#because then they couldn’t possibly get involved in any way in that side of the plot

[dinitride-art]

Five Act Structure: Seasons vs. Acts

Reworking some thoughts and ideas here. If Stranger Things is set up in five act structure (which is so cool and I never want to stop talking about it also here’s this post where I explain what I’m talking about) then the parallels between season two and season four change a bit- but also viewing the story as a whole might change too (when looking at it in five acts).

Season one had a pretty cut and dry story: Will went missing, supernatural elements introduced, character introductions, banishing supernatural elements, Will comes back. If they didn’t get a second season the story would still hold up. This is also a really good set up for the rest of the story, it’s the ~prologue~. Also it’s ACT I. But just talking about the story within the season- it’s solid stuff. There’s stuff that’s unresolved yeah, but not to the point where you’d watch it and think, what’s next. We’re not done here- hey! Get back here- like you would think at the end of let’s say, season four. (Also season one has the first major death that effects the narrative later- barb)

Season two is more complicated than season one. We’re well aware by the end of it that this story is not done- the Mind Flayer is still a problem. The last scene where we flip over into the Upside Down tells us that this part of the story isn’t finished. Season two also starts developing Lucas and Max, and Mike and El’s (although really different from Lucas and Max) relationships. It also explores Mike and Will’s relationship.

The Snowball is a really interesting point in the season because it’s the last episode and the last scene. It’s also a weird sort of misdirection that’s telling us everything worked out okay. But it’s not okay. Bob is dead, El literally just ran away and was being confronted with her past, Will was just possessed, Barb is still dead, the Mind Flayers still alive- the Snowball is like a bandaid on you’re feelings for your best friend. Unhelpful and clearly hiding something. Season two is a good portion of ACT II, and it makes sense for things to be unresolved at the end of season two- because ACT II hasn’t run it’s course yet.

All characters usually are introduced by the end of ACT II, so Robin being introduced in season three would make sense if we’re actually still in ACT II at the start of season three. Season three also continues to follow the Mind Flayer. We’re still dealing with the same problem as season two. Character wise, we’re exploring Lucas and Max’s romantic relationships, El and Max’s relationship (continuing from Max’s interests in El in season two), Mike and El’s relationship, and Mike and Will. We’ve also continued on with Dustin’s focus on girls, and his friendship with Steve. We’re dealing with almost all the same problems for everyone, just continuing in a different season. Our main problem is the Mind Flayer, and that leads us straight to the climax- the Mind Flayer at Star-court and Hopper’s “death”.

Right before the battle at star court is where ACT II ends. Then we get to ACT III, the climax, where everything big happens all at once. Usually the climax is one scene so that’s why I’m saying it’s when they defeat the Mind Flayer, Billy dies, Hopper “dies”, and there are literal fire works going off making everything that much more intense. After the climax, the Byers move away, Mike and El (get back together?) have a relationship development and Mike seems all out of sorts about it, and everything starts going in a downwards spiral.

However, going back to ACT II for a second here, looking at where we are by the time of the climax (and during) everything has pretty much been resolved- Suzie’s revealed as a real person/Dustin’s girl problems stop, all party relationships are pretty okay again. Max and El are friends, Nancy and Jonathan are cool again, Hopper and Joyce were going to go on a date, Mike and El are cool again, pretty much every problem that’s had a clear cut story line from season two finds an end in season three. Of course there’s still things that aren’t resolved, but for the most part, when the season ends it’s okay. The cliff hanger comes separately from the end of the season (like Will in season one).

Season four is a lot like season two; it’s the start of and act but it also stops in the middle of that act. A new problem is introduced in season four: Vecna/Henry Creel/One. This is not the same guy as the Mind Flayer at all. Everything also starts going terribly in season four because now we’re in ACT IV- the bad one. After the climax everything falls to pieces- and where we’re sitting right now, in the middle of ACT IV, it’s still falling apart. Season four problems are going to carry over into season five, much like the Mind Flayer into season three, because it’s the same act.

So this all got me thinking about the act structure in relation to the story, and what if ACT II and ACT IV are paralleling each other, and not just season two and season four? That would mean that all of season two and most of season three could be seen as paralleling season four (and most of season 5). That really changes things for me because that expands the possibility of what’s actually happening quite a bit. It also messes with the idea that season two and season four could be related to each other in specific ways(like being inverted), because ACT II and ACT IV cover different things. However, it would make more sense for ACT II and ACT IV to be paralleled because of the Snow Ball scene in the middle of both of them.

Mike also makes a lot more sense as a narrator when looking at Stranger Things in acts. Season one was a single act, so we saw a lot of Mike. We focused in on him and Joyce because they’re guiding us in season one. In season two, there’s less of Joyce and more of Mike and other characters stories- but Joyce makes a return in season three where Mike falls a bit more off to the side. But looking at season two and three as a whole, it’s pretty well divided between all the characters in respect to their placement and roles within the story. In season four we got a lot more Joyce and a lot more of the other characters development. Mike fell a bit to the side again, but it makes sense for that to happen if ACT IV isn’t completed. We haven’t really gotten to Mike in ACT IV yet. Similar idea with how Will goes from being the focus of season two, to being sidelined in season three. They’re still there and present in the narrative but they’ve done their part of the act- and now are helping the others do theirs.

Season five looks like it’s going to finish the rest of ACT IV (the downwards spiral) and pick up the storylines that haven’t been covered in the act yet. Mike and Will, Jonathan and Nancy, Max and El, Vecna and the Upside Down, the consequences of Eddie’s death, what happened to Owens, mystery around the Upside Down- and everything else that season four started to get into but didn’t actually conclude.

[arienotari]

Drowning

Summary: When your worst fear becomes a reality and all you have on the other side is a brown eyed boy.

Pairing: Wally Clark x Reader

Warnings: Death, Drowning, Bullying

Edit: I am terrible at editing, and I tried my best so I'm sorry if you find any mistakes. This is my first full story I am releasing out into the world.

Word Count: 3330

I’ve never liked swimming.

People say it makes them feel free, but I felt anything but free. Every chance I got I avoided water at all costs. It's suffocating. Something about floating in a body of endless water and possibilities always made my skin crawl. One major problem that contributes to my fear is the fact that I can’t swim. I don’t blame anyone for this setback because I've never asked how to or showed interest. My inability to swim didn’t become a problem for me until my senior year of high school. I’ve gotten out of swimming class every year up until now and I had no choice but to take it. I tried to tell the swimming coach and counselors privately that I couldn’t take the class. All they said was I could stay in the shallow end. That I’ll be fine. I believed them. 

Word spread quickly throughout my class that I couldn’t swim once they started noticing I wouldn’t leave the 4ft mark. I didn’t really care, all I cared about was getting through the year. I was never really popular which didn’t matter much to me but being in this class never made it more obvious how much I hated it here. I felt eyes on me at all times which only made being in the water worse. 

It was March 12, 2015. Only a couple months left of school and then I’d be off to NYU living my dream of being a writer. First I had to get through 4th period swim class of course. I walked into the girls changing room preparing for the next 50 minutes of anxiety as I put my swimsuit on. I folded my dark blue jeans, my gray sweater, and a white tank top with lace on the trim that I wore under the sweater. Making my way to the pool I started putting my hair up in place of a hair cap I seem to have forgotten. Staring at the water I can see the bottom but it doesn’t stop the feeling of wanting to crawl up from my throat. Half the girls were already in the water preparing for a game of volleyball. Step by step down the ladder my hands begin to shake and my mouth becomes dry like I just ate pancakes. I make my way to the back to avoid any confrontation or any chance of being involved in the game. The one thing good about this class is it has a perfect view of the sky. I always get lost staring out at it wondering who’s also looking back. It makes me forget the situation I’m in and my environment. That's until a ball lands in front of me and about 15 girls are looking back at me waiting for my next move. I pick it up with my now calmer hands from before and spike it. Thankfully I made it over to the other side and the girls immediately turned back to the game. Not without some dirty looks but quite frankly I don’t really care. I watch as Mrs. Withers gets a call which seems to be serious as she tells us that she needs to step outside and when the bell rings to just go ahead. It’s only 10 minutes later when the shower bell rings and I feel the crushing weight lift off my shoulders. The other girls split based on which ladder they are closest to heading to the locker room and I help one of the girls get the volleyballs together. Making my way back to solid ground I rush to put the balls away not wanting to be one of the last to leave. I grab a towel on the rack near the other end of the pool as I make my way back seeing the last of everyone leaving. At least that’s what I thought until I heard someone behind me scream “Wait up” before running past me tripping me in the process. Losing my balance I watch as the one who screamed leaves the room leaving me alone. I hit the water with a loud splash waiting to hit the bottom to kick back up only to never feel my feet hit the concrete. I try to reach for the surface but everything I try seems to pull me down further. I panic, feeling my lungs on fire from filling with water. I tried to scream but no one could hear me and no one ever would. Everything was starting to go black and everything was becoming numb. All I could think about was how much I would miss out on. Finally, everything goes dark and I feel like I’m floating but I’m not, I’m being pulled up. I grab onto whoever’s pulling me up as if my life depended on it. Once I reach the surface my lungs fill with air as I begin to cough unbearably with my eyes screwed shut. I feel myself being hoisted up on the ground and out of the water. I’m pulled into the person who saved me as I am unable to move from exhaustion. When the person holds my face to center it I finally open my eyes as I am met with wide brown ones. 

“Are you okay”, he’s breathing heavily as I study him blocking out his yell to someone to bring his jacket. 

I feel a warm weight on my shoulders seeing its a blue and white letterman jacket out of the corner of my eye. 

“Thank you for saving me” I give him a weak smile but all I get in return is an expression filled with nothing but sorrow and guilt. 

Still seated on the floor I hear a horrified scream from beside me causing me to whip my head towards the chaos. Suddenly time stops and everything goes silent as I choked out a sob watching as a student and Mrs. Withers pull my body out of the water. The whole class comes to watch as they try to resuscitate me but nothing is happening. I feel the stranger push my head into his chest and I begin to cry harder than before. He repeats “I know’s” and “I’m sorry’s” as my world comes crashing down on me. 

Hours later we are still in the same position my hair and clothes dry now along with a tear-dried face. It’s dark outside with only the poolside fluorescent lights to illuminate our two figures. I begin to shiver more and more as the stranger who pulled me out of the water rubs my back and arms. 

“We need to get up, you're getting too cold” he whispers, pulling his body to get a better look at me. 

I lift myself up getting a better look at him as well as I memorize his long structured face, beauty marks, and brown eyes. After a minute I nod and try to stand up realizing that I’m still exhausted, the position not helping adding to the pain. He helps me steady myself and fully extend as he holds my hands making sure I’m okay. 

“You should take a shower and change into your regular clothes, I’ll probably do the same and I will explain everything once we're done. Okay?”, he says softly with an uneasy half-smile waiting for my response.

“Okay,” I whisper back at him not wanting to raise my voice feeling it’ll be too much to handle. 

His smile fills out more as he nods and begins to turn away to do the same tasks as me. I begin to turn away as well before I realize I never got the guy's name who pulled me out of the pool and stayed with me for hours. 

“What’s your name?,” I said, grabbing his arm to stop him from walking away. 

He looks down at my hand holding his arm which makes me see I’m still holding onto him causing me to let go. 

“Wally, Wally Clark”, he said with a wide smile that made me feel alive again for just a split second. 

After warming up from the shower I changed into my clothes from before that were neatly folded. As I begin to walk out of the locker room I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look back at the girl staring at me feeling disconnected from who she was or what she could’ve been. I take a heavy breath before opening the door to leave and face the reality of my situation. Stepping into the hall, the school looked unnatural to me with the lights off. I look over and see a less wet and cold Wally approach me with the same smile as before. 

“How was the shower? Do you feel better?”, he asked one right after the other. 

“The shower was good and I’m doing the best I can with the fact that I am already dead,” I said, peering up at him only noticing now how tall he really is. 

“I know it's hard and I’m sorry it happened this way but I will try to explain everything the best I can.”, he said, extending his elbow out for me to take it as we began to walk further down the halls.

And Just like he said Wally kept his word and explained everything to me that he could. Like how we’ll never be able to leave school grounds unless we pass on. He also showed me all the other kids stuck here just like us and told me how some passed. As well as the weird support group that the kids attend in the gym. Even though he’d joke he never sugar-coated anything, which I couldn't help but appreciate. I won’t lie, the first couple of weeks were rough. I was plagued by the memory of what happened as well as the thoughts of the future I’ll never get. It definitely didn’t help that everyone at school was mentioning it and not in a sorrowful way. During those few weeks, Wally helped a lot with trying to be a distraction so I wouldn’t focus on others. I guess one of the perks of being dead is being able to duplicate belongings so I was able to get my phone and journal. I found the perfect spot on the football field to just listen to music and lie down. I’d close my eyes and imagine what life could’ve been but I knew I couldn’t do that forever, so I started to write more. It was easier to put my wishes and fantasies on pages without having to dwell on them. I usually kept my writing to myself so around 7:30 every day I’d go to my little bubble of solitude on the field and write. It was May now so the sun would start to set around 8 giving me enough light and a view. 

“What are you writing?'' I suddenly hear Wally's voice right next to my ear. 

“Jesus Christ Wally you scared me to death”, I said, jumping in reaction to the sudden deep voice, placing my hand on my heart and dropping my journal. 

“I mean it's a little too late for that someone must’ve beat me to it.”, he said smiling at me as he sat down next to me grabbing my journal to open it. 

I glare at him and snatch my journal back. 

“What too soon?”, he said with a stupid grin trying to get my journal back.

“Just a little,” I said, scrunching my nose. 

“No but seriously what are you writing? You come out here every day and write in that little journal.” He said leaning back on his arms a bit more to get my full face into view. 

I try to hide the blush that has crept up on my face when I realize that he’s been watching me come out here. After a moment I brush my hair out of my face and am met with those famous brown eyes. I take a deep breath before explaining to him my reasons. 

“I don’t want to stay stuck in the living because all it’ll do is bring harm. All I thought about for the past couple of months was what I’ll miss but I never stopped and processed my death. I’ve been hurting for all the things I couldn’t change and it caused me to push anything away, even you. So I thought why not write my wishes and wants down so they don’t stay on my mind. At least this way I can close the journal.” I said with a tiny smile looking up at him as he was staring back intently listening. 

“Before I died I wanted to be a writer and I had my whole life planned out, I was going to attend—“ 

“NYU, I know,” he said, finishing my sentence before I could. 

I watch as Wally sits up straighter and scooches closer to me before tilting his head. I can tell he’s trying to figure out what to say because he’s fidgeting with his necklace. I wait for him because there’s no point in rushing, I have all the time in the world. 

“I’ve been watching you for a long time,” he says with a breath held in waiting for my response. 

One of my eyebrows lifts as I tilt my head in response to the slightly weird statement. 

“Oh god, that came out creepier than I meant it to. What I meant to say was even when you were alive I knew who you were.” He said laying back fully down in the grass. 

I watched as he covered his eyes with his hands with a frustrated grunt like he was trying to revert into a hole. 

“What do you mean?”, I said moving towards his laid position to where I’m now bent over leaning towards him leaving my crisscross position to now on my knees. 

I grab his hands that are covering his eyes and pull them down to his chest as I hold them to keep him from covering his eyes again. How he’s looking at me I can tell he’s debating with himself. I wait and listen before I watch as he closes his eyes. 

“The first time I saw you was during your freshman year in the library. I was looking for something to watch for group movie night. I had Rhonda yelling at me in one ear and Charlie telling me something in the other. I was getting a little annoyed but then I looked between the bookshelves and there you were.” He takes a pause to look at me and I squeeze his hand in return to continue. 

“You were tucked into the corner where the bookshelves meet, where no one could see you. In your hands was The Devil’s Highway by Luis Alberto Urrea. I watched as you cried the further you got into the book. After that day I came back to the library every day to see you. I even started picking up some of the books you read, but I couldn't finish half of them though.” He said with a small smile on his face and in his voice.  

He sat up which caused him to become closer to me while he took my hands instead of me holding his. He was looking at the grass for a minute while rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles. When he looked up I could see that he was tearing up making my heart ache. 

“I knew you had anxiety when it came to swim class because you couldn’t swim so I’d go to try and help. Even though you couldn’t see or feel me, I was always there.” He said lifting his hand up to tuck a loose strand of my hair that fell. 

