering if that’s how young men flirt nowadays. Did flirting always sound this… bad ?

You chewed your lips to not laugh, focusing on finding the 6th member.

Then, she revealed she already had a teammate. A smaller boy, looking all shy with 125 written on his clothes.

Namgyu complained. They were not what he was looking for. A girl and a dork ?

But Thanos didn’t hear any of it, gladly accepting the two of them, making you a team of 6.

Nice.

Thanos looked at you with a smile, expectantly. You stared back, unsure of what he wanted. You ended up giving him a thumbs up and a pat on the shoulder, squeezing it gently.

This seemed to be what he wanted, looking proudly in front of him, puffing out his chest.

Soon the ten minutes were over and you had to sit by groups inside the circles as they explained the rules of the game.

You had to do six mini games under six minutes, your feet cuffed to your teammates.

Ddakji, flying stone, gonggi, spinning top, arm wrestling and jegi.

You quickly discussed amongst yourselves who would do what, Thanos ignoring the discussion completely.

Two teams got called, shaking, they stood up, letting their feet be cuffed as everyone stared at them.

You couldn’t help but give a small grimace. You wouldn’t have liked to be the first to play.

“Let’s get it ! Whooo !” Thanos screamed as the timer began counting down.

Six minutes. Six games. Was it possible ?

You watched intently, quietly celebrating each time they cleared a game. But there were more failures than victories and thus they ended up dying, the timer on zero.

You flinched slightly at the sound of gunshots, the loud sound startling you as you looked at the other team, dead too.

Fuck.

You blinked slowly. At least the deaths were quick. If you die, you won’t feel a thing.

You stared as a triangle asked to open a coffin to shoot twice the person inside. Were they not dead already ? Did they not get shot properly ? With how close the guns were ? What do they do with the bodies ? That’s a lot of people to get rid of…

You got pulled out of your thoughts by Thanos’ voice.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” He said a bit loudly, body still moving as if he was dancing to some song.

You looked at them, listening.

“If I get nervous and lose the game, we’ll all die.” Namgyu replied, showing his shaky hands. “My hands are shaking like crazy.”

“Hey, Namsu.”

“It’s Namgyu.”

“Right, Namgyu.” Thanos corrected himself, pulling something out from under his vest. “Do you know what this is ?”

“Ecstasy ? Ketamine ?”

Ah. Drugs. You should’ve known he’s so relaxed for a reason.

“It’s a new kind. It’s fucking crazy, man. You can’t handle it.” Thanos said.

Namgyu showed him his arm, scars by the fold of his elbow.

“I did all kinds of crazy stuff when I was working at the club. I even bought you some when you came to the club.”

Thanos looked to the sides before opening his cross, handing Namgyu a colored pill.

“You junkie.” He said as the other boy put the pill on his mouth.

Having noticed you staring, Thanos turned to you, putting his cross back inside his vest.

“As long as you don’t get us killed, kid, you can take whatever you want.” You said, placing a hand on his shoulder with a nod.

Ah… You simply hoped they wouldn’t get too high and be unable to play. What if they’re so out of it they keep failing ?

“Just, stay slightly present ? For your turn. Okay ?”

Thanos nodded, flashing you a confident smile.

“Don’t worry.” He said.

You let out a snort. Don’t they say confidence can get you far ? You hoped it was true.

Once they were done taking the dead away, two other teams were called and the timer started again.

To your surprise, both teams made it in time. Everyone was celebrating, screaming, high-fiving and hugging one another in joy.

Fear had backed away. There was a way to survive, it was possible.

More teams passed, but whether they made it or not did not matter much. To know it was possible to make it had transformed everyone into strong optimists.

Then came your team’s turn.

Gyeongsu went first, failing a couple times before succeeding.

Though he was a bit far you still shook his shoulder in congratulation before walking to the next game.

380 aced the flying stone first try, saving you the time you would’ve needed to get the stone and get back behind the line if she had failed.

Came Minsu’s turn. You had to put your hand on Namgyu’s mouth so he’d stop making random noises in his ear. Minsu had failed once, and even though you had time, you preferred to not waste it.

Then Namgyu was on with spinning top, his knees kept shaking so hard they hit against yours. You placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure him after he had failed twice.

That seemed to motivate him enough to succeed on his third try.

Then came your turn. You sighed, shaking and stretching your arms before crouching down to the small table and placing your elbow on it.

You looked determined at the circle in front of you, in the same position as you. You grabbed each other's hand and began to push as hard as you could.

There was some resistance and then after 10 good seconds you slammed the back of his hand on the table. You looked at the circle slightly surprised as you felt Thanos’ hands on your shoulders, shaking you as Namgyu patted your back. You quickly stood up, you had lost enough time with spinning top, no time to waste with celebrations.

You walked to the next game, jegi.

After a first failed attempt, Thanos managed to hit it five times before yelling in victory.

You still had no time to waste, you wrapped your arms around Thanos and Namgyu, pulling them forward with you to cross the finish line a few seconds before the timer was over. It had been chaotic, no one’s feet were moving at the right time even when the crowd was giving you a rhythm to follow.

With fists raised in the air you celebrated your survival, patting everyone’s back as they uncuffed your feet to let you walk back to the lobby.

Walking excitedly, bouncing with each step you took, your group exchanged about the games you just played. Especially Namgyu, Gyeongsu and Thanos, joyfully talking about their skills.

They replayed the scenes with their bodies, imitating themselves and each other, laughing. 380 and Minsu were quieter about it, more discreet.

“But, have you seen [Name], he just went- Bam !” Namgyu said, arm wrestling with the air as he imitated you winning against the circle. “You were so cool, sir.”

“Yeah !” Thanos pointed at you, quickly walking to you. “You won so fast. What kind of strength is that ?”

“Their arm was probably tired from doing all these arm wrestling before my turn.” You replied.

“Ah, come on, don’t sell yourself short.” Thanos patted your back with a frown.

“I’m not-”

“There’s a reason you were casted as those strong characters. You even did your stunts yourself !”

“He did ?” Namgyu asked, impressed. “Woaah…”

“Yeah ! He got hurt during a few of them but he continued !” Thanos proudly said, patting your back strongly.

“Oh my god- really ? I’ve seen a few movies but I didn’t know about that. That’s fucking cool.”

You felt awkward. It’s been a long time since you’ve had people gush over you.

You scratched your head, smiling slightly embarrassed as they continued talking about you.

You reached the lobby and the whole group sat by Thanos’ bed, slowly calming down.

That’s only then that you realized the group that was racing at the same time as you didn’t make it.

You sat on your bed, the adrenaline slowly wearing off. You began to zone out, thinking about the amount of people that could be killed with today’s game. Will it become harder ? Can many people survive the last game ?

