#Venom x Self Insert

[deftmeat]

‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ 彡 ‎ ‎venom!harry knows you’re in denial

‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎

NSFW ( love my men feral and insane )

w a r n i n g : really HEAVY explicit content. non con, bondage by symbiote powers?, spit play. yeah this one got away from me.

inky black tendrils snaked up your arms, roughly pinning them above your head- snuggly gripped around your wrists, so tight it began to make your hands numb with a dull ache.

“harry.. please..” you had begged for a while now, but it was rather pointless. the black tar had concealed your best friend entirely, leaving drastically white and sharp slits in the center of what was its face paired with just below them, massive teeth that could be compared to miniature sharp daggers.

“we are not harry.”

the alien holding harry captive insisted, it’s low raspy voice sending shivers down your body and settling in a heavy lump right in your stomach.

the looming creature leaned in toward you, only for you to turn away from its menacing glare, refusing to look it in it’s cloudy white eyes.

but it wasn’t too pleased with your defiance, large black tentacle like limbs slithered up your back and twisted around your throat, tightening and yanking your face back parallel to his. not only was it effective in forcing your attention back but you felt the air in your lungs constrict. and when you gasped, that’s when the alien lunged it’s head forward and unhinged his massive jaw- a long and slimy, throbbing tongue dragged out.

you flinched when you felt warm slick saliva hit your collarbones as it fell off the wet muscle, said tongue moving to ghost your bottom lip, threatening to dip inside your mouth.

you snapped it shut and the creature growled, the white slits in its face narrowing.

“bad..girl..”

the degradation made your heart drop. you weren’t sure if it was out of how unsettled you felt or the fact you were overwhelmed. between feeling it’s uncontrollable touch all over your trapped body or how it regarded you with such intense attention.

“harry…” you whispered, squirming but with no intention of escaping. it made the creature grimace, knowing you wouldn’t relent until you saw him.

so with a jerk of its head, it pulled back, the dark ropes slinking away, tucking themselves behind the back of a very pale and sickly looking harry.

you took him in while you had the opportunity- his under eyes were smeared with a dark red and bruising purple, black veins framing his face along his jaw. your eyes traced them down, seeing them webbed and tangling until they disappeared into the collar of his wrinkled grey t-shirt.

“you’re very stubborn.” was all he said, leaning back to examine how his counterpart had you all spread out and imprisoned before him. he could really see the resemblance of a mouse in a rat trap.

“don’t listen to it.” you ignored his statement, following through with the initial reason you even came to find him. “it doesn’t want to help you, it only wants to feed off you.”

but your prodding irritated harry, unconsciously making venom squeeze itself harder over you. it earned himself a high pitched cry from you and he watched while your face scrunched up in pain.

“you don’t know anything. you don’t know us.”

you didn’t like how bonded he was with that thing, using third person to regard it and himself.

“no but i know you-“ you countered, yanking on the tendrils clamped over your wrists. so hard you felt like you could dislocate your shoulder.

there was a brief flicker of something in your best friend’s eyes, his face momentarily softening at your words. there was some of the harry that you knew still in there. but he must’ve been told to think otherwise because the look was gone and he replaced it with a deep frown, once again inching his face down to yours.

“is that why you didn’t reach out to me? used peter as your little messenger the entire time i was gone?”

the accusation hurt but you deserved it, “i was scared- okay? i had feelings for you that i couldn’t-“ you were cut off by your own whimper, the tar limbs around your neck only gripping tighter.

“and when i came back, you avoided me. pretended like you didn’t recognize me.” harry’s voice turned rough, eyes wild and locked onto yours, which began to water and obscure your vision.

“ha..rry-“ the feeling in your head was getting light and full of tingles but harry wasn’t going to let you pass out just yet. he made venom retract from your neck only to be replaced by harry’s own large and black veiny hands. his grip was notably more weak but still firm.

“do you know how long i waited to see you again? how badly i wanted to..” but he didn’t finish his sentence, instead letting his head drop with a quiet sigh.

you took the moment of silence to grab a deep breath of air, panting from your previous lack of oxygen. before you could try and plea with harry again, he lifted his head, his face this time was troubled. but still held with the erratic power that coursed through him.

he didn’t say anything but you could feel the conversation he was having with himself. maybe you were closer to convincing him than you thought?

of course, that presumption was quickly proven wrong when the ropes holding you captive shoved you down with brutal force. you felt your spine crack and your back blossom with a burning heat- now being pinned to the cold cemented floor.

harry only took two steps to hover over you, the dark shadows casting down on his features making him look menacing.

“now you’ll feel as i felt. hopeless. vulnerable.”

you didn’t have time to ponder what he meant by that before you felt large pulsating tentacles glide over your hips and sides. it was briefly ticklish but you were too distracted to care when you looked down.

venom was starting to twist itself around your midriff, tendrils slowly lifting your shirt up your stomach and exposing your bellybutton. it left the fabric bunched up just below your tits, your entire lower half revealed to the darkness and harry’s eyes.

“what..” you opened your mouth just to have it stuffed full with venom. your words of refusal were muffled, watching the same limbs in your mouth now hooking through your waistband and tugging them down, almost impatiently. they swirled around the material before ripping holes into it and using the breaches to tear the pants into two with a loud sccrrrp.

with eyes widened and shouts concealed, you were helpless to prevent the destruction of your clothes. harry had been a bystander while it happened, his eyes tracking every action as if he were mentally communicating with the alien to do what he wanted to you.

he felt satisfied with how he left you now, underwear on display for his hungry eyes, one shoe off your foot and shirt stuck to your sweat sticky skin.

“doesn’t feel too good, does it?” he tsked down at your trembling body, still held down by his partner. your retort was obviously incoherent but harry didn’t bother to ask venom to retract from you to hear it properly. no, instead he got him to flip you around.

the cry you released vibrated in your chest just as the tendrils looped down to roll you over- wrapping around your thighs to lift your hips up and tuck your knees under yourself. the pressure you felt on your back caused your back to arch down and your cheek to squish right up against the cold floor.

harry had you face down and ass up- hands still bound by venom but above your head. the new position made your shoulders and back ache while your neck cramped with the strain.

at least the stifling gag you had was now removed, spit from your mouth connected to the slithering dark snake. it retreated and left your line of sight, but you felt it rather than saw it as it crawled up your forearm and bicep to keep you stuck as you were.

“please.. dont.” your voice was hoarse after all your attempts to voice your protests despite being suppressed. the only answer you got was a strong force pulling your legs apart. it frustrated you that you couldn’t see what harry was doing- and he knew it. he wanted you riled up and pissed off.

“oh, come on now. don’t tell me you aren’t into this, even just a little bit.” his voice mocked from behind you, the sound of him closer than it was before. he was walking closer, eyes zeroed in on your underwear clinging to your ass, the way he had you on the floor making the fabric hug your body in a way he could see the exact lines of where your asscheeks began and ended. not to mention inbetween them.

“this.. isn’t you!” struggling only made your ass bounce and now.. harry needed to touch you for himself. he crouched down and you could feel the movement, anticipation and anxiety flooding your stomach like a waterfall.

once he was level with your ass, he automatically reached out on instinct, smacking it to watch gravity take effect and ripple under the impact. your reactions encouraged him, big veiny hands moulding against the soft flesh hidden under the cloth, long fingers pressing down to grab a large handful of you.

you felt nauseous at the idea of your best friend touching you like this, having his way with you while he had an alien- not from this planet- hold you down and make you endure it. if peter told you this is how you’d end up an hour ago you wouldn’t have believed him. this scenario was so crazily obscure that he probably couldn’t have predicted this. you definitely weren’t into it.

harry would prove you wrong, oh so wrong. you were just in denial. denial about how you felt about us. he wanted to prove you wrong. he was going to, no matter what it took.

he lifted his hand off you, the spot he had placed it was left with a sizzling warmth that pulled at you in the worst way. like you knew that wasn’t the worst of what he wanted to do to you.

“you shouldn’t have come looking for me.” the force on your back lightened only to be replaced with a sturdy weight, body heat coaxing you to remain placid and still.

“you should’ve listened to pete.” harry’s voice was low and thick, right next to your ear. you tried to shift yourself to get more comfortable under the new pressing body on top of yours but he went limp causing your face to get more mushed up against cement.

“such a bad girl. but it’s okay. i’ll forgive you,” you felt like he had more to say but he left it to linger in the darkness between you two- or three.

the crushing weight left and once again venom slunk his tendrils over and around you to take over. but harry didn’t leave you, no, he only got off you so he could slip his greedy rough hands under the elastic of your last remaining piece of dignity on your lower body.

a soft, amused laugh poured from from his mouth at the sound of your surprised gasp, soon morphing into a strangled groan when he selfishly teased your clit. he had his fun, the pads of his index and middle fingers each pressing down on either side of your slit and pushing outwards, spreading you open underneath your panties.

“ahah- h-har,” it was difficult to talk due to you currently eating cement, your hips shrinking away from the way he held your pussy lips apart. warmth flooded your abdomen and between your parted legs, a fresh gush to coat his prying digits.

“shit.” harry grunted, his own stomach clenching with a rush of awakened lust. you sounded so submissive and malleable by just a simple stimulation. he found it kind of cute. venom must’ve too, the voice inside his head hushed but clear, ‘must.. be corrupted.’

you did. you deserved to be shown how good having this much power feels. to be broken down into nothing and then built back up, all because of us.

without so much of a warning or indication of what was about to happen, harry flicked his wrist and delved two fingers inside your puffy cunt. it wasn’t as wet as he had wanted it to be, a bit disappointed in venom for being so impatient but shoved them deeper nonetheless.

it milked a mewl out of you, your hips jerking back and legs twitching from underneath your stomach. your knees where already aching from holding such an uncomfortable position for so long but the sudden fullness pressing against your unexpecting, raw walls caused you to thrash around in your black confines and everything hurt much worse than before.

“fuhhkk!” your voice cracked and drawled out the curse, eyes fluttering closed at being stretched without care. “take it. know you can.” with the battle of venom’s influence in his head, harry’s demand came out gravely and harsh. to convince you more, he swirled his fingers inside and turned them over so that the back of his hand was facing upwards while his inner wrist was directed to the floor.

the feeling of him moving inside of you made your stomach constrict and your pussy to stutter around his long inky veined digits. harry took this as a good sign and continued, a small smile playing on his lips.

“that’s it. feel you sucking them in.” he muttered, doing something you didn’t expect. he curled his fingers down, purposefully hitting that spongy spot in the upper part of your cunt. he used the advantage of your current form and it helped his fingers sink deeper, his other fingers tucked into his palm like they would be in a fist.

no matter how much you had tried to prepare to stifle a potential moan- you couldn’t stop the one that burst past your lips, eyes rolling back contrary to your determined will. it only got louder the faster harry fingered your pussy, obscene wet squelches coming from inside your drenched underwear. the fabric moved every time harry pulled out and dived back in.

“g-g-uhhh..” you sounded so ruined, it made harry eager to keep going. he knew his cock was leaking just by how much it kicked inside his jeans without even looking down. he was so desperate to replace his fingers with his dick but that was venom pressuring him to destroy your last droplets of composure and pride.

he needed to be patient, he countered the parasite in his system. he wouldn’t relent until you were full and leaking his cum, he was determined on that. but first he needed you to be begging for it. hungry to belong to him.

“p..leeese.. hareey..st-ooop.” he felt spurred on by your slurs and hiccups, his other hand dipping into your waistband elastic on your lower back to slide it off over your ass. but it was too slow for venom, his own dark slug-like limb reaching out to rip the garment off you in pieces.

the lack of reaction on your slumped over end proved just how drunk you were alone on the sensation between your messy thighs, not even the cold air attacking your sensitive clit was not enough to garner anything out of you besides mumbled whines and lazy whimpers from harry’s consistent assault.

he scooted closer behind you, moving to kneel down since his cock was straining too much against his pants for him to crouch any longer. now that he was able to actually see what his fingers looked like fucking in and out of you like this, he needed to get his stupid jeans off right goddamn now.

using his other unoccupied hand, he sloppily undid his belt, the clinking of the metal was drowned out over the sounds you made when he added a third finger, your slick drizzling down his knuckles and palm, reaching past his wrist to his forearm. harry made no attempt to sooth you while he pried open your swollen and abused pussy, too focused on relieving his own angry cock.

you couldn’t really feel your hands anymore, pins and needles running through each nerve every time you tried to bend each finger or make a fist. venom had you in a deadly lock, deep red and purple mixing together to stain your skin for more than just one day. you’d be surprised if he didn’t break them either, the tendrils clamping down harder the more harry got closer to rutting his dick in you. he wanted you to know you couldn’t prevent it. couldn’t escape it or hold it off for much longer. you were fucked. about to be- literally.

the pressure on your head lifted momentarily and you were able to look back over your shoulder- just in time to get a good eyeful of harry before he yanked his fingers out of you. you groaned instinctively at the loss of being filled, some of your sticky slick being taken along with his hand. harry lifted his arm up and stared at it, mesmerized at the way your juices looked on his skin, contrasting the inky webs that littered his entire body.

his eyes lowered to meet yours once he noticed you watching him and he smirked smugly, his tongue slithering out to trail up his pale wrist and palm. your eyes flitted to catch it, seeing the way he swirled around his index finger and put it in his mouth, sucking you clean off of it. and damnit, did your cunt sputter around nothing, eager and begging to feel his mouth on your folds.

but harry was done with foreplay. he could fucking smell how badly you needed him inside and pounding your dripping pussy. unbeknownst to you, he was kind enough to let you lift your head up, knowing you’d look back. knowing you’d give into your primal desire to be fucked like the pretty little slut you had always wanted to be for him. you just weren’t aware of it. yet.

“i don’t think y-you want me to stop.” he retorted but his voice cracked from how clouded his head was, the blood no longer in his head but prominently flowing through his cock- the fleshy pink tip was leaking large glistening drops of precum, pale white and travelling down his veiny dick to pool at his balls that throbbed with a growing urge to empty in you more than once.

“is this what you wanted? when you came looking for me?” harry tried to steady his voice, unable to help but buck his hips with longing for friction, the hand he used to split you open curled down to grab his cock, teasing his balls on the way down.

“n..no-o..” you sniffled, body simultaneously aching and yet buzzing with how aroused you had become far beyond how you originally felt when you first decided to confront your best friend.

“no? you sure about that baby?” that same mocking tone hit your ears before harry took his cock and prodded the spot between your cunt and asshole before dragging it down, running his wet tip along your swollen and red pussy lips. you clenched your teeth before your moan slipped through the gaps passed your lips, his precum mixing with your slick and effectively getting you wet enough so he could fill you to the brim- to which he did until he could feel the ridged and bumpy surface of where your cervix began. but it wasn’t enough for him, harry groaning with possessiveness and venom’s inability to let things go, pushed deeper still, painfully pressing against the wall even though there wasn’t much space for him to go.

you yelled out, eyes shutting as tears fell from your waterline and made long streaks stain your face. the pain mingled with the rest of the soreness that collected along the entirety of your body, heightening your awareness of how harry and venom were everywhere around you, your pussy disobeying your consciousness and squeezing the intruding cock inside.

which you dreaded because harry loved it, his palms smacking heavily down on your hips, finger tips digging down into your skin and tugging you into him, taking you again and just as aggressively. no matter how much you begged him to slow down, he sped up, lowering his weight back onto you, only this time, dipping his head to yours so he could suck big, prominent hickeys and marks into the back and sides of your neck.

he fucked you fast, pistoning his own hips in a dominating pace just to be sure you could feel every single inch of him inside you. you definitely could, there was no doubt. it didn’t help when you felt him grab a fistful of your hair and force your head back, tilting your chin to angle it perfectly for him to lean in and spit inside your mouth.

“swallow.” he commanded you- you listened, opening your mouth after to prove you did just as he said. so he did it again but told you not to eat it, instead shifting his weight evenly so he could bring his hand up and make you take his fingers in your mouth just as he had earlier to his own.

you let him twirl his fingers around your tongue, scooping up his own saliva and playing with it inside your mouth before he pulled them out and moved them out of sight.

you thought nothing of it though, way too invested and absorbed with his cock dragging along your drippy pussy, his body trapping you against the floor, relentlessly thrusting himself in you brutally. not until you felt pressure along your asshole and something push inside.