His hand stayed in place as he cupped my cheek and I went to ask why he was tearing up because of this before he spoke. 

“I watched you die. I was there and I couldn’t do anything until it was too late, that’s why I was there. I had to watch you struggle knowing I couldn’t grab you or even scream for help.” He said with his voice croaking with the struggle of what he’s had to go through. 

My eyebrows furrowed as I watched the walls I built up crumble down with one look at him. I never knew he’d been holding in something like this for so long. If I had known I would’ve never tried to shut him out. I was scared of what had happened and how my life had ended but I never thought about him. He was always there and whenever I needed help he was right by my side. I moved from my position pulling him into a soul-crushing hug. It took him a second to respond to the sudden gesture but after a couple seconds, I felt his arms wrap around me.

“Wally my death wasn’t your fault, I need you to know that.”, I softly spoke while hugging him harder, feeling him return it. 

We continued hugging for what felt like years but could never be enough for me to be satisfied. One of my arms is coming up from under his arm grappling his shoulder while the other is around his waist. His arms are wrapped around my waist and I can feel his hands rubbing small circles on my back. Looking up from being tucked away in his shoulder I notice the sun is beginning to set. I begin to pull away and when I make eye contact with him again he’s only a mere few inches away from my face. I raise my hand to brush his hair away from his face as it has flattened from the hug. My hand slips down as it trails from the side of his head to where it now rests on his neck. He’s staring at me the whole time while I do this and when I look up to meet his eyes my heart quickens. Well, I imagined it quickened. There’s something about those brown eyes I’ve grown fond of that makes me feel alive again. His eyes flash down to my lips and back up to my eyes like he’s silently pleading. I give into his wants that now become a need for me and all I can do is nod. His hand comes up to my face pulling me towards him as our lips meet. The kiss felt like everything in my little life led up to this moment. Nothing else seemed to matter to me but the boy in front of me right now who just confessed that he’d been watching me for years. Wally’s the one to pull away first. I slowly opened my eyes to look at him wanting to capture this moment forever. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek and giving me a quick peck. I can’t restrain my gleaming smile as he pulls away for the second time. 

“Well I’m glad we got that cleared up”, he laughed as he spoke. 

I glared at him while punching him in the arm causing him to fall back but not before dragging me down with him. I land on his chest relaxing in his touch like it’s something I've been craving but have been deprived of. We lay in comfortable silence as I felt Wally rub circles with his thumb on my hip. 

“I’m glad it was you who found me. I don't know what I would’ve done” I said, being the first one to disturb the still air. 

“I am too,” Wally said into my hair as he kissed the top of my head. 

We lay there all night even when the stadium lights came on we just talked about everything and anything. Maybe the afterlife won’t completely suck. 

[fandoms-x-reader]

Role Model

Requested By: @mikudreamland

Oneshot

Summary: MC is a child who takes Mammon's tsundere nature at face value and believes he hates them. Mammon x Child!MC (platonically) Word Count: 945

Social cues were not something that children had a perfect grasp on. 

That was something that Mammon didn’t understand.

You were just a child. You didn’t know that when Mammon was putting on a tough act and calling you names there was a hidden message behind his words.

You had heard the others call him a “tsundere” but you weren’t even sure what that meant.

So, in your mind, you truly believed that Mammon hated you.

Mammon was desperate to be accepted by others and yet he refused to let others see him give the slightest bit of compassion.

Maybe he was afraid of looking weak. Maybe he was scared that the others would tease him for being kind.

After all, he was a demon.

What book or movie demonstrated a demon being a kind and caring creature?

He wouldn’t allow anyone to see the side of him that so desperately wanted to be exposed.

There were countless things done behind the scenes that he declined to take credit for.

Moments where his brothers would question his involvement, genuinely touched by the matter. But, Mammon would deny having any part of it.

And nothing changed when it came to you. 

As far as Mammon was concerned, this was how he always showed his affection for others. By doing things on the side and never letting his true feelings see the light of day.

You had been asking for a really special gift for a while now and Mammon had finally saved up enough money to buy it for you.

Yet, when you found it in your room one day, he claimed he had no idea how that wound up there and that you should ask Lucifer or Diavolo, doing his best to remove himself as a suspect from your mind.

Things like that tended to happen more often around you as Mammon tried to compete with his brothers to be your favorite role model.

But, because he never admitted to being kind to you, the only thing you saw was the way he teased you and called you things like “dummy”.

The way he claimed that he wouldn’t want to hang out with you and that the only reason he was doing so was because he would be in trouble with Lucifer if something bad happened to you when he was supposed to be watching you.

And it caused you to want to spend more time with his other brothers instead.

It was hard for you to think that Mammon didn’t like you because you really looked up to him.

Sure, he was awful with money and was always finding himself in trouble.

So, to believe that someone you looked up to so much couldn’t stand you made you feel really sad. 

But, he also was very laid-back and knew how to have fun.

He was light-hearted and while others would consider his tendency to not take things seriously annoying, it was perfect when spending time with a child.

And, with nowhere else to go, you ended up expressing those feelings to the other brothers.

They, of course, knew Mammon’s true feelings and attempted to explain his behavior to you. After all, they had a whole lifetime to adjust to him being a tsundere.

But, their words went in one ear and out the other.

How could you believe their claims about Mammon when you had never seen anything from him to back it up?

It wasn’t until Mammon saw how much closer you had grown to his other brothers that he realized something was wrong.

He tried to get you a gift to possibly persuade you away from his brothers, but you were completely uninterested in it. 

Mammon was truly at a loss for what to do.

He ended up sulking the next few days and when his brothers finally grew tired of it, they held an intervention during which they all but stated that Mammon was acting like a fool.

Satan explained that though they could see past his neutral facade, you were just a child who took his actions and words at face value.

Mammon was devastated by the news. He didn’t hate you or actually think that you were stupid.

It was a refreshing thing for Mammon - to feel accepted by someone. 

All of his brothers looked at him with disdain for his small flaws and sin.

But your innocence allowed you to look past all of that and see the person that he actually was.

And now he had ruined it because he hadn’t realized he was pushing you away.

After that conversation, he was determined to fix things and be your favorite role model.

It was a slow process, full of Mammon trying to completely change the way he went about things.

He would still buy you gifts, but he would own up to them, more afraid of you hating them than he was of anyone else judging them.

He would congratulate you for doing a good job on your school work and he would even offer to take you out for a treat as a reward.

As Mammon repaired the bond and the two of you got closer, the other brothers noticed that you really started to blossom.

For once in his life, Mammon felt responsible for someone’s life other than his own and he accepted that responsibility with open arms.

And in return, you also started to change Mammon.

He had gone to the casino less and less and even tried to pay off some debts to get out of some of the witches’ grasps.

When he put his mind to it, Mammon was an excellent role model.

[holllandtrash]

death of me | carlos sainz

pairing: carlos sainz jr. x reader

in short, the three times you didn't tell carlos you loved him and the one time it was almost too late.

i actually had 2 requests with these prompts so this is those requests 1: “You’re leaving because it’s easier to walk away than to fight for what you really want” 11: “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I love you when I knew I did.” 94: “Look me in the eyes and tell me that.”

Word count: 9.8k

warnings/tags: 18+ angst, fluff, plot with some smut, very light dom/sub blink and you miss it, this is a goddamn rollercoaster im sorry

17 August 2023

You got the call and honestly, you thought it was a joke. Some horrible, practical joke that someone in your life had set up because they knew it would get to you.

Which is why you laughed when you heard the person on the other line say, “There’s been an accident.”

“Yeah, okay,” you snorted, rolling your eyes as you dried the bowl in your hand, finally getting to the stack of dishes you had been neglecting since this morning. “Who put you up to this?”

“No, this isn’t a joke, Miss,” the woman on the line said. “I’m calling from the Jiminez Diaz Hospital. There’s been an accident. Carlos Sainz Jr. was involved in a car accident. He’s-

You didn't hear the rest of whatever the nurse had to say. The ringing in your eyes drowned her out, along with the bowl slipping from your grasp and crashing onto the floor, pieces of blue ceramic shattered around your feet.

Frozen, you tried to listen to the calming voice on the other end of the line, the voice telling you that he was undergoing surgery. She couldn’t provide any more additional information, but she encouraged you, as his emergency contact, to come to the hospital as soon as you possibly could.

As you hurried to find your keys, your relationship with Carlos flashed before your eyes. Every moment, every laugh, every kiss, every fight, every word said and unsaid.

And god there were way too many words you hadn’t got the chance to say.

31 December 2022

Carlos grabbed hold of your waist and you giggled before slipping out of his hold, reaching for the bottle of champagne on top of the fridge. He tried to take it from you, knowing that you probably weren’t going to be able to successfully open it but you just aimed the cork in his direction and he backed off.

“That’s the third bottle,” Carlos told you, he wasn’t scolding, just casually pointing out that you were going to have a massive headache tomorrow morning.

“And it’s about to be the twenty-third year,” you said. Which was technically incorrect, but Carlos admired your excitement too much to correct you. You pointed the bottle in the direction of the hallway and he braced himself for the cork to go flying. 

When you managed to pop it off without his help, the bubbly liquid came pouring out the side and you laughed as you held it up above Carlos’ face, instructing him to open his mouth. He listened, but your aim was horrible and the champagne spilled down the side of his chin.

“Here,” Carlos said, taking the bottle from you. You looked up at him and smiled, needing to take a second to focus on him and not on how the walls behind him were spinning. Carlos’ touch was soft as he brushed his thumb over your lower lip, opening your mouth enough for him to pour some of the champagne down your throat as well.

You were drunk, but you were still standing so you considered that a win. You just needed to last twelve more minutes till midnight and then you could collapse on the couch with him if you wanted. 

The two of you were supposed to go out to a house party that his friend was throwing. But then you walked out of the bedroom wearing a silk red dress that stopped at your thighs and your hair in perfect waves that looked ideal for Carlos to tangle his fingers through and he quickly decided that he didn’t want to share you going into the New Year. The only person he wanted to celebrate with was you.

So he grabbed one of the champagne bottles and picked you up, hoisting you over his shoulder as you squealed. He carried you back into the room you just walked out of and as much as he admired the dress on you, it looked so much better stained with champagne and crumpled on the floor.

You had only been together a few weeks, you were still in the honeymoon stage, which is part of the reason why you were more than happy to just stay at home with him tonight. You couldn’t get enough of him, and Carlos felt the same.

Carlos worshipped you. He had ever since the night you first met, which just so happened to be the first time you slept together.

He wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a hookup after catching his eye at the club. You were supposed to go home the next morning, but how could you go home when he woke you up by leaving a trail of kisses down your naval and then across your thighs before he dove into your centre. He worked his tongue through your folds, not slowing until you were seeing stars. 

When you did finally cum, legs convulsing around him, Carlos licked up every drop of your juices and then his lips found their way back to yours. He told you he wanted you to taste yourself on his tongue and that was when you knew you were absolutely fucked. 

Carlos knew your body, he knew how to pleasure you in ways you didn’t even know were possible. It was the sexual drive and the lust between you that drove you to him in the first place, but you stayed for so much more.

You stayed because he memorised your coffee order after the first morning you spent together. You stayed because he listened to you talk about your family for, you timed it, three and a half hours because he wanted to hear all about the ties and the drama and the people that raised you. You stayed because Carlos treated every date like the first one, always looking for ways to impress you, to make you blush or smile.

So there were, four weeks later and ignoring his friends and the promise you made to celebrate New Years Eve with them, because let’s face it, Carlos much preferred having you on your knees in front of him than having to make small talk until the clock struck midnight. 

His fingers twisted through your hair as he released into your mouth and pulled out of you, but before you could swallow he kept your mouth open with a tight grip on your chin. Carlos grabbed the champagne bottle next to him and poured the bubbly liquid down your throat. The subtle twitch of his eyebrow was the instruction you were waiting for and you swallowed, tasting the sweet and salty mixture of champagne and him. 

You spent your evening tangled up in the sheets, you on top of him, him on top of you. When you left for a moment to go grab a second bottle of champagne, Carlos followed and hoisted you up on the counter, picking up right where you left off.

Now you were drunk. It was the champagne, yes, but it was also Carlos. He was intoxicating, he made you feel bubbly more than the drink itself did. He’s the one you couldn’t get enough of. With his shaggy, dark hair and even darker gaze, you pulled his face to yours and wiped the excess liquid from his chin. You sucked on the pad of your thumb, your lips pulling back into a devious smirk as Carlos groaned, dropping his face to the crook of your neck.

“Tú serás la muerte de mí,” You’ll be the death of me. 

“Good,” you whispered, inhaling a sharp breath when he attached his lips to your throat, nibbling and sucking on your already marked up skin. You could still feel the ghost of his fingertips from when he choked you earlier, something you both loved, but his mouth was also enough to leave you gasping for air. 

He knew you, he knew your body. He anticipated your reaction every time he touched you. And while you both thought you were taking a break to be able to catch the countdown, even having put on one of his shirts to keep his eyes from wandering, you were almost ready to drag him back to the bedroom because Carlos Sainz Jr. was also going to be the death of you.

But it was New Years Eve.

“Carlos,” you whimpered, pulling your fingers through his hair and giving him a sharp tug so he would lift his head. You hovered your lips over his, “We’ll miss the countdown.”

“I don’t care,” he chuckled, he nudged his nose against yours before connecting your lips. You both still tasted like champagne and god you couldn’t get enough of it. Carlos smiled against your lips and pulled back when he felt you pout. “What, hermosa?”

“I like the countdown,” you admitted, the volume you spoke at dropping about ten levels as you stared up at him through your lashes. “It’s like we get to start a new chapter in our lives at midnight.”

His smile didn’t fade because he loved the way you looked at the world with such a pure lens. He cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing over your flushed skin. You expected him to kiss you again but he just pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“The only chapters I care about are the ones with you in it.”

You were drunk, but god did that line sober you up. 

You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol flowing through your system or if it was because your heart was beating too fast for your own good, but your lips parted with the intent of saying those three little words.

Because you knew then, at that moment, you loved him.

But Carlos kissed you and swallowed the words that were dancing on the tip of your tongue. You thought that maybe that was for the better. It had only been four weeks. A month. It was too soon to tell him you loved him, you’d scare him off. You didn’t need to start a new year with a traumatised boyfriend.

So you kept it to yourself and told yourself that there would come a better time to tell him how you felt because even though you were certain you loved the man standing before you, now was not the time to say it.

But when was the time?

16 Feb 2023

You opened up the top drawer of the dresser that sat across from Carlos’ bed, but he grabbed hold of your wrist before you could pull your clothes out from it.

“Don’t,” he said, demanded basically. “Don’t pack up your things.”

Ripping your arm from his grasp, you ignored his plea and grabbed the pile of clothes that had accumulated here over the last couple months. It started as a joke, leaving your clothes here, at his place, telling him that you needed an excuse to come over. 

And then one t-shirt turned into half of your closet being crammed in with his. Carlos didn’t complain once.

But you couldn’t live in this fantasy world you had created for yourselves any longer. Carlos was about to travel to Bahrain for the start of the season and then he’d head to Italy in between races and then Jeddah and then Australia and you’d be here. In Madrid.

“I’m not staying in your house while you’re travelling around the world racing,” you scoffed, hoping he could see how preposterous the idea was. He opened his mouth, giving you that same look he gave you every time he was about to bring up the idea of you travelling with him. You pointed a finger in his face, “And I’m not going with you.”

You couldn’t. You had a life here, a job here. You had no idea how other girlfriends and partners of these drivers were able to get up and leave their homes for a half of a week to support them, but you couldn’t do that.

Carlo yanked the clothes out of your hands and shoved them back into the drawer. You scowled at him, not like you were very intimidating but you tried to be. 

“Carlos,” you huffed out his name. “Let me pack, let me move out. This has been fun but-”

“But nothing,” Carlos cut you off and reached for your arm once more, pulling you towards him. You had been avoiding his eyes for the last hour and he knew something was up, something that went further than just taking your clothes home. “Talk to me, hermosa.”

Carlos didn’t just know your body, he knew you. Your mannerisms, your anxious fidgeting, your facial expressions. He knew your thoughts travelling through your head before you did, the two of you were so in sync it was terrifying.

So he physically felt the heavy exhale you finally let out, forcing all of the weight you had been carrying on your shoulders into the space between you.