You vaguely heard Namgyu talk, then Minsu. You briefly looked at them, trying to focus back on reality but you really wondered if you could all make it out alive. And why was 456 the only survivor of the previous game ? How many times did it happen ? Did only one win each time ? Will it be the same this time too ?

Thanos’ voice caught your attention for a moment, looking at him before returning to your thoughts.

You didn’t even register that 456’s team had come back.

Then you heard Namgyu chuckle. You looked at him, confused before looking at the people remaining. Many people had made it out alive. How many will die tomorrow ? You sighed as you tried to guess, leaning back. Could you really count on statistics ?

That’s when pink men entered the lobby. A square with armed triangles behind him. He congratulated everyone for making it through, clicking on a remote to activate the piggy. Money falling by stacks into it with a small music accompanying it.

You all looked up at it as the screen by the wall updated the total sum inside it. 78 million for each person alive in this room.

You grimaced. Still not enough.

And apparently you weren’t the only one disappointed.

And so, a new vote started.

Like last time, there was an interruption. By 001. People argued back and forth, a young girl began crying, simply wanting to go back home. You felt sorry for her and wondered why they couldn’t let the Xs go out and keep the Os only.

“One more game !” 100 had started yelling, holding a finger up, and soon every Os followed. You did the same, not wanting to go back home just yet. Thanos seemed overjoyed next to you, fists in the air as he looked around. So many people were cheering. The Os were assured to win.

Slowly the vote went on again. Some people still hesitated. But not Thanos, who had confidently walked to the buttons before picking O to turn around and look at you, giving you a thumbs up.

You snorted, giving him a thumbs up as well.

You did the same thing when your number was called to vote, picking O without thinking twice and looking at Thanos, making an O with your fingers. You heard him yell a quick “Wooh !”, throwing his fists in the air.

You high-fived each other as you stood next to him, watching the vote continue. The results were tight at first, but a majority was slowly sticking out. And so, the Os won again.

You celebrated your victory, returning to your beds.

“So one more game.” Thanos said with a nod, sitting down with the group.

“Maybe more.” You added, letting yourself fall on the mattress.

“More ?” Minsu asked quietly.

“Mh. I doubt one more game will be enough for my debts.”

Minsu didn’t seem to like what he heard, staying silent, thinking.

“Why did you vote O this time ? Didn’t you choose X ? What made you change your mind ? Next time… pick X if you don’t wanna play.” You said, leaning to the side to pat his arm.

“Uh… I-”

“Ah, come on, don’t say stuff like that.” Namgyu intervened, stopping Minsu from talking. “If everyone votes X next time we won’t get the money we need.”

“Yeah but if everyone votes X, I’ll 100% stay alive longer.”

“What’s the point of going back home with all the debts we have ? We have a chance to change that here.”

You shrugged, closing your eyes.

You probably fell asleep because you suddenly felt someone shake you.

“Time to eat.” Thanos said.

Huh ? Already ? You slowly stood up, standing in line to be served.

You were eating on your bed, the quiet chattering of everyone sounding like pink noise in your ear. Then you felt a weight next to you.

Thanos.

He had a small smile on his face, staring at you silently. You looked back at him, waiting for him to talk.

You raised your eyebrows as he continued to say nothing. Did he expect you to know what he wanted ? Did he want your soboro bread ?

Then finally he spoke.

“You have tea ?” He took a tip of his milk.

“Sorry ?”

“Gossip ?”

“Huh ?”

“On your old co-stars.”

You stared at him silently before chuckling.

“Ah...” You nodded, smiling. “Maybe I do.”

“Tell me.” He said quietly, urging you as he scooted closer, grabbing your food and putting it aside.

You raised an eyebrow again, amused, as you took your food back, taking a slow bite before answering.

“Why would I ? What are you gonna do with this ‘tea’ ? Huh ?”

“I’m not gonna do anything with it.”

“That was a little too quick. And I know you’re gonna run your mouth. You seem the type.”

“Ah, come on ! Wait, what does that mean ?”

You just shrugged.

“I just wanna know…” He said with pleading eyes. “I could die tomorrow and take those secrets with me. Not bad, right ?” He smiled.

“Wh- I’m not gonna tell you stuff in hope you die.” You scoffed. “Fucking awful. Do you wanna bring bad luck on yourself ?”

“Please ! I tell you one thing, you tell me one ?”

“And what would I like to know ?”

He seemed to think for a moment, looking away.

“My name ? The name of your biggest fan ?”

You snorted, taking another bite.

“Didn’t they say your name on the first day ? Choi… Choi something. Ah, what was it ?”

“Subong.”

“Right ! Choi Subong.”

“Now you know my name. So, you gotta tell me one thing.”

“Fuck no.”

“Sir, do you like to play dirty ?” He slapped your shoulder. “I told you one thing so now it’s your turn.”

“Actually when I was a kid I kept playing dirty. My enjoyment before yours. There. You have your one thing.”

“Ah… I already knew that ! You said it in one of your first interviews. I want tea on other actors !”

You stared at him dumbfounded.

“How… How many interviews did you watch ?”

“I think all of them. Some were hard to find, though.”

…

“Alright, okay. But I’m not gonna tell you anything unless, and only unless, we get out of here alive. Alright ? I’ll spill eeeverything. Who eats their toenails, who drinks piss because they believe it brings health, everything.”

He stared at you. Wh- Toenails ? Piss ? You could not just say that and not tell him who !

“Not telling now.” You added, shaking your head.

He sighed, visibly not pleased before reluctantly agreeing.

“I better know everything.”

“Everything.” You assured him, patting his shoulder. “Now go away.” You chuckled, but Thanos shook his head, opening his bread before taking a bite. “My god…” You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “Fine. Stay here, but don’t ask anymore questions.”

He grinned, mouth full as you grimaced.

Then came the bathroom break. Everyone stood up except Minsu and Semi, not feeling the need to go.

Everything was going well until you walked out of the stall, seeing Thanos, Namgyu and Gyeongsu crowding around 333.

You listened as you washed your hands, eyeing them occasionally. But as Thanos grabbed 333, pushing him against the wall you grabbed Thanos, pulling him away.

“Alright, okay, that’s enough. No murder outside of the games.” You said, forcing him to walk out of the bathroom as he tried to break free. “I said enough.”

He finally stopped, cursing under his breath as he let you walk him down the corridors, your hands holding his shoulders, squeezing them to calm him.

You crossed paths with 001 and some of his team, looking at you with curious eyes. You didn’t smile at them, too focused on distancing Thanos from 333.

Namgyu and Gyeongsu quickly caught up with you.

Thanos was still sulking waiting for the lights out in his bed.

“Come on, snap out of it.” You rolled your eyes, slapping his shoulder. “You saw 001. If I hadn’t stopped you, he would have, and not as nicely as I did.”

He looked at you, pursing his lips before nodding.

“What would you have done ? If a man stole your money ?”

“Did he ?”