“gonna feel all of me. mine now. ours.” the voice in your ear sounded a million miles away, your jaw going slack when harry forced his finger passed the tight ring above the same sloppy cunt he was fucking. it felt like you couldn’t breathe due to the tension building up inside your pelvis and spine, unable to speak out and protest against whatever the hell he was doing.

you certainly didn’t miss the revisted use of third person and felt the progress you assumed you had slip away. harry wouldn’t listen to you- wouldn’t listen to peter or mary jane. he wasn’t past saving- yet was just as much of a hypocrite. he was the one in denial.

and you could tell, as he used your devastated holes, using you as his last connection to himself. to who he was before.

proving you right, harry took his finger away from your tight hole and quickly sank his teeth into a particularly sensitive spot below your jaw next to your ear, your hips stuttering into his. you didn’t get to have any sort of release because harry dug his nails into the flesh of your sides, leaving behind crescent shapes as he dragged them down. he clawed at you, growling out in unsettling animalistic and creature like way before you felt his cock throb and jump inside you.

you barked out in a demand for him to pull out but venom was quicker, muzzling you like a dog and holding your face flat against the hard floor.

you felt hot blood ooze out of your nose, down your upper lip and straight onto the cement- while harry jerked and slammed his pelvis into your asscheeks, giving a rather weak thrust before letting out a deep moan, one of his hands removing itself from your side to smack on your lower back and hold you down.

yet during his sloppy orgasm- you felt heavy and burning ropes of semen pour out and splatter your insides. it wouldn’t fucking stop either, it just kept coming, pumping itself more and more until it formed a white ring around the base of his cock and stuck to your pussy lips, falling and collecting all over your thighs and pittering quietly onto the floor below you both.

now with your face laying in a tiny puddle of red, harry lifted your head up by the hair at the nape of your neck. it didn’t sting, everything felt numb and tingly.

he brought his hand up to wipe your mouth and cheek, black inkiness crawling up his neck and face before consuming him yet again. you really needed peter to find you.

[hastvic]

Silly little oc X canon redraw.

“Anyway I better get this one home. See ya Kaz.”

“NOOOOO NONONOOO…

“Yyyyessss >:(“

Anyways here’s to clingy Varsenal and terrible sleeping habits.

[sweetlovingfictionals]

Thinking about he rn

🥺🥺

[sunrotdropbrain]

What this isn't some vague connection to the new Venom movie I'm super excited about to the DCA just so I can post it on this account how dare you???

[rscroogedraws]

The last week has been tough, so it's quick and dirty self-ship with Scrooge and named after my all-time favorite song by Aha. The slutty biker gloves are the most important touch, lol.

[allmyhomieshatelawns]

just a little bit from a self-insert symbiote MCU crossover disaster that is already WAY too bloated so i might end up cutting this even tho i think it’s funny af. like it’s funny, but i also know the Least amount Daredevil since i never saw the show or movie(s? is there multiple??). i’ve seen almost all the MCU movies, it’s only been recently i’ve dropped the ball since they decided quantity over quality and churned stuff out at a nauseating rate for me to keep up with. i hope you enjoy the snippet of chaos

From my fanfiction Benevolent Possession, Chapter 5: Settling In:

Finally tuning into the world around us again, I could register voices shouting.

“—notion that would do that, really?!”

“Well, what do you want me to say? ‘Never thought it was a good idea to approach an alien so casually’? None of it sounds good!”

“My collarbone is broken! And you’re concerned about sounding racist?!”

“Do you want them to finish the job? I don’t think they did it on purpose. They collapsed when they hit you. You’re right about them having a fever at least.” Matt was trying to be the voice of reason, while Frank was blustering, trying to calm his breathing. Matt did not seem like he fit the whole “voice of reason” shtick. Their secretary was notably absent.

[candyeager]

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

�� sanzu haruchiyo x fem!reader

PART TWO 10.1k words

short summary. in which your heartbreak over Mikey pulls you into the dangerous and irresistible orbit of Bonten's Number Two, Haruchiyo Sanzu. warnings. sanzu haruchiyo is his own warning, graphic violence, substance abuse, toxic/manipulative relationships, explicit sexual content, depression & self-destructive behaviour, strong language. tags. female reader insert, bonten au, tsundere!sanzu, ex-boyfriend!mikey, angst with a happy ending, slow burn, heavy pining/yearning.

masterlist

Manjiro Sano never hurts you—not physically, at least—though the emotional havoc he's wreaked has left you unraveling. But what you face now is something entirely different. 

Haruchiyo Sanzu's grip is iron-clad, dragging you away from Mikey's door with no regard for your protests. His fingers dig into your wrist like vices, the pressure biting deep into your skin until the pain is sharp and throbbing. It radiates up your arm, but even that ache is dull compared to the hollow devastation gnawing at your chest. The image of Mikey with her—so close, so intimate—burns behind your eyelids every time you blink.

It's as though the world around you has ceased to exist. You can't even register the hallways passing by as Sanzu hauls you through them, his erratic pace nearly causing you to stumble. You feel like a ragdoll in his grasp, powerless, your heart beating out of sync with reality.

Kakucho's voice filters through the numbness. "Sanzu... what are you doing?"

There's concern in his tone, but he stays planted where he is, as if crossing that line would be dangerous. 

Sanzu doesn't slow, doesn't even glance at him. His lips curl into a sneer as cold as the concrete walls. 

"Taking care of a stray," he bites, yanking you closer as though you might slip from his grip.

The words sting, but not as much as what follows.

Kakucho's frown deepens, but he's hesitant. "You sure you wanna do that? She's—"

Sanzu cuts him off, sharp and merciless. "She's nothing. A nobody. Mikey made that pretty fucking clear, didn't he?"

Nothing. A nobody.

Each word hits you with the force of a physical blow. Whatever you were to Mikey, whatever you thought you had—it's been ripped away, stripped down to these ugly truths. 

You're nothing now.

Kakucho's gaze flickers to you, sympathy and uncertainty mingling in his dark eyes. But you can't meet them. You drop your head, staring at the floor as though it holds all the answers you need. Maybe if you don't look, you won't have to acknowledge what Sanzu just said. Maybe you can pretend you didn't hear it.

Mikey doesn't want you anymore.

"Stop this," Kakucho urges, stepping forward now, his movements careful, deliberate. "You're high. This isn't going to end well, you know that."

Sanzu's eyes snap up, wild and feral, like a predator guarding its kill. "Exactly." His voice drops to a venomous whisper. "So back the fuck off before I kill you too."

The tension between them is palpable, but Kakucho eventually steps back, his jaw tight with barely suppressed anger. He's seen what Sanzu is capable of when he's in this state. They all have. 

"Just don't go too far," Kakucho mutters, his voice tight, his eyes flicking to you one last time before he steps aside. His reluctance lingers, but in the end, he's still letting you be dragged away.

Ran, sprawled lazily on the couch, barely lifts his head as he calls after Sanzu. "Mission's at nine. Try not to be dead before then."

Sanzu pays no mind to either of them. His grip tightens, and you're dragged deeper into Bonten's labyrinthine corridors, every step taking you further from any hope of intervention.

He pulls you into a small room, slamming the door behind him with enough force to rattle your bones. A click follows—the lock sliding into place—and you're alone. Alone with him.

The room is stark, clinical, a conference table dominating the space with its polished wood surface and neatly lined chairs. But there's nothing neat about what's happening now. The moment Sanzu shoves you against the table, hard enough that the edge bites into your lower back, the sterile, formal atmosphere of the room is obliterated.

His hand shoots up, fingers wrapping around your throat. The pressure is immediate, your breath catching in your throat as your vision blurs at the edges. You gasp instinctively, hands flying to his wrist, nails scraping against his skin, but he's too strong. His hold tightens further, cutting off more of your air, and panic grips you.

He leans in, his breath hot against your face, laced with the stench of drugs. His expression is wild, unhinged, pupils dilated and blown wide with intoxication. But beneath the drugs, there's something else—an anger, a bitterness that has nothing to do with you, but is aimed at you all the same.

"Now..." His voice is low, almost a growl. "What more do I need to do to make you understand? You don't fucking belong here."

Your lungs burn, your head spinning as your fingers claw at his hand. I don't belong here? The thought pierces through your fog of fear. Maybe he's right. You're not sure of anything anymore—not after Mikey, not after what you saw. 

You can't breathe, and everything is turning dark. Sanzu's face, his mocking grin, is the only thing in focus.

Tears well up, spilling over your lashes. But you're not crying because of the physical pain. It's the emotional torment that's killing you. The crushing realization that you are utterly, completely alone. No one's coming to save you. 

Sanzu watches as you choke on your own sobs, and he laughs, low and cold. "Already crying?" he mocks. "I haven't even started yet."

But the tears won't stop. The dam inside you breaks, and you're gasping, sobbing uncontrollably in front of him. You can't take it anymore. Not this. Not after what Mikey's done to you.

"Just..." You choke on the words, your voice broken and hoarse. "Just fucking kill me already."

For a moment, there's silence. Then, his grip on your neck loosens just enough to let you breathe. You gasp, sucking in precious air, coughing as your lungs fight for life. But the relief is short-lived.

Sanzu's face hovers inches from yours, his smirk growing, eyes gleaming with dangerous amusement. "Kill you?" His tone is soft now, condescending. "Nah. That's too easy."

His fingers trace the curve of your jaw, rough, possessive. "I think I'd rather play with you a little longer." 

You squeeze your eyes shut, hands pressing against your face as tears continue to spill down your cheeks. This feels so stupid. So, so stupid. Mikey's across the hall with his wife, living his perfect life, while you're stuck here with Sanzu—his insane, drugged-up number two. 

What a fucking downgrade. 

Suddenly, without warning, Sanzu grabs your face roughly, forcing you to look up at him through your tear-filled eyes.

"You're pathetic," he sneers before crushing his lips against yours. 

The kiss is brutal, possessive, and filled with an overwhelming heat that makes your skin crawl. You try to push him away, but his weight presses you into the table, your wrists pinned beneath his hands. It's suffocating, just like his grip on your throat.

And then you taste it. Something bitter and foreign sliding past your lips. Your eyes widen in horror as you realize what he's doing.

He pulls back, his lips brushing yours as he whispers, "Swallow."

You shake your head, panic rising in your chest. No way. You're not going to swallow that. You try to spit it out, but his hand clamps down over your mouth, smothering any attempt to resist.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be," he murmurs, his tone soft but filled with menace. "Be a good girl... and swallow."

His words slither into your ears, so sweet and venomous all at once, poisoning what little willpower you have left. You want to fight him. You want to scream and tear away from him, but you can't. Your body is too sluggish, too weak to resist, and part of you doesn't want to. 

It wants him to be right.

It's easier, isn't it? To let him take control. To stop resisting and just give in, let the numbness wash over you. Maybe then the pain of everything—of Mikey, of the betrayal, of this twisted mess—will fade, even just for a moment.

"I said swallow," Sanzu hisses, his patience thinning. "That. Shit."

You finally swallow the pill, the bitterness lingering on your tongue like a promise you'll regret. The drug settles deep inside you, blooming warmth spreading through your chest like wildfire, but there's no comfort in it. It only intensifies the chaos swirling in your mind—the betrayal, the loss, the desire to escape. It all collides in a sickening wave, leaving you gasping, clinging to the edge of the table as your body betrays you.

Sanzu watches you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl, his eyes dark, wide, and hungry. He's waiting. Waiting for the drug to take hold, waiting for you to crumble.

"Good girl," he breathes, and the words slide over your skin, soft and menacing. His gaze lingers, tracing every tremor in your body, every stifled breath. 

The drug spreads quickly—too quickly. The next thing you know the room is spinning violently, the floor tipping beneath your feet, and you're stumbling as warmth floods your limbs. You try to steady yourself, but your body feels too light, too hot, like you're floating, disconnected from reality. Your breath quickens, panic swelling in your chest as your senses sharpen, every touch, every sound amplified to unbearable levels.

Sanzu's hands are still on you, his touch electric, sending jolts through your skin. You gasp, your heart racing as the euphoria spreads, tangling with the devastation inside you, turning everything into a dizzying blur of sensation. You can barely breathe, and yet, in the haze of it all, a part of you is aware of his gaze, watching you intently, reveling in your reaction.

"First time's always the best. You might cry, you might like it. Who knows?" He laughs, a quiet, sinister sound that rattles through your bones.

You choke on a sob, the tears spilling over as the drug overtakes you, drowning you in heat and haze. Your body feels foreign, your mind too foggy to comprehend anything other than the intensity of it all. You want to fight it, fight him, but there's nothing to hold on to—nothing but him.

And that terrifies you.

"Let go," he murmurs, his voice is low, almost a purr, and you can feel his breath against your ear as he leans in closer. "Let it take over... Forget everything and just feel."

Your body acts before your mind can catch up, your hand clutching the front of his shirt, fingers twisting into the fabric. It's an instinctual, desperate motion, driven by something deep inside—a need for warmth, for something to hold on to. You can't explain it, but you crave him now, the heat of his body, the solidity of his presence. You pull him closer, though you don't even understand why, though it feels all wrong.

"Look at you..." Sanzu's chuckle is dark, amused. "Hanging onto me like that. Lost little thing, aren't you? So pathetic." 

But he leans in anyway, his breath brushing against your neck as he speaks. His proximity feels like a lifeline, shielding you from the blinding lights that seem to intensify with every passing second. The room tilts, but his voice anchors you, even as it weaves dirty, degrading things in your ear—things that make your stomach twist, yet ignite something you don't want to acknowledge.

Your heart races, breath coming in ragged bursts. Everything is too intense—his touch, his words, the sensation of your body betraying you. You don't understand this feeling, this mixture of euphoria and humiliation. It's confusing, overwhelming, and yet, you can't shake the craving. The need for more. 

His touch, his heat.

Then, without warning, he steps back.

The sudden absence of him is like a cold slap to the face, leaving you breathless and cold. Your body aches for the warmth he took with him, for the closeness that you didn't even know you craved. You hate it. You hate the emptiness he leaves behind.

He adjusts his waistcoat with a casual smirk, like this was all just a game to him, like your unraveling was just another form of entertainment. 

"You're on your own now," he says, his voice detached, distant. "Enjoy the ride."

And just like that, he's gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

You're left sprawled across the table, the world spinning, lights burning into your skull. Your limbs are heavy, useless, and you try to move, to escape the overwhelming heat and dizziness suffocating you, but your body won't cooperate. You tumble to the floor, the carpet catching your fall with a soft thud.

A giggle bubbles up from your throat, though you don't know why. Everything feels distant, like you're floating, detached from reality. The warmth of the drug mingles with the cold ache of abandonment, creating a disorienting swirl of emotions that you can't make sense of.

And so you lie there, lost in the haze, your body sinking deeper into the plush floor as the laughter fades, leaving only the hollow emptiness behind.

Until, finally, the world pulls you into the darkness of sleep.

Manjiro Sano never cheated on you before. You've known him for nine years—nine long years where loyalty was never questioned, not once. He's never strayed, never looked at another woman the way he looks at you. That was the truth you clung to through all the chaos, the violence, the bloodshed. But tonight, the foundation of that truth crumbles before your eyes.

When you catch him with his wife, it's not exactly cheating, is it? Not when she's the one wearing the ring. Not when she's the one he made vows to. And yet, it feels like betrayal. If anything, you're the other woman now. Your position, the one you held so dearly, has shifted, without your consent.

He's the one betraying her, not you. But that logic doesn't make the pain any easier to bear. It still cuts deep, searing through you with what you had just witnessed in Mikey's office. You thought you were strong enough to endure it, thought you could compartmentalize the ache gnawing at your insides. You were wrong. The sight of them together burns itself into your mind like a wound that refuses to heal.

Until Sanzu forced that pill down your throat. 

The memory floods back, vivid and suffocating. His twisted grin, the roughness of his hands, the way he made you feel so helpless. But now? Now you feel the strangest relief. The aching wound in your chest—the one Mikey and his wife carved out—fades into a distant blur, replaced by a creeping, unnatural numbness. Your mind is hazy, clouded, but in that haze, you find comfort.

The world felt kinder in that numbness. And for a moment, you were almost grateful for the relief Sanzu gave you. Almost.

When you wake up, the high is gone, leaving behind a pounding headache and a body that feels stiff, heavy, like someone drained the life from you. The floor feels strange under your hands, cold and unfamiliar. You blink, trying to orient yourself, and realize you're not on the floor anymore. Someone moved you—you're sprawled across the couch in the executive lounge, a blanket thrown haphazardly over you like an afterthought.

Your body screams in discomfort, muscles sore, your skin aching where his hands had pressed too hard. But the pain is secondary to the memories—Sanzu. That damn pill. The way he—

"You're awake."

The voice cuts through the fog in your mind, and your head snaps to the side. Mikey sits in a chair not far from you, the dim light casting shadows across his face. He's watching you, his expression unreadable, but his eyes... his eyes are different. Tired. 

The night stretches behind him through the window, a dark sky lit by city lights. The office is quiet. Everyone else is gone. Even Sanzu.

It's just you and Mikey now.

You don't answer him. The ache in your chest resurfaces, sharper this time, suffocating as the image of him and his wife flashes in your mind again. It hits harder now, with Mikey sitting right in front of you, looking at you.

You push yourself up, your body swaying under the weight of exhaustion and leftover dizziness. Your throat is sore, bruised, where Sanzu's fingers had pressed too hard, too rough, forcing. You reach up instinctively, wincing at the tenderness, and you catch Mikey's gaze drop to your neck.

His jaw clenches. The air between you shifts—heavy, tense.

"He won't touch you again."

His voice is low, soft, but there's a dangerous edge beneath it, one that sends a chill through your veins. You know that tone. It's the tone he uses before someone dies.