“Why does this feel like a break up?” He asked, trailing his hand up your arm. His touch was soft and comforting and you wished it was enough to make everything better. It should have been enough.

And your next few words didn’t just hurt you, they sliced right through Carlos.

“Because I think it is a break up.”

Carlos let go of you to rub his hands over his face before tugging them through his hair. He backed up, putting a little bit more space between your bodies because as much as he wanted to hold you and tell you that you were making a mistake, he heard the certainty in your voice. The ‘I think’ was only added for his benefit. Your mind was made up. He knew it.

And you had seemingly known it for a while, too. You knew this moment was coming.

He walked out of the room when you turned your face, no longer trying to stop you from packing up your bags. He shut the door after him, refraining from slamming it because that’s not who Carlos was. He didn’t do things out of haste and anger, he wasn’t a reactive person.

No, Carlos sat in his thoughts and his feelings and he let them simmer. He thought about the last few months and wondered if it meant anything at all to you, because he thought it did. 

And now you were throwing it all away and because what? Because you didn’t want a partner who travelled for a living? You weren’t even trying to put the effort in, you were giving up before it got difficult. And who’s to say it would get difficult? Carlos’ home was still in Madrid, he would always come back to you and now you weren’t giving him the option to.

He could hear you packing from down the hall, a few drawers shutting, his closet opening and closing. This was wrong. And if it felt wrong to him he knew it must have felt wrong for you too, even if you didn’t want to admit it. 

When you walked out a while later, a duffle bag over your shoulder, a small suitcase behind you, you still avoided his eyes as much as you could because you didn’t want him to know you had been crying. You didn’t want him to know that this break up was destroying you, but was ultimately the right thing to do.

Carlos stood up and approached you, still keeping his emotions in check even though it broke him to see you so hurt, so hurt over your own choices. 

This could be avoided, he thought. This didn’t need to end.

You dropped the bag to the ground and inhaled a deep breath. You glanced at Carlos, but only momentarily as he stood in front of you. It was a lot easier to look at the buttons of his shirt or the rings on his hand or literally anything else because meeting his gaze was too hard. 

But this is why you had to leave.

You hated goodbyes and if you had to say goodbye to him every week, if you were going to be in different countries for most of the year, if you weren’t even going to be with him, then what was the point of this relationship?

You wanted to grow with your partner and you couldn’t do that if they were a Formula 1 driver. You couldn’t grow with Carlos.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered with a shake of your head. He could hear the way you choked to get those words out, fighting back even more tears. 

Carlos, knowing he didn’t have much a chance to convince you into staying, still lifted his hand to your face, cupping your cheek and choosing to look past the way you winced as you leaned into his touch, as if already thinking about how this would be the last time you’d feel this sense of comfort.

“Don’t do this,” Carlos said, voice timid and lanced with desperation. “Please.”

“Carlos, please don’t make this harder than it has to be-”

“I love you.”

You froze. 

Even as Carlos rested his other palm against the side of your face and forced your attention on him, dipping his head as he repeated those words, you remained frozen. 

“I love you,” he spoke with so much confidence it scared you. “I love you and I don’t want this to be over. It can’t be over.”

It wasn’t that you couldn’t say those words back because you didn't reciprocate them, you couldn’t say it back because it would only make things harder. Up until now, neither of you had said you loved the other. And up until now, you were perfectly happy pushing what you felt for him down because the timing never felt right and now you knew why.

Deep down you always knew that you’d find yourself needing to walk away. 

He’d have an easier time letting you go if you told him you didn’t love him and while it would have been a lie, it was what he needed to hear. 

You stepped back and grabbed the duffle bag off the floor, his arms fell back to his sides.

“I’m sorry, Carlos, I don’t-” you turned to the door, letting your hair fall in front of your face, “I don’t love you.”

“I don’t believe that.”

He wasn’t arrogant, but he was persistent. 

“Well it’s true,” you pulled the strap of the bag over your shoulder and reached for the handle of the door. If you just avoided his big brown eyes and the stare that had you hooked before either of you ever said a word, you could leave. You pulled open the door, only for him to press his palm against it and slam it shut again.

You felt his chest against your back as he stepped forward. Each breath he took was in sync with yours, because you two were always in sync, even at the worst of times.

“I don’t love you,” you repeated, raising your voice.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that, then.”

You couldn’t. 

You couldn’t because the moment you turned around you would fall back into his arms. You’d let yourself get swept away by his promises and his affection and then he’d leave for a race and then another and another. You loved this bubble you created during the office season and you fell so hard so fast for Carlos, but it wasn’t meant to last.

“I’m leaving,” was all you could get, gripping the handle again and yanking the door open with such force that Carlos had no choice but to take a step back. He tried to reach for you, his fingers ghosted over yours, but there was nothing he could do to stop you.

You were gone.

June 4 2023

You kept up with the races throughout the beginning of the season. You still followed his account and all of the motorsport ones he was associated with. You didn’t dare like or comment on any of them, but you weren’t ready to let him go.

Telling Carlos you didn’t love him was the hardest thing you’d ever done.

And you didn’t let yourself look at him as you said it either, you didn’t take on any of the pain that he felt. You said the words, you broke his heart and then you left. 

Carlos didn’t try to reach out once, not like you expected him to. Even when he was home between races, which wasn’t often, you’d only hear about it from social media. 

But this was what you wanted, right? You wanted this life, you wanted to stay home. You didn’t want to keep chasing after a Formula 1 driver and be forced to follow him from country to country if you wanted to spend time with him. That wasn't healthy nor was it something you wanted to put yourself through.

Getting over him, however, was impossible. 

And you tried, really. You went out with your friends, you distracted yourself, you picked up hobby after hobby but good god your thoughts always travelled back to him. 

You fought with yourself. You kept asking yourself if you made a mistake by ending things. You kept wondering why you didn’t at least try. But then you’d see a photo of him getting into yet another plane and you knew you made the right choice. 

Your lifestyles were extremely different. Your personalities were compatible, yes, but the way you went about your day to day lives would never line up. At least not while he was racing.

You wouldn’t lie to yourself, though. You liked watching him race.

When you watched from home, your eyes were always on the number 55 Ferrari. You rooted for him, you winced at every near miss, you celebrated his finishes and without fail, you always looked at your phone and thought about congratulating him via text or even a call, only to instantly decide against it.

You weren’t even that big of a Formula 1 fan before you met him, but now this seemed to be as close to him as you’d ever get again.

It didn’t help that he looked good. 

Carlos pulled off those red racing overalls. And when they hung low around his hips and the fireproofs clung to his skin, god you wanted to scream at yourself for letting him go. You could have been there, at the races, if you just put a little more effort in. You could have been the one to rip the fireproofs off his body after he got out of the car, because let's face it, after some of the runs he’s had this season, you knew he was probably needing an outlet to release some of that pent up energy and frustration. 

You missed running your fingers through his hair. You missed the feeling of his lips tracing every inch of your skin. You missed waking up next to him and seeing your legs tangled together with the sheets. You missed that he was always looking for a reason to touch you, whether it be your wrist or your pinky finger or your back, his hand was always on you.

You missed Carlos.

You loved Carlos.

Which was why your judgement was a little clouded when your friend invited you to Barcelona the weekend of the grand prix, not to watch the race because god knew neither of you could afford tickets, but to visit the clubs she hoped the drivers would be at. 

She knew people who knew people and you didn’t ask questions, you just gripped her hand tightly as she led you towards the VIP section of the third club that night. The first one was a bust. The second one you spotted a few people associated with Formula 1, but the third nightclub was the jackpot.

It didn’t take long to spot Charles, celebrating getting a podium after a difficult qualifying session on Saturday. You never actually met Charles but you had heard lots about him, and from the look he gave you across the lounge, you had a feeling he had heard a lot about you too.

With a drink in his hand, he made his way towards you, nodding to himself when he realised that, yes, the girl in front of him was in fact his teammate's ex. 

“Does Carlos know you’re here?” Charles asked, dipping his face towards your ear to be heard over the obnoxious music. You shook your head, eyes darting all around him but the Spanish driver was nowhere in sight.

“Is he-” god why were you even asking? You didn’t have a right to. You broke up with him. “Is he here?”

Charles nodded again, standing up straight to look around the crowded room full of bodies dancing and mingling. A chuckle passed his lips as his eyes widened momentarily, “Looks like he’s a little busy though.”

You turned on your heels. It took a second for you to understand what Charles was talking about.

But then you saw it.

A girl, who very much resembled you, height wise and hair wise, had her arms wrapped around Carlos’ neck as she held their bodies together, letting the music flow through them as they danced together. 

You hated the way he was staring at her, like he was thinking about all of the ways he was going to devour her. 

And unlike Carlos, you did not let your feelings sit. You reacted to everything. Out of anger, spite, jealousy, you never took a second to think about your actions or the potential consequences before doing anything. 

So before you even processed how horrible of an idea this was, you walked across the club, the music fading into the background as you only heard a high pitched ringing in your ears. Carlos paid no attention to you, he had no idea you were even there until you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and pulled his hand off the waist of your lookalike. 

She scoffed at you and shot a quick glance towards Carlos, “Cuál es su problema?” What’s your problem?

“You,” You shot back, not giving her any chance of a rebuttal before you pulled Carlos away from her and the dance floor. He called your name, trying to get your attention as you navigated your way to the bathrooms. He was much stronger than you, so he could have pulled your hand off of him if he really wanted to, but he let you drag him into the single user washroom without much of a fight.

It wasn’t until you locked the door behind him and stood only inches apart did it sink in what you just did.

Your heart was racing as you stared up at Carlos. You took in his stern features, the way his eyebrows pinched together as he waited for an explanation, the way he crossed his arms over his chest. 

This was very reminiscent of the night you met, only when you met in the club you pulled him into the backseat of a car and he couldn’t take his hands off of you. Now, he was purposely keeping the distance and he seemingly wanted nothing to do with you.

He must have known you didn’t have any words because he cleared his throat and eyed you once over, “What the fuck was that?”

What the hell could you say? That was me pulling you off some stupid look alike because even though I broke up with you, I don’t want to see you with anyone else?

That would be the truth. The reasonable thing to respond with because after pulling him away from his date, you probably at least owed him some honesty.

But again, you were someone who reacted. 

“What?” You scoffed, arm flailing to the side. “You think you can come back to Spain for the first time in months and not say a single fucking thing to me? Weren’t you the one who said your home was in Madrid? People talk, Carlos, you haven’t been home since the day-”

“Since the day you left,” he interrupted, knowing damn well you were trying to say he hadn’t been back home since he left for the season even though you both knew there was a deeper reasoning as to why. 

Carlos shook his head. His usually loving stare was cold and intimidating, he wasn’t going to let you put the blame on him for anything that had occurred.

“I haven’t been back to Madrid since that day you walked out on me,” Carlos repeated himself, putting heavy emphasis on the reminder that you were the one that left him. “I hope you understand, but I haven’t really been in any sort of rush to go back.”

Why would he want to go back home knowing you wouldn’t be there when he returned? Why would he go back to the one place he knew you’d be, but would still inevitably be just out of his reach? So close yet so fucking far. 

He wasn’t going to put himself through that, through knowing you’d be in the same city but not being able to touch you. It was easier to find other places to stay between races.

And you did understand that. It may not have sunk in right away, but it made sense now. You couldn’t see it through the tv screen, you couldn’t get a read on him when you were watching him race from miles and miles away. But you saw it now.

Carlos hadn’t moved on either.

He took a breath as he leaned back against the door. You didn’t like the defensive stance he was relying on. With his arms over his chest all you wanted was to step forward and take his hands in yours. You hated the space between your bodies.

But you were broken up. You both had to accept that, as hard as it was, and that was your doing. 

Except you still didn’t want to see him with someone else.

“So who was she?” You asked, drifting the topic of conversation back to the girl from the dance floor.

“You don’t really have a right to ask.”

“It’s not a crime to be curious.”

Carlos clenched his jaw as he averted his gaze for a second. He rubbed his palm over his chin and shrugged, giving in to your question because he always did struggle to say no to you, “I don’t know, honestly. I met her ten minutes ago at the bar.”

“Sounds familiar,” you muttered under your breath, thinking back to when you first met.

“We met on the dance floor,” Carlos pointed out.

“I was on the dance floor. You were at the bar.”

“We were both on the dance floor,” he repeated, sounding more sure of himself the second time. 

His eyes dropped, taking in your outfit of choice for the first time since you’ve been in the enclosed space and when the corner of his lips curved upwards, just for a second, you felt your heart skip a beat just like it did the first night you met.

“You were wearing that same skirt too,” he said and you automatically looked down at the black leather skirt you currently had on. 

“Was not,” you scoffed, but to be fair, you had absolutely no idea what you had on that night.

Carlos chuckled, ignoring your childish rebuttal. “That skirt and a white top and I know it was white because I remember watching you spill your drink all over the front of it and you said-”

“I need an excuse to take it off anyway,” you finished for him, flashes of that night appeared in your mind. For so long, you only remembered how Carlos made you feel when you first met that none of the other details mattered.

But he remembered everything.

“You ordered gin and tonics all night,” Carlos continued, studying your face as your features softened with each additional memory. “Your friends tried to pull you away from me when we were on the dance floor and you didn’t let them. When I introduced myself, you had no idea who I was and when we finally stepped outside to leave the club, you looked at me with those big eyes of yours and you-” 

He stopped midway and inhaled a faint breath, you both did actually. His was due to reliving the night you first met and yours was due to the fact that Carlos stepped forward finally, raising his fingers to your chin to tilt your face upwards. 

You leaned into his touch, stepping forward yourself to trace your hand over the shirt he wore as he finished his final thought.

“You looked up at me and you told me I looked like someone you could fall in love with.”

Alarms went off. You wanted to run again. You didn’t want to have this conversation again. Once was enough. 

“I don’t- I don’t remember that,” you stammered out. 

“Because you were drinking gin and tonics all night,” Carlos said again, this time with a hint of a smile. “I also don’t even think you meant to say it, you changed the topic immediately afterwards.”

“You could just be making this shit up,” you pointed out, not wanting to accept the fact that you knew Carlos would be someone you would love since that first night. 

“I could be,” he nodded in agreement, fingers still holding onto your jaw. He stared at you the way he used to. With such adoration and desire. What used to be lust melted into something so much stronger and it hadn’t faded even if months passed. “But unlike you, I don’t lie.”

Your eyebrows pinched together, “When have I ever lied to you?” 

“The day you left,” there was another hit to the chest as you anticipated the rest of his sentence. “When you told me you didn’t love me.”

“That wasn’t a lie,” your words tasted like acid on your tongue. 

His hand fell from your face and he laughed. The sort of laugh that had your stomach turning in knots because there was nothing humorous about this situation you had now found yourselves in for the second time in four months.

“I know you,” Carlos said. “And I know there’s no possible way that I am the only one that feels so strongly it hurts. I know you love me because I feel it. I always have. In the way you touch me, in the way you run your hands through my hair, in the way you used to wake me up in the morning by kissing me until I finally opened my eyes. I know you love me because I see it in everything you do. In the way you look at me, the way your eyes always found mine if we were in a crowded room and I could see the breath of relief you’d take because as long as we saw each other, the world was calm. I saw it when you started leaving your clothes at my place, when you started going grocery shopping for us instead of just you and I saw how it broke you to walk out on me that day. It wouldn’t have hurt if you didn’t love me.”

With your hand still gripping onto his shirt, your lower lip trembled as you tried to find something to say in response. Every single word that came out of his mouth was true. He knew you better than you knew yourself and he probably knew long before you did that you loved him.

You dropped your gaze, focusing on the wrinkles on his shirt and the white button you played with under your thumb, “You know that phrase, if you love something, set it free?”

“And if it comes back, it's yours,” Carlos added on, stepping closer as he raised his hand to the side of your face, his fingers twisting through your hair. “I’m here, hermosa. I’m yours, I’ve always been yours.”

Now it was your turn to laugh. You forced yourself to, thinking that the humorous breath of air protruding from your lips might make the rest of this conversation easier. 

It didn’t.

“Carlos I can’t keep setting you free every time there’s a race,” you said, your voice timid. “I can’t. If I’m going to love you I’m going to do it with every bone in my body, with every fibre of my being and I can’t do that if you’re gone for eight months of the year. I need you in my life, with me, by my side, not on a tv screen, not all around the world.”