“Not-” He sighed. “He tells people on the internet when to invest in crypto money. He said ‘Now is the perfect time’ so I did. And I fucking lost everything.”

You looked at him, then away, thinking.

“I don’t know much about crypto. But ain’t there a way to legally bite his ass ?”

“Well, we, uh, weren’t forced to buy it. So…”

“Ah… Well. You already know how poorly I handled my ‘scandal’. Completely disappeared.”

“You didn’t beat up that asshole ? For taking you down with him ?”

“Oh, no I did. Eye for an eye. But you don’t aim to just get your money back, you clearly want to kill that guy.”

“Of course I do ! He ruined my life.”

“If you do, you’ll never get your money back though.”

“Yeah but satisfying.”

You snorted, patting his shoulder.

“I think there’s nothing I can do for you. You’ve made up your mind already. But if you kill him, do it here, not outside where you can get arrested.”

He nodded.

“You’re not gonna try to stop me ?”

“I’m not your dad, not my job to educate you.” You said, laying down in your bed, throwing the bedsheet on yourself.

He looked at you before speaking.

“That would’ve been nice.”

“Me as your father ?” You laughed. “I don’t know, I’m not fond of kids.”

“That’s why you don’t have any ?”

“Yeah. I already struggle with myself so why would I force a kid to live through that. With all my debts I can’t allow it anyway.”

“And wife ?”

“I like my peace too much.” You sighed and he laughed. Then the lights were out. “But maybe I would’ve liked a kid like you. Makes things fun.”

Though you could not see it, Thanos looked your way, silent, pleased by your words.

“Would you have a family if it didn’t happen ?”

“Don’t know. Don’t think so.”

He hummed, resting on his back.

Morning came quickly again, the voice through the speakers talking about the imminent start of the third game. Once more you stood up, stretching and walking amongst the crowd before going into the long corridors.

You entered a big room with a pink platform at the center with many colored doors adorning the walls. Walking in, the voice announced the name of the game, mingle.

It was easy to guess what you were supposed to do. Get in a room with the number announced. This should be easy.

Next to you, Thanos was enthusiastic, looking around excitedly as Namgyu quickly hopped forward on his feet. The rest of the team was… perplexed. Definitely not as relaxed as them.

You kept walking in, standing on the platform, waiting for the game to start.

And soon, it began.

Round and Round started playing on the speakers as the platform lit up and began to move.

Still relaxed, Thanos began dancing, shaking his arm in the air like a cowboy with a lasso.

The first round was easy.

10.

Meaning you needed to find 4 people. You, Gyeongsu, Minsu and Semi quickly brought back one person each, seeing Thanos and Namgyu just looking at people, like frozen. Too many people to choose, too many possibilities. Who should they pick ? Too late, you’ve already brought everyone needed.

You grabbed whoever you could and pulled them with you into a room, the others quickly following closely.

You then heard rapid gunshots, as those who had been too slow were killed. You watched through the peephole as they placed the dead inside black coffins.

Thanos and Namgyu were dancing, arms linked as Round and Round went on again, waiting for the number to drop.

You were all looking at one another. You were two people too many.

Then Thanos looked at Gyeongsu and kicked him, sending him to the floor.

“Gyeongsu, you’re out !” Thanos yelled. “Let’s goooo !”

You were still not the right number. So you quickly jumped to grab Gyeongsu as Thanos and the rest of the team rushed to a room.

Quickly back on his feet but too shaken up to find someone, you had to find two more people. And by miracle you did it.

You closed the door behind yourself, securing the four of you right in time.

Gyeongsu stared at you, grabbing your arm.

“T- thank you, sir !” He said, shaking as he bowed. “You saved me. Thank you !”

“Ah, it’s okay.” You grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to straighten up. “We were still off by one person even without you so I mainly saved my own ass.”

He nodded slowly as you patted his back, rubbing it gently to help him shake out of the shock.

“You good ?” You asked.

“Yeah…”

The doors unlocked, allowing you out. Suddenly, Thanos jumped on you two.

“Sir ! Gyeongsu ! I’m so happy you’re alive !”

“Calm down, kid. You nearly killed him. Let him breathe.” You said, stopping Thanos from hugging Gyeongsu.

“What ?”

You frowned, looking confused. Was he too high to remember ?

“You kicked him.”

“What ? No way !”

“Whatever.” There was no time to argue and it felt pointless. You pulled them with you to go back on the platform. As it moved again with Round and Round playing Thanos went back to dancing.

You put your hand on Gyeongsu’s shoulder, ready to dash with him as soon as Thanos and Namgyu threw out another member. And it didn’t miss, making Minsu and Semi play rock paper scissors. Though she didn’t play, Minsu took advantage of her hand pose as she asked him to go with her and played scissors. Thanos and Namgyu didn’t think farther than that and grabbed him, pulling him into a room with them.

You grabbed Semi and ran with Gyeongsu and her.

As soon as you got out, Semi quietly thanked you before parting ways, hurt by Minsu’s actions.

You walked back to the platform, waiting.

You were a group of five, only needing one person. You quickly grabbed someone, rushing with the others, pushing another group as you tried to get to the door.

The person yelled at you all, saying they already had a group and that they’re probably dead now.

“Did you want to die with them ?” You asked, pointing at him. The man said nothing. “Yeah. Thought so.”

The doors were open again and you walked back to the platform. Namgyu and Thanos were bouncing slowly, jamming to the song.

Thanos was visibly buffering, hesitating between every member of his team. You, Minsu, Gyeongsu or Namgyu ?

“Take Namgyu.” You said, exasperated as you grabbed Gyeongsu and turned to Minsu. “Find Semi. She’s mad but she wants to live.” You pointed at him, before running and leaving him on his own, hoping for the best.

It was chaos. So many doors were already closed and people kept pushing one another, but luckily you and Gyeongsu managed to find a room, locking it behind yourselves.

And so did Semi and Minsu, Thanos and Namgyu.

Gyeongsu thanked you again for teaming up with him each time. You ruffled his hair telling him it was nothing.

As you walked back to the lobby, Thanos and Namgyu were jumping and playing together again, joking, having regained their energy.

You looked around, trying to see if Minsu had made it out alive. Did he find Semi ?

You finally saw him when you arrived at the lobby, Thanos rushing to him to hug him.

Gyeongsu sat next to you, waiting for the next vote. You wondered if he was gonna vote X.

The calm was back, everyone chatting amongst themselves.

Thanos was quietly rapping as Namgyu showed him 333 with a girl.

“Are you still a fan of his ?” You asked Gyeongsu, pointing to Thanos with your head.

He stayed silent for a moment before shrugging.

“Don’t take it personally. He’s high as fuck. Didn’t even remember he did that. You can be mad though.”

More silence as he nodded slightly.

“Are you gonna vote O ?”

“I… don’t know.”