You swallow, the reality sinking in. What has Mikey done? What did he do to Sanzu? The thought twists in your gut, unease settling deep inside you, but part of you pushes the thought away. Sanzu deserves whatever he gets, doesn't he? After what he did?

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. "Forget about that... He gave me something. A pill."

Mikey's face shifts, unreadable for a moment, then he shrugs. "A pill? X, probably. He does that sometimes. Are you alright?"

That makes sense. No wonder you passed out so quickly. But it doesn't ease the anger boiling inside you, doesn't take away the humiliation of letting Sanzu drag you deeper into his twisted games when you were already at your lowest.

"I'm fine," you bite out, though it feels like a lie. 

Fine? You're far from fine.

The words hang in the air, sharp, bitter, and when you look at Mikey, the ache in your chest becomes unbearable. You're not sure if it's anger or heartbreak that makes it so hard to breathe.

"Mikey..." you begin again, your voice cracking slightly, the words lodged in your throat. It's harder than you thought to say it, because once it's out, there's no taking it back. 

"We can't just pretend like nothing's changed."

He doesn't look at you at first. He just stares at the floor, his jaw clenched tight, as though he's trying to force himself to say something, but can't. The silence stretches on painfully before he finally speaks, his voice so low you almost don't hear him.

"I know things are different." Each word sounds forced, like it's taking every ounce of strength for him to admit it. "But..."

Your heart clenches, your breath catching in your throat. There's always a 'but' with him, isn't there? Always some excuse, some reason why things can't go back to the way they were.

"But what, Mikey?" you ask, unable to stop yourself. It's not anger that drives you this time, but the desperation clawing at your insides. "You have feelings for her now, don't you?"

You watch him as he exhales slowly, his face still calm, almost detached. You wish he would say something, anything, to ease the ache in your chest. But he doesn't.

"I do," he says, his voice distant. It's a confession that feels like a knife to your heart. "I can't deny that. She's... she's gonna have my kid. It's not simple anymore."

The words hit you like a physical blow. You knew it, deep down, but hearing him say it aloud makes it real in a way you weren't prepared for. The sharp, bitter taste of betrayal lingers in the back of your throat. You swallow hard, trying to keep your emotions from spilling over, but your voice wavers when you speak again.

"And us?" 

The question slips out, soft and fragile, but it cuts deeper than anything you've said before. You're asking about more than just your relationship—you're asking about the nine years you gave him, about the promises he made, about the love you once believed was unbreakable.

Mikey's eyes finally meet yours, and for a brief moment, you see the boy you once knew—the boy who swore he'd never leave you, who promised you forever under the stars when you were both too young to understand what that meant. His gaze softens for a second, a flicker of something almost tender, almost apologetic.

"I still care about you," he says, his voice low but steady. There's no hesitation in his tone, no doubt. But it's not the answer you were hoping for. "That hasn't changed."

But it has. 

The truth of that slams into you with crushing finality. You shake your head, the weight of his words pressing down on you, suffocating you. 

"Oh, it has, Mikey," you whisper, barely able to get the words out. "You know that."

The silence that follows is thick, heavy with everything left unsaid. Mikey doesn't argue, doesn't try to convince you otherwise. He just leans back in his chair, his hands falling limp at his sides, as though he's too exhausted to fight anymore. There's a defeat in his posture that wasn't there before, as if even he knows this is the end.

You want to scream at him, demand why it took him so long to be honest, why he let things fall apart so silently. But the words won't come. All that's left is the ache, the unbearable knowledge that the man you've loved for nearly a decade is slipping further away from you with every passing second.

Mikey looks like he's about to say something, his lips parting slightly, but then he falters, his shoulders sagging under the weight of whatever he's holding back. 

"Maybe," he murmurs after a moment, his voice so soft you almost miss it. For the first time, he sounds vulnerable. "But I don't want to lose you. I can't..."

His voice breaks, just a little, and that cracks something inside of you too. Because it sounds like the truth, like the rawness of his feelings is finally breaking through the cold exterior he always wears. Nine years together, and this is where it's come to—a place where even his honesty feels too late. Too hollow. You know it's not enough. It never will be.

You don't want to lose him either. You don't want to believe that all those years meant nothing. But deep down, you know it already has. The moment she became his wife, the moment he chose her, you lost this battle. The war in your heart is over, and all that remains is the wreckage of what once was.

"You're already losing me," you whisper, the finality of it sinking in. Each word feels like a dagger in your own chest. "When you started choosing her, Mikey."

Mikey doesn't move, doesn't say a word. He just sits there, silent and still, like he's frozen in time. Maybe he doesn't have the strength to argue. Maybe, deep down, he knows it's true. He's losing you, and there's nothing left he can do to stop it.

You don't wait for his answer anymore. You've spent too long waiting for him to decide, too long hoping for a future that's already gone. The pain in your body—your aching muscles, the soreness from Sanzu's rough touch—it all fades into the background, drowned out by the unbearable weight of your broken heart.

You push yourself to your feet, your legs shaking slightly under the strain. But you don't let yourself falter. You can't, not now.

"You need to figure this out on your own," you say, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay strong. Your words are an ultimatum, a final plea for him to understand what he's done. 

"'Because I can't keep waiting for you to choose me. I'm not meant to be an option. I'm worth more than that."

There's nothing left to say. The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of goodbye. Mikey doesn't move, doesn't speak, and that hurts more than anything else. He's letting you walk away.

Without another word, you turn and head toward the elevator. Each step feels like a thousand miles, like you're walking out of his life for good. And maybe you are. Maybe this is the end you've been dreading for so long.

The elevator doors close behind you with a soft click, and in the quiet of the enclosed space, the tears finally come. They fall silently at first, warm trails down your cheeks, but you don't wipe them away. 

As the elevator descends, you let the tears flow freely. The weight of the years, the memories, the love you poured into him—it all hits you at once, and you don't stop it. You don't need to hide from the truth anymore.

Manjiro Sano has killed before. The thought of it had once terrified you, the cold certainty in his eyes when he spoke of violence always chilling. 

You know this because you asked him, point-blank, one night when the weight of his world became too much to ignore. He didn't tell you directly, but the silence that followed, the coldness in his eyes, was answer enough. In that moment, the boy you knew, the boy you loved, disappeared into the shadows of the man he had become.

Still, you accepted him. Loved him anyway. You convinced yourself it was the only way to keep him—by accepting all of him, even the parts you couldn't bear to understand. You've always found a way to justify it—his actions, his choices, the darkness that clung to him like a second skin. Because loving him was the only thing you knew how to do. It became an instinct, a reflex, something that felt inevitable.

But now, the uncertainty gnaws at you, harder than ever before. Not just the heaviness of knowing who he is, but the gnawing question of what he's capable of—what he's done to the people around him. 

What he's done to Sanzu.

Your mind races, replaying every detail of your last conversation with Mikey. The hard edge to his voice, the finality in his words. If Mikey killed him, it's because of you, isn't it? Because of what Sanzu did to you. 

If Sanzu's dead, then his blood is on your hands. 

That thought lodges itself deep in your chest, a weight too heavy to shake. Even after everything—after the drug, the violence, the way he pushed you to the edge—you can't stomach the idea of Sanzu dying because of you.

Which is why you find yourself here again, standing outside Sanzu's condominium in the middle of the night, your heart pounding so loud you can barely hear your own thoughts. 

Mikey's words echo in your mind—his cold, distant voice, the final crack in everything you thought you knew about him. The realization had shattered you in ways you hadn't been prepared for.

It's over.

The words taste bitter on your tongue, but they ring with a truth that you can't deny. The boy you loved, the man you thought you'd stand beside forever—he's gone. And in his place is someone you no longer recognize.

Your feet move almost on their own as you approach Sanzu's door, but a hesitation stops you just before you reach the doorbell. Do you even know what you're doing here? What you want? You aren't sure. But the pull toward him, toward finding out what Mikey's done, is stronger than your doubts. 

With a shaky breath, you press the doorbell. The silence that follows is deafening, punctuated only by the racing of your heart. Each second that passes feels like a lifetime, until finally, the shuffle of footsteps inside tells you someone's there.

The door swings open with a creak, and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. Relief washes over you—but only for a second. What replaces it is a sharp stab of pity. 

Sanzu looks like hell. His one eye is swollen and bruised, a fresh bandage covering the right side of his face. His lips are split and caked with dried blood, a sight that twists something deep in your chest. 

His trademark sneer is still there, but it's marred by the pain that's evident in the way he stands, slightly hunched, favoring one side. There's an anger in his eyes, but behind it, you can see the weariness, the vulnerability he would never admit to.

"What the fuck do you want now?" Sanzu snaps, his voice sharp despite the obvious discomfort he's in. He's trying to sound like his usual self, but you can tell the fight has been knocked out of him. He's hurting. Badly.

Your mouth opens to respond, the words on the tip of your tongue, but they die there. Seeing him like this—broken, battered—it's not what you expected. It shakes something loose inside of you. Your eyes scan his injuries, your mind reeling with the knowledge that Mikey did this. The boy you loved did this.

Mikey isn't supposed to be this brutal. Not with his own.

The thought makes your chest tighten painfully, and before you can stop it, the tidal wave of emotion crashes over you. Tears spill from your eyes, hot and unchecked. You thought you'd cried all the tears you had to give tonight, but this time, they come from a place deeper than heartbreak. This time, you're crying for everything—for Mikey, for Sanzu, for the person you've become in all this mess.

Sanzu's sneer fades slightly as he takes in the sight of you, replaced by an annoyed scowl. He's trying to hide his discomfort, but you can see the confusion in his eyes. 

"What are you, a child? Stop crying!" His words are rough, but there's an edge of bewilderment in them. 

He doesn't understand why you're here, why you're crying.

But you can't stop. The sobs come hard and fast, tearing through you in a way that makes it hard to breathe. You're overwhelmed, consumed by the realization that Mikey is no longer the man you fell in love with. When did he start to change? When did the violence become more than just a part of his world, but a part of him?

Sanzu watches you, his irritation growing as your sobs continue. He's never been good with emotions—especially not yours.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath, rubbing a hand across his face and wincing as he touches the bruise. "You're crying over him, huh? You think he even cares?"

His words hit you like a slap, and more tears fall, a pitiful, uncontrollable mess. And in that moment, you don't care. You don't care that Sanzu's dangerous, that he's hurt you before, that he's the reason you ended up here in the first place. All you can think about is the fact that Mikey—your Mikey—is gone.

He's no longer the boy who used to hold you late at night, whispering promises of a future that now feels like a distant dream. He's no longer the man who looked at you like you were his entire world.

He's no longer yours.

Sanzu scoffs, the sound harsh in the quiet hallway. "Fuck's sake, will you stop that whining?" 

But even his sharp words don't reach you. 

When you don't respond, don't even acknowledge him, something in Sanzu snaps. He can't stand it anymore—the emotions, the tears, the fact that you're standing here crying over someone else while he's falling apart.

"Goddammit!" he snarls, and before you can blink, he slams the door in your face. 

The sound echoes in the empty hallway, a loud, final punctuation to the moment. You're left standing there, your body trembling as the sobs finally start to quiet, though the tears continue to stream down your cheeks. You're alone again, and the weight of that reality hits you harder than anything else.

Mikey is gone. And so is the life you thought you'd have.

Manjiro Sano hated seeing you cry. Every time your tears would spill, it was like the world stopped spinning. His face would twist in pain, even if the tears weren't his fault. He once said that when you cried, it felt like he had failed���like he should have protected you from whatever caused them. 

He always pulled you into his arms when you broke down, his touch so gentle it was almost unreal. He would stroke your hair, whispering that everything was okay, hiding you in the crook of his shoulder so you wouldn't feel so exposed.

But that Mikey? That Mikey is long gone.

Now you're standing outside Sanzu's condo unit, your fingers shaking as you try to dry your tear-streaked face. The cold air bites at your skin, or maybe it's the weight of what's happened tonight that chills you to the bone. 

The second time you've cried in front of Sanzu today. 

The first time, his hands were around your throat, forcing a pill past your lips, his eyes distant and clouded with drugs. The second time, there was no pill, no high to hide behind—just bruises, pain, and a door slammed in your face.

You shouldn't have come here, but at least you know he's alive. Mikey hadn't killed him, though something in the pit of your stomach told you it could have easily gone that way. You should feel relieved. Instead, the relief is mingled with anger, a deep-seated frustration that makes your heart pound even harder.

Just as you wipe away the last tear, the door swings open again. 

Sanzu stands in the doorway, his silhouette stark against the dim light inside. His scowl deepens as his eyes land on you, scanning your face like he's surprised you're still standing there. 

Then, without a word, he grabs your wrist and pulls you inside, slamming the door shut behind you. His grip is rough, but it loosens as soon as you're inside, leaving you stunned and blinking in the middle of his condo unit.

He disappears into another room and comes back with a box of tissues, shoving it toward you without a word. You take it, still in shock, as your eyes land on the bandage on his cheek. It's crooked, slapped on without much care, and his busted lip is still untreated, blood crusting around the edges, making him look even more broken than usual. You flinch inwardly at the sight.

"Did you get that wound treated?" Your voice is softer than you intended, concern slipping through the cracks in your resolve.

Sanzu glares at you. "What's it to you?"

You ignore his harshness, stepping closer. "You need to clean it properly," you say as your eyes fall to the faded scars at the corners of his mouth, scars you've always tried not to stare at too long. 

"Or it'll leave... a scar."

"Yeah? So what?" he mutters, brushing off your concern as he walks away.

You stare at him, the words catching in your throat. The sight of him—bruised and bandaged sloppily—somehow makes your chest ache in ways you don't fully understand.

"Don't you have any antiseptic?" you ask, turning toward the door. "I'll go buy some if—"

"I have it," he grunts, cutting you off. "Top shelf, next to you. You'd think I wouldn't know how to deal with a damn wound in this line of work?"

You glance at the haphazard bandage on his cheek, clearly not impressed by his self-care. Still, you open the shelf and retrieve a small emergency kit. 

"Then why didn't you treat the cut on your lip?" you ask, your voice a little firmer this time as you sit on the edge of his couch. "Surely you know you need to put antiseptic on it."

Sanzu grumbles under his breath, looking away. "Because... it fucking hurts, alright?"

You freeze for a second, blinking at him in surprise. Sanzu—the man who seems to thrive on chaos and pain—can't handle the sting of a simple cut? It's almost absurd, and yet, in that moment, you glimpse a flicker of something real beneath his usual mask. Vulnerability.

"I didn't think you were afraid of pain," you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

"I'm not afraid of it," he snaps, his voice rising defensively. "I just fucking hate it."

There's a childishness in his tone that catches you off guard, like he's throwing a tantrum rather than admitting weakness. The outburst lingers in the air for a moment before you decide to ignore it, reaching for the antiseptic in the first aid kit.

"Let me treat it." Your voice is calm, quiet. An olive branch, if only he'd take it.

Sanzu stares at you, his jaw tight, his eyes narrowing. "Forget it," he mutters, brushing you off. "I don't need you all over my business."

"You're a dick, you know that?" you say, watching him limp slightly as he heads toward the pantry. The guilt sits heavy in your stomach.

He doesn't even glance back as he opens the fridge, retrieving a beer. "And I get paid for it," he replies, voice flat, devoid of his usual smugness.

You roll your eyes as he cracks the can open, lifting it to his lips, his pink hair a mess, like he's been through more than just a fight with Mikey. The black shirt and sweatpants he's wearing make him look almost... domestic. It hits you, suddenly—this familiarity, this strange sense of calm despite everything. It reminds you of Mikey, the way he used to walk around your apartment. The way things used to be. 

Your heart twists.

"We broke up," you blurt out, the words spilling from your lips before you can stop them. It's like ripping off a bandage—quick and painful, but it has to be done.

Sanzu pauses mid-sip, his back still turned to you. You watch as he downs the rest of the beer in one long gulp, crushing the can in his hand before tossing it aside. 

"'Bout time. I'm surprised it took him this long to figure it out," he mutters, but his words lack bite. There's no usual mockery, no cruelty, just... hollow indifference.

You study him, sensing the weight of his own pain, the bruises left by Mikey—not just on his body but somewhere deeper. You want to ask, to probe at the cracks in his usual defenses, but you don't. Instead, you take a breath and shift the conversation.

"I know, right?" You force a smile that feels thin, brittle. "I'm so heartbroken." The sarcasm coats your words, but it can't hide the tremor in your voice. 

"You must be feeling pretty good right now, so why not do me a favor?" You motion for him to sit beside you. "Come sit here and let me treat your wounds."

Sanzu turns slowly, his eyes scanning you as if weighing your request. You can tell he's torn, that a part of him wants to accept the help, even if his pride keeps getting in the way.

You sit there, waiting, knowing that if he needed to push you away, he would've already done it. You don't say anything, just hold your ground, offering him something he's clearly not used to—genuine care.

Finally, with a sharp exhale, he mutters, the words almost begrudging, "Fine. But don't expect me to thank you."

You smile softly, shaking your head as you hold out the antiseptic. "I wouldn't dream of it."