What you were asking for was selfish, you knew this. You knew that, essentially, you were putting Carlos in a position where he had to choose. He had to choose between you and racing and that wasn’t a fair spot for him to be in. You knew this.

Which is why you chose for him. 

Four months ago you chose for him, and you were doing it again now.

You briefly glanced up to meet his eyes, trying to move past the way you were melting at the feeling of his hands in your hair. 

“I shouldn’t have come to Barcelona, I’m sorry,” you breathed out, hands falling to your side. Without so much as a second look, you stepped past the driver and reached for the door handle. 

Carlos didn’t let you walk out on him this time.

He grabbed your wrist and spun you back around so fast that you didn’t have a second to breathe before his lips were on yours. Furiously and passionately like he was making up for all of these months without you. His tongue dove into your mouth as you slid your hand around the back of his neck, holding his face to yours because even though you knew this was a terrible idea, that you were broken up, there was no better feeling in the world than kissing Carlos Sainz Jr.

Neither of you were sure who started undressing first. It didn’t matter. Buttons went flying, your skirt got hiked up around your waist and when Carlos hoisted you up to place you on top of the sink, you had a momentary lapse of judgement and asked yourself why you broke up with him in the first place.

“I miss you,” Carlos muttered against your lips as you inhaled a sharp breath when he pushed your panties aside, the pads of his fingers traced over your folds. “I missed this.” 

“Carlos-”

“Missed how wet you got for me,” Carlos ignored whatever plea was about to fall from your lips as he pressed his mouth to the crook of your neck. 

You were putty in his hands, quite literally. There was nothing but quiet whimpers and strangled moans from you as he slid two fingers past your folds, both of you forgetting that your conversation ended with you trying to walk out on him.

His thumb traced over your clit, applying the slightest bit of pressure, just enough to have you arching your back as you sat perched on the edge of the counter. You felt him smirk against your skin right when he picked up the pace of his digits, curling them against your walls, so deep inside you.

You dragged your fingers through his hair, encouraging him to keep his lips on that spot just below your ear as your head fell backward. Carlos kept you upright, he supported you, he knew how helpless you were during times like these and he lived for it. 

Four months ago you would have never thought that walking out on Carlos Sainz Jr. would lead you to being finger fucked by him in the bathroom of a Barcelona club. 

He lifted his head, replacing his lips on your throat with his free hand and forcing you to look at him. You recognised the lustful stare, only growing darker as he alternated between lightly tracing your most sensitive nub and pinching it between his forefinger and thumb until your legs quivered beneath you.

Carlos attached his mouth to yours, biting down and tugging on your lower lip, the sharp pain only added to the pleasure coursing through your body. He thrusted his fingers into you with such force it had you yanking on his dark hair so hard Carlos hissed through his teeth. 

“Cum for me,” Carlos’ groan was masked with a demand. One you had no possibility of ignoring as your body reacted to him and his words. With his fingers so deep inside you, Carlos worked you through your release, slowing but not stopping as you dropped your head to his shoulder, holding him as close to you as you possibly could.

When he finally pulled his fingers out of you, you weren’t surprised when he brought them up to his lips. There was a perfectly fine sink right in front of him but Carlos would never waste an opportunity to taste you. 

He then cupped your chin, his gaze softened but you could still make out the mischievous glint. This night wasn’t over.

“Let’s get out of here.”

That’s all it took. Those five little words. The one request and you had forgotten every logical decision that had led you up to this moment. He helped you off the counter, kissing you once more before you had to leave the privacy of the bathroom and before long you found yourself walking the same route as the first night you met.

Past the dance floor, sending your friend an assuring smile, silently telling her everything was fine. Carlos led the way at first, you kept a safe distance behind him and when you walked outside there was already a car waiting out front. You climbed into the backseat alongside him, ignoring the flashes from paparazzi and the call from them asking if Carlos was back together with his ex.

You couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. From the ride to the elevator to the hallway until finally he dragged you into his hotel room, or maybe you dragged him once the door opened, you were both desperate for the other at this point.

It was hard to think rationally. In the back of your head you knew you’d have to leave in the morning before you found yourself clinging to him the way you used to, but you just wanted to enjoy the time you had now. You wanted to hold onto every beautiful sound that came from the back of his throat, each kiss he pressed to your skin, the sound of your name escaping his lips because no one would ever say your name that way he did. 

You loved him.

You loved the way he knew your body better than you did. How he had you desperate for a release in a matter of minutes, and only giving in when you begged for it. You loved the way he stretched you out, needing a second to inhale a quick breath as he slid his cock into you with little warning, deciding you were wet enough already after making you cum once in the bathroom and again on the edge of his bed with just his tongue.

You were used to his size, you had spent enough time in bed with him to know what to expect tonight but after four months your mouth still fell open and he swallowed all of your moans by pressing his lips to yours and taking all of your air out of your lungs.

Carlos wasn’t patient. Why would he be? After months without you he didn’t feel the need to wait. He found a steady pace but within minutes he had picked up his speed and hiked one of your legs up around his waist. 

That position turned into another which turned into a third and at one point during the night Carlos had you sit on top of him, staring at your own reflection in the mirror as you bounced on his cock, listening to his encouraging words and his praise while his fingers made for a beautiful necklace on your throat.

He cherished you, treating you like royalty on his sheets as you both carried the same thought, both of you knowing that you wouldn’t stay past the morning. As much as you wanted to forget that you broke up with him and as much as he wanted to pretend that you were still his, there was no denying your relationship was over. 

You loved each other, but that wasn’t enough to make up for the distance and the lost time during races and the anxiety of not being able to come home to each other at the end of the day. You loved each other, truly, but it was never enough.

Which was why when morning came, you climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb him after getting very minimal hours of sleep. You slid on the clothes you had discarded all over his room and decided that leaving without a second look would be easiest.

You had just cracked the door open when Carlos stirred in the blankets behind you. You had no choice but to turn around, to look at what you were walking away from for the second time.

He sat up in bed, the sheets draped over his lower half and his hair unruly and sexy and almost enough to make you crawl right back in next to him. 

He saw that you had redressed yourself, made yourself as presentable as you could wearing the clothes from last night. He didn’t have to ask where you were going, he just nodded to himself and let out a breath of acceptance.

You were never going to stay.

“I’m sorry,” you said, but those two little words were not the words he was hoping to hear during his short time with you. 

“No you’re not,” Carlos shook his head. He looked away from you for a second, his tongue poking out to moisten his lips. He was asking himself if last night was a mistake. It probably was.

“I don’t want to have this conversation again.”

“You’re leaving because it’s easier to walk away than to fight for what you really want.”

“I’m leaving because it’s what’s best for both of us, Carlos.” You sighed, leaning against the frame of the bedroom door. “I can’t live the life you want me to live and I’m not going to ask you to give anything up for me. We’re at a crossroad here.”

Carlos dragged his line of sight back towards you, “Even though I love you? That doesn’t make any difference?”

It makes things harder. 

You shook your head, repeating that you were sorry one more time and letting the last image of Carlos be of him dropping his head back down to the pillow before you turned around and walked out of his life once again.

August 17 2023

You practically ran to the receptionist, slamming your hands against the desk, “Carlos Sainz Jr., is he- is he here? What room is he in? Is he okay? God please tell me he’s okay-”

“Ma’am, I need you to take a breath,” the nurse was calm, she had been through this hundreds of times. Dealing with the frantic loved ones of a patient. She stood up, hand outstretched to rest over yours as she pushed the box of tissues closer to you. You grabbed one and dabbed the corner of your eyes, having been imagining the worst the entire drive over and unable to stop crying.

You didn’t even have time to question why you were still his emergency contact. You had no idea how your name and number came up in the conversation and it pained you to think that when the paramedics brought him to the hospital, the only phone number he could think to mutter was yours.

“Is he okay?” You repeated after a deep inhale. “I need to know he’s okay. The lady on the phone earlier wouldn’t tell me anything, she just said there was an accident.”

“Carlos Sainz?” The nurse asked, looking at her screen as she sat back on down. She typed on the keyboard, muttering a few things to herself until his file popped up. “He’s undergoing surgery right now, should be done soon though.”

“Surgery for what?” You asked, desperate to get information. “Is he going to be okay? He’s a racecar driver, can he still drive? Is it life threatening-”

The nurse seemed to crack a smile, “I’m familiar with his occupation, Miss. Unfortunately I am not able to give you any more information on his condition.”

You couldn’t tell if the whole confidentiality act was because of his fame or because she really had no idea how he was doing. Regardless, the not knowing stressed you out beyond relief and you tried for a few more minutes, pestering for answers, until finally she told you that the only option for you was to sit and wait.

So you did. Foot tapping against the tiled floor. You thought about calling his parents or his sister but last you saw from social media, his sister was somewhere in Greece and you had absolutely no way of contacting his parents as you weren’t with Carlos long enough to get their contact information. 

It was just you in the hospital waiting room, nervously watching the minute hand on the clock go around way too damn slow. Every time a doctor or another nurse entered the room, your heart dropped in anticipation, but none of them were there to keep you informed.

Twenty minutes went by with no news, and in hindsight, that really wasn’t that long of a waiting period. But it felt like an eternity, not knowing. Left drawing your own conclusions, your own terrible scenarios. 

When a doctor did finally emerge from the swinging doors, he stared down at his clipboard before approaching the nurse behind the reception desk. You watched them interact, of course you did, you needed to know if he was Carlos’ doctor.

When he walked over to you, a tight smile on his lips, you stood up instantly.

“You must be here for Carlos,” he said, holding out his hand for you to shake with not nearly enough strength you wished you had. “I’m Dr. Alejo.”

“Hi,” You tried to glance at the clipboard tucked under his arm but you wouldn’t understand anything anyway. “Is he-”

Dr. Alejo nodded and you felt as though you could breathe when his smile grew even just the slightest bit. 

“He’s fine,” He assured you. “A few broken ribs that will heal on their own, a fracture of his left wrist that required surgery and some severe bruising along his abdomen, but no internal bleeding to be concerned about. He’s okay.” Dr. Alejo scratched his jaw, “Might not be able to finish the season, but I think he’s just happy to be able to walk away from this accident.”

He nodded his head towards the doors that separated the patients from the waiting room, leading you through them and down the hall as he flipped through the papers on the clipboard. 

“It was a car accident?” You asked. “How? What even happened?” It was hard to believe that a professional racing driver would get into something so mundane as a car accident. During the break of the Formula 1 season.

“I believe the other driver was distracted,” Dr. Alejo answered. “I don’t have much more information than that as he wasn’t my patient, but he’s also okay. I think still in surgery, but both drivers are extremely fortunate in this scenario.”

He stopped in front of a room where the door was slightly ajar. Carlos’ name was written on the board outside of it and you asked for permission before going inside. The doctor nodded and allowed you in by yourself, instructing you to be gentle as he had just come from surgery.

You walked in, not prepared for the sight of Carlos on the bed with IV tubes sticking out of his wrist. His entire rib cage and abdomen was bandaged up and you could see hints of bruising on his legs and arms, aside from where the cast on his left wrist was covering them. There were minor marks on his face as well, cuts from the broken windshield, more bruising, everything that made you ache for him.

His eyes were closed so he didn’t see you slowly make your way to his bedside, sitting on the side that seemed to have less injury. You scanned over him, taking in the damages to his body and you didn’t think twice before raising your hand to brush a few strands of hair off his forehead. 

You hadn’t seen him in a few months, not since you left his hotel room. 

Part of you expected that you’d run into each again, you’d always been drawn to Carlos, but you never would have imagined this. 

You didn’t even know he was home.

Hesitantly, you took his hand in yours, thumb tracing over the few inches of skin that weren’t littered with dark bruises. You felt his fingers twitch in your grasp and you glanced up in time to see his eyelids flutter open.

“Hi,” you whispered, expecting to have to explain yourself. Carlos most definitely did not expect to get into any sort of accident today, let alone see his ex-girlfriend who walked out on him twice. Obviously there was some explaining to do.

But he only turned his palm upwards to interlock your fingers together, careful of the IV tubing. He tried to shift on the bed, only to grimace in pain and you inhaled a breath, worried for him.

“Just-” you swallowed, fighting the urge to put your hand to his chest like you would normally do if you just wanted him to sit. “Just take it easy, okay?”

Carlos nodded, glancing down at your hands and then at the cast on his wrist and then sighing with deep despair as he took in the bandages wrapped around his body. 

“Not like I had a shot at the championship anyway,” he joked, already thinking about the last half of the season. 

You didn’t want to laugh. Nothing about him sitting in a hospital bed was funny, but it was no surprise he was thinking about Formula 1. He was a driver, racing was in his blood. 

So you just cracked a hint of a smile and tried to change the topic to something else, something more pressing.

“I didn’t know you were back in Madrid.”

Carlos paused, “I just got in today.”

Your brows pinched together, “What do you mean? Didn’t your break start two weeks ago?”

“I was in Italy, for a bit,” he told you, his thumb brushing over yours. “But I didn’t want to be there. All I wanted was to come home. All I wanted was to see you.”

Your heart sank deep into your chest, “Don’t tell me you got into a car accident when you were on the way to my place.”

“Then I won’t tell you.”

“Carlos,” You wanted to scold him, really. You had broken up, he didn’t need to come see you. If he had just stayed in Italy, if he hadn’t decided he needed to see you, he’d be fine and not laying with limited motion in a hospital bed. You were the reason he ended up here.

He always said you’d be the death of him.

“I love you,” Carlos said, sounding more sure of his own words than he ever had before. “I love you, and I don’t care if you walk out on me every time I say it because I’m just going to follow you. I made a mistake the first time, letting you leave. I made it again in Barcelona and I’m not doing that anymore, I’m not going anywhere, hermosa and if I do, I’ll always come home to you.” 

You had thought you were all cried out, having tears stream down your face the entire drive to the hospital as you thought about your relationship with Carlos. The good, the bad, everything in between. You cried thinking you’d never get a chance to create another memory with him. You were distraught, wanting to scream into the abyss because even if you weren’t with Carlos, you couldn’t imagine a life without him.

You loved him.

You always had. You always will.

And you weren’t going to go another second with him thinking his feelings weren’t reciprocated. 

A single tear fell down your cheek as you locked eyes with him, the only person in your life you would ever give your heart to and know, without doubt, that he would give his back in return.

“I love you,” you finally told him, the biggest weight lifted off your chest, one that had been dragging you down for months. “I love you, Carlos, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I love you when I knew I did. I'm sorry it took this for me to tell you. I'm so sorry, I love you, I love you-”

You moved closer to him, dropping your head to rest against his after you kissed his temple, quietly repeating that you loved him over and over again. You placed your hand against his cheek, holding Carlos against you and he covered your hand with his, not wanting to let go.

He’d let you go one two many times and he wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

And you wouldn’t give him a reason to. 

[theodorenmyth]

T.N & D.M being overprotective towards their gn!s/o because they're the softest, kindest cinammon roll to ever be sorted into Slytherin house?

Slytherin Protectors

Pairings : Draco Malfoy x GN! Reader x Theodore Nott

Summary : In the labyrinthine halls of Hogwarts, you stand out as the kind-hearted Slytherin, captivating the hearts of Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. Their fierce protectiveness often contrasts with your gentle nature, but when a trip to Hogsmeade raises their concerns, you realize just how deep their devotion runs. Through laughter, vigilance, and unwavering camaraderie, you navigate the complexities of the lovelies and loyalty in the house of serpents, knowing that with Draco and Theodore by your side, you can face anything.

A/n : Bye I'm flopping so hard rn 😭 ITS OKAY THO, Enjoy! (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

Warnings) : nothing

Word count : 1.1k+

The ancient halls of Hogwarts seemed to breathe magic and secrets, the torches flickering with an almost mischievous life of their own. As the only Slytherin who could melt even the hardest hearts with a simple smile, you stood out in the sea of cunning ambition that characterized your house. And despite the house's reputation, you'd managed to capture the hearts of two of the most influential boys: Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. It wasn’t something you set out to do, but your kindness and warmth drew them in like moths to a flame.

Your days often involved navigating the complicated dynamics of Slytherin house, all while maintaining your unwavering kindness. You’d just helped a first-year find their way to Potions when you felt a familiar presence sidle up beside you.

“Y/N, you’re going to spoil them,” Draco’s smooth drawl brought a smile to your face.

Turning to face him, you saw the familiar smirk playing on his lips, but his eyes held a softness reserved only for you. “Spoiling? I’m just helping out. Not everyone knows their way around like you do, Draco.”