“Don’t vote to make him happy. Vote for yourself. Do you see yourself surviving ? Do you need the money that badly ? Ask yourself that before just wanting to spend time with an artist you like.”

“What would you do ?” He asked quietly.

“Why is everyone asking me that ?” You chuckled. “I don’t know. I’d be mad a fuck against him, that’s for sure. And if that didn’t kill me I’d definitely pick a fight with him.”

Gyeongsu looked at Thanos, thinking.

“You can’t beat him.” You said with a slight snort. “Plus you’d have to fight Namgyu as well. No. Don’t try.”

“What are you guys talking about ?” Thanos asked, sitting next to you. Your bed was getting crowded.

“You. The great legend.”

Thanos smiled at your words.

“Not in a good way.” You added.

“Huh ? Why ?” His interest was piqued.

“He would’ve died if I didn’t pick him up when they asked for groups of 4.”

“Huh ?”

“You kicked him so fast, sending him on his ass before running away, leaving him there.”

“Huh ?! Is that true ?” Thanos asked as Gyeongsu looked at him briefly.

“…Yeah…” He nodded.

“Ah, I’m so sorry, man ! My memory is terrible. I should’ve kicked Namsu.”

“No-” You snorted. “That’s not- Subong, kicking Namgyu instead wouldn’t have changed anything.”

He stared at you, thinking before nodding slowly. You sighed.

The air felt suddenly awkward with Thanos and Gyeongsu at your sides as silence wrapped over you three.

Soon after the square came into the lobby, congratulating you all for surviving and showing the result of the third game.

Money fell into the piggy again, slowly filling it more and more.

And then, a new vote began.

456 went first, voting X like each time. And slowly but surely the vote went on.

Semi picked X, which didn’t please your team. Namgyu grabbed Minsu’s shoulder as Thanos made a “watching you” sign with his hands.

Then came Thanos’ turn, skipping to the button and kissing the O one.

“Circle, let’s go !” He screamed, making a circle with his arm above his head.

You briefly raised your fist in the air. O !

Then came your turn, picking O once again. You nodded and walked to the blue side of the room.

Gyeongsu’s turn came quickly after. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before finally picking O as well.

You looked at him surprised, patting his back as he stood next to you. Then you saw Thanos walk to the back, probably to tell Minsu what to vote for since it was his turn.

He stood before the two buttons, hesitating as well. Another surprise, Minsu chose X. Good for him.

Namgyu and Thanos stared at him, disappointed as Namgyu was called to vote, picking O again.

The vote slowly continued and no clear winner was showing up and eventually it ended in a tie.

The square guy announced that another vote was gonna take place the following day, so you all went back to your beds. The air felt tense, everyone wondering who would change their vote to make their side win.

You rubbed Thanos’ shoulders, shaking him slightly, smiling. He smiled back at you as you both sat down.

Then it was time to eat, a roll of Gimbap and a bottle of coke was given to everyone and soon, access to the bathroom was open.

You stayed in the lobby with Gyeongsu, chatting together as Thanos and Namgyu had left.

Everything was going well between the two sides, everyone talking quietly.

Suddenly, an announcement was made.

“The following players have been eliminated. Players 230, 268, 299, 331 and 401. End of the list.” The voice over the speakers said as the ceiling rumbled, more money falling into the piggy.”

Your stomach dropped. 230 ? Wasn’t it Thanos ? What the fuck was going on ?

Then, the groups that went to the bathroom entered the lobby, Namgyu rushing past everyone as he yelled.

“Listen team O ! We- We- When we were in the bathroom, those fucking X bastards tried to kill all of us ! They killed some of us, including my friend-”

“Bullshit !” 047 Interrupted. “You’re the one who started it !”

You stood up, still confused as you walked toward Namgyu while both groups began arguing.

“Subong is… ? How ?” You asked Namgyu. He looked at you, still out of breath. “Who killed him ?”

“It’s that bastard. Myunggi.” He finally replied, glaring at him. “I took his fork.” He added, showing it to you.

A fork ?

You sighed, pressing the bridge of your nose. What ?

“Where does that fork come from ?”

“He had it. Took it from Thanos’ throat.”

You blinked at him.

“Throat ? Where ?”

Namgyu thought for a moment before showing you where he had been stabbed.

Fuck. He was probably still alive as a slow and painful death wrapped over him, unable to make any noise about it, alone with the corpses of the four other players.

Did the guards shoot him to shorten his suffering ? You hoped they did.

You looked around you, defeated. Though you didn’t know him that much, you grew fond of the kid. You had plans together, as futile as they were. He was supposed to live.

You sat back on your bed, next to Gyeongsu who stared at you, as surprised as you were.

“You okay ?” He asked. You crossed your arms, still thinking.

“Mh.”

You two stayed on the bed as 100 counted every O in the lobby, twice, if not thrice.

You don’t know how many Os were remaining but you didn’t care. It seemed a bit extreme, but with Thanos’ death, your desire to play the games had disappeared with him.

“Are you gonna kill him ?” Gyeongsu suddenly asked, noticing your fists tightly shut.

“Huh ? Oh, uh… I don’t know.”

The voice through the speakers announced that the lights will be out soon, giving you time to think about your next actions.

You heard Namgyu talk to himself on Thanos’ bed, opening his cross and taking a pill, before taking a second one, cursing him out.

Will Namgyu go after him ? He had the fork but could he win ? Should you help him ? Do you really want revenge for a man you’ve known for a couple days only ?

You looked over at 333, he seemed… zoned out ? With a far away look in his eyes.

You rubbed your face. Trying to shake yourself out of it.

Did 333 really deserve to die ?

You said an eye for an eye, but could you really kill a man ?

#male reader #m!reader #thanos squid game #squid game x m!reader #squid game x male reader #squid game 2 #squid game #choi subong x m!reader #choi subong x male reader #choi su bong x male reader #choi subong #choi su bong #choi su bong x m!reader

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mtnman451 · 2 months ago

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Useful Information.

While Leftists, Liberals, and Democrats use different sources for information they operate from several handbooks. One of those that's become notable in the last 30 years is this book. "Rules for Radicals" by Saul Alinsky. Here are some of it's teachings.