He walks toward you, but instead of sitting next to you, he drops down on the opposite couch, legs sprawled out carelessly, almost as if daring you to come to him instead. You raise an eyebrow, the familiar exasperation rising within you.

"You could at least make it easier for me," you grumble, standing up and walking over. 

There's a flicker of amusement in his eyes as you sit down in front of him on the coffee table, closer now, the scent of alcohol faint but present on his breath. He watches you carefully, eyes following your movements with that predatory focus he always seems to carry, even in moments like this.

When you peel back the bandage on his cheek, revealing the jagged scrape underneath, he winces, trying but failing to hide it. You smirk despite yourself, dabbing the wound with antiseptic. 

"You're such a baby," you tease, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

The reaction is immediate. "Am not," he snaps, his voice cutting through the space between you. "Don't fucking call me that again." There's a sharp edge to his words, but you can hear the vulnerability beneath it, the bruised pride of someone who's used to fighting, not being taken care of.

You ignore his outburst, focusing on his wound. This time, you're more careful, your touch gentler as you apply the ointment. His lips press into a thin line, and you can feel the effort it takes for him to sit still. There's something oddly endearing about it, watching him struggle with the idea of being vulnerable, even for a moment.

He really hates being called a baby, doesn't he?

When you finish with the bandage, you move on to his split lip, focusing on the dried blood caked around the cut. He avoids your gaze, scowling as if pretending this isn't happening. 

As your fingers brush against the faded scars at the corners of his mouth, curiosity gnaws at you. Before you can stop yourself, you press a thumb to one of the scars, feeling the jagged line beneath your skin.

Sanzu jerks back, his eyes blazing as he swats your hand away. "What the hell?" he growls, the vulnerability from a moment ago vanishing beneath the weight of his anger.

"Sorry," you murmur, pulling your hand back. "I got distracted." 

The air between you shifts again, tense and fragile. You can tell you've touched something he doesn't want to share, a part of him that's still too raw, too guarded. And yet, you can't help but wonder what it would take for him to open up—to let you see more than just the surface.

You watch him stands abruptly in front of you, like he's about to bolt. "But I'm not done," you lie, trying to keep him there, keep the moment from slipping away.

He hesitates, glaring at you, but after a second, he sits back down with a grunt. "Whatever, just get it over with. I don't have all night to wait around."

You stay still, your hands resting in your lap as you stare at him, not moving to pick up the first aid kit again. "Can I ask you something?"

Sanzu slouches deeper into the couch, his eyes narrowing at you. "What now?"

You take a breath, steadying yourself. "How did you get those scars?"

The question hangs in the air between you, heavy and loaded with meaning. For a moment, you expect him to laugh it off, to mock you for even asking. But instead, he just stares at you, his gaze cold and distant, like he's weighing whether or not to answer.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost a whisper. "Mikey gave them to me."

The admission hits you like a punch to the gut. Mikey? Mikey did that to him? You feel your heart sink, your stomach twisting in disbelief. Judging by the faded look of the scars, it wasn't recent—this happened years ago. Long before Bonten. So why...?

"Why did he do that?" Your voice cracks, betraying the flood of emotions rising inside you.

Sanzu's eyes darken, his expression hardening. "I don't fucking remember," he snaps, his tone sharp, like he's daring you to push further. 

But the look in his eyes tells you more than his words ever could. This isn't something he wants to talk about—not with you, not with anyone.

You lower your gaze, staring down at your hands as the weight of everything threatens to crush you again. The urge to cry surfaces, hot tears stinging your eyes. You've cried so much today, and in front of him of all people. It's humiliating at this point. 

You stand, trying to escape the overwhelming weight of it all. "It's done. So I'll just... go," you mumble, stepping toward the door.

Before you can make it far, Sanzu's hand wraps around your wrist, his fingers cool against your skin. His grip is light, almost hesitant. You look down at where his fingers hold you, then back up at him. 

"What is it?"

You can feel your voice trembling, on the verge of breaking. You're so close to falling apart, and he's just... watching.

"Want this?" he asks suddenly, holding up a bottle filled with colorful pills. 

He gives it a small shake, and the pills rattle softly inside. The smirk that spreads across his face now is familiar, predatory. This is the Sanzu you know, the one you hate. 

"This shit's the real deal. The other stuff I gave you earlier was just a trial run." He laughs, that low, mocking sound that makes your blood boil.

Your chest tightens as you stare at the pills, your mind flashing back to the euphoria from earlier. It had felt so good, so easy, like all the pain had vanished for a while. And yet... you narrow your eyes at him, anger replacing the temptation. How could he think you'd ever take anything from him again after what he did?

Sanzu sees the anger flash across your face, and the smirk fades. He lets go of your wrist and looks away, his expression hardening again. "Forget it. Just go."

For a moment, you almost do. You almost walk out the door and leave him behind. But something makes you stop. The way his hand had felt around your wrist, the way his voice had softened when he realized what he was offering. You glance back at him, his body tense as he stares ahead, avoiding your gaze. And suddenly, you don't want to leave anymore.

"I want it," you say quietly, turning fully to face him. "Give it to me."

Sanzu's eyes flick back to you, surprise flashing briefly before his usual sneer returns. "Fuck no," he grunts. "You think I'm gonna give you this just to watch you walk out that door?"

There's a pause. His words hang in the air, and for a split second, his eyes widen slightly, like he's just surprised himself with the admission. He hadn't meant to say that, but now it's out there—he doesn't want you to leave. Not yet. 

He actually wants your company.

You can't help the bitter smile that tugs at your lips. "What, so you can choke me again?" you ask, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

His head snaps toward you, confusion etched into his features. "Huh? No. That's—" He stumbles over the words, almost defensive, like he hadn't considered how far he'd gone before.

Without waiting for him to finish, you plop down on the couch beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. You extend your hand, palm up, eyes fixed on his. 

"Fine. Give me that, Sanzu."

For a moment, he doesn't move, his gaze searching your face. Then, slowly, a smirk tugs at his lips again—the same smug, infuriating expression you've come to expect from him.

Manjiro Sano has warned you more than once: avoid Sanzu when he's high. The fact that you were Mikey's girlfriend has always been enough to keep Sanzu from crossing certain lines when he's sober, but when the drugs took over, his already fragile self-control shatters. 

The warning always carries weight, like a veiled threat that lingers at the back of your mind, but tonight... tonight, you don't care. You're too numb, too broken, and the reckless part of you craves the release Sanzu offers. The part of you that wants to forget Mikey. 

The pill between Sanzu's fingers gleams like forbidden fruit, a dual-colored capsule that promises escape. His grin is lazy, predatory, as if the thrill of watching you self-destruct is part of his form of entertainment. Without a word, you reach for the pill, swallowing it down without hesitation. The bitter taste lingers at the back of your throat, but the anticipation of oblivion drowns out any second thoughts.

Within minutes, the edges of reality begin to blur. The room shifts, the walls breathe, and the floor ripples like water beneath your feet. Colors bleed into each other, swirling in dizzying patterns that make you feel weightless. The cool marble floor presses against your cheek as you lie sprawled on the ground, your limbs heavy yet disconnected from your body.

Above you, like a ghostly shadow, Sanzu lounges on the couch, watching you with an intensity that both unnerves and thrills you. He takes a pill of his own before the next wave hits you—stronger this time, pulling you under completely.

For a fleeting moment, you let everything go—the pain, the heartbreak, the memories of Mikey's distant eyes as you walked away from him. All the weight of your unspoken love, of your shattered heart, evaporates in the fog of euphoria. It's terrifying how easy it is to forget, to lose yourself in the numbness. But somewhere, deep in the pit of your soul, the fear lingers. 

What will be left of you when the high wears off?

When you wake the next morning, reality presses you down like a vise. Your head pounds, each throb a reminder of the drug still pulsing through your system. The soft morning light filters through the unfamiliar room's windows. You blink, disoriented, trying to piece together what happened. 

Right... Sanzu. You were in his condo last night, and this—this must be his bedroom.

As you shift, the soft rustle of sheets draws your attention, and your heart leaps into your throat. Sanzu lies beside you, his face buried in the pillow, his hair a wild mess of pink strands. He's half-naked, the blanket draped loosely over his hips, and for a moment, panic seizes you. 

Your fingers instinctively brush over your clothes—still on, thank God. Relief washes over you, but it's fleeting. The haze of the previous night is still there, muddy and unclear, and you have no idea what happened between the two of you after you'd lost yourself to the high.

Whatever it was, it doesn't seem like you had sex with him. At least... you hope you didn't. Two people who are really high wouldn't bother to put their clothes back on after sex, right? 

You sit up carefully, the bed creaking softly beneath you, and that's when you notice them—his scars. Lines of jagged, raw skin crisscross his back like a violent roadmap of his past. Some scars are old, barely visible against his pale skin, while others are fresh, still healing from whatever recent chaos he's endured. 

You know that Sanzu lives in violence, that it clings to him like a second skin, but seeing the marks so intimately, so vulnerably laid bare before you—it stirs something inside you. A deep, unsettling pity, but you quickly shove it down, pushing it past the ache in your chest.

Your shift your gaze to the floor, where the bottle of pills lies tipped over, colorful capsules scattered across the marble floor. How many did you take last night? Too many, you're sure. You feel their lingering effects, the way they dull the edges of your thoughts, how they slow your movements. 

Shaking off the grogginess, you move toward the door, eyes landing on the katana propped up against the wall. A glint of steel in the early light. 

You pause, your hand gripping the door handle. The memory of what Sanzu did before flashes through your mind—the way he choked you, forcing the first pill down your throat. Mikey has punished him for it, but still, you felt guilty enough to treat his wounds. Then, stupidly, you let yourself get high with him again. Willingly.

But the anger still simmers under the surface. All those cruel words over the years, the taunts, the smirks, the way he looks down on you. He's infuriating. And this... this is your chance to get back at him.

Without thinking, you walk over to the katana. The hilt feels cool and foreign in your hand as you lift it, the weight of it surprising you. But you don't hesitate.

As you drag the katana behind you, the metal scraping loudly against the floor, the sound reverberates in the silent hallway. Each step feels like defiance, like a rebellion against everything Sanzu represents—the control, the twisted power he holds over you.

In the basement, you find the garbage bin. Without a second thought, you dump the katana in, the clang of steel against metal echoing in the empty space. It isn't enough to truly hurt him, but it's enough to piss him off, enough to make him notice.

And that's what you want, isn't it? To get under his skin the way he always gets under yours? To make him feel something—anything—that isn't amusement at your suffering?

As you walk away, a small, bitter smile tugs at your lips. You know this won't end well. You're playing with fire, and Sanzu is dangerous when pushed. But the part of you that's still reeling from Mikey, still wounded and desperate, craves this chaos. You want to see what will happen when Sanzu finds the katana, want to watch the fury flash across his face. Because for once, you aren't the one falling apart.

Maybe it's madness, or maybe it's something deeper—a need to reclaim some form of control in a world that's stripped you of it. Either way, you aren't running anymore.

You'll face whatever comes next, even if it destroys you.

Manjiro Sano haunts you everywhere. He's with you in the empty bed, a ghost beside you as you stare at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the dark. When you’re in the kitchen, his voice echoes in your mind, teasing, laughing, pulling you into memories that make your chest tighten with an ache that hasn't dulled. In the mirror, you see him staring back, his familiar, cold gaze mocking you as you brush your teeth, as if daring you to forget the life you shared with him.

It's been weeks since the breakup, but the weight of nine years doesn't just vanish. You were naive to think it would be easy to let go. After all, you didn't just lose Mikey—you lost the future you had envisioned, the dream of always being by his side, no matter what. 

You'd never loved anyone else, never felt the safety of another person's arms. You never had a reason to think you'd need to. And when you first learned about the arranged marriage three years ago, you foolishly believed that nothing could ever come between you and Mikey, that love would always win. However, reality had other plans.

Eventually, it all became too much. So, you made a decision. You packed your things and left the apartment you had once shared with him, that place filled with memories—of laughter, of love, of a time when he was truly yours. But now, those memories felt like weights pulling you under, drowning you in a past that you could no longer live in. 

So, you found a new place, a smaller apartment far away from that suffocating ghost. You didn't tell anyone from Bonten. Not a soul knew where you were now. It was supposed to be your clean break.

But fate never lets you escape that easily.

Weeks after you've settled into your new life, you find yourself out for a casual walk, basking in the simplicity of a quiet day. An ice cream cone in one hand, a plastic bag of snacks in the other—small, ordinary comforts in an otherwise chaotic life. You're beginning to breathe again, to feel the freedom of being on your own. And then you see him.

Mikey.

He's sitting outside a café, his silver hair catching the sunlight, his posture as calm and unreadable as ever. But next to him is her. His wife. The sight of them together makes your stomach lurch, your heart clenching as if gripped by an iron fist. She's laughing, and though Mikey's face is still as cold and impassive as always, there's something different about him. Softer. He looks at her in a way that sends a sharp pang through your chest. 

He's moving on.

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the world feels like it's tilting on its axis. You need to get out of here. Now.

Before you can make your escape, though, you spot them. Ran's lazy, amused expression is the first thing you notice, his sharp eyes locking onto you with that all-too-familiar smirk. 

"Well, well. Look who it is," he drawls, his voice dripping with mockery. But it's the presence next to him that makes your blood run cold.

Sanzu.

The moment his gaze lands on you, the air around you thickens. His eyes narrow, his lips curl into a sneer, and you know. He knows. You can almost feel the anger rolling off of him, simmering beneath the surface. You've crossed a line with him, and now, you'll pay for it.

Your heart hammers in your chest, panic seizing your throat. The plastic bag slips from your hand, the ice cream falling, forgotten, as it splatters against the pavement. You don't even care. All that matters now is getting away.

You turn and run.

"Oi!" Sanzu's voice slices through the air, sharp and dangerous. "Stop running!"

Like hell you will. 

You know what he's capable of, and you know there's nothing holding him back now—not Mikey, not anyone. Not after what you did. The memory flashes in your mind—the clattering of metal, the weight of his katana in your hands as you threw it into the trash. The reckless satisfaction of it all.

You can hear his footsteps behind you, the sound growing louder with each passing second. He's faster than you remember, and your chest tightens in fear. Sanzu is dangerous even when he's calm, but this? 

This is personal.

The crowded street is a blur as you dash through it, weaving past confused onlookers, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst. Dignity is the last thing on your mind right now—you're running for survival. And yet, amidst the chaos, a ridiculous thought crosses your mind: If I die today, I'll die looking like shit. No makeup, no cute clothes, just sweat and terror.

You can feel him gaining on you, the heat of his rage practically burning at your back, and desperation grips you. You need to think fast, or you won't make it. That's when you spot the riverbank up ahead, the water glistening in the distance. 

Without a second thought, you sprint toward it, your feet barely touching the ground as you throw yourself into the icy water. The shock of the cold steals your breath, but you don't stop moving. You swim, forcing your body through the water, the chill biting into your skin. 

When you finally break the surface, you gasp, a fleeting moment of triumph swelling in your chest. You've escaped.

Or so you think.

Your heart sinks when you see him standing on the riverbank, his figure dark and ominous against the bright sky. Sanzu is already peeling off his blazer, his eyes fixed on you with a predator's focus. There's no hesitation as he tosses it aside and kicks off his shoes. Of course, he's going to follow you. Of course, he's not letting this go.

You should have known better.

Sanzu dives into the water without a second thought, cutting through the current with frightening speed. And that's when it hits you—he isn't just chasing you out of anger. He's chasing you because you've crossed a line you can never uncross. Because Sanzu doesn't follow any rules, doesn't have any boundaries. 

And neither of you are sane enough to stop now.

< part two ends >

author's notes. heyy beloved sanzu kinnies <3 i'm so so happy & grateful for all the love you showed to part one of BNT that i decided to bless you guys with twice as long part two hehe :D hope you guys enjoyed it! i've got some fun stuff planned for sanzu and y/n in the next part... so please stay tuned! also, i'd love to hear your thoughts so do leave some notes & comments!! tysm for reading guys! stay awesome ☆(>ᴗ•)

taglist. @iluv-ace @reiners-milkbiddies @bontenbabyy @risheliette @loveantonnlee @sukunas-bitxh @honeygonebads-blog @r3yk @soilaluna @l1ttl3m1ss666 @novv @slvdsjjk @miffysoo @qyoongi @drakensdarling @ask-the-insect-hashira @awkwardaardvarkforever @thebiggestlovergirlever @shinichirolover @kyyuuuuu @meowww1041 @kiasnotforever (comment below if you’d like to be added to the taglist!)

© CANDYEAGER. do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my works in any other platforms.

[dreamauri]

max c oc!/ self insert driver reader? i love these kind of fics!! esp when it’s an enemies to lovers, maybe their both competing for the championship🥲

♪ —𝗢𝗛 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗬 𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗬 max verstappen x fem! driver! OC! reader (angst to fluff + smut) “. . . you never back out of a fight, and neither does max. but the turn of events was surly unexpected.”