Draco shook his head, chuckling. “You’re too good for this place, you know that?”

Before you could respond, Theodore appeared on your other side, his expression as unreadable as ever. “What did they do now?” he asked, eyes darting between you and Draco.

“Just being their charming self,” you teased, nudging Draco gently with your shoulder.

Theodore’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. “Well, let’s get you to the common room before anyone else needs your rescuing. Merlin knows you can’t help saving everyone.”

The three of you walked through the dungeons, your conversation a comfortable blend of banter and genuine concern. Draco and Theodore often played the role of overprotective guardians, always watching out for you in their own ways.

As you approached the Slytherin common room, the familiar hiss of the stone wall opening up welcomed you. Inside, the atmosphere was as cool and dark as ever, but it was your boyfriends’ presence that made it feel like home.

“Alright, Y/N,” Draco said, his tone shifting to something more serious, “we need to talk about this weekend.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

Theodore leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “There’s a trip to Hogsmeade, and we want to make sure you’re safe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Safe? I’ll be with you two, won’t I? What could possibly happen?”

Draco’s expression didn’t waver. “It’s not just about that. You attract attention, Y/N. Good and bad. We just want to be prepared.”

Your laughter faded as you realized they were genuinely concerned. “I appreciate it, really. But I can take care of myself.”

“We know you can,” Theodore said, his voice softening. “But we’d rather not take any chances.”

You sighed, knowing it was pointless to argue. “Fine, fine. What’s the plan then?”

The boys exchanged a glance before Draco spoke up. “We’ll stick together, obviously. But we’ll also keep an eye out for anyone who seems... off.”

“And if anyone tries anything,” Theodore added, his eyes narrowing, “they’ll regret it.”

You smiled, touched by their protectiveness. “Alright, I’m on board. But you two need to promise not to be too overbearing.”

Draco placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Us? Overbearing? Never.”

Theodore snorted. “We’ll try our best. But no promises.”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The next few days passed in a blur of classes and studying, with Draco and Theodore rarely leaving your side. Their vigilance was almost amusing, but you couldn’t deny the comfort it brought. Finally, the weekend arrived, and with it, the much-anticipated trip to Hogsmeade.

As the three of you made your way down the bustling streets, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of normalcy. You popped into Honeydukes, picking out your favorite sweets while Draco and Theodore hovered nearby, their eyes constantly scanning the crowd.

“You know,” you said, grabbing a handful of chocolate frogs, “you two look like bodyguards.”

“Good,” Theodore replied, his gaze never leaving the entrance. “That’s the idea.”

Draco leaned in closer, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Think of us as your personal security detail.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless. “Alright, alright. Let’s head to The Three Broomsticks. I’m craving some butterbeer.”

The pub was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the chilly weather outside. You found a cozy corner booth, and soon enough, Madam Rosmerta brought over three frothy mugs of butterbeer. You took a sip, savoring the sweet, warming liquid.

“So, how’s everyone enjoying the trip so far?” you asked, looking at your companions.

Draco grinned. “It’s been... eventful.”

Theodore just nodded, his expression serious. “So far, so good. But we’re not letting our guard down.”

You shook your head, chuckling. “You two are something else.”

As the afternoon wore on, you found yourself relaxing more, the warm atmosphere and pleasant company making you forget about any potential threats. But Draco and Theodore never truly let their guard down, their eyes always moving, always watching.

When it was time to head back to the castle, you linked arms with both of them, feeling a surge of affection for your overprotective boyfriends. “Thank you, both of you. For looking out for me.”

Draco’s expression softened. “Always, Y/N. Always.”

Theodore squeezed your arm gently. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As you walked back to Hogwarts, the setting sun casting a golden glow over the grounds, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky. Despite the house’s reputation, you’d found a family in Slytherin. And with Draco and Theodore by your side, you knew you could face anything.

The journey back was filled with laughter and light teasing, the boys' protective nature now mingled with the easy camaraderie you all shared. When you finally reached the castle, the three of you paused at the entrance, the imposing structure of Hogwarts standing tall and welcoming.

“Well,” you said, turning to face them, “another successful trip, wouldn’t you say?”

Draco smirked, his usual confidence returning. “Of course. We had it all under control.”

Theodore just smiled, a rare but genuine expression. “Let’s get inside before we attract more attention.”

As you walked through the familiar halls, the evening’s events still fresh in your mind, you felt a sense of peace. With Draco and Theodore looking out for you, Hogwarts felt less like a maze of dangers and more like a place where you could truly be yourself.

And as you settled into the common room, surrounded by the people you love and the comforting green and silver of Slytherin house, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you’d face them together.

[ruskaroma]

ordinary, corrupt human love. | chapter 1: written in blood.

Warnings: this series will include highly disturbing/dark topics such as stalking, unhealthy obsession, graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, manipulation, gaslighting, large age gap, emotional/psychological abuse, dom/sub undertones, bad BDSM etiquette, etc.

this is a dark fic, written in john's pov and a glimpse of how his mind works. if you still continue to read and get triggered, that is not my responsibility.

Summary: John finds himself a new obsession.

Author's note: this is my first ever fanfic for this fandom and i am beyond excited to share this with you guys! though i must say before you begin, english is not my first language and there might be a few errors in my writing here and there, so i apologize in advance.

but either way, i still hope you enjoy this piece, and i can assure you that once i finish writing this series there will be more to come! i really enjoy writing john wick be a merciless bastard who kills everything that breathes, and i hope you enjoy it too as much as i did.

please, please, PLEASE tell me what you think in the comment and reblogs and likes would be so appreciated. it motivates me to write even more :)

(also this is not edited so all mistakes are on me and i apologize)

Word count: 8.1k

also read on ao3.

It’s one of those days again.

The sound of his watch ticking is the only thing keeping his car from being too quiet. His eyes watch every single movement of his target, never leaving his sight. It won’t be too long for John to finally strike, he just doesn’t want too many civilians seeing the horror that’s about to happen right before their very eyes.

His mind is thinking of many things he could do with this target in particular. A lowlife thug that got himself involved with a very dangerous Italian mob, but then again that’s not the reason why John’s murderous intent is at its peak at the moment.

He’s angry at something, he just doesn’t know what. And this target of his isn’t helping his situation at all. Reading his criminal record made John think this could be a chance to cure his boredom. This man is not only a sex trafficker, but also a pedophile who has a history of targeting teenagers to rape and sell to the black market that’s as fucked up as him.

He doesn’t normally take his time thinking of ways to kill his targets. He points, shoots, leaves. This one in particular though, got him facing a side of him that John himself doesn’t want to face.

He would start by breaking every single one of the man’s fingers. And if that doesn’t do any justice, he’ll cut them off.

One by one, let the man savor the feeling, let John relish the nightmare.

He could slit the man’s throat, watch as life drains away from his body, watch as the man clings to his legs for mercy. John could even pull out the man’s dick, step on it, fucking cut it off and shove it so far down his own throat that he couldn’t scream for help if he tried.

It’s John’s version of Colombian Necktie. A classic, only ever tried it out four times, hopefully this would be the fifth.

John is never the one to take pleasure in killing people, but these past few months have proved him otherwise.

Maybe it’s because of Helen’s death, and the way he was basically forced to sculpt the demons he buried back into himself. His only remaining bit of humanity was taken from him, and he’s coping in the most unhealthy way possible. Perhaps Winston was right about dipping his pinky a little too much into the pond, but it was inevitable.

John has gone back to his old ways. Taking contracts here and there to distract himself from the void in his heart. He remembers how burying a knife into someone’s throat for the first time in many years has ignited something in him he didn’t even know he had.

That’s why he’s here, exiting his car in a swift move, following his target as quietly as possible into a narrow alleyway that stinks of garbage in piss. This would be a nice place to kill a guy like him – right where he belongs.

John’s movements are so discreet the man couldn’t even sense him until John wrapped his right arm around his neck and his other hand went to cover the man’s mouth. He walks them both to the back of a building as the man struggles, where John’s sure no more people are present, and he kicks him on the jaw to stop the man from making any more noises.

John can make this quick. Pull out his gun and blow his brains out. But there’s that sinister glint in his mind that’s telling him to do something unimaginable – grotesque even – a death a man like him deserves.

The man tries to swing his arm at John but misses pathetically. The poor guy’s already shaking and John hasn’t even begun.

John doesn’t respond to the pitiful attempts of questioning who he is and who sent him here, he simply pulls his knife from his pocket and wastes no time slashing it against the man’s throat, the blood spraying all over his face. The man tries to stop it by shakily covering the deep cut with his hand, but it’s useless.

He’s gargling, choking on his own blood, and John’s watching it all unravel with a familiar glint in his eyes.

John is contemplating if he should follow the plan he made in his head or just leave it like this. Somehow, the sight looks rather incomplete to him. He knows what he’s done is not enough, but that could be just the rage talking. The man’s already dead, and surely cutting off his dick and shoving it so far down his throat it comes out of the wound would leave an ugly reputation on his name. 

Would that be a good thing? John is already feared enough, would it be a good thing to make people fear him even more? But then again, this won’t be the first time he’s done it. Doing it again one more time wouldn’t make any difference.

He glances down at the dead body on his feet before he kneels down to do the unforgivable.

Slicing off a man’s cock is easy. Too easy. John’s knife is perfectly sharpened and stoned, he merely uses any strength to cut it off. The sight is so fucking ugly, too much blood, but nothing he can’t handle.

Once that’s done, John uses his other hand to force the dead man’s jaw open, immediately greeted by the foul stench of blood as he shoves the unpleasant dick into the man’s open mouth. The genitalia is definitely not long enough to reach the throat, but that won’t be any problem for John.

He grits his teeth as he forces his hand in there, not bothering to care even if the jaw breaks and the hole becomes even wider, his goal is the only thing in his mind.

The blood continues to drip and he has never been so grateful for wearing an all black uniform for this occasion. Soon enough, after a few minutes of such a brutal wrongdoing, John sees the tip of the cock reaching the deep wound on the man’s throat as it continues to peak its way out.

A sick, small smile spreads across John’s face. The smile is barely there, but he’s fucking enjoying this more than he’d like to admit. He can only imagine how the news would spread across the assassin underworld like a wildfire.

The Boogeyman’s back in business and he’s scarier than ever.

Perhaps this might be the way to lay his point across. This is a way to show them that it was not a good idea pissing him off, killing what’s his, and bringing him back in business. They’d regret it, but it would be already too late for that.

John uses his other hand to pull the cock right out of the man’s throat but not completely. Half of it is hanging out and John thinks he could even consider this as a masterpiece. There’d be flies and maggots that would make the scenery better, but the cleaning service is there for a reason. He can’t just not use it.

John stands up from his position, pocketing his knife back into his pocket before retrieving his phone with the other. He dials a number, waits for them to pick up, all while admiring his work on the ground.

His previous contracts these past few months all ended in such an unimaginable, ugly way. He figured that by showing them that he’s capable of such brutality, it would increase the numbers of people calling him in for more jobs, because this is exactly what they wanted. They wanted Baba Yaga, the ruthless killer of the underworld who stops at nothing to finish his job, and he’s simply giving it to them.

Someone picks up the call and he straightens his posture, checking the time on his watch before speaking.

“This is Wick. John Wick, yes. I would like to make a dinner reservation for one.”

The news spread faster than anticipated.

The notorious man John Wick, the hot topic of the criminal underworld at the moment, even gained the attention of The High Table, and it all happened in the span of one day. That’s how quick the news spread amongst his fellow assassins, though that’s exactly what he was going for.

John expected it so he isn’t surprised when he receives a call from Charon saying Winston wants to meet him.

He inserts a coin in the door and the small window opened briefly. The guy on the other side immediately recognized him, not wasting a single moment to open the door and let the man of the hour in. All eyes are on him the moment he steps into the club, but no one dared to murmur anything to anybody – not when the man himself is here.

They know better.

John spots Winston at his usual spot drinking his usual order, signaling John to sit beside him where a glass of bourbon is already present. 

“Jonathan,” Winston greets, raising his glass. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“I figured,” John replies, though not interested. He slides himself to the booth and takes a sip of his own drink. “I don’t understand why though.”

“Are we really playing this game, Jonathan?” The manager raises a brow. 

“I was just doing my job.”

“In a way you don’t normally do,” Winston then adds. “Or should I say, in a way you don’t even do.”

John gives him a look, but he could tell Winston doesn’t know how to interpret it. His face remains emotionless, not letting the mask slip and grant Winston the privilege to take a peak. John will continue to play this game until he’s satisfied, until he feels something again. Surely he’ll find what he’s looking for while doing the only thing he’s ever good at – slaughtering.

“Let’s just say I was trying out a new technique,” John says, voice deep and almost sinister. Winston’s scared, though he doesn’t show it, John knows. 

“I have known you ever since you started, Jonathan. Not once did it cross my mind you would do something so.. horrifying as this. You discarded the body like he was some sort of pig, so believe me when I say I couldn’t believe it at first.”

John has no idea why Winston’s whining about him being horrifying, when that’s all they’ve been saying about him ever since he joined. He didn’t gain this reputation for no reason, now he’s just simply showing them what more he’s capable of.

“You should’ve seen his record.” His tone is menacing, swirling the drink in his hand as he stares deeply at Winston’s eyes. “He’s worse than a pig.”

The drop of the curse word takes Winston by surprise. “So is that what it is, then? You killed him that way because you think he deserved it?”

“Not really,” John simply sighs, leaning back on the leather seat as he takes another sip of his bourbon. He really isn’t planning on staying longer, but Winston seems to be taking his sweet time asking him a bunch of stupid questions. “I couldn’t care less of what he’s done. I was simply… bored. Saying that I did that because I think he deserved it gives people a reason to think that what I did was justifiable.”

The look on Winston’s face says enough. He’s afraid of John, afraid of what he has become. Hearing John say he did such an unforgiving thing just because he was bored is beyond frightening. No man has ever inflicted so much fear on him before – at least not until John.

“I think we’re done for tonight,” Winston finally says, not wanting to hear any more disturbing thoughts of John, but he remains polite and calm for the sake of their friendship. “You have a good night, Jonathan.”

John gives him a nod, standing up from his seat and downing his drink in one go. “Goodnight, Winston.”

He exits the club with an eerie aura following behind him, not caring about the way people are looking at him like he’s got Death himself walking beside him.

It makes him wonder that maybe death doesn’t follow him after all.

Maybe it is him.

Someone offered him five million to fuck up a man who allegedly stole a fuck ton of kilograms of cocaine from their warehouse, and really, who is John to decline the offer?

Hunting the man is easy. It didn’t even take a day to locate where the man lives, and John’s already breaking into his apartment to shoot the guy and leave. There’s no point in rummaging the place for the cocaine, all of it is already up the man’s system by the looks of it, and killing him is John’s job.

John wants to finish this one fast, he’s got other business to attend to. As he backs up the frightened, pathetic excuse for a man against the wall, he takes his gun out of his holster and aims directly at the head, right between the eyes, and he watches in great pleasure as the residue of his brains splatter against the walls and the floor.

This man didn’t even put up a fight. John thinks this is a waste of time.

He exits the apartment with disappointment heavy on his shoulders, slamming the door shut. Although the gun he used has a silencer, the rooms are too close to each other. He’s sure there might be other people who heard the shot of his firearm.

The apartment building is located at the filthy side of New York, where most known drug dealers and junkies do their nasty deals. It’s no surprise that as soon as John steps a foot out of the worn out building, all eyes are on him, but mainly on the clothes he’s wearing. They’re planning on mugging him out, and John would like to see them try.

Just as he’s about to walk to his car, his phone rings abruptly in his chest pocket. He retrieves it in one swift motion, not noticing that a gold coin fell out as he does so, and he continues walking to not waste any more time.

“Sir! Excuse me, sir, you dropped something!” John hears from behind. He doesn’t bother looking.

The call isn’t nearly as important as the business he needs to attend to, so he hangs up the call and pushes his phone back into his pocket. As soon as he does that, he feels a small hand touching his shoulder.

John’s hand immediately flies to wrap his large hand around the person’s wrist, turning around to see a young woman with a bewildered expression on her pretty face, little fingers holding his golden coin that looks far too big on her hand.

She looks scared, terrified, and oh how fucking awful that makes John feel. Like he’s been punched right in the fucking gut. He’s enthralled.