"1. “Power is not only what you have, but what the enemy thinks you have.” Power is derived from 2 main sources – money and people. 'Have-Nots' must build power from flesh and blood. 2. 'Never go outside the expertise of your people.' It results in confusion, fear and retreat. Feeling secure adds to the backbone of anyone. 3. 'Whenever possible, go outside the expertise of the enemy.' Look for ways to increase insecurity, anxiety and uncertainty. 4. 'Make the enemy live up to its own book of rules.' If the rule is that every letter gets a reply, send 30,000 letters. You can kill them with this because no one can possibly obey all of their own rules. 5. 'Ridicule is man’s most potent weapon.' There is no defense. It’s irrational. It’s infuriating. It also works as a key pressure point to force the enemy into concessions. 6. 'A good tactic is one your people enjoy.' They’ll keep doing it without urging and come back to do more. They’re doing their thing, and will even suggest better ones. 7. 'A tactic that drags on too long becomes a drag.' Don’t become old news. 8. 'Keep the pressure on. Never let up.' Keep trying new things to keep the opposition off balance. As the opposition masters one approach, hit them from the flank with something new. 9. 'The threat is usually more terrifying than the thing itself.' Imagination and ego can dream up many more consequences than any activist. 10. 'The major premise for tactics is the development of operations that will maintain a constant pressure upon the opposition.' It is this unceasing pressure that results in the reactions from the opposition that are essential for the success of the campaign. 11. 'If you push a negative hard enough, it will push through and become a positive.' Violence from the other side can win the public to your side because the public sympathizes with the underdog. 12. 'The price of a successful attack is a constructive alternative.' Never let the enemy score points because you’re caught without a solution to the problem. 13. 'Pick the target, freeze it, personalize it, and polarize it.' Cut off the support network and isolate the target from sympathy. Go after people and not institutions; people hurt faster than institutions."

Immediately after these in the link I will post below is this statement which I find very enlightening: "Alinsky’s rules can and have been used for anti-democratic designs."

As I've stated in the past, I love old sayings. One I like the most is "What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander." My point is this. If they can use Alinsky's teachings against us, we can use Alinsky's teaching against them.

Don't give in. Don't give up. Use all the sources at your disposal but make sure they are as credible and as truthful as they can be. Let them be caught in the lie not you. These days with the legacy Media as compromised and as biased as they are that can be a daunting task but it can be done. Have Faith and God Bless!

#politics #us politics #leftists #liberals #democrats #democratic party #democrats lie #democrats are evil #books #trump #president trump

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darlingdreadwrites · 7 months ago

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Mr. Mann's Manor of Frights

pairings: You can choose from Ticci Toby x GN!Reader, Human!Eyeless Jack x GN!Reader, Clockwork x GN!Reader, Jeff the Killer x GN!Reader, Human!BEN x GN!Reader

summary: You go to Mr. Mann’s Manor of Frights for one night and stumble upon someone you have a connection with.

contains: a (very) mini choose your own adventure (5 choices for 5 pastas)

warnings: all of them are human (or maybe they shapeshift, idk if i wanna continue this au yet), Slenderman is named Keelan Mann, Clockwork goes by Natalie

word count: 374

masterlist

a.n: hiiiiiiiii!!! this is a mini fic series that i thought of where the creepypasta mansion was actually a haunted attraction/amusement park. while they all do have trauma, they have not killed anyone (maybe a criminal record) OR died. this is definitely super late since i started this three days before halloween, but whatevs.

Keelan Mann is a wealthy philanthropist who has adopted troubled children throughout the years because he was once a troubled youth himself. He provides a home for those who are abused, violent, and severely mentally ill. After becoming of age, many of them have left home. But, for two weeks in a year, they come back for Halloween to help their father host his festival – Mr. Mann’s Manor of Frights! A spooky event with food, haunted experiences, an arcade, and many booths.

The sprawling mansion – with its tall spires and arched windows – is the perfect place for the festival. After passing through the massive gates and parking, you and your friends make it to the main entrance. Fake lampposts with wrapping vines and orange leaves line the paths. The flickering lights cast playful shadows. Strung above are jack-o-lantern lights, their faces grinning and leering at the many people walking below. A gentle breeze makes them sway. And, with the wind, comes the mouth-watering aroma of the vibrant food booths stretched out in one corner. You wish you had enough money to try it all – maybe you’d come more than one night.

Throughout the park, racking up cries, are the scare-actors. They jump at their unsuspecting victims, wagging prop weapons in their faces. Their laughter and mock screams could send a chill through you even from a distance. Signs and arrows dare you to venture through the “haunted experiences” in the manor. In many of the rooms and levels of the large building are decorated with different themes and scares. One of your friends reminds you that there is an arcade inside, too. Along with an arcade, there are several game booths: ring toss featuring skulls, tarot card readings, and face painting. The music and the crowds of people could be disorienting to some, but you feel a tingling anticipation. The night is young, and you cannot wait to take it all in.

With a wristband confirming your status as a guest, your friends turn to ask you…

Where will you go first?

-> Go to one of the haunted experiences

-> Take a walk around

-> Check out the food stands

-> Head to the arcade room

-> Stop to look at one of the booths

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ageingfangirl2 · 2 years ago

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Fight Someone Your Own Size! Mihawk (OPLA)

Mihawk comes to your aid and is intrigued by you. Dracule Mihawk x Reader

Part 2

Y/N

You'd just finished a long shift at the local tavern and wanted nothing more than to go home and rest. The tavern wasn't in the nicest part of town, so you always made sure to have a blade on hand in case trouble came your way. Tonight you decided to take a well-known shortcut through a couple of notorious alleys because it would save you a few minutes. It wasn't that you couldn't fight, you could very well, you just weren't a big fan of confrontation.

You make it through the first alley with ease, but the second you step foot into the second alley the air changes and you immediately pull out your blade to defend yourself. Behind you, footsteps can be heard, and just as you pick up your pace, your path is blocked by four men in front of you. Looking over your shoulder you see three more.

The obvious leader of the group steps towards being a burly man with a scruffy beard and sneers at you through yellow teeth, 'Well, well, what do we have here, boys? A little birdie caught in our net.'

The rest of the men snigger and wolf whistle, as you take a deep breath and try to mask your fear, 'I don't want any trouble, just let me through. You can have my money if you want.'

The men shared a wicked laugh, and the leader stepped closer, his eyes filled with malevolence. 'Money? We'll take your money, sweetheart, but we also want a little fun.'

He reveals a blade much longer than you own, and you get into a defensive position not wanting to go down without a fight, 'not going to happen.'

Before you could react, one of the other men lunged at her, brandishing a gleaming switchblade. Instinct kicked in, and you managed to dodge his initial attack, but the odds were stacked against you. The rest of the group closed in, overpowering you with sheer numbers. You feel a sharp pain as a blade grazes your arm.

You managed to get some good stabs in before one punch to the gut sends you to your knees.

'You call yourself men yet you're a disgrace to our kind,' an unfamiliar male voice comes from behind you, his voice monotone, condescending, and a little bored.

You dare to look over your shoulder and see a tall man step out of the shadows, his eyes were piercing, and your eyes couldn't help but be drawn to his bare chest and a golden cross that looked heavy. You hadn't seen this man around town before.

Three of the men who attacked you sneer and run at the man weapons ready to strike, but the mystery man almost danced around their attacks with elegance.

'Who the hell are you?' the leader questions.

You use the distraction to get back to your feet, just in time to see the mystery man pull a large sword which was sheathed on his back that looked deadly and impressive, 'I'm bored now,' the man drawls.