( main master list | more of max verstappen ) ( tag list | requests )

2015

"This is not fair!" You shouted in the radio as you drove the car back on the track, trailing the Dutch driver. "HE PUSHED ME! WHAT IS THIS SHIT SHOW?!" Cuss words dripped from your mouth as you caught up to max, taunting and pressuring him to weaken his defence enough to pass.

"NO! BLIND MOTHERFUCKER!" You shouted, slamming your your hands on your steering wheel angrily. He oversteered into you, crashing you out both into the wall for good. "COME HERE." You pulled your seatbelt of, running after him as soon as you were on your feet.

Standing his ground, Max took the the opportunity to tackle you to the ground first, pinning you on the ground face down. "CAN YOU SHUT UP?" He was angry. Why was a dumb blond crashing into him when she should go put on make up or buy some new high heels.

"NOT UNTIL YOU LOSE YOUR TONGUE." Kicking your foot back, you delivered a good slam to his sensitive organ, pretty much killing him. While you got up, Max was still whimpering on the ground, face red. "Asshole." "Says you. You're a stupid fifteen year old blond virgin who cant drive." "OH YOU'RE ASKING FOR IT—"

"OH! Anaki kicked Verstappen again. That must hurt." "I can't even look, she's putting her whole strength into that kick." "We can confirm now that Froi does not skip leg day."

Walking back you your car, you stepped on his back, putting your whole weight on. "Verstappen scum."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2017

Walking down the pitlane, crew members and camera men made sure to stay out of your way seeing how you were going to crush the water bottle in your hand from the amount of rage you were radiating. "You might want to run away." Christian warned, there was nothing going to stop what was to come next.

Max looked where his team principle did, eyes widening as he started walking away for an escape. You never showed him mercy, and he knew he's be dead by the end of this one.

Throwing the metal bottle with precision, you hit Max right in the back of his head, making hm wince and turn you with a look of anger. Charging towards you, ready to tackle you down, you dodged putting your leg out to trip him.

"That's for costing me a win." You growled, raising your elbow to drop on him. Your revenge was short lived as someone quickly held you back. Getting up slowly and wiping his nose, he glared daggers at you. The only reason you were not suffering because the two of you were in public.

"Bitch." He mumbled ready to attack only for someone to hold him back. "Say that again." You dared him, venom leaking from your words. "Bit—" Safe to say he wasn't going to have children anymore.

You pulled yourself free as you watched the Dutch fall on his knees and chest, hands between his thighs. "Pussy." You spit, walking back to your garage. "I hate you." He shouted after you.

"Hate is not a strong enough world to describe how much I despise you, darling." You called back, throwing back a middle finger.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2022

"Flight is cancelled. Come back in another seven hours." You repeated, laid on your back face covered by your jacket. You've been waiting in the first class lounge for eternity now, and every now and then people would come and ask you the same question.

Instead of hearing the person leave, you felt someone shove your legs harshly off the couch. Snapping up into sitting position, ready to argue with the disturber of your short-lived peace. You're eyes met with your rival.

"Ew. Get off, rat." You shoved him off, going back to your laying position. "Can you not for once?" He was at his limit with you, pushing your legs off and sitting back down. "Not when it's you." You rolled your eyes covering your face with the jacket again, going back to sleep as you pushed him off.

"I've had it with you!" He ripped your shoes off, throwing them across the empty room. "Hey!" You kicked his side getting up to retrieve the puma, only for Max to lay in your stop. "My spot." "Stop being a child."

"Oh I'm sorry. Are you jealous that I'm still living a childhood you never had?" You mocked, throwing the heel of the shoe at his groin. "What is wrong with you?! Fuckin' Hell! Stop fucking obsessing over my dick like a slut!" "Oh you wanna see obsession?"

Max's legs had been shaking the whole flight, and you sitting a few seats behind could only smile as he winced with ever move and shuffle. He heard the occasional giggle come from you, and when he looked back, you raised your tomato juice pretending to give him a toast.

Arriving in Bahrain was easy for you. You loved the country and its people so it was easy to find your way around. Unlike someone who had to take the golf cart through the airport because he was dying on the inside.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Whoops. Not sorry." You hummed as you lapped the Redbull driver, slightly throwing him off the race line. "Haha, look at him stirring around like an idiot." You laughed in the radio as you watched him struggle in your mirrors. "Alright, byebye." You sighed comfortably, zooming away easily to lap the next car head.

Being on the podium was fun, a great start to the season as you danced happily under the shower of champagne. "This is how you do it~" You sang laughing, a certain Dutch driver caught your eyes as your engineers carried you back to the garage on their shoulders. You held up your trophy, showing off with a bright smile.

you were so dead.

When Max found you in the hotel later that night, he was quick to pull you in a corner out of sight, slamming you in the wall. "You're driving me insane." You looked at him for a moment before feeling a light bulb spark in your head.

"Aww, I'm sorry." You trailed a hand down his chest slowly, looking him deep in his eyes. "Froi." He growled gripping your wrist before it went to far down. "Lets play a game." You whispered in his ear, free hand slowly unzipping his pants and reaching inside slowly. "What are you— fuck—"

Max could only lean his fore arms on the wall as you worked your hand. The same one that had punched his dick a few days ago. He could've stopped you or said no, but he let you, his body shaking from the contrast of the pain and pleasure, blue eyes looking deep in your honey green ones.

A muffled groan sounded through his lips as he finally came in your hands. "Good luck next race." You patted his back, wiping the substance on his shirt walking away. Max could only stay in his place, frozen as he caught his breath slowly.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He understood the game now. You were playing dirty. Distracting him the way you did was successful as you danced on your halo after securing pole position in Saudi Arabia. He'd be starting behind you tomorrow, and that angered him.

He can play the game too.

Pulling you aside once he got the chance, you could guess why. And for the next 3 hours, Max was on his knees, face between your thighs as you sobbed from overstimulation. He liked hearing you so venerable and weak, begging as you gripped his hair. "Verstappen, enough." You could feel your legs shake, the only thing holding you up were his strong arms.

"Sluts shouldn't talk." "I'm not a slu— no no no. Enough. Please!"

He liked this.

And so the battle continued, on and off track. Your fights were slowly decreasing in the eyes of the media and people didn't know why. Your battle off track was the one that decided the winner, the one who threw off the other the most had already secured his trophy the night before.

Of course you two never had full out sex. You never held hands. You never kissed. Never marked. You didn't like each other, right? Right? You never fight it when he pushed himself in your room in the middle of the night.

You don't pull away when he drags you out of sight.

You didn't stop him when he digs his fingers into your core.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The season dragged through and through and the championship was tight between the two of you. You'd practically be alternating each weekend on who had P1.

You'd raise your middle finger to him and he'd raise his to you. It was funny from the side lines really, watching you the two go from kicking each other ( you to him ) to mild insults after each race or qualifying.

Some people would say you matured and others would say the FiA threatened to suspend you for the behaviour ( the fia couldn't ever, you were bringing in money with each fine ).

It was at the Italian grand Prix when rumours truly began to form. When it came to the after party to celebrate your win, you went all out and embraced all types of alcohol, somehow concluding with you switching Italian the whole night.

Max who had gotten second place in the race sat a few chairs away from you, drinking from his glass as his eyes followed you. He could already imagine what he'd do next, and it made his pants tighten. What pulled him out of his thoughts were a group of guys chatting with you, touching you.

Why did that anger him the way it did? It shouldn't have. What did for him was you trying to pull away. He didn't even know how he got there but he secured a good punch to one of the guys face. Too bad for him, the others could fight.

Pnce he got the chance, Max lifted you up on his shoulder, bolting out of there. Goodness knows what would've happened if he didn't step in, and that scared him and bothered him deeply.

After conforming that you were indeed a safe distance away from your assailants, he set you back down on your feet, feeling cold without your body heat and it stirred his stomach sick.

Quickly taking your wrist, he dragged you along to try and find his way back to the hotel. "I wanna dance." You demanded, standing still and pulling him back.

"Froi, I don't have time for this." "I beg to differ. We have all the time in the world, Max." You pulled him closer to you, taking his hand as you twirled yourself.

That was the first time you called him by his first name, and it made his heart flutter.

Say it again.

"Please let me know that it's real. You're too good to be true." You turned into his chest, your finger trailing up his neck and jaw as you looked deeply into his ocean blues. "Can't take my eyes off of you." You sang, glancing down to his lips as Max leaned down slowly, his hands finding your hips and back as he pulled you close.

He could feel your breath on his lips and your heart beat in your chest. Dipping down with the courage he put together. His heart sank when his felt you push him away from his face. "Ew. No way."

Shatter.

'What was I thinking. She doesn't like me.' He thought, sighing as he walked behind her, hands in his pockets as he eyed you in your short red stain dress. He wasn't any better than those other guys with the way he treated you and the way touched you. Thy way he watched you. The way he thought about you.

The way he wanted you.

Finally finding your hotel, he walked you up to your room. "God bless." You groaned falling on your bed. Gently kneeling down, Max started undoing the straps of you heels, committing the mistake of looking up where your dress rode up your thighs.

Setting your heels aside, he was surprised when you pulled him ontop of yourself his collar, a mischievous smile on your face. "What's that in your pants?" You teased. Looking down, Max was quick to put a hand over his crotch, attempting to hide the forming boner.

"I saw it already. You can't hide from me." You giggled, hands slipping under his shirt and pulling it over his head. The Dutch watched as you traced your finger along his skin, drawing shapes and lines aimlessly.

His heart was thumping. Why was he feeling like this? His breath hitched feeling your other hand where he needed you the most. "Anaki." He found himself begging as you pushed him on his back. Your hands were quick to unbuckle his belt, pulling his pants and underwear down.

"I swear it keeps getting smaller everytime." You teased, taking him in your mouth. "Not- not small." ( he's a good 7.6 inches ) He said in between grunts, gently brushing your hair out of your face.

This was out of norm for him, being so gentle with you. Treating you like a piece of glass, cupping your cheek to guide you gently. Unlike the usual when he's rough and unforgiving.

"Ugh fuck." He felt himself relax after his release, his thumb caressing your cheek as you pulled away. He watched you open your mouth, your saliva and his seamen dripping down on his stomach.

"You're playing nice." You commented, crawling up and tracing kisses on his neck. "Mhm?" Max hummed, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch. His hand trailed up your back gently, prompting you to pull off your dress. The blond could only admire you, hands caressing and exploring your delicate skin.

"You're beautiful." He promised, cupping under your chin as his lips traced your body. "Max." There it was, calling his name. "Hmm?" He asked flipping you over so he was on top, finger hooking on the hem of your underwear, pulling it down slowly.

"Max." His heart flutterd as he gently held your thighs, aligning himself to you. "Need you." You whispered, hooking your heels around your waist.

No. This was wrong.

You were drunk. Despite how much as he needed you, and how much it hurt not to be inside you, he couldn't take advantage of you in this state.

A moan sounded through the hotel room as he slowly sunk his two digits in your core instead.

After covering you with the blanket, Max reached for his shirt, pausing through the process to look at your sleeping figure. 'If I leave now, everything will go back to the way it was. And if I don't, I have no idea how she'll take it . . . Fuck it.'

Slipping back in bed after he cleaned you up, Max hesitantly pulled your bare body into his, sharing your body heat for the night.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"No." You gaped making the newly showered Dutch flinch and freeze in his place. He was leaning his back on the bathroom door frame, toothbrush in his mouth.

After staring at each other for two minutes, wondering why the fuck he decided to NOT wrap a towel around himself: "What the fuck?!" You shuffled backwards in the bed falling off. "Ow!"

"Shit." Jumping over and getting to your side of the bed, Max peaked over checking on you. He was greeted with a pillow smacking his face. "Ow! Relax!" He pulled away, holding your hand before you attacked him again.

"Relax?!—" "We didn't fuck. Chill." "Chill? Verstappen, you're naked in my room." You reasoned trying to pull away only for the man to pull you back up on the bed. 'Fuck. Go back to using my first name.'

"You're fine. I helped you get back and you played around." 'That's odd. Nothing hurts.' You thought looking at him suspiciously. "Your joking." You chuckled darkly, seeing his dick harden. "I can't help it alright?" He grumbled embarrassed, pulling you closer and turning you around.

"Hey! Hey!" You protested trying to crawl away. "Anaki! Can you relax and stay put for just a second?" He questioned, holding you by your hips. "No!" You fought back only to be pulled back on your knees, hands held behind your back. "Anaki. I'm losing my mind. It hurts."

Hearing him say your name so desperately threw you off. Before you knew it, he was humping your thighs, his free hand between your legs to pleasure you as well.

This was different. This wasn't fighting or competing. This was love making ( well, less than half way there ). You could feel it in the way you moaned and the way he treated you like a fragile flower. "Verstappen-" "Max. My name is Max." He corrected you, letting your hands go so he could hold himself up and not squish you.

"Max." You repeated, feeling him lean down and press soft kisses to your back and neck. "Yeah?" He could feel your breaths pick up as you leaned up into his chest. He closed his eyes, wrapping an arm around you.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You and Max haven't fought in a while." "So?" You shrug, acting oblivious. One of the biggest cons of F1 was the interviews, the paparazzi, the media.

"Do you have anything to comment about that?" "Eh." You shrugged, setting your elbow on the table, leaning your chin on your hand. "You guys are boring." You yawned looking at the press conference crowd. "You tell me." Max, a few chairs away, commented leaning his head back bored.

"What's going on with you and Max?" Lando asked once you escaped the press conference. "What is going on with me and Max?" You returned the question, walking backwards. "Well you're calling him by his first name. And there are rumors going around about you dancing with him in the streets back in Imola." He whispered that last part through gritted teeth.

"Oh, do you have a crush on Max? Are you scared ima steal your man?" You joked taunting him. "What?! I don't like Max!" "Ouch." The Dutch commented as he passed by.

"Lando likes you." Carlos patted your shoulder as he passed by. You raised your eyebrows surprised, looking at Lando to confirm the statement. "I- well-" Lando scratched the back of his neck nervously. You could only giggle wiggling your eyebrows as you walked away backwards.

Max crushed the Redbull can, overhearing the conversation. He just got you, he's not losing you.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I brought nuggets." He said once you peaked through the hotel room door, holding out the two 20 packs. You opened the door all the way, looking between him and the nuggets. Should you let him in? Should you send him away? What does he expect? What do you want?

Max could see the thought train running through your eyes and you could see the nervous gulp in his throat. "Please. Give me a chance. I'm sorry for all the bitch shit I've done to you. All of it. I take it all back."

"Give me a chance, Anaki."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Being in a secret relationship was difficult to say the least. There was tension between you and Max. Hungry glances in press conferences and deep eye contact from across the paddock.

Max wanted to hold you, he too felt empty with you so far away from him. He wanted to kiss you in front of everyone so they can back off. Especially Lando. And although Max knew you would never go out with the boy, he was getting pissed off with how much the McLaren wasn't giving up.

Keeping an eye on you from across the bar, Max watched as Lando tried to hit on you. You could only watch amused as Lando leaned his side on the bar, listening to a story he was telling whilst sipping his whisky. "Have I ever told you about the time I went backpacking in Europe?"

He'll no. Max knew what was coming next and he did not like it.

"I didn't order this." You told the bartender looking at the fancy drink infront of you. "It's from him." A smile crept on your face as you lifted the glass, taking sips from the probably expensive alcohol. "Thank him for me."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I don't like the way he looks at you." Max grumbled as he pulled his shoes off, tossing them in the rack only for you to tidy up after him.

"You know I'm yours." You leaned down kissing him gently. "He's practically undressing you." He humbled, gently pulling your ancle up and taking the uncomfortable heels off. "I don't even want to know what goes through his head." He grumped tossing the heels away, picking you up and walking with you into the apartment.

"Max, I have legs. I can walk." "I don't care." He threw you on your shared bed, tossing you a pair of shorts and shirt from the closet while he changed into shorts. "It just— I know I'd love you way better than anyone else." He sat beside you, unbuttoning his shirt.

"Max, you broke my nose in 2016." "I apologized! I'm sorry!" He looked at you eyebrows begging. "Here, punch me, break my nose. Return the favour." He closed his eyes, bracing himself. "Max—" "Do it." He flinched hearing you shuffle closer, but all he felt was you kissing his nose gently. "You're an idiot. I'm dating an idiot."

"You love me?" You asked once he opened his eyes, referring to a few seconds ago. "I— yes." He stuttered nodding. You could only smile as you looked into his eyes, dipping closer to catch his lips with yours.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2023

"And Froi wining in formula one 4 times from pole, is going to win from pole again and end the season with celebrations for Ferrari. Anaki Froi wins the Abu Dhabi Grand prix and is the first female champion of the world!"

"YEES!!" You threw your hands up in joy and euphoria as your engineer confirmed your title. "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! GRAZIE! GRAZIE!" You could feel happy tears happy tears stream down your face as you ran your hand over your helmet.

"YEAH! LETS GO!" Max in the car behind you was also celebrating, not his second place in the race, but your championship title. "I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! WOHOO!"

Jumping out of the car, you were quick to jump into the arms of your team, hugging and praising you as you cried in their arms. Pulling away, you looked at Max who climbed out of his car.

Might as well, no?