“I wasn’t–you dropped it and I’m just giving it to you, I promise!”

She’s looking at John with big, doe eyes. She also looks freshly showered, wrapped in a black puffy jacket that makes her even smaller than she already is. John lets his eyes linger on her lips, so plump and glossy. Her voice sounds sweet, soft, something John isn’t used to hearing.

John can’t help but to stare.

“Are you–are you gonna let me go, mister?”

The way she stutters triggers a hot feeling in John’s guts, and can’t help but to rub his thumb on the girl’s dainty wrist before slowly letting her go.

So delicate, he could snap them in half.

“Sorry,” John apologizes, taking the coin from her hold, and his fingers itch at the way her skin feels so soft against his rough hands. “Force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles a little, and there goes that hot curl in John’s stomach once again. “That thing looks expensive so be careful next time.”

Just like that, John doesn’t get the chance to reply back. She makes her leave and patters away from him, and he watches. He watches until she’s out of the view, taking a turn to a corner, leaving John with something he can’t quite figure out yet, but he soon will be.

For the first time in a while, he feels something new.

Suddenly, everything is too good to be true.

John will find himself staring at his hands for too long, still feeling the ghost of her soft skin on his fingers, fantasizing about her pretty face and soft, plump lips.

It’s scary for him to feel something again because that only means destruction. John likes to believe he has a gift of ruining everything he touches, especially the pure ones – like her. It’s a proven statement. Just look at Helen and Daisy.

This little one won’t be any different, he’s sure of it. John’s whole body is heating up everytime he thinks about her. The look on her face when she saw John’s chilling expression, her wide eyes, so glossy and innocent.

John wants to see her again.

His fingers itch, yearning to touch her again. 

Why he’s suddenly interested in a young woman he just met a few days ago, he has no idea. John’s a bit confusing – fucked up, even. He long accepted the fact that his mind is nowhere near healthy years ago. He tried to push those thoughts away when he met Helen, but now he’s out of his shell and back in business, there’s no need to.

He’s always been one of the wolves, and now that he’s laid his eyes on his next meal, he will make sure there’s not a single thing that will get in his way to hunt her down.

He had a crisis for two days before doing the unexpected. It didn’t take long for John to find her. 

Now, John has been following her around for a week, and he noticed a certain pattern his little one likes to follow as she goes on her day.

The very place where they met is where she lives, surrounded by a bunch of goons who have no idea what to do with their lives. John begins to wonder why she’s living in a place like that. He could take her, put her somewhere safe, under his care and protection. Make sure no one will dare to lay a finger on her.

John knows where she works. At a veterinary clinic not too far from her apartment, which is why she walks to work every three in the afternoon, but not without stopping by in her favorite deli and getting a large order of her favorite sandwich. She’s a part-timer. She’d be at school from seven to twelve, and at work from three to eight.

John finds the little things she does amusing. He’d be seated in a cafe right across from her work, watching how she moves around her office through a big window, petting and cooing at the animals who come and go.

She’s so perfect, so pure, so naive. She has no idea that a monster is lurking ten feet away from her, watching her every move like a hawk, thinking about the ways he could destroy her, make her his.

John is not delusional. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing and he’s aware of what people might call him. 

Stalker.

Creep.

They don’t know him though. They don’t know why he acts this way. They’d do the same if they were him, that’s for sure. He’s not the bad guy here, he’s simply just protecting her little one, even from afar. John went as far as destroying a whole Russian Bratva for a mere puppy and a car, he’d do even worse if she’s somehow taken away from him.

John sees her exiting the building and his first thought is to follow her. He stands up from his seat, the cup of coffee long forgotten as he makes his way out of the café and keeps a safe distance between the two of them. It’s risky, especially in the broad daylight, but John knows she’s too oblivious to notice.

She’s with her friends this time, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by John how she clings at the shirt of her co-worker as they cross the street, small hands fisting at the fabric. He thinks about how he won’t ever let go of her hand once she’s his. He’s not big on physical affection, having to grow up with no parents and a rather strict orphanage, but maybe he could be gentle. Engulf her hand in his, stroke it with his thumb, tuck her hair behind her ears, show everyone that she’s already owned.

They wouldn’t dare to lay their hands on her again.

John walks in the middle of the sidewalk, not bothering to move away despite seeing people approaching. He doesn’t need to, the look in his face is enough for people to give him the way. It’s interrupted however, when someone does try to get in his way, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back a little.

John clenches his jaw, pissed. He takes his eyes from his little one and on the person who so rudely interrupted what he’s doing – it’s Marcus.

“John? I was just looking for you at the Continental.” Marcus has a small smile on his face, clearly not aware of John’s expression.

His eyes dart behind Marcus, where his little one is supposed to be, but she’s gone. John feels something curl in his stomach, his fingers itching again, eyes rapidly searching for her in the sea of people.

He looks at Marcus again, deciding he’ll just find her later, but he worries that something might happen to her now that John’s attention isn’t on her.

“Why?” he almost snaps, voice deep and laced with no emotion.

“Why? Because it’s been quite some time, John. I haven’t heard from you since the Iosef situation, but I did hear you’re back in business,” Marcus replies, but when he sees how distracted John looks, his voice falters. “You working?”

“Yeah.” The lie comes off smoothly. “I’ll see you around.”

John taps Marcus’ shoulder, trying to sound as polite as possible even though he badly wants to break a couple of his teeth for taking his attention away from her. He knows Marcus is probably noticing something, but John’s never the one to care.

Marcus drops the subject. “Alright, John. I’ll see you around.”

With that, John disappears in the crowd with no looking back.

It’s been awhile since John last took a job.

He can’t seem to take his eyes away from his little one. He can’t stop fucking stalking her from morning to night time.

John’s afraid that once he takes his attention from her even for a second, something bad might happen to her. It’s engraved in his mind that she can’t protect herself and he’s solely there to be the protector.

No one would understand. He’s doing this for her own good.

John’s absence at the Continental doesn’t go unnoticed by Winston and Charon. They’re his favorite, after all. Watch his every move carefully ever since that ugly murder John did. Perhaps he could make his next kill even uglier. To them, it’s vile and grotesque. For John, it’s special and unique.

This time, it took a good self-beating before John decided to take a contract. Three million to hunt down a rival crime lord, nothing he can’t handle, but somehow it brings an unusual feeling on his shoulder he isn’t fond of. Perhaps because John’s leaving his little one for a while and he isn’t quite sure what to feel. Worried and pissed – but mostly worried.

That is why he hired someone to trail his little one on his behalf. Everyone in business would do anything for a coin despite how fucked up disturbing it is. John offered a generous amount of coins to keep the assassin’s mouth shut, but he also held him at gunpoint and gave him a good talk before he sent the dog out in the field.

His only job is to keep an eye on her, report everything he’ll see to John, and maybe even take pictures for safety purposes.

John has been overseas in the last three days, and everything that’s been sent to him has been his only form of entertainment. There’s videos of her giggling with her friends, videos and photos of her in the library, outside her school, her work, and even in her apartment. There’s also information sent to him about the background of her friends – every single one of them, because John didn’t pay so much for nothing.

There’s one particular friend that ticks off John in all the worst way possible. He’s young, around her age, and the way he hugs and touches her just fucking sets him off. John wants to break his fingers in half. He reminds himself that once he’s home, he’ll make sure to take care of that boy himself.

“What else have you got?” John questions through the phone, and it doesn’t take long for his precious dog to respond.

“Oh, he is one creepy motherfucker. I’m starting to understand why you’re so riled up with this guy, boss. The urge to strangle him every time he gets in the picture gets stronger and stronger everyday.” He hears a laugh at the other end. The guy that’s working for him – Alex, if he remembers correctly – is young, new in business, knows not to fuck with John so he keeps his job adequate. If Alex ever notice how fucked up John is for making him follow a young woman to keep his life in order, he doesn’t say anything about it. “Just tell me when I can shoot this guy and I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

“Leave him. Keep an eye on him, but don’t kill him,” John advises, his tone leaving no room for discussion. “I’ll handle him myself when I get back. For the meantime, focus on Y/N and keep any troubles out of her way. Fail that task and I’d serve your head hot on a platter.”

“You got it, boss.”

John is playing nicely.

He’s not going to force his way into her life. He’s gonna be welcomed, with open arms, desired.

There are times he’d thought about giving in to his desperation and act with his dick instead of his head. There are times he’d thought about following her to a dark street, where no one’s around, he’s on the prowl and ready to pounce. He’d put a fabric against her mouth and nose, laced with enough chemicals to make her pass out and for him to carry her in his car with no problems whatsoever. John thinks about how he’d make it look like he’s just picking up his very drunk and passed out girlfriend and no one would know a goddamn thing.

John would keep her in his house where she won’t need anything but him. 

But of course, he’s not that cruel.

They’re only thoughts. Thoughts that he tries hard to keep away, but at the end of the day he reminds himself that he’s better than that.

John is not going to force his way into her life.

He’ll make sure to get her addicted enough to come crawling at his feet herself. She’ll be dependent on him, won’t be able to live without him. John will make sure his plan will go out smoothly or otherwise he’ll be the one bringing Hell with him on this land and seek as much havoc as he possibly can.

The death emissary himself will strike tonight.

A Friday night out with her friends has John on high alert. That’ll only mean she’s constantly surrounded with people, god knows what could happen if John even takes his eyes off her for a second. He lurks on the side, blending himself with the crowd as much as he can all while keeping his gaze on her. 

He doesn’t need any drugs to keep his mind insane, because the sight of a specific man getting very close to what’s his is enough to make him visualize all the ugly and twisted ways to kill a man.

She’s wearing a thin silky dress that’s low on her cleavage and shows her perky breasts. She’s currently the flame in a room full of moths, John included. Everyone’s eyes are on her, observing the way she sways her hips and sings along to the loud music – John’s fingers itch.

The itch to kill is back again, driving into his veins, his hands twitch on the table. John wants to pull out his gun and shoot everyone in this fucking room. He wants to stab them in the eyes one by one and make them feed it to themselves. He wants to grab this guy on the neck and slam his head against the wall repeatedly until his brain scatter all over the fucking place and there’s nothing left for him to ruin.

This guy is getting on his fucking nerves.

John watches as the man smoothly brings his arm on her shoulder, whispering something in her ear that doesn’t make her look so impressed. In fact, she looks disturbed, uncomfortable, tense. Despite the guy being her friend, John could tell she doesn’t feel comfortable with the way he’s showing her affection.

It’s hard to see her like this, but he knows he can’t just jump in between the two of them and beat the shit out of the guy until he chokes on his own blood. He’ll have to wait, maybe after this party, he’ll strike and discard the body in a way that’ll make even Winston spook in his sleep. It’s not a major offense to kill a man that’s not in the game anyway – or at least that’s what John tells himself.

This guy wouldn’t be able to be three feet near his little one once John’s done with him. He’ll be six feet under.

John sees her swiftly moving away from his touch, trying to make her rejection look as polite as possible, which receives a not-so-amused reaction from her little friend.

This guy doesn’t deserve her at all. No one does. Except maybe John, but that’s because he knows he’s capable of actually taking care of her and keeping her safe. Nobody would understand what he feels, what he yearns, what he wants.

Good girl, John thinks. Walk away.

His gaze follow her as she makes her way to the backdoor and out to the cold air of the city. John follows in a hurry, keeping a safe distance between the two of them, then opens the door as quietly as possible so he wouldn’t let his presence known.

There are a few people on the street, either having a smoke break or making out against the piss stained wall, but she stays just beside the busy road as she wraps her arms around herself.

His gaze burn daggers on her exposed back, the urge to cover her up with his jacket and take her home. A drunk man comes stumbling out of the club, accidentally tripping over his steps and he pushes her hard enough to make her yelp as her heels lose balance and almost making herself get run over by a passing truck.

Almost.

Everything happens so fast. One moment John is standing five feet from her, the next is he’s grasping her wrists in his hand and pulling her back to her feet and dragging her back to the curb. He was already on the act once he saw the man exiting the club, he knew exactly this would happen.

The scene looks strangely familiar, one John could never forget. The same position, same hand placement, same rough fingers around her wrist and dark eyes boring into hers – their very first meeting.

“You!” she gasps, not caring about the fact that she almost just got hit by a fucking truck. “I know you! You’re the guy outside my apartment that day! What are you doing here?”

John stares. Predictable. Of course she’s talking to him like they’ve known each other for years. She’s too friendly.

“Hello to you too,” John replies, though his tone is blank as well as his face. “You remember me.”

“‘Course I do,” she giggles, a little tipsy, pupils dilated and licking her lips nervously. “You’re pretty hard to forget. I remember asking my neighbors around the area if you’re new there, turns out you were just visiting.”

John furrows his brows, hand still not letting go of her wrist. What does she mean by she’s asked around the area about him?

His face must’ve looked confused, he sees her grinning childishly. “It’s a coincidence that I see you again!”

Not a coincidence, but fate.

John doesn’t believe in a lot of things, but he believes in fate. Fate brought him Helen, and now fate is bringing him another angel. If she really went as far as asking the neighborhood about his existence, then it must be fate.

“I’m Y/N. I figured if we keep bumping into each other then you should at least know my name,” she says, completely oblivious that John already knows everything that has to be known about her. From her little mannerisms to the last name of her fucking grandmother. “May I know yours or are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

“It’s John,” he gulps, not wanting to look like a loser in front of her, not after everything he went through for her. “It’s really nice to see you again.”

He sucks at this. He fucking sucks at this.

“You haven’t answered my question, by the way. What brings you here?”

It hangs in the air, John lets go of her wrist. Luckily, he thinks fast enough and says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Work.”

“Ah, work,” she nods. “You work here? In the club? What are you, a bouncer or something?”

“I don’t. Someone I work with is in the club.” A lie, but it’s not like she would know. “We had a talk.”

“Not really a man of words, eh?” she raises an eyebrow teasingly. 

“This is the most words I’ve said in the past few days,” John says. “I’d say you’re special.”

The look on her face is enough to make his entire night even better. Blushing, lips opening and closing, not knowing what to say. John wants to graze his thumb on her lips, thinking about how good it would feel stretching over his cock.

He blinks. Where did that come from?

“For someone who doesn’t talk much, you sure make it sound smooth when you do. Are you always this slick, John?” she giggles again, music to his ear. “That’s actually better than what I heard from my friend earlier, so thank you.”

“That’s good to know.”

Before she could say anything back, the door of the club opens once again and her friends appear, waving a hand at her and beckoning her to get inside. She looks at John, gives him a sympathetic look, as if apologizing that their talk gets cut off too soon.

“I’m really sorry but my friends want me back in there. Hopefully we can continue this again, yeah?” she smiles cheekily, tucking her hair behind her ear. “If you want, you could give me your number so we can talk someplace else? You know… with no one bothering us and all that.”

There it is. John didn’t think it would be this easy to sink the hook in. All he needs to do is pull and take what’s meant to be his.

“Sure.” He enters his number swiftly, feeling that familiar burn in his guts once again when he sees the wallpaper being her pretty face. “Feel free to message me whenever you want. I’ll make time for you.”

She looks at her phone and smiles before starting to walk away from him, waving a hand goodbye, but it doesn’t feel like a goodbye. John knows it isn’t. She’s already his the moment she started talking to him again.

“Of course! Get home safe, John! I’ll see you soon!” 

“You too.”

She doesn’t know John won’t be heading home any time soon until he knows she’s safe and sound in her apartment.

Jay Lopez.

The name burns on his tongue. Bitter and resentful. He stares at the photos his precious dog sent to him and he has to stop the impulse to burn every single one of them.

Jay Lopez is the guy that’s been leeching on his girl since the dawn of time, and thankfully John is here to put an end to it. 

He’s hideous. It’s interesting how John stooped this low that he’d be willing to kill a college student for being too near his little bambi, but alas, he’s never the one to care for such things. Morals and righteousness have never been in his book, not now, nor ever.

It’s only a matter of time until he gets rid of this pest. He’s fucking creepy, follows around not only Y/N but a bunch of other women. 

John doesn’t want his death to be quick and simple. He wants to do it in an ugly way, make sure his body will never be found, make sure he’ll never get to lay his hands and eyes on what’s his. The way Jay stares at her in these pictures ignites something evil within John’s veins. It’s been awhile since he felt something like this.

“Alex.” he looks at his pet standing by the door, waiting for the next command. “Bring him to me alive.”