He brings down the sword against all three men at once, and the sheer force actually pushes you back a bit.

The leader of the group, realising they were outmatched, grabbed his remaining men and yelled, 'Let's get out of here!' The remaining men flee, leaving you and your mysterious saviour alone in the alley.

The man sheathes his sword and ignores the three dead men at his feet as he turns towards you, 'Are you okay?' he asks in a low, soothing voice.

You nod and put your blade down, 'Err yeah...thank you...did you really have to go that far and kill them?'

The man tilts his head, and you can't help but admire the feather in his hat, 'oh my dear, trust me, I wanted to go much further but they ran away like cowards. You would have probably won if there were fewer, I'm intrigued y/n.'

Your eyes widen, 'how do you know my name? I haven't seen you around town.'

'I only show myself when I absolutely have to. You have a bit of a reputation around town so I was surprised to overhear those men decide to attack you.'

You scuff your feet on the ground, 'I swear I've seen your face somewhere, but I can't remember your name.'

The man turns to walk away, 'Dracule Mihawk, I sense we'll meet again y/n. You have potential.'

Before you can say anything else he all but disappears into the shadows he'd emerged from. Dracule Mihawk, that name meant something to you, but right now you needed to get out of the alley before anyone found the dead bodies and you were attacked again.

#one piece #one piece imagines #one piece fanfiction #opla #opla mihawk #one piece live action #one piece live action mihawk #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #one piece live action imagines #one piece live action fanfiction #anime imagines #anime fanfiction #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece dracule mihawk #one piece live action mihawk imagines #opla mihawk imagines

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qqueenofhades · 2 years ago

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Hwy dod we even need to send more money to Ukraine tho like we’ve already supported them plenty! But let Europe pull their weight and we can go back to spending that money on American policies

Do you read like, any news outside Tumblr, any Ukrainian perspectives, any basic analyses of the conflict, any rationale from Democrats or Congress, or anything? Because, in brief:

Ukrainians are currently facing a full-scale genocide. It has been going on for over a year and Russian military leadership has every plan to continue until fruition. If they stop resisting, there will be no more Ukraine or Ukrainians. So all the "appeasers" or "realists" insisting that Ukraine should "give up land for peace" (which notably worked so well with Czechoslovakia and Hitler in 1938) are basically deciding that it's fine to let the genocide be carried out, if it's even minorly inconvenient for us. Putin and cronies have repeatedly stated that if they are successful in taking Ukraine, they will go further. This is the exact scenario that leads to the "escalation" and/or WWIII that various people keep wringing their hands over. It is far more just and safe for Ukraine to be supported now and to stop that before it gets even worse.

America is not actually giving over buckets of black cash, regardless of what various bad-faith takes claim. They are handing over weapons valued at various amounts of money, along with some financial and budgetary aid. A lot of these weapons are older and would cost more to decommission than they cost to give to a sovereign democracy fighting for its life against an imperialist autocratic neighbor. This is some tiny amount like 5% (if that) of America's bloated military budget. And again: it's actual weapons valued at a certain dollar amount. These cannot be spent on American domestic policies.

The idea that helping Ukraine is directly coming out of our own pockets or preventing us from spending as needed on our own needs is propaganda. It is not good to repeat it.

I wrote this post the other day about why Putin is trying so hard to break American/Western support for Ukraine, and why the hard-right MAGA has enabled him in it. Putin's Russia is the motivating nexus, coordination, and funding center for Russian/European/American far-right theocratic fascism. This whole "America Only" is the exact rationale that appeals to said far-right domestic fascists and gives Putin and other imperial expansionist kleptocrats the justification to just throw away post-WWII international order and declare that any larger and more powerful state can systematically eradicate any neighboring country, claim its territory, destroy its government, kill its people, and get away with it. Because why would they stop, if there aren't any consequences and they are rewarded for it?

Putin has repeatedly interfered in American elections to help Trump and the Republicans. That should tell you something about who he sees as most favorable to his interests and what he would do again if allowed to emerge victorious.

Europe IS actually pulling its weight! They just brought all 27 defense ministers to Kyiv, they have been working on Ukraine's accession talks, they have committed all types of weapons (including the long-range missiles that the US still won't clearly authorize), they've committed a new tranche of 5 billion euros in long-term assistance, etc. But the whole "we should pull out of NATO and leave Europe to fend for itself" was a key isolationist and xenophobic Trump idea. We can see what that led to.

American aid is vital to Ukraine's continued existence as a sovereign country, period, and it is in American interests to continue to provide it as agreed upon. Not least because such an egregious betrayal of a democratic ally would empower the fascists of the world, both Russian and American, and because as noted, if this conflict was not stopped and got bigger, it would then involve American troops. It is a moral, democratic, political, and ethical imperative. This is not a difficult call or a complicated situation, regardless of what the Online Leftist tankies and the MAGA-world nutcases (because horseshoe theory) want you to think.

Слава Україні.

The end.

#anonymous #ask #russia ukraine war

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necrotic-nephilim · 9 months ago

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for the dialogue prompts ask game

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? Freak." and jaytim <3

send a ship and a quote and i'll write a short fic!

i'm delighted this was the most requested prompt and ship. just for that it got bumped to the front of the line. the sexual tension is implied, but this is mostly just 3k of a torture scene during Tim's Robin era. enjoy <3

“I’ve got a present for you, Hood.”

Jason didn't have to look up to see who was talking to him. The voice was a familiarly grating one. He hadn't exactly been hiding the location of his current base. It was used for meetings with the drug lords under Jason’s thumb. Plenty of his men came through, looking to buy weapons off Jason or try to barter for more territory.

That didn't mean Black Mask was welcome.

Jason picked up a random gun from the table in front of him, making a point to loudly load and cock it. “You can't buy your way back into my good graces, Mask.” He cracked his neck. It'd been a while since Jason has fought Roman. He could use the workout.

“This present isn't something money can buy,” Roman sounded a little too gleeful. There was a heavy thud, followed by a human-sounded groan that made Jason turn his head with morbid curiosity.

Well. Jason would be damned. It really wasn't a present just anyone can pay for.

“How the hell did you of all people manage to pull this off?” Jason asked. He walked across the room, heavy boots loud against the concrete. Crouching in front of Roman’s little present, Jason hummed. “I sincerely doubt you have the skills to catch Robin on your own.”

Tim Drake, hog tied, gagged, and glaring like a bat out of hell, squirmed on the ground with an annoyed growl. His face was bloody and the handle of a shiv was sticking out of his thigh. Jason grabbed him by the chin and tilted his head up, just to be sure he was the real deal.

He was. That scowl was unmistakable.

“You underestimate me,” Roman said, pleased with himself. “I killed a Robin, you know.”

Roman couldn't see Jason’s face under his helmet, but Jason still looked up at him, arching an unconvinced eyebrow. More interesting though, was Tim's reaction. Another angry growl, this time directed at Roman.