You rand into his arms, hugging him tightly as he did the same. "I'm so proud of you, Ani." He held the sides of your helmet shaking you back and fourth as you laughed. "So proud." He undid the strap, pulling the protection off, before pulling his helmet off. You caught his jaws with your hands, connecting his lips with yours as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Once he pulled away, he held your hand, getting down on one knee.

"Double the joy for me, my darling. Marry me. Lets spend our nights eating cereal when there is a perfectly fine table behind us. Marry me. We can go to the movies and sit in the back row just for us to make out like kids falling in love for the first time. Marry me. slow dance with me in our bedroom with candles on our nightstand."

Dropping down on your knees, you pulled him in a bone crushing hug, nodding yes and you squeezed him tight. "I'm all yours, forever." You nodded.

Your favourite thing about that day was not revealing your relationship to the world, your engagement to your lover, but the look of utter confusion and lostness on Christian Horner's face.

voice notes 🔊 . . . ( this took a way too sexual turn, damn. sorry it took me so long to write this. i really liked it so i hope you enjoy. i wanted to test out second point of view using OC (anaki froi), hope that didnt ruin it )

[let-spretend]

hey !! very self indulgent fanfic here, wanted to insert reader into the game itself so lots of dialogue is directly pulled from chp 15. armageddon !! could be platonic if you squint ‘cause it’s pretty vague. still open to requests and criticisms.

liu kang x reader !!

"There is nowhere to run, Shang Tsung. Nowhere to hide." Liu Kang opens his arms, looking side to side. "We have banded together to rid all timelines of your evil. The threat you pose to them ends today." He points to the ground.

"Such certainty, Liu Kang. That this battle will end in your favor." Dark Shang Tsung only spits back with venom.

"It can end no other way. Because across all timelines, the arc of history bends toward justice."

"Does it? In this timeline, it bends toward me." Dark Shang Tsung's arms engulf into flames and he starts to swing his arms into a circular motion. Chanting, he shoots a beam of fire towards the sky. Slowly, a portal starts to rip open, lighting up the area. "Behold, Liu Kang, the hell I unleash upon you!" He motions his arm toward the portal and skulls start to pour out, creating a pathway. Dark versions of everyone start to come out, with Quan Chi leading the herd. Dark Shang Tsung and Liu Kang stare each other down, while Dark Shang Tsung's army starts to line up near him. He yells for them to charge, gesturing toward all of you. You start to run up the stairs, with the rest of Liu Kang's army also doing the same. You don't pay any attention to who you were fighting, just interacting with whoever decided to stand in your way. You push and kick your opponents into the green waste between the pyramid stairs.

"My godly might will strike you down." You turn your head to see a Li Mei in similar attire to Raiden. You get into a ready stance and are ready for anything she tries. You notice crackling occurring between her fingertips and you realize she was a version of someone's timeline's Raiden. You land the first punch, cornering her into a wall. Continuously you strike, pushing her down to the floor for enough time to escape. She falls with no intention of getting back up.

You sprint toward the stairs again, climbing up to one of the many platforms on the stairs. You see a flicker of green in the corner of your eye. Before you could act, a version of Syzoth punches you right in the face. You fall to the floor, clenching your cheek. You send a low kick, causing Reptile to meet you on the ground. You push yourself into the air and aim your feet toward Reptile's face. "How you like that, Syzoth?" You chuckle, imagining your timeline's Syzoth being defeated by your hands. Before she could respond, you lift her up from the ground and throw her across the platform. After this action, dozens of dark Shang Tsung's people come rushing towards you. You start to run, sucker punching a dark Kenshi along the way. You hear Sento clank to the ground as you turn the corner. You see an oncoming shadow but no people around. You clamor to the ground as a heavy weight jumps onto you. A person that appears to be Sub-Zero towers over you, ready to strike. You roll to your right and get up onto your knees. "So eager you had to jump onto me?" You banter. She sneers and sends icicles toward you. You crouch down and go for her feet. She acts quickly and jumps up, coming down with a kick. It lands on your stomach, you grunt in pain but punch her in the face as she lands. Blood paints her face as she attempts to wipe it off. Her stance now staggered, she summons an ice flail into her hands. She lunges toward you but you block, the flail breaking on impact. You suck in from the pain and cold it left. You slap her face and punch her in the stomach three times, sending her a couple feet in front of you. As she goes down with a thud, a Dark Sonya that has Kano's eye starts charging toward you. She kicks for your face and tries to slash your arm with her blade. You block all of her attempts and reply with a punch to her face. Her face swings back as her robotic eye releases a deadly beam. You hold her face away from yours and punch her with brute force. She cries in pain and falls.

"You get to be killed by a megastar." You turn around to be met with a Shao Kahn dressed in Johnny's attire. You can't help but let a loud laugh escape your lips. He charges at you and you go flying, landing next to the defeated Sonya. He walks over slowly and you jump up and kick his stomach to keep him from coming any closer. He groans and you keep at it. Punching in any place open and finishing with a kick to the balls. He yells out in pain and topples over. "Learned that on from you, ironically." You retort. You hear a mix of low growling and yelling above you. It was Goro. He jumps off of the roof and lands next to you, making you almost fall over from the impact. He hurls his hammer into your face. Your face burns with pain and you clutch it instinctively. You thought your whole face was taken with the hammer. Goro tries to hit you again with his hammers but is stopped by a punch. He falls onto the stairs but kicks your aid back. You look up to see a Ninja Mime Cage being caught by more Cages. Johnny taps him on the shoulder. He jumps back up quickly and turns his head to the right to see why Johnny tapped his shoulder. Janet also taps him and he faces her. Johnny shouts and "Ms. Cage" does the same. Probably to hype themselves up. Ninja Mime smiles at their antics and also yells silently. You chuckle at the mime's attempt at yelling. He notices your laughter and sends you a wink, but is quickly interrupted by Goro. He swings his hammers toward the three of them and they all dodge. Johnny back kicks Goro in the balls while Ninja Mime flips in the air and kicks his calf. While he winces, Janet kicks him in the face, leading him closer to the ledge. Johnny sends a green blast from his hand hurling toward Goro. You don't remember your timeline's Johnny having powers. Ninja Mime tries to land a finishing kick but Goro grabs his leg. He bends it in an unnatural way, a crackle left his leg. Despite that, he does not make a sound. Although his face contorts in pain and distress. He is tossed by Goro into the green abyss. The Cage's both kick him onto the ledge, pushing him off politely with a send off. Johnny sends you a thumbs up but Janet gives you two. You smile and pick yourself up. You hear yelling behind you but don't bother to turn as another Dark version of Johnny starts to approach.

"You've clearly no sense of self-preservation." You sigh again. "I don't have time for this." You say, in a deadpan voice. Janet scoffs. "Oh, you will." You run towards her and she braces for some sort of attack. But all you do is push her to the floor and take off. "Ugh! Come back here, Y/N!!" You ignore her and run up the never-ending stairs. Your breathing was starting to become shallow. You try to drink your spit to somehow calm yourself and also give you hydration. But it obviously didn't help. You try to look down while running to keep you from seeing the amount of stairs left, knowing the consequences. But you stop, hearing many footsteps ahead of you. You look up to see 4 people. You scan their faces and they all seem familiar but you couldn’t quite place it. Before you could attack, you’re surprised by a weaponized fan.

“Allow me.” Kitana declares.

You happily oblige and let her slay the four in front of you. She ruthlessly slices off limbs and heads. One head with sunglasses on, rolls down in front of you. Weirdly, it felt like a taunt. You try not to think so deeply about it. "Thank you, Princess Kitana. Or.. maybe not a princess?" You say, with uncertainty. It was hard to keep track of everything and everyone. Kitana only chuckles. "You are too cute. Kitana is just fine and you're welcome. Now hurry. There's no time to waste." You were about to reply to her before she was tackled by some person. You were caught by surprise and your first instinct was to help her. You figure she was able to defend herself, but mostly it was the fact that you were being approached once again.

"Reptiloids are apex predators." She calmly says. This time it was a Reptiloid Sindel. You sigh and get into a ready stance. You don't even bother with a quip. Before Sindel could even attack, the ground starts to crackle with red lightning. You look around your surroundings for anything and your eyes land on a chain hanging from a pillar. You kick the pillar to push yourself toward the hanging chain. Sindel screams in pain from the lightning and a figure that looks like Kung Lao, lands. You could see that stupid hat from a mile away. Sindel falls to the floor with severe burns but the figure pays no attention. He removes his hat and cleanly slices the chain you were dangling from, in half. You fall to the floor but get a glimpse of his face. It was Raiden's. "Ew!" You exclaim, not being able to fathom that 'that' exists. He practically flies into you and your stomach burns from his lightning. You dodge his attacks from his hat and begin to punch once he puts it back on. Getting a closer look at the Kung Lao-Raiden mashup, your eyebrows furrow. You push him toward a torch and his clothes catch on fire. He screams and tries to put it out but falls off the pyramid, not realizing where he stood. "That was an abomination.." You breathe out, as you watch him flail to his death.

You jog up the stairs, tired, before noticing two figures. You look up to see Dark Shang Tsung and Quan Chi up at the top, staring down at you attempting to run up the stairs. You see Shang Tsung talking to Quan Chi but can't make out what he says from all the yelling around you. You keep running up the stair trying to catch up. They face each other and start to create a bubble of magic, mixed with orange and green. They both raise it into the sky and throw it into your direction. "Shit!" You dive onto the next platform, as you watch it pass by you and hit many others toward the bottom. Your body aches from the fall and fatigue. "Ugh.." You slowly start to pick yourself up try to continue up the stairs.

But distant growling could be heard from around the corner. Just as you start to catch your breath, three dark clones of Mileena charge toward you with sai in their hands. The two in the back stay in a standby position, while the Mileena in red attire attacks. You grab her arms and make them cross, using her left hand with the sai to puncture her right shoulder. You twirl her to make her face her copies. You use her body to block their advances, also using her arms to attack them. You slice the neck of the Mileena in yellow. You stab the side of one in blue and stab her again but with both sai in the stomach. You kick the Mileena in your hands and take the sai out of hers. You stab her in the chest but have no time to take them back out, as another Mileena charges. You block, but she swipes you off the ground, flipping her sai to face your eyes. You catch her arms and use all your strength to keep her away. She tries to push harder with her body weight but you turn her arms inward, gouging her eyes out with the sai. Her blood flings onto your face as you push her off of you. You stood up quickly, looking at the scene. You were breathing heavily, scared of what could’ve happened. "Fuck..” You just stare at Mileena’s lifeless body. A little bit of payback for Kenshi's eyes.

"Hurry Y/N! You are almost there!" You look up to see a very ethereal-looking Shang Tsung cheering you on, with a version of Quan Chi by his side. But they are both blasted with a green force, which seemed to be sucking their souls out. You watched as their bodies were being ripped away from their skeletons, the flesh sploshing onto the floor.

Dark Shang Tsung was on his knee, supporting himself. You start to run up the pyramid stairs again, angry, but interrupted by a different Quan Chi body slamming you to the floor. You let out a grunt, landing on your arms. "I don't have time for all these distractions.." You state. You waste no time and punch his stomach. Blood sputters out of his mouth from the sudden blunt force. You take a small knife from his belt and decide it was now yours. You swipe for his neck and push in deep, and glide the knife across. Blood spews out and you are drenched in it. "Ugh.." You lightly push him and topples onto the floor. Now you have his and Mileena's blood on your face. You sigh as you start to run, trying to find the stairs again. You hold your new knife tightly, ready for any attack. But instead you find Liu Kang on the stairs, fighting off some foes. He kicks them off and notices you climbing up the stairs. He turns his body and attention towards you. "It's only a little further, Y/N. Follow me." He lingers a little, sort of assessing you. He slightly furrows his brows but gestures for you to follow, which you do.

You both reach the top where Dark Shang Tsung and Quan Chi seemed like they were waiting for you to arrive. You pocket your small knife and form your hands into fists. You looked over at Liu Kang to see him with barely any injuries and effortlessly vibrant. You try to cover up the fact that you were heaving from just climbing all those stairs and the fact that you were admiring him at a time like this.

"Your defenses have failed, Shang Tsung. This is over." Liu kang instructed, while tilting his head slightly.

"I do not think so." Shang Tsung delivers a simple, yet defying answer.

"Realize, sorcerer, that you've brought this on yourself. Avarice and ego have again proved your undoing. We have no choice but to eradicate you." You had to be completely honest, you have no idea what avarice meant but you only nodded in agreement with Liu Kang. You note in your head to start using that Word-A-Day calendar from Johnny...

"It is you who will be eradicated. You and your followers." Shang Tsung's eyes linger on you when he mentions Liu Kang's followers. "And once you are dead, all timelines will be mine." He starts to run toward you and you react the same. You throw a punch but he dodges and extends his claws out. He raises his arms and scratches your chest. You grimace in pain but don't stop for it. You aim a kick to his face and follow with another one. He blocks them all and pushes you and kicks you in the head. You get dizzy and fall to the floor. You try to get back up, knowing Liu Kang needs your assistance. But you couldn't. You slump to the floor, trying to fight the urge to close your eyes. You try and focus on the sounds of grunting and punches being exchanged. You hear Liu Kang's high pitched yells and fire leaving his hands. You cannot stay on the floor any longer. You ignore the gnawing pain in your head and shake it. Your eyes open right as Quan Chi releases a beam in the form of a snake attack Liu Kang. It entraps him and tangles him so he cannot move. Your face contorts that into a scared one, but you take a deep breath.

You try not to seem nervous to your enemies and hold your expression blank. You slowly start to approach the two. "Your position is precarious." Quan Chi states, with a bit of enthusiasm laced within it. "To survive, you must submit." He stops walking and forms his hand into a tight fist. Shang Tsung approaches you, slowly. "Yes. The question you must ask is: if Liu Kang couldn't finish us, how possibly could you?" You didn't say anything, only replying with a solemn facial expression.

Shang Tsung jumps up and tries to land a kick onto your face but you slide and make him miss. He swiftly turns back and punches you consecutively. Every blow hurt, but reminds you that you needed to win, not just for you, but also for Liu Kang and the Realms. You block and grab onto his arm. You throw him onto the ground and start to do the same. Just punch the shit out of him. He cries out in pain but uses his feet to kick you off of him. He extends his claws again and swings in whatever directions he could think of. "Two can play that game." You pull out your small knife and pierce his lower stomach area. He instinctively clutches his wound and you take that opportunity to bash his head onto the ground. He stops moving, but you could tell he was still breathing.

"And they called me the Chosen one." He looks down at your work but looks to you smiling. You were tired but still super happy Liu Kang complimented your efforts. "Thank you, Liu Kang. Should I..?" He places a hand on your shoulder. "You have done more than enough, Y/N. Please, permit me to end this." He lightly squeezes before letting go and again lingering to take a look at you. You look back with an honest face. He blinks and turns away. He begins to swing his arms and sand starts to fall out of his hands. Dark Shang Tsung and Quan Chi slowly start to fade away into sand, then blown by the wind.

"May that be last we see of you." Liu Kang sends the sand off, watching it fade away.

The ground beneath you starts to shake and soon cracks. Liu Kang looked equally as puzzled but you still ask him. "What's going on?" He looks over at you, then back to the few specks of sand. "The timeline! Without Shang Tsung to hold it together, it's falling apart!" His eyebrows furrow as looks at you but he shakes his head, looking at the ground. "You must return to your timeline before this one collapses." His arms engulf into flames and it surrounds you. "Thank you for your aid and presence, Y/N. May we one day meet again.." Before you could process his words, his warm flames start to hug you. "Wait, Liu Kang! I've got so many things to-!" Everything around you turns into white and you're scared for what's to come. Was he going to restart the timeline? Or did he only remove you out of there? You had so many questions and everything had moved by so fast. You could only hope that he would come see you again.

[the-fluff-piece]

hi! i’m the same anon who requested the blood blood fruit with law and yes that was based off my self insert and a devil fruit i thought of, there are other fanon devil fruits that are blood powers but i didn’t steal anyones idea or anything :) so basically a it’s a paramecia type devil fruit and i can manipulate and control my own blood and others. I can turn my body into a thin string of blood to avoid attacks, travel faster or snipe people. My heart pumps more blood than a normal humans would because of my devil fruit.i can make other people’s blood stab them through they’re skin or completely drain them. The more i move around and exercise the stronger i get because my blood circulation increases. It can given me inhuman strength, speed, durability, endurance, stamina, agility and mobility. I can control any blood within a 500 meter radius. I can turn my blood or others into weapons. I have a naturally high pain tolerance due to my devil fruit. I can teleport using blood. I can control any amount of people’s blood as long as your in a 500 meter radius. I can make your blood pressure drop so low you pass out or raise so high you explode. I can make my blood explode telepathically. I can make my blood weapons fly from telekinesis. No matter how much you attack me it only gives me more advantages because you draw blood. I can puppeteer someone using they’re blood. I can attach and detach my limbs by keep a thin string between. I can make my blood extremely poisonous or venomous. I can keep my colleagues from bleeding out. I can turn my limbs into blood weapons. I can shoot blood bullets that can contain either posion or water to kill you or medicine to heal you. (fun fact if you inject water in your veins you’ll unalive) I can stop my opponents heart from pumping blood. I have blood whips. I can make a blood shield. I can make blood wings come out my back. I heal and regenerate faster than a normal human naturally as a plus of my devil fruit. I can extend the range of my kicks using my blood strings.