“Can I at least rough him up a bit?”

John doesn’t answer at first, looks back at the photos on his table. “Do what you want, just make sure he’s still breathing when you bring him here.”

“On it, boss.”

Truth be told, John doesn’t need a pet to order around for this job. He has himself – a labeled attack dog of the Tarasovs for years, their hellhound, chained and muzzled unless they need him to kill. He’s a one man army as some would say, he doesn’t need Alex running around doing tasks for him, but it sure does make the job a lot faster.

It’s not a way to downgrade his reputation nor skills to hunt, he really just needs this Jay guy gone as fast as possible.

On the same day, Alex manages to haul a very brutally violated Jay to the floor of his basement. He stinks, pants wet from piss and a face John is having a hard time recognizing.

“You said rough him up a bit, not make him look unrecognizable.”

“Same thing.”

Jay is sobbing his eyes out, his cries of pleas falls to deaf ears and John just wants to fucking bash his skull with his own foot. “W-who are you guys?! What the f-fuck did I do?! Get me out of here or I’ll tell the fucking police–”

John kicks him on the chin hard to stop the goon from rambling. “You’re not telling anybody any shit, tough guy.”

“So, what are you planning to do to him? Can I watch?”

“Can you handle it?”

Alex shrugs. He’s in the presence of the most dangerous assassin in the underworld, wouldn’t hurt to learn anything from his skills and techniques, doesn’t matter how fucked up it is.

John nods towards the chainsaw sitting at the corner of the room, and Alex turns to face him with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ, man. You serious? Last time I heard you’re a hitman, not a serial killer.”

“Same qualifications. Same thing.” John grabs the man by the arm then drags him to a chair. He takes a rope from the table and swiftly ties him up securely. “We start with the head, then arms and legs. It would be hard to put his entire body in a drum full of acid, so we need to cut him off one by one.”

Alex looks like he’s about to run off somewhere safe from what he’s witnessing. “You’re talking like you’ve done this before, holy fuck.”

John gives him a look, and Alex immediately shuts his mouth. Right. He’d done this before. This is completely normal.

“I’ve been following you for a while, Jay. You’re a creep who befriends pretty girls, then you’ll drug them and make them have sex with you,” John taunts, the sound of his heels hitting the concrete floor is enough to send shivers down his spine. “Is that what you’re also planning to do with Y/N? Be her friend and fuck her once she’s drugged up and vulnerable?”

It’s a bold statement coming from John himself since he’s no better man than Jay, but at least his intentions come from a different place.

“You-you’re fucking sick!” Jay spits.

“I’m sick? I’m not the one going around making girls uncomfortable now, am I?” he picks up the chainsaw, then watches in enjoyment as Jay widens his eyes in fear. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, Jay. You won’t be able to use your pathetic little dick of yours to any woman ever again, and most importantly –”

John fires up the chainsaw, adrenaline coursing through his veins when he sees the horrified look in the man’s face as he tries to get up and scream for help.

“I can finally sleep well at night knowing you’re not in Y/N’s life anymore.”

As John steps into the light, a roaring chainsaw in his hands, Alex could only watch in horror as the basement gets painted with blood in mere seconds.

There’s a vacant apartment just across her room, giving John the perfect view of what she’s doing while she’s alone.

Most of the time, John will pull up a seat beside the window and take pictures. The other half of the time is just him staring, observing. It seems that she’s too comfortable knowing there’s no one across the building so she doesn’t close the curtains, leaving John no choice but to keep his eyes on her.

He found this place just three days after following her. He couldn’t help it. Following her to school and work suddenly wasn’t enough for John that he had to find a way to somehow watch her even in her sleep. 

He should be ashamed of himself. He should feel guilty for what he’s doing – he should stop, but he just can’t. John’s already done too much. This is like being pulled back into the underworld all over again but this time, there’s something good that’s waiting for him on the other side.

Maybe it’s the delusion that comes with it that’s not stopping John from whatever he’s doing. Lately, he’s been thinking about how life would turn out to be if his plan goes out smoothly. They’d live happily ever after, she would end up loving him just the way he planned it out to be, and John will make sure no one will ever dare to take those peace away from him again.

He’d make sure no one will ever come close to her again once she’s his. She’d be isolated but protected. Just how John likes it.

It’s been two days since John gave his number, but he knows she’s just giddy and nervous to text him. He’d seen her staring at her phone, biting her bottom lip anxiously, thinking if it would be a good idea or not. He knows she’ll give in one way or another because he sees it in her face. She’s too easy, too gullible, too naive.

She’s lonely, just like him.

John could tell she’s waiting for someone – she’s desperate, no wonder she asked for his number the second time they met. She wants someone to take care of her, to hold her, tell her that she deserves the world. That someone is John whether she likes it or not.

This isn’t just any unhealthy obsession. John finds himself too deep to get out. He knows her little mannerisms, studied her every action, has a red room full of her pictures and no one can’t say he’s not ready to give up anything for her. John has already given up his sanity ever since he mutilated a man for being too close to her.

She’s his life now, his everything.

John watches intensely as she shreds her clothes in her room, baring him the full view of herself naked, and John grips the side of his chair too hard his knuckles turn white. This is the first time he’d seen her naked, it’s so sudden and so… perfect.

His cock fattens in his pants as he observes every curve of her body. Her waist is fucking perfect and her body is thick yet delicate. John thinks about bruising her sensitive skin, leaving a mark that will show everyone that she’s owned. He would love to see her in a collar, hear it jingle when she crawls. 

She’s completely fucking naked that John wonder just how naive she is to think there would be no one seeing her like this. What if John isn’t the only one watching her? What if somebody else sees her like this? His fingers itch, jaw clenching.

He’d kill them. He’d kill them in front of her, and the thought somehow made his cock hard even more. He grimaces, disturbed at the reaction of his body.

John doesn’t really understand the sexual aspects of killing, but now he’s thinking about how she would react if she sees him working. He’d kill someone in front of her and he’d see the look of disgust and betrayal in her face. He can already imagine how her eyes would well up with tears and fuck, his dick shouldn’t be this hard.

She’d fear him, and John would be turned on. How fucked up would that be? Just how fucked up can his mind get?

He resists the urge to wrap his hand around his cock because fuck no. He would not stoop this low, he is not a teenage boy. No matter how strong the thoughts get, the thoughts of wrapping his own hand around her neck, squeezing it hard and cutting off her airflow as John forces his cock in her cunt, hearing her mewl and scream and beg to just –

John sucks in air, eyes back on her in her room, wrapping a robe around herself and heading to the bathroom. This is fucked up. His cock is incredibly hard and leaking, and his mind won’t stop thinking about how good her pussy would feel around him.

He’d talk her through it. Whisper sweet nothings in her ear as she releases around her cock, praising her for being such a good girl. Then he’d fuck her again, in a different position, debauching her in different ways not even the devil himself could think of.

John would ruin her, and she will have no choice but to accept it.

He brings his hand to his face as he sighs deeply. He wonders what Helen would feel of what he’s doing. Disgusted, no doubt. This is not the same man she fell in love with years ago. He would never do something like this, but fate has its plans, and John believes everything happens for a reason.

She was brought into his life for a reason and it’s up to him whether he takes.

John doesn’t realize that he’s been staring at nothing for too long until she comes back in his view once again. Her hair is still wet, still wrapped up in a fluffy pink robe, and John’s fingers itch to grab, squeeze, possess.

He sees her picking up her phone, staring for a moment before her fingers start typing. John has been anticipating this moment for so long, the time has finally come.

In his chest pocket, his phone buzz silently, the vibration sending excitement in his whole body.

There it is.

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : hello! this is Y/N from the club the other night

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : also that Y/N who returned your super expensive looking coin hehe ;) i hope you didn’t forget about me!

There it fucking is.

John’s lips curl into a small smile. His efforts are finally paying off. 

All he needs to do is to get what’s his.

[theemporium]

[REQUESTS OPEN—based off this request]

[7.3k] the five times your secret relationship with your brother’s best friend was almost exposed to him and the one time it was. 

. 

The first time your brother almost caught you and Sirius, it was a miracle he was as gullible as he was. 

Growing up with a brother like James Potter had its highs and lows. 

The highs: someone who loved you unconditionally, who was there for you regardless of your mistakes and flaws, who had your back even if the whole world was against you because that was just how he loved. 

The lows: he was an overbearing, overprotective helicopter busybody who seemed to make it his goal to make sure you didn’t have a life. Well, not really but his interference sure did make it difficult to have any sort of social life without him getting involved.

A keen example of such would be your dating life. 

Being just under a year younger than him, you didn’t enrol in Hogwarts until the following year where you were sorted into Slytherin—much to your brother’s dismay. But it seemed like a blessing in disguise when you realised it was the one way you were able to escape him and his domineering ways. Despite all his weaselling and bribing, even James Potter couldn’t get loyal spies in Slytherin. 

However, the different houses only saved you from so much and it seemed like James had made it his mission for every boy in the school vicinity to know you were off-limits. He didn’t outwardly state it—he would never do something so brash and obvious to the world that your mother would hear about it—but he would do a damn good job of showing it. 

The poor bloke who tried to give you a Valentine’s Day card in second year was the unfortunate victim, with his walk of shame to the infirmary to visit Madam Pomfrey. It only got worse the older you got. Dances and balls and Hogsmeade dates passed and James scared away any possible prospect you laid your eyes on. 

However, what James would have never expected was for it to be none other than one of his best friends to be the one to make a move on his little sister. 

And he definitely wouldn’t have expected you to go for Sirius out of the bunch. 

“Who are you and what have you done to the real Sirius Black?” you remarked with a faux scandalised look on your face as the boy tugged you, one hand intertwined with yours whilst the other moved to wave his wand at the set up he had created. 

“You should know by now that I’m a hopeless romantic, love,” Sirius grinned in response, a smile that was nothing but boyish and wild. 

You snorted. “You’re only romantic when you want something, Black.”

He looked back at you, dark eyes glimmering with pure mischief. “Maybe all I want is a day to spend with my girl.” 

You would be lying if you said your heart didn’t swoon a little at the sight in front of you. The torn piece of parchment had been tucked into one of your textbooks, found yesterday morning during your potions class. The familiar scribble and small heart signed at the bottom made it clear enough who the message was from. 

But you didn’t think Sirius’ desire to meet on a Friday evening after classes would have anything to do with a romantic picnic setup out by the lake. 

Your gaze moved over the setup: the large picnic blanket, pillows and throws spread across the surface and the basket lying in the middle with a bottle of wine (that you were sure he somehow smuggled in) popping out one side of it. 

“You like it?” he asked, though the boy sounded awfully smug like he knew you liked it.

“You’re pretty extraordinary when you try, Black,” you mused, enjoying the way he tugged you closer until your back was pressed against his chest. You leaned back into his embrace, nuzzled against him as his arms tightened around you. “Why the lake?”

“Because it’s a romantic spot.” 

You raised your brows. “And the real reason?”

You could feel his grin against your skin as he leaned down to kiss under your jaw. “Maybe I wanted to take a swim with my girl, is that such a crime?”

“I don’t have a costume with me,” you told him with a knowing sigh.

“Guess we are just gonna have to go naked, love,” he whispered, nipping your ear before guiding you towards the blanket. 

You were already making yourself comfortable on the blanket as you began to pull at the tie around your neck, unbuttoning the top buttons of your shirt and shedding the robes that had felt heavy all day. You sighed, kicking your shoes off and leaning back against the blanket as you enjoyed the soft breeze that came with the warming, spring weather. 

“M’lady,” he handed you a glass of wine, the giddiness radiating off him only infectious as you took the glass along with one of the chocolate strawberries he had laid out. 

“It feels weird,” you murmured as you took a bite, tongue darting out to catch the strawberry juices dribbling down your chin.

Sirius raised a brow. “What does?”

“Seeing you be a normal boyfriend,” you said.

He frowned. “I’m not a normal boyfriend?”

“Sirius,” you snorted and shook your head. “You snuck into my room—still as a dog, may I add—to cuddle with me because you were lonely.”

“I missed you,” he shrugged.

“We weren’t dating yet,” you added. 

“I had a shy time admitting my feelings,” he retorted, lifting his chin though you could see the hints of a smile growing on his face. “Plus, you always had a soft spot for me when I was a dog.” 

“Except when you pissed on my bag,” you grumbled.

“You kept reading, it was offensive.”

“To who?” 

“My ego, love. I was sitting next to you all day and you just kept reading,” Sirius huffed, leaning back on his elbows as he took in the sight of you. It wasn’t often you both could share moments like this, out in broad daylight—even if you were far away from the castle—just enjoying each other’s presence and nothing else to distract you. 

Sirius Black didn’t think he could ever love silence so much until he shared it with you.

“Your ego is coping just fine,” you assured him, glancing down at the boy who was already staring at you. 

“I preferred it when you’d blush and get all flustered around me,” he muttered. “Now you just bully me.” 

“It turns you on,” you remarked with a grin. 

“Nah, that’s just you, love,” he bit back. “But I do miss how cute you used to blush when you were crushing on me—”

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t have a crush on you!” 

“You practically ogled me all last summer!” he barked out a laugh. 

“Maybe I was looking at Remus,” you teased. 

His eyes narrowed. “Low blow, darling.” 

“Yeah but you like me anyways,” you murmured as you leaned down to press your lips against his. One of his hands slid around your neck, keeping you in his embrace longer than you intended. 

“I’m not finished,” his voice was a little whiny when you pulled away. 

“Five minutes and then I’m all yours, Black,” you assured him as you slid your shoes back on, heading towards the wooded shrubbery. “It’s your fault you dragged me straight out here before warning me we were going somewhere with no toilets.” 

“The ice cream would’ve melted,” he pointed out, a boyish grin on his face as you shot him a look that told him you knew he placed a cooling charm on the basket. 

You shook your head. “You truly are a romantic, Sirius Black.” 

“Only for you, darling,” he grinned as he watched you disappear into the overgrown bushes and trees. 

Sirius leaned back on the blanket, hands tucked under his head as he laid there quite content to just count the passing seconds until you returned as he aimlessly hummed some muggle tune he heard during his last visit to muggle London. What he wasn’t expecting was to hear a familiar voice calling out his name for hundreds of feet in the air. 

“OI, PADS! THERE YOU FUCKING ARE!” 

It wasn’t easy to make Sirius Black feel fear, but seeing your brother descend from the sky on a broomstick with an unreadable expression on his face came pretty damn close. 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you—” James paused, both feet now on the grass and his eyes now focused on the sight in front of him: Sirius sprawled on a tartan blanket with a picket basket and two wine glasses beside him. “—and clearly you’ve been preoccupied.” 

Sirius cleared his throat. “Why were you looking for me?”

“I wanted to see if you wanted to get in some laps before dinner,” James said, a grin breaking out on his face. “You didn’t tell me you had a date tonight.” 

“I didn’t? Must have slipped my mind,” he laughed off, waving his hand dismissively but he should have known that would not be enough for the boy.

“Who is she?” James asked, eyes glimmering in interest. “Or he? Is it that bloke from—”

“It’s none of your business, Prongs,” Sirius interrupted, knowing the seconds were ticking down until you popped out of the bushes and straight into the eyeline of your brother.

James’ eyes narrowed. “Since when have you ever not made it my business? I know more about you than I care to admit, mate.” 

“Consider this me setting boundaries now!” 

“You’re being weird,” his friend muttered with a small frown. “But fine. Be dodgy. You’ll probably tell me when you end up getting your ass bitten by the squid like the last time you tried hooking up with a girl in the lake.” 

Sirius scoffed. “That never happened!” 

“But I sure like telling people it did!” James retorted, his legs kicking off the ground and his broomstick flying through the air before Sirius could even think about standing up. 

Sirius watched as your brother’s figure disappeared as he flew beyond the castle, most likely heading towards the quidditch pitch like he said he was. But he didn’t tear his eyes away until he knew for sure James was nowhere nearby and then—only then—did he let out a shaky breath. 

“That was close.” 

His head snapped around as he watched you step out of the shrubbery, giving him a slightly strained smile as he tugged you down onto his lap. 

“You heard him?” 

“I could hear him from a mile away,” you snorted in amusement. “He’s gonna find out one day.” 

“Do you want to tell him?” Sirius asked cautiously, because truthfully speaking whatever you wanted the boy was willing to give you. 

“Not yet,” you murmured, shaking your head. “I wanna enjoy you for myself for a little while longer.” 