“Of course, she barely counted as a Robin but-” Roman shrugged and spread his grubby hands- “I'm more dangerous than you know. More valuable.” He tilted his head to the side, giving Jason a ghastly smile. Jason had vaguely heard stories of a girl who was Robin for a short while. “But I’m giving you the honor of killing this Robin.”

Well, wasn't that a gift.

Jason couldn't say he wasn't pleased to have Tim tied up at his feet. Just the sight made him smile. But wanting Tim dead? That unfortunately would just cause Jason more issues than it was worth. Roman didn't know Jason’s history as Robin. No one did, but the Bats. And if those Bats knew Jason actually killed Tim, they'd make his life a hell of a lot more difficult.

It was tempting, though. Jason was already picturing half a dozen ways he would do it, if he could.

So goddamn tempting.

“You think I want the strings attached to this gift?” Jason was careful not to overplay his hand. He made a show of grabbing a handful of Tim’s hair and yanking his head back to get a look at him. If Roman knew Jason didn't actually plan to kill Tim, it could reveal too much about Jason’s past for comfort.

“My requests are reasonable,” Roman hummed. He was wandering around Jason’s warehouse, looking at Jason's weapons. “All of my men and territory pooled together with yours. For thirty percent of collective profit.”

He really was desperate. When Jason first met Roman, the man wouldnt have taken anything less than eighty.

Jason had heard rumors that Roman was losing ground to the Maronis. It clearly held more truth than he realized.

“What about that nightclub you own on the East End?” Jason asked, studying Tim. His face being hidden was a plus. Tim couldn't read him, no matter how hard he was clearly trying, eyebrows knit together.

Roman sputtered. “What about it?”

“I want in,” Jason said. “At least fifty.”

In truth, it wasn't about the money. Jason could get money just about anywhere. But he’d heard rumors about the girls that worked there getting beaten by their pimps. Jason had been looking for a way to get that under control.

He could always double cross Roman after a couple months, once he gained the support of Roman’s men. It would be easier than shooting fish in a barrel.

“I built that establishment from the ground up,” Roman hissed.

Jason only shrugged. “I could just kill you, then kill Robin.” Under Jason’s grip, Tim flinched and started to squirm harder.

Silence.

“Fifty is reasonable,” Roman said slowly, fighting against every word. “But I want to watch you kill the Boy Wonder.”

Jason shifted his weight. “Why?”

“Sadists enjoy admiring each other's work, don't we?” Roman leaned against a table, sliding his hands in his pockets. “I want to see how you’ll do it.”

That complicated things.

“You want to waste your whole night here?” Jason tried to sound bored. “I’m going to drag it out.”

Roman just laughed. “I did the same with the girl. There's no fun in giving them the easy way out.”

Jason needed time to think of a plan that didn't end in a dead bird on his hands. Which meant he needed to stall.

“Whatever.” Jason shrugged. “Do what you want. Just don't touch my shit and stay back there. I don't want you breathing down my neck.”

With a pleased nod, Roman leaned against a table. He pulled a cigar out of his pocket and lit it.

Jason cracked his neck and pulled his kris dagger off his belt. He cut the gag off of Tim, knicking his cheek with a small cut. Tim actually looked nervous.

Leaning forward to not be heard by Roman, Jason lowered his voice to a whisper. “Put on a good performance, or I'll have to actually start hurting you.” It was the only hint Jason was giving Tim about his working plan.

Tim’s expression changed. His brow furrowed, then mouth formed a small ‘o’ of understanding. He gave Jason the smallest, almost imperceptible nod. He understood. He would cooperate. There was still hesitance. Jason didn't blame him.

He still had to make Tim bleed.

Jason raised the dagger, making a show of considering what to do with it. He brought the blade down on the part of Tim’s chest plate with the thickest armor. The knife would still definitely pierce skin, but a shallow wound.

Tim grunted, face twisting up. He was going the smart route, making it look like he was trying hard to not react. Jason hummed in approval. He twisted the kris around, digging it into Tim’s suit more. This time, the sound Tim made sounded a bit more genuine.

“You can scream,” Jason said loudly. More for Roman’s sake, to play up the sadist act. Of course, a small part of him did want to hear Tim scream. “If you don't make it interesting, I'll just have to get more creative.”

Tim gave Jason a rude scowl. He really should've been more grateful. Jason still could just kill him.

“What toys do you keep here?” Jason asked. He routed around Tim’s utility belt, looking for something interesting. Tim tried to twist away. Jason kneed him hard in the stomach, pulling a groan out of him. “Hold still.”

Jason tossed aside uninteresting things, like lockpicks and fingerprinting kits. A small noise of victory came out of him when Jason’s fingers curled around a tazer.

“This looks fun.” Jason turned it around in his hand, fiddling with the settings.

Tim was violently shaking his head.

Jason pressed the tazer against Tim’s suit and turned it on.

Tim’s whole body jerked and he screamed through grit teeth. Jason watched his expression changed like a hawk. Of course Tim was acting it up, but still. It was something fun to watch him writhe in pain.

“It’ll hurt more if you press it against his bare skin,” Roman called out.

Jason looked over his shoulder. “If I want your useless input, I'll ask for it.” His tone was deadly enough to make Roman stiffen and nod.

Killjoy.

Jason shocked Tim with the tazer again while hunting some more around the belt. Every tortured noise Tim made was music to Jason’s ears.

The next interesting thing Jason pulled out was a small emergency flare.

With a curious hum, Jason lit the flare. Tim flinched and gave Jason a concerned look.

“What are you-” Tim asked shakily. He was cut off by a hard punch to the face. Blood poured from Tim’s nose.

“Don't rush me,” Jason growled. He pulled his kris out of Tim, setting the tazer aside. Jason held the blade against the hot flame from the flare. The metal warmed until it glowed bright red. “I’d really recommend holding still, unless you want to lose an eye.” Jason brought the red hot blade to Tim’s face. Tim froze, breathing hard.

instead of cutting, Jason just pressed the flat of the blade against Tim’s face. A horrible cry came out of Tim’s throat, but he stayed still. The scent of burning flesh filled the room for the long minute Jason kept the hot blade in place.

When he lifted it, Tim curled in on himself, coughing and choking on the blood from his nose. The wavy design of the kris left an interesting mark on Tim’s cheek, swirling back and forth.

“If that scars, I swear to god-” Tim mumbled through grit teeth, moving his mouth as little as possible.

“It won't scar,” Jason hissed back. “Probably.” Which was a shame. He sort of hoped it would. Jason cleared his throat to raise his voice. “I want Batman to know who killed you,” he explained, spinning the kris around in his hand. “He’ll see that and he’ll know whose blade it was.”

“You’re sick,” Tim wheezed. His voice was so small. Too small for Roman to hear. Jason huffed in annoyance.