(omg this so long oops, anyway if you still decide not to write it i don’t mind)

Hello Anon, thanks for your explanation - I hope I got your idea right

It somehow reminds me of the blood magic in "vampire the masquerade" or "Vampyr"- you sure you're not also a vampire?

I hope you like what I've thought of!

Law x blood fruit user headcanon

Law is very practical - he offers you the position of a nurse on his ship. After you blood-kick him into the ocean he rephrases that in a much more respectable way

He's absolutely fascinated with your Power (and soon, you)

since he wants to always protect his crew and advance his technique, you'll spend a lot of time with him in his lab, where he'll study the many different uses he thought of for your power - keeping blood packs fresh for a longer time, faster transfusion, maybe you can even change bloodtypes to make blood more compatible? Cleanse blood?

His intellect is constantly orbiting new ideas, he'll even show up at your door in the middle of the night to ask you questions only a doctor would, using words you don't know

another question on his mind: could he beat you? He proposes a training match. Can his power stop your influence? Do you still have control once he's chopped you up? Who can teleport out of the way faster? And how about he just crushes you under 5 marine ships?

no matter how long you're together, his fascination with you will never stop

he tries to cook a birthday dinner for you - there's this bloodpudding recipe he found...Bepo tries his best to stop him!

Whenever he's injured, you're the first one he turns to, always

Sometimes you catch him as he tries to manipulate blood with his power, but he's not good with liquids

Maybe he wants to open a hospital with you - some day.

[dkettchen]

SHIP STATS #1 -all unique ranked characters/ships/fandoms in AO3 2013-2023 data sets - diagrams mega post-

(original data by AO3 user @ centreoftheselights, cleaned/completed/visualised by ME (check my github for more details & methodology/why I labelled things the way I did))

Overview

A total of 922 characters across 600 unique ships made the AO3 rankings between 2013 and 2023.

Fandom Market Share

These are the fandoms that accounted for the most ships:

Marvel had 33 ships, followed by Youtube with 24 and the Harry Potter Universe with 21.

RPF

13% of total ships were Real Person Fic while 87% were of fictional characters.

Hottest Characters

These are the characters who were in the most ships in their fandom (with a minimum of 3 ships to qualify):

Minecraft youtuber TommyInnit leads overall with 8 ships (out of 24 Youtube ships), followed by Tony Stark with 7 (out of 33 Marvel ships), and Sam Winchester from Supernatural and The Doctor from Doctor Who with 6 respectively.

((gender & race stats under the cut! :)))

Gender statistics

Characters

This is the overall gender distribution:

It is currently scewed by the fact that one of out usually 3 rankings each year is exclusively femslash, inflating the number of female characters in the overall set. This number will be decimated once we look at the actual co-ed, yearly rankings. However even with these inflated numbers, male characters still solidly outnumber female ones.

These are the numbers for any gender tags other than straight up "M" and "F":

"M | Other" was represented by exactly 5 characters/people. All of the fictional ones are some variety of deity or otherwise celestial being. All but one of "F | Other" were (alien) Gem characters from Steven Universe.

The only two unaligned nonbinary characters in the set are the canon nonbinary character from Owl House, and the Venom Symbiote. (Yes, the goop. The Venom goop.) All of the drag queens represented explicitly use she/her in drag and he/him (x3) or he/they (x1) out of drag (at time of data collection).

All of these are out-numbered by ambiguously-gendered self-insert characters like player characters and "x Reader".

There are no (binary(-aligned) or explicitly medically) trans characters in the set, as (as far as I can find on the wiki) the Owl House nonbinary one does not have in-universe transition portrayed or birth assignment specified (they are voiced by transmasc nonbinary actors). This is in spite of canon trans characters and real life trans people, who didn't make the ranking, existing in the fandoms represented, like in DC's Supergirl, My Hero Academia, RuPaul's Drag Race, One Piece, Marvel Comics, Heartstopper, etc. There are no explicitly intersex characters/people represented either (as far as I'm aware).

Ships Overview

As for ship gender combinations, men loving men outnumbers any other type, even with the inclusion of, again, one whole ranking (of the three total) per year with ONLY women loving women ships:

Straight ships are outnumbered by both same-sex categories, although, once again, I expect this to change once we look at the co-ed rankings without the femslash bump, with straight ships likely out-numbering wlw ships there.

Taking out straight up mlm, wlw, and het ships, these combinations are left:

Although there are less "M | Other" characters than "F | Other", they account for almost the same amount of ships as each other, likely due to the male-aligned characters/people not being shipped with each other (like the Crystal Gems) and spanning more fandoms (5 rather than 2), leading to a wider spread of ships.

Our "Other" characters are shipped with characters of opposite genders, providing balance to their (small) contribution. The singular canon-nonbinary non-goop character is shipped with their canon ex-partner.

In the ambiguous stack, the vast majority is men (and male-aligned folks) being shipped with ambiguous characters (ie self-inserts).

Ships per fandom

This is the average number of ships of the given type per fandom:

These are the fandoms with the most ships of the given type:

Marvel (as the fandom with the most ships) has ranked second for all of them. Youtube is the fandom with the most mlm ships, as the only woman that made it into its 24 ships is the real life wife of the guy she's being shipped with.

This chart shows the number of fandoms that either do not contain any ships of this type, consist exclusively of ships of this type, or where over half of the fandom's ships are of this type.

The only two (2) fandoms (with multiple ship types) that have more than 50% straight ships are Game of Thrones and Doctor Who, so congrats to them on having the best-written hets and the least homoeroticism in media apparently. 👏

Race statistics

Characters

This is the total distribution of racial groups among the characters:

White folks vastly outnumber any other racial group. East asians are the next-biggest portion, followed by ambiguous and non-human characters.

These are the smaller groups without the white, east asian, and un-specified or non-human chunks:

Latin folks make up the largest portion, followed by black folks. All other groups have less than 15 characters in the entire (922 character) set. There are more indigenous folks in the set than there are south asians.

Ships

This chart shows the number of ships with at least one white person, with at least one east asian person, non-white ships, and ships without white or east asian people:

I call the last one of those "The Big Oof" as there were only 12 ships (out of the 600 total) that didn't contain any white or east asian people.

This is the ratio of interracial, non-interracial and ambiguous ships:

Most ships are explicitly between people of the same racial group.

Fandoms

These last two diagrams show the amount of racial groups per fandom.

The first one shows how many fandoms only have one racial group and how many have multiple:

It is more balanced than the interracial figure, pointing to there being a number of fandoms where there are multiple racial groups overall but several characters are only being shipped with characters of their own group.

The second diagram shows the fandoms with the highest number of different racial groups:

Marvel once again leads with 8 groups (due to its overall higher numbers of characters/ships). It is followed by The 100 and DC tied for second with 7 groups each, and Star Wars in third with 6. Teen Wolf and Genshin Impact follow in fourth with 5 groups respectively. All other fandoms had less than 5 racial groups represented.

THANKS FOR READING, STAY TUNED FOR MORE DIAGRAMS ONCE I'M DONE WITH THE RANKING STATS WOOOO

[ghoastixx]

Welcome To My Blog

I am a fandom writer, some names you can refer to me by are Casey, Ghoast, Theseus, Ri,

Some things you should know about me are that fact that I beg for asks then ignore them. I’m sorry if I never get around to writing them, but I really try. I go on huge hiatuses. I’m sorry. Please don’t urge this to not request at all. I’m getting better.

My blog is 15+

My pronouns are he/they/ (she maybe)

What I’ll write:

X reader (self inserts)

Gn reader

LGBTQIA+ themes

Fluff

Angst no comfort

Angst with comfort

Pairings

Platonic

Romantic

Parental figures

Comfort

Age gaps (legal)

Polyamory

Au’s (no alpha omega I’ll kms)

What I refuse to write

Incest

Underage relationships

Pedophilia

Rape

Abuse as a kink

Slurs

Anything with piss, shit, or vomit

Self harm as a kink

Huge age gaps

Real actual people- (I think it’s personally weird.)

Zoophillia

Ageplay

The fandoms I write for/ characters

Sweeney Todd:

Sweeney Todd

Ms.Lovett

Scream

Billy Loomis

Stu Macher

Tatum Riley

Sidney Prescott

Ghostface (masked)

The Lost Boys

Micheal

David

Paul

Marko

Dwayne

Halloween

Micheal Myers (original)

A nightmare on elm street

Freddy Kruger

The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Dr. Frank N’ Furter

Beetlejuice

Beetlejuice

Lydia

Adam & Barbra

House of 1,000 corpses trilogy

Otis Driftwood

Baby Firefly

The Boy 1

Brahms

Creep 1

Josef

Hazbin Hotel

Charlie Morningstar

Lucifer Morningstar

Adam

Alastor

Rosie

Husker

Helluva Boss

Blitzø

Stolas

To Kill A Mockingbird

Atticus Finch

Gravity Falls

Stanford Pines

Stanley Pines

Bill Cipher

Labryinth

Jareth the goblin king

Guardians of the Galaxy

Peter Quill

Gamora

Nebula

Yondu

Venom

Eddie

Venom

Eddsworld

Tom

Edd

Matt

Tord

Pirates of the Caribbean

Jack sparrow

Bill and Ted’s excellent adventure

Bill

Ted

Heathers

Jd

Veronica sawyer

Edward Scissorhands

Edward

The Hunger Games

Haymitch Abernathy

Effie Trinket

President Snow (Coriolanus)

Katniss Everdeen

Peeta Mellark

SuperNatural

Castiel

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Lucifer

Gabriel

The Outsiders

Sodapop Curtis

Darry Curtis

Dally

The silence of the Lambs Franchise/ Hannibal

•Doctor Hannibal Lecter

•Clarice Starling

Hannibal NBC

Hannibal

Will Graham

[my-writings-and-musings]

Writing more Earthspark self inserts because I'm trying to get back into writing at my old pace, so please enjoy this self indulgent bit of Megatron x Field Agent Reader where he's saved last minute from a near death situation.

Though the devastating blow to his leg sent him toppling to the ground with a reverberating thud, Megatron still found the wherewithal to block the blade his enemy plunged at his spark the moment he was down, pinning it between his servos to spare his spark. On his back and effectively immobilized, he put every ounce of remaining strength into defense. 

The hulking Decepticon refused to relent, baring his dentae and using all of his considerable might to try and force his weapon downward. Weakened from his injuries and the preceding fight, Megatron felt himself losing precious inches, his arms trembling as the blade drew ever closer. Fresh pain burned along his chassis when the serrated edge scraped his armor and brought a rush of energon to the surface. Invigorated by the sight, his enemy cackled and pushed on, intent on running his former commander through. A cruel stomp on his crippled leg made Megatron roar in pain and fury.

Already wounded and suffering from a noticeable loss of energon, the former Decepticon had just enough clarity to know he wouldn't be winning this fight. It took seconds for his enemy to overpower him again, and when the blade scored a second gash in his front he knew his time was limited. A million regrets and fears tore through his mind as his trembling arms lost their grip, the pool of energon below him growing by the second as his wounds continued to bleed. The bright light of the setting sun cutting through the trees allowed him to see the glee shining in his enemy's optics all the while.

As the tip of the sword dug into his chassis, he took a final solace in the fact that his enemy would only be taking one life. He wished his final words to you had been more than a command to run, but it was more than worth it to keep you safe. By now he'd bought you enough time to escape and call for help, and that gave him a great deal of peace. With all the things he'd lived for, good and bad, dying for you would leave him with no regrets. His final thought as the sword inched deeper was that he only hoped you'd live well…

Instead of the bright light that supposedly welcomed his kind to the Allspark, his vision was suddenly filled with the glaring light of a fiery explosion, one that erupted over his enemy in a cloud of smoke and a wave of concussive force. Instinctively taking advantage of the distraction and rolling free, his audials were still ringing by the time he lifted his helm to find the hulking bot cradling a shattered arm. The sword that had nearly ended him lay discarded on the energon stained earth. Megatron was left pleasantly disoriented, completely unsure as to how he could have possibly had such a turn of fortune. His optics turned to seek the source of the explosion.

The rocket launcher resting on your shoulder was still smoking, the light summer breeze carrying the scent of gunpowder and touseling your hair to perfectly frame the fury in your icy expression. 

Having never expected to see you again, Megatron was left frozen where he lay, the pieces falling into place one at a time. With the time he'd bought for you in the fight, you must have located the GHOST vehicle he'd intended you to flee with, along with the cache of weapons within. You could have jumped behind the wheel and fled, but instead-

The Decepticon you'd wounded snarled and used his remaining arm to retrieve his sword, the other dangling and bleeding at his side. Turning your way, he advanced with a clear thirst for immediate and brutal vengeance. "You little fragging insect, I'm gonna-!"

Before Megatron could even attempt to rise in your defense, you had your weapon raised again, your voice level but dripping with venom. "One more word and you lose the other arm." you warned, making it apparent you were looking for a reason to follow through on the threat.

The Decepticon snarled again, sounding more wounded by the blow to his pride than his shattered limb. 

"Run." you commanded, looking down the scope and lining up your shot.

Like any good Decepticon, the hulking mech knew he was beaten, and was running off into the dense brush before you could pull the trigger. Megatron watched him disappear, blinking once to clear the lingering smoke from his optics on the chance he wasn't seeing things properly. It seemed impossible; you forgoing your own safety, running to his rescue, taking down a bot dozens of times your own size… Had he possibly taken more than a few hits to the helm?

"Are you okay?" you called out to him, running to him as fast as you could with a heavy pack and an even heavier weapon in your arms. He watched in lingering disbelief as you approached, halfway convinced he had indeed suffered some form of processor damage. Words were a little beyond his grasp at the moment, something you obviously understood after catching sight of his mangled leg up close. Carefully setting down your weapon and bag, you put a tender hand on his chassis, wincing at his fresh wounds before changing tactics and speaking plainly. "I know you're not, but are you… can you move? We need to get somewhere safe if I'm going to patch you up."

Though he heard you, what truly registered was the fact that you were indeed real and here with him, your tiny touch confirming it. He couldn't keep the emotions from his voice as he spoke. "You didn't have to come back…"

"Of course I did!" you replied quickly and without hesitation, securing your grip as if to keep him from slipping away. Despite all the pain, he smiled weakly at your courage, uncertain as to what he might have done to earn such dedication. You got back on track quickly, eyes lingering on the gash that had been torn into his leg before opening your pack and pulling out supplies in search of something useful. "Here, if you can't walk, I'll do what I can to stop the bleeding and fortify our position. Hopefully GHOST can get a team out here before that guy regroups, I've only got three more shots-"

"Please…" he interrupted softly, reaching forth to tenderly cup the underside of your chin with a single digit. Turning your gaze to him, he couldn't keep his voice from cracking as he took in your perfect face. Primus, what had he done to deserve such perfection?

"Allow me to savor a moment of this. I never thought I'd have another…"

Your lip trembled and he felt your throat catch, but your voice was strong as you gripped his digit and met his loving gaze.

"No one is taking you away from me."

[sweetlovingfictionals]

POV: Venom aboutta choke me and I’m about to thank him

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

Monster Like Me (Tyler x Addams!reader)

Monster Like Me (Tyler Galpin x Addams!reader) Word Count: 3888 Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Warnings: mentions of prison treatment, bad mental health, self-hate, a gun, medical procedures, bloody crime scenes, and (obviously) SPOILERS for Tim Burton's Wednesday tv show on Netflix

Tyler Galpin doesn't regret what he did. Or so he liked everyone to believe, even himself. But a visit from a certain empath Addams girl to his prison has him reconsidering his true feelings five years on. Is he truly alone? Or is she a monster like him?

I was never planning on posting anything I write on this account but the show Wednesday inspired me to write a bit of flash fiction (so don't expect a sequel) that I thought you guys would appreciate. Just a silly idea but fun nonetheless to write.

The overhanging light in the interrogation room flickers, casting shadows of ghosts long gone on the two faces presently staring at one another. 

The boy sits in his chair rigidly, restricted. Despite his smirk - the kind that oozed charisma, carelessness, and smug satisfaction of being right where he wants to be - he looks uncomfortable. But that’s to be expected when one is bound in a straight jacket and chained to the ground. A catheter tube is strapped into the back of his neck, hooked up to a machine pressed against the back wall. 

A caged, raging animal. That is what he is. All he has been since the day he was brought in.

The girl still stands by the door, unwilling just yet to join the chained boy at the worn table that separated them.

Curious eyes scan the boy’s figure. His usually dishevelled curls are even more unruly than before he was taken away. Colour is drained from every inch of him - even his chestnut eyes hold no spark of fireplace warmth like they used to. His cheekbones protrude grossly from under his taught, moon-sick skin. The gashes from his fight with the wolf have long since healed, but as their eyes lock, she senses that the mental scars still remain. Still fresh in his young but twisted mind.

‘You look good,’ she says, breaking the suffocating silence.

The boy raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider, more lethal. ‘I’m so glad you noticed. It’s this new treatment I’m using called enslavement. Maybe you should try it some time. It might just bring some colour to your dead life.’

Oh yeah. Very fresh, still.

‘You mistake me for my sister,’ she says taking a step towards the table finally. ‘Unlike her, I won’t break out in hives at the mere sight of another colour other than black.’

His eyes darken at that, and the smirk twists into a sneer. A wave of fury hits the girl as they stare at each other again. He no doubt still hates Wednesday for ruining his life. And despite the fact that he is a psychotic, shapeshifting murderer, she can’t help but feel a little sorry for him at the thought.

‘I’m not here to talk about her,' she continues. 'I came here to talk about you.’

‘You mean you were sent here to talk to me. Not by choice.’

She nods. ‘Indeed, I didn’t have much say in the matter, but…’ She pulls the seat out and finally sits down, her eyes meeting his equal level with equal confidence. ‘I am here, nevertheless. And we will talk.’

The boy scoffs and leans back from the table, shaking his head. Her heart twinges slightly at how his curls droop low over his eyes as he does it, bringing flashbacks of the times they would sit like this and chat. Except the flashbacks included sitting opposite sides of a coffee table, and his curls bounced and drooped because he laughed.

Venomous, hateful eyes peer up through his sandy blond curls. ‘What’s there to be said?’

‘You can start by telling me how you’ve been since we all last saw you.’

‘Do I really have to spell that out for you?’

‘I can make an assumption, but I’m not one to assume without concrete evidence. You should know that.’

‘Should I, though? Because you and Wednesday made it pretty hard to get to even know what your favourite colours were.’

‘Now, do I have to spell that out for you?' The girl crosses her arms, attempting a bored posture. 'Wednesday is a black and white person. Literally. She never hides anything except her subjectivity because it is grey… and she hates grey, ironically enough.’

The silence that ensues is only made more ominous by the haunting shadows of the flickering over-head light. They act as masks as they pass over the twos’ faces, hiding, revealing, and changing their true emotions in flashes. 

‘Do you regret any of it?’ the girl asks softly, hesitantly.

The boy chuckles darkly. ’So we are going to talk about this, then.’

‘Eventually,’ she quips, ‘I just wanted to see if you would deflect or accept the bait.’

‘Did I pass your test, then?’ 

‘That is yet to be determined.’

She pulls up onto the table a briefcase - one of them olden day ones with buckles and latches but made of good quality black leather. Unlatching the main lock, she opens it and reaches in to pull out a manilla folder. With a carefree flick of her wrist, it lands just on the table’s edge in front of the boy.

‘Go on,’ she urges impatiently.

He looks at her incredulously, the snark and the anger from before now replaced by confusion. ‘Really?’

After a moment, she laughs, clinking the side of her head lightly with her palm. ‘Oh my, how silly of me! Forgot that being a psycho means you lose hand privileges,’ she says, her over-enthusiasm cracking a smile on her dark lips.

Before he can have a dig at her, she pulls out a key from her sweater’s sleeve, and he gives her a curious look.

‘How did you get that in here?’ he asks.

‘Wednesday might be the more daring and riskier of us two,’ she says, standing up to walk around to stand behind him, ‘but I have a more subtle way of being rebellious.’

She bends to start unchaining him, then moves to unbuckle the numerous straps holding his arms and legs restricted in his straight jacket. Once she is done, she walks back and sits in her chair, folds her arms, and waits for him to move.

He slowly moves his arms and legs, giving them a stretch he no doubt hasn’t been allowed to have in a long while. 

‘Better?’ she asks, her tone impatient.

He chuckles, dead eyes watching her wearily. ‘You must have a death wish, or something.’

She rolls her eyes. ‘Oh please. If you were going to kill me, you would’ve ripped out that gene-repressant medicine and changed into the Hyde by now.’ Her patience is wearing thin now as she leans forward, sparking her to push the manilla folder closer to the boy. ‘But you haven’t, which means I have your curiosity. And I intend to keep that. Now - look.’

His smirk returns, sharp as a knife. ‘You have my curiosity, I’ll give you that. But not my respect.’

The girl mutters something irritable under breath as she opens the briefcase to show something else hidden among the documents stashed inside. Something dark and shiny. Metallic. ‘Make one wrong move and I will-’

‘You’ll what?’ His following chuckle is mirthless, humourless, empty even of despair. ‘You’ll blow my brains out? I’ve heard that threat before.’

‘I was going to say I would blow my brains out,’ she corrects, patting the hidden gun lightly before withdrawing her hand. 'If only so you don’t get the satisfaction of ripping me apart yourself. And isn’t part of the fun hearing the screams of your victims... Tyler?’

That brings a small smile to his face, even if it does edge on manic. 'As much as I would love to chat about what fun it was killing all those people… I see what you’re trying to do, Addams.’

Wednesday was a much more memorable name than (y/n). To everyone back then, she was just her less-psychotic older sister that stood to the side quietly and pulled Wednesday out of trouble when needed. Still weird, but not weird enough, she supposed. But despite her seniority, she was never considered cool like Wednesday, who wasn't afraid to be who she was on a large scale. (Y/n) was happy to be herself too, but in the sanctity of the library, her bedroom, behind her camera. It's why she was subjected to being merely Addams. For the only cool and outcast-y thing about her was her lineage.

But Tyler never used that. Not once. It was always (y/n) when they hung as friends. And despite her objections to her nickname, hearing her real name always brought a little light into her dark and twisted life.

We're not friends anymore, though.

‘I’m not trying anything,’ she replies, batting her eyes innocently at him.

‘Oh yeah, then what’s with this folder? Why risk freeing me just so you don’t have to dirty your own hands?’

‘Why don’t you open the folder and find out.’

They’re dancing a dangerous dance, stopping each other at exactly the right moment when one wants to turn away. By the irritated look in his eyes, she knows it bothers him. 

He contemplates the folder for a moment, and she worries that he will try to escape. But he opens the folder, his boney hands shaking as he does.

Surprise softens his features for the first time since she’s entered the room, and he looks like he did the day her and her sister first met him in the Weathervane coffee shop in Jericho. Actually, his face was screwed up in annoyance the first day they met, having to deal with a broken coffee machine. But when Wednesday fixed it, his features softened, and the girl couldn’t recall a moment where someone had looked so… appreciative of their presence.

He flicks through pictures that were previously enclosed in the folder, slowly, shakily. Like he wants to make sure what he is seeing is true and not just ghosts. After all, for those of them on the outside of the prison, pictured in the photos, the boy was just a ghost to them now, five years on. 

The pictures are of the town, of the new and old structures that made it up, of the festivals that have come and gone since he last saw it. The pictures are of people, too. She watches him carefully as he holds onto those ones in particular. There is pain as he glides his fingers softly over the aging faces of his friends, she can sense it. His gaunt face tightens even more when he spies a particular pigtailed, dark-lipped girl, the photo capturing her in the middle of showing one of her infamous rare smiles. 

‘That was our graduation day,’ the girl says, her voice gentle and quiet. Anything louder seemed inappropriate. But she did not lose her edge. ‘Enid thought it would be a great idea to try and jump off the top of the fountain in the quad on our final day. She ended up breaking four bones and howling like a baby wolf. Wednesday found the whole thing… well, you remember how she was. Rest assured, she is pretty much the same.’

The boy traces the photo, his eyes wide with a wonder and tenderness that the girl is surprised to see. A flicker of the past lights up in his chestnut eyes, and a spark of hope ignites in her chest.

But that flicker dies out, his lips drawing up in a sneer as he suddenly rips the photo in half, then again, and again, until the photo is nothing but scraps on the table. ‘What the fuck is the point of all this?’ he asks, his voice of a mixture of both anger and hurt. ‘What does any of this have to do with me?’

‘It has everything to do with you,’ she replies. ‘Considering your reaction, I don’t believe you’ve fully let go of the past. That maybe after all this time… you still care.’

‘What? Are you a psychiatrist or something now?’

She shrugs. 'I’m an Empath, it’s unavoidable for me to not extrapolate and decipher people’s thoughts and emotions. Especially strong ones like yours.’

‘Well, you’re wrong,’ he snaps back, shoving the photos away. ‘I don’t care about the past. I don’t care about the future. I played my part and it pleased my master. That’s all that matters!’

‘I don’t believe that for a second. And neither do you.’

‘What do you know?’

‘A lot more than you think. As usual, you underestimate me.’

‘Well, try this.’ He slams his hands on the table so hard it makes a thunderous clap that is almost deafening. ‘The only thing that I care about is getting out of here and destroying Wednesday Addams. The only regret I have about the past is that I didn’t kill all of you when I had the chance.’

The words sting, undoubtedly, like a thousand bees stabbing her heart. But the girl holds still, willing herself to keep her composure. She’d heard from the Sheriff himself that his visits usually ended here, when the boy threw insults at his own father and drove him away.

Let’s see what happens when I keep pushing.

‘You speak with such hateful words,’ she says calmly, daring to look him straight in the eye. ‘And yet they hold no meaning.’

‘What?’ he hisses, spittle flaying from his furious sneer. 

'Sorry, do I need to speak in laymen’s terms? You. Don’t. Mean. That.’

A feral snarl erupts from him as his hand reaches over the table to grab at her throat. But her hand is in range of the gun, and she is quick to draw it from the bag, unlock the safety and push it hard against his forehead. He immediately stops, his fury dissipating slightly as he reassessed his new situation.

‘I said I’d blow my head off, but I never said anything about not shooting you first,’ she says, each word clipped with deathly promise.

They are so close she can feel his breath caressing her placid face. Surprisingly, it is fresh, like the gently falling snow starting to build up outside as winter settles in. The warmth it brings contrasts the cold of the room, and she stops herself from leaning closer just to feel the sensation once more.

A war wages in their eyes as they stare each other down, but she presses the gun more forcefully against his forehead, and he seems to take the hint. He takes deep breaths as he slowly backs away, his hands raised in mock surrender as he finally sits down.

‘Wise choice.’ The girl places the gun back in the briefcase, safety back on, and folds her hands on the table once more. As if they were just having a civil conversation.

‘You know, pushing people away isn’t the solution,’ she continues. ‘But it does tell me one thing.’

‘And what’s that, Doc?’ he asks, his smirk no longer as sure or as wide. He looks exhausted, the dark circles under his lifeless eyes indicative of the sleepless nights, the mistreatment to his body, the baggage he still carries but does not wish to anymore.

‘That you don’t want people to see you like this,’ she answers. ‘Especially those who love you, and who you love in return.’

‘They don’t love me,’ he spits, venom in every word. She senses that he truly believes it. ‘If they loved me, they would understand. If they loved me, they wouldn’t question why I did what I did. If they truly loved me, none of this would’ve even happened!’

His eyes redden with salty tears, and it is the enormity of his pain and hurt and sadness that has the girl resisting the urge to cry, too. 

He wipes at the tears that trail down his face, but still more fall. A beat passes, then another, and another until he calms down once more. His red eyes look over the photos again, brushing aside the picture he tore to inspect the rest. When he is done, he leans back and looks up at the girl.

‘Why?’

She raises an eyebrow. ‘Why what?’

‘Why are you not in any of these?’

‘This isn’t about me.’

‘How do you expect me to open up to you Addams after five years of not seeing you, and expect me not to ask you some personal questions?’

The girl shrugs. ‘Fair point.’ She gathers the photos and turns them to face her. She flicks through them herself, a gentle tilt of her lips the only indication of the joy the memories brought.

‘I’m a professional photographer now,’ she says after a moment. ‘I have a blog where I post the pictures and write about the things I photograph. I'm also commissioned for photoshoots, occasionally. Sometimes it’s places I visit, or people I get to meet. Sometimes they’re wonderful, but other times not so much.’ She takes a breath to compose herself, flashes of torn body parts and frozen bodies coming to the forefront of her mind. Crime scenes, no matter how many she visited, were always the worst jobs.

She wills the memories away before she continues. 

‘This is a collection of photos from my perspective. How beautiful the world is through my eyes.’

‘You don’t think you belong in that kind of world.’ 

It isn’t a question. The girl looks up, expecting the hateful eyes she’s come to know from him. Instead, she is met with curiosity and wonder. He stares at her openly, and she reciprocates.

‘Yes,’ she breathes, nothing lighter than a whisper. 

‘Why?’

She pauses to contemplate her answer. She is meant to be interrogating him, not the other way around. But his words come back to haunt her, and the truth ringing in them spurs her to speak. 

‘Because… I can’t see myself. It’s like I am ghost in my own body. I am surrounded by people who stand out, who have their own minds and hearts and stories to tell. From a young age I have felt other people’s wants and needs, desires and emotions that I have no business feeling. I feel them so intrinsically that I imagine those emotions and desires were my own. And if I think hard enough, I might just be able to… shut it off.’

‘Shut what off?’ he asks, though the caution on his face tells her he already knows.

‘Their humanity,’ she replies as quick as flicking a light switch on. ‘The very thing that makes them human. I can just turn it off at the snap of my fingers.’

‘I’m sure Wednesday would love that.’

‘It is not something I wish to impart on anyone.’ Her words silence his amusement, turning the room colder with the icy bite they come with. ‘Because once I switch it off, turning back on... has proven to be a challenge. And you may think Wednesday is a soulless, unfeeling creature, but her emotions are just locked away, carefully concealed and only to be revealed when the right person warrants it.’

She gives him a pointed glare, and he has the right mind to look ashamed. If only for a second. 

‘However slim it is, her humanity remains her sole reason to do what she does. Otherwise, I would’ve been sister-less a long time ago.’

‘That still doesn’t answer my question, Addams,’ he interjects. At this, he leans forward on the table, curls bouncing as he stares directly in her eyes. She remembers those eyes, how they smiled at her sister so many times. How they proclaimed their love for her sister so many times. How they bulged and raged and went insane as he transformed into the Hyde all those years ago. But now - now they seek answers, and something else.

‘Why do you think you’re a monster like me?’

A cynical smile stretches her lips as she leans back and gestures to the photos spread across the table. Of Xavier painting; of Enid and Ajax snuggled up the first time they went camping as a group; of Bianca and some other Fangs dressed up for the final Raven they all attended. All of them smiling, having fun, being human.

‘Because there’s a small part of me that would enjoy crushing their happiness,' she replies, the strength in her delivery reflecting the truth of her words. 'And good people don't think like that.’

The same cynical smile appears on his face, and for a moment it’s just them. Two monsters revealing their darkest desires.

‘I know the feeling,’ he says, and a flicker of guilt flashes in his eyes.

Hope sparks once more inside of her, and she does her best to sound genuine. ‘You’re a good person. Before Laurel got to you, and even now. I can see it. I can sense it.’

He shakes his head, his mirthless laugh echoing throughout the room. ‘Don’t try to brainwash me into thinking I can be saved. Because I can’t, and even if I could, I wouldn’t fall for it. Like I said, I don’t regret what I did. I took pleasure in it.’

‘I’m sure you did, but you’re wrong. I’m not here to brainwash you.’

He cocked a skeptical eyebrow at her, curiosity winning over his resolve. ‘Then what are you here for?’

‘This is the longest conversation you’ve had with someone since you were first sent here,’ she said, packing the pictures up in the folder and placing it in her briefcase. ‘The people who brought me in may want me to help you open up and try to get you on a path of redemption. But I feel as if that is a decision you should make on your own. Obviously, I am biased to their aim, but I believe in freedom of speech, of choice, and of action when it comes to a person’s life.’

She stands from her seat and looks at him, the shadows from the flickering light no longer as scary as she first perceived. 

‘You’re a good person, Tyler,’ she repeats, her lips pulling up in her first genuine smile in ages. 'But, arguably, so am I. Everyone is capable of being good or evil. It then just comes down to what we want out of life, and how we utilise our flaws to attain that life.’

When the boy says nothing, she turns and walks to the door. She gently knocks on it, and a few seconds later it is opening and guards are flooding in and straight to the boy.

He struggles a little as they strap him back down, but stops when he realises the girl is leaving. ‘Wait! When are you coming back?’

She pauses at the door and turns, a chagrin smile on her dark lips. ‘Aw, are you going to miss me? Don’t worry, I’ll be back.’

‘But when, (y/n)?’

The fear in his eyes paired with the use of her name, her real name, almost causes her to falter, to stay just a bit longer. She senses the impending loneliness that he fears, that he has known these five years of incarceration, and the heaviness it brings causes her heart to ache with longing and hope. She must leave, but...

I can spare him one last goodbye, though.

She walks back over to where the guards hold him, their eyes locked the entire time. Once she’s close enough, she uses her pointer finger to tilt his head up to meet hers. 

‘Whenever I need to talk to another monster like me.’

With a flick of her finger his head drops and she is walking out of the interrogation room, already anticipating the next time she can see him again. And as she leaves, she catches one last emotion from the boy.

Mutual anticipation.

[dontwear-itout]

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