“Don’t be shy you’re going to insult me,” Jason taunted. He tapped Tim’s thigh with his shoe. A reminder they were doing this for show.

Tim inhaled sharply. “I said you're fucking sick,” he raised his voice. He spat out a mouthful of blood, clearly trying to hit Jason. Jason just shifted out of the way, letting it splatter on the concrete.

“That was rude.” Jason was glad his helmet hid his smile.

He looked at the flare still lit in his hand, shrugged, and put it out against Tim’s stomach.

“Oh god!” Tim tried to twist away. The suit protected him from the worst of it, but he’d have at least second degree burns. Not to mention the parts of the suit that were currently melting and burning into his skin. “Fuck!” Tim’s scream definitely sounded genuine. He was stuck between trying to stay still to keep the burn from spreading and trying to get away from the pain. It was a glorious little struggle to watch.

The flare eventually ran out of juice at about the same time Tim’s lungs ran out of air to scream with. Jason tossed it aside and studied the new wound, pressing his fingers into it exposed raw flesh.

“Stop,” Tim begged, shuddering in pain. “Please, fuck-” he shrieked when Jason dug a nail into the burn.

“He folded easier than I thought he would,” Roman chuckled from his spot across the room, blowing out a mouthful of smoke.

“Well, you see how fast Batman goes through ‘em,” Jason said nonchalantly. Roman didn't know that was a self jab, and he didn't need to know.

Jason cut through Tim’s chest plate, exposing his bare skin. The fabric got stuck and torn on the burn, pulling a whimper out of Tim at the wound being agitated even more.

It always was a damn shame just how pretty Tim Drake was.

If Roman wasn't in the room, Jason would've torn off that damned domino mask by now to get a good look at Tim’s eyes while Jason hurt him.

Jason sliced Tim’s chest open, a wide arc just above his nipples. It wasn't too deep, but still made Tim cry out.

“Now I know-” Jason said, going back to Tim's belt- “somewhere in here, Batman makes you carry acid to cut through metal and whatnot.”

“No, no,” Tim wildly shook his head. “Please don’t.” He went pale at the thought.

Jason found the little vial he was looking for and held it up, right in front of Tim’s face. “Should've done a better job hiding it.”

He unscrewed the top and tipped the vial, dripping it into Tim’s fresh cut. Jason was careful not to use too much. Only a few drops were needed to start eating into Tim’s flesh.

The scream from Tim was blood curling. He tried to fold in on himself, twisting around on the ground like a wild animal.

Jason’s heart was pounding.

The shiv that was still stuck in Tim’s thigh got yanked out so Jason could drop poison into that wound too.

“Stop!” Tim’s voice already hoarse. “I'm gonna- I'm gonna throw up, god.” He sounded hysterical. His head tilted back and he sucked in lungfuls of air.

“You better not on my boots,” Jason warned lazily. He spilled acid into the burn mark on Tim’s stomach. Then, he got an even better idea. “Open wide.” Jason grabbed Tim’s jaw and forced it open with his fingers.

“Shit-” Tim whispered. His tone of voice sounded different. “Jay- don't. Seriously, please-”

Jason ignored him and let a few precious drops fall into Tim's forced open mouth. Then he forced Tim’s jaw shut again and clamped a hand over his mouth. He plugged Tim’s nose too, just for good measure.

The noises were muffled, but unmistakable. Jason’s body was thrumming just watching Tim twist and struggle to get out of Jason’s vice grip.

When Tim’s face started to turn red from the struggle for oxygen, Jason regretfully let go.

Tim immediately spat out mouthfuls of blood and spit, trying to get it out of his mouth. He was wheezing.

Not screaming, though. Jason was about it to lift the kris to stab Tim again, when he got a better look at how Tim was shaking.

Shudders running up and down his body. His legs were squeezed together. When he breathed, it came out in soft moans.

Jason’s heart almost stopped.

“You’re enjoying this, aren't you?” Jason murmured. So quiet he almost didn't hear himself. He got a glare from Tim that seemed to be an affirmation. Jason’s mouth curled into a cruel, unseen smile. Jason tapped the hilt of the kris against Tim’s crotch, making him flinch. “Freak.”

The realization only made Jason want to hurt Tim more. In all their fights, how hadn’t Jason noticed Tim was a masochist? This changed everything. He didn't have to hold back so much.

He actually wanted to see what it took to break Tim now.

Jason stabbed the shiv into Tim’s hip, as close as he could possibly get to Tim’s crotch. Tim squealed, flinching. Then his full body shuddered again. And just when Tim sighed in relief that Jason had avoided his most sensitive area, Jason picked up the tazer again and pressed it right there, against Tim’s crotch. And he turned it on.

This scream from Tim was different. Still tortured, but in a new Jason’s own pants were getting tight.

“Get out.”

“What?” Roman asked, when he realized Jason was talking to him.

“I said get out,” Jason repeated himself. He stared at Tim's bloody, shivering from. “You got a show while I warmed up, now I want some privacy.”

“But-”

Jason pulled a gun out of a holster. He fired it in Roman’s direction. Not quite hitting him, but instead blowing the cigar out of his mouth.

Roman made a pathetic, scared noise. “The deal was-”

“Do you want my men keeping the Maronis off your territory or not?” Jason growled.

“Fine.” Roman stood up, adjusting his jacket awkwardly. “Mail me a finger or something when you finish. I want a trophy.”

“I’ll save a middle one just for you.”

Roman scoffed, but held his tongue, storming out of the warehouse.

“Ass,” Jason muttered. He pulled off his helmet and tossed it aside.

“You didn't have to use the acid,” Tim said, notably sour about it.

“Big words for someone who enjoyed themselves a little too much.” Jason sliced off the rope holding Tim’s ankles and wrists, then tugged off his domino mask. Tim groaned in relief, getting to stretch his joints. He carefully got to his hands and knees, breathing hard.

“Thank you-”

Jason grabbed Tim by his hair and wrenched his head up. He pressed the kris to Tim’s throat. It pulled a gasp out of Tim and he tried to grab Jason’s arm. Jason just twisted his wrist, easily dislocating it. “Oh nuhuh, you little freak,” Jason purred, enjoying Tim’s yell of pain. He leaned in close to Tim’s ear and grinned, all kinds of fun ideas running through his head, now that they had privacy.

Things were about to get a lot more fun. Probably for both of them.

“I'm not done with you.”

#necrotic writings #jaytim #batcest #ask game #dead dove do not eat #timjay #tim drake x jason todd #whump #i was going to continue this #but the whole point of this game was for these to be short so. i contained myself.#posted on mobile so sorry of the formatting got janky. i tried so hard.#i may come back and continue this one once i finish the rest #just to honor it getting so many requests #but i have at least a dozen other to get through so! more writing for me hehe #i am not doing these in order btw #its just based on what i have the most fleshed out ideas for #but i will get to all of them!

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