He grinned. “Well, how can I say no to that?” 

…

The second time James almost caught you was purely Sirius’ fault—or at least, that’s what you say. He would disagree. 

Assignments and essays were starting to pile up, and between quidditch practice and sneaking around to meet with your boyfriend, you hadn’t devoted near enough time to get your work done. That was why you had decided to spend your weekend in the library—and that was why you had given Sirius a simple rule. 

Don’t distract me. 

A simple rule. A simple, simple command. Something he should’ve been able to follow for the weekend. 

So, of course, in true Sirius Black fashion, he broke the one rule you set. 

In his defence, he lasted a lot longer than you expected. It was Sunday afternoon when he finally sauntered into the library, darting through the aisles of books and lingering students before he made his way towards the secluded table you had set yourself up on. 

“The bookworm look is kinda hot,” he remarked as he sat himself on the table, just narrowly missing the parchment you had already scribbled your herbology assignment on. 

“Watch it,” you muttered, eyebrows furrowed together in concentration. 

There was a small moment of silence before your head snapped up, staring at the boy sitting in front of you with wide eyes. 

“What are you doing here?” you whisper-yelled, unable to help yourself from glancing around to see if any lingering students this far back in the library had spotted you both yet. 

“You know, it’s this funny little thing called missing my girlfriend—” 

“I’m serious,” you interrupted. 

Sirius couldn’t help but grin. “So am I.” 

You shot the boy a look. 

“Hey, sorry, sorry,” he murmured and raised his hands in mock surrender. “But I did miss you. I haven’t heard from you all weekend, I was worried. Just wanted to make sure my girl was alive.” 

Your face softened. “Don’t start making me swoon when I’m meant to be mad at you, Black.” 

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Is it working?” 

“Yes,” you said with a heavy sigh. “But I really have to finish this assignment.” 

“Later,” he waved off. “We still have a week.” 

“It’s due in two days, love,” you murmured and watched the boy’s eyes widen. 

“Huh,” he muttered before he shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll pull something out of my ass in time.” 

“You stress me out,” you shook your head. 

“But you still keep me around,” Sirius mused as he began to lean down, his eyes locked on your lips and the itching urge to grab your face and kiss you was getting unbearable. It had been too long since he kissed you. 

Sirius was mere inches away from your face when a voice sounded behind you. 

“Pads?” 

Both of your heads swivelled around to find James standing there, eyebrows furrowed together and a piece of folded parchment in hand. 

“Hey,” Sirius sang, clearing his throat a little as he quickly shifted back. 

“Hey,” James repeated, looking between you and his best friend. “What’s going on here?” 

“Take a guess,” you deadpanned as you nodded towards the parchment, quills and ink pots sprawled over the large wooden table. 

His eyes moved to Sirius. “And you?”

“I was looking for Moony,” the lie slipped past his lips easily, you would’ve believed him yourself if it weren’t for the fact he had his nose brushing against yours less than a minute ago. 

“Right but Moony is doing prefect rounds with Lily,” James muttered. 

Sirius blinked. “Oh yeah! So he is. Must’ve slipped my mind. 

“And you didn’t think to use this?” 

His eyes fell to the parchment in his hand, knowing full well what it was. Sirius cleared his throat again and smiled, “I was in a rush, mate, must’ve forgot about it.” 

“Right,” James repeated, something different in his voice. 

“Can you both fuck off now? It’s bad enough I had one idiot bothering me before but I need you both,” you piped in, keeping your voice utterly bored as you spoke. Though the annoyance wasn’t totally a lie, you did really need to write your essay. 

Whatever James heard in your voice seemed to work as the boy only grinned at you. “I think we make fetching company, don’t you, Pads?”

“I agree, Prongs,” Sirius grinned as he turned to you, ruffling your hair as you tried to bat his hand away. “That’s what I was telling little Potter here. Everyone thinks Moony is the brains in the group, but it’s all a lie.” 

“Sure,” you snorted before giving him a shove so he slid off the table. “Off you shoo now, go find Moony.” 

“Hey,” James piped jokingly, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “Our Moony, only we get to call him that.” 

“Remus lets me,” you retorted. 

“Whatever,” your brother grumbled before throwing his arm over Sirius’ shoulders. “We have things to do. Business to attend to.” 

“Whatever prank it is, just warn me in advance please. I don’t need permanent pink hair again.” 

Both boys just grinned. “Now where’s the fun in that, dear sister?”

…

The third time your brother almost caught you and Sirius had to be the worst situation of the lot. 

Sirius hadn’t intended to go home that weekend, it would never be a willing journey back to the one place he felt constricted and restrained and under a constant microscope of judgement. However, when he received the owl with his family’s crest on the envelope, he felt a stronger urge to open it rather than just throw it into a fire like he usually did. 

Whatever the letter contained, it was enough to convince Sirius to go home on Friday after his classes ended. 

He didn’t want to talk about it when he came back, and you didn’t want to push him when you saw just how drained and exhausted the boy was. He looked like a shell of himself, as he usually did whenever he spent more than five minutes in his mother’s presence. 

You hadn’t been able to get him alone since he came back, the boys hounding and cheering him over the last few days until he was starting to look like the Sirius you knew. 

Yet, the perfect opportunity arose on a Wednesday evening and you snatched it, because you were selfish and needy and wanted to be alone with your boyfriend after you had spent the last three days pretending to only be causally concerned. 

“Fuck,” Sirius moaned, his words vibrating and humming across your bare skin. “That feels good.” 

“Good to know you like scratches behind your ear as a dog and a human,” you mused as you dragged your fingers through his hair, nails scratching against his scaly until he was practically purring. 

The prefect bathrooms were completely empty of a Wednesday evening—information you came aware of after eavesdropping on a conversation between Remus and Lily where the latter mentioned the weekly prefect meeting would be longer this week than usual—and who were you but a Potter using the resources around you? It was practically screaming your name.

Sirius hadn’t even questioned you as you dragged him through the corridors, marauders map in hand so you could avoid Filch and any other teachers who could catch you. You had barely made it through the doors before Sirius began tugging at your clothes, eager and impatient to get them off. 

However, as bouncy and eager as the boy was, he practically melted under your touch when you sank into the hot water, scented bubbles making it easy to just sit back and close your eyes for a moment longer than you intended. It didn’t take long for him to tug you onto his lap, his arms locked around you and his head resting against your chest as lazy murmurs and hushed whispers were shared between you. 

“I am a simple wizard to please,” Sirius retorted which caused you to snort. You could feel his smile against your skin. 

“There is nothing simple about you, Sirius Black,” you murmured honestly and watched as he lifted his head, eyes clouded with an emotion you couldn’t quite read.

“Does that bother you?” he asked, voice thick with doubt.

“Not at all,” you answered honestly as you took his face in your hands.

His eyes softened. “You mean it?” 

“I mean it, baby,” you smiled, leaning down to press a kiss against his lips. 

SLAM!

“PADS, WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN, MATE?” 

It was pure instinct and fast reflexes that had Sirius’ body moving before he even processed his best friend’s voice bouncing off the walls of the prefect bathroom. And it just so happened that his instinct was to dunk your head under the water before James rounded the corner towards the baths and saw you situated on his lap.

“James!” Sirius yelled, wincing a little at the volume of his voice but the other boy didn’t even seem to blink an eye at it.

“Listen, I was thinking we could—” 

But Sirius couldn’t focus on a word his friend was saying. Not with you underneath the water, pinching at his thigh and most likely holding your breath by your own account since there wasn’t enough time to mutter a spell before your brother barged through the doors. Not when whatever James was suggesting was the last thing on his mind when he could be spending time with you. 

It was his justification for the lie that slipped past his lips. 

“Hey Prongs, did you ever find Evans? She was looking for you earlier.” 

James’ ramble came to a quick stop, his cheeks flushing a little. “She was?” 

“Yeah,” Sirius nodded. “She said it was urgent. Something about Hogsmeade or—” 

James didn’t even bother with rambling off an excuse before he was already making his way towards the door. “I have to go! I’ll see you later, mate!” 

The second he was out of sight, Sirius tugged you above the surface as you broke through, gasping and coughing a little as you sent your boyfriend a glare. 

“Really?” you deadpanned. 

“I panicked!” he sputtered out, a sheepish expression on his face. “I’m sorry, love.” 

“Next time, I’m dunking you under,” you grumbled under your breath as Sirius pulled you closer, pressing a line of kisses along your neck and jaw, all over your face until he reached your lips. 

“You can do whatever you want to me, love,” Sirius murmured against your lips. 

“I hate how hard you make it for me to be mad at you,” you sighed. 

“Ah, there’s still resistance? I guess I gotta use more convincing tactics,” the boy grinned as your cheeks flushed in response. 

Sirius made a mental note to apologise to Lily later. If he remembered. 

…

The fourth time your brother almost caught you two was pure, dumb, sheer luck that James wasn’t the first person to walk through the door. 

At this point, you were firmly under the impression the universe had it out for you and Sirius. There were far too many close calls over the weeks that had you on edge when all you wanted was to be with your boyfriend without your overbearing brother hovering around the corner. 

And the perfect opportunity seemed to fall straight in your lap when Lily dared James that he couldn’t last a weekend muggle camping. 

Of course, in true James Potter fashion, the date only grew more exaggerated and everyone began to get roped into the trip until it was a full-on getaway for the whole group. 

Which meant it was a perfect opportunity for you and Sirius to hang out freely for the weekend without fear of your brother popping out of nowhere. 

“This is nice,” you murmured, face nuzzled against his chest and eyes closed in content. 

“The silence?” 

“Being able to cuddle with you on an actual bed,” you answered, lips tugging upwards when you felt his chest shaking with his laughter. 

“Mark my words, love,” he hummed, arms squeezing around you tighter. “One day we will be able to do this every day.” 

“Every day?” you mused. “Plan on keeping me around that long?” 

“Not even gonna let you go when you’re sick of me,” he responded, his lips pressed against the top of your head. 

It had been easy to convince the group you couldn’t tag along for the weekend getaway, throwing in that you had assignments and tests and you wanted the extra time to study between quidditch practice and games. 

Sirius, on the other hand, had a little more difficulty. There was no excuse that would’ve worked for James Potter since he was a relentless, persuading little shit. So, he had to go to extremes and it was a horrible hour of pain and nausea induced from the potion that convinced James he truly was too sick to go. 

It had worn off less than ten minutes after the group left, and it had taken less than five minutes after that for Sirius to drag you up to his dorm and pull you against his chest. 

“Can we just stay like this all weekend?” you asked, words slightly muffled as you pressed your nose against the soft fabric of his shirt, his smell overwhelming you in the best way possible—pine, cigarettes and a hint of something sweet, like vanilla. 

“If you leave this bed for more than five minutes, I would consider it a failure of a perfect weekend,” he retorted and you didn’t even need to lift your head to know he was smirking. 

“Five minutes seems dramatic to—“ 

“It’s fine, James! I can grab the bag! It’s just one bag!” 

“Lily, darling, it could be—“ 

“It’s a bag of clothes, not bricks. Calm down!” 

You and Sirius stared at the door, eyes wide as the footsteps approaching got closer and you barely had a chance to even react before the door swung open. You braced yourself to see your brother on the other side, to see you both cuddled up on Sirius’ bed less than an hour since they had left. 

You braced yourself for your secret to be exposed. 

But when the door hit the wall, it wasn’t James’ shocked face you saw—it was Lily’s. 

You blinked at her. 

She blinked at the two of you. 

There was a pause as you all remained where you were, frozen in place as she took in the sight in front of her. 

“I forgot the bag, it’s only fair that I hold it, darling.” 

Lily’s lips parted. “What the—“ 

“Lils? Is everything okay?” 

Your face must’ve shown your fear because she paused before answering, eyebrows furrowed together as she mouthed a ‘what?’ at you. But it took less than five seconds of aggressive, incoherent hand gestures before you finally hissed out. 

“James doesn’t know!” 

Lily’s eyes widened as the realisation hit her too, with your brother now just down the hall and seconds away from entering the dorm room himself. She threw her hands in the air, glancing around the room before she pointed vigorously at a bundle of fabric lying on the trunk at the end of one of the other beds. 

It was a comically short time between you diving off the bed, grabbing the invisibility cloak and scrambling to throw it over your head to Lily turning on her heel, grabbing James’ face before he could even walk into the room and kissing him on the lips. 

Sirius let out a garbled noise of surprise, blinking and gaping at the sight of his two friends kissing that it completely washed away the dread he felt moments ago from almost being caught. 

When Lily eventually pulled away, she looked momentarily shocked at her own decision before clearing her throat. 

“You can get the bag,” she said in a slightly high-pitched voice, patting his chest awkwardly a few times before she slid past him and quickly rushed out the room. 

James stood there, staring blankly ahead with red cheeks and parted lips. 

“You good there, mate?” Sirius asked cautiously, trying to keep his eyes on his friend rather than the spot where you were hidden under the cloak. 

“Yeah,” James muttered airily as he moved to grab the duffel bag lying a few feet away, his eyebrows furrowed together slightly before he walked out the room, still in a daze as he did so. 

It was a solid few minutes before you finally shrugged the cloak off, looking at the doorway where Lily and James stood moments ago before turning to Sirius who looked just as shocked as you still felt. 

“So…” you murmured, letting out a heavy breath. “Lily knows.” 

“I think that’s the last thing on Lily’s mind right now,” Sirius commented. 

“I’m almost jealous I’m not gonna be on that camping trip now,” you said honestly, thinking of a million different ways you could thank your friend for helping you hide your secret. 

“I’m sure Prongs won’t shut up about it when he’s back.” 

“Merlin save us now.” 

…

The fifth time your brother almost caught you was most definitely your fault. It pained you to admit so, but the blame was firmly placed on your shoulders. 

From the second you and James picked up broomsticks at the ages of four and five, Euphemia Potter had taken it upon herself to set up boundaries so her two highly competitive kids wouldn’t fall into the habit of bad sportsmanship and petty sibling arguments. 

And in the grand scheme of things, it worked. 

No matter what, no matter the outcome or the plays or the results, you and James had a tradition after every quidditch game you played against each other to keep a strong hold on that tradition your mother set up for you when you were younger. 

Today’s game would be no different. The game would play, one team would win and then you’d meet James outside the changing rooms to hangout with ice cream and cookies and whatever sweet treats you could get your hands on. 

It had been the tradition for years, and it continued when James became Gryffindor’s star chaser and you became one of Slytherin’s best beaters.

But this game was a little different, not that your brother or anyone else in the school knew. It was different because you were more restless than usual before the game. It was different because what was usually a close game ended up with Slytherin a good hundred odd points clear with their win. It was different because the second the Slytherin changing room was empty, you had dragged Sirius inside without a single care about how risky you were being. 

You were riding the high of the victory, body buzzing with need and adrenaline and sinking your fingers into your boyfriend’s hair whilst he pressed you up against the lockers and kissed you senseless seemed like a pretty damn good way to celebrate your win. 

“I shouldn’t be this attracted to you when you just humiliated my house out there,” he muttered against your neck, his hands pulling at the quidditch leathers you wore in desperate need to feel your skin against his. “Not very loyal of me, or redeeming for my house spirit.”

“Or maybe you’re seeing that green is much better,” you teased, tugging his hair until his eyes found yours again. “I think you’d look pretty hot with my name on your back, Black.” 

“Fuck house loyalty, boyfriend brownie points are more important,” Sirius grumbled before kissing you, hands squeezing your thighs when you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

Your hands were already making move of undoing the buttons of his shirt, more than ready to tear his clothes off and have him fuck you up against the lockers just like you had been fantasising about the second you saw his smug face on the Gryffindor bleachers with red and gold stripes painted on his cheeks. You wanted to make him moan and whine and whimper in the Slytherin changing rooms like you owned him (because truthfully, you did and he would have been more than happy to play along). 

But that finicky little tradition came to bite you in the ass at the worst possible time. 

Three knocks rapped against the changing room door before you heard your brother’s voice on the other side, calling out your name and asking if you were ready. 

Your eyes widened, your hands on his chest as you pushed Sirius away before muttering a string of curses under your breath. You didn’t give him a chance to even start panicking before you were shoving him into a locker, slamming the door shut and pressing your back against it before you called James in. 

“Congratulations,” James greeted, walking in with a softer smile on his face than most people were used to. “You guys killed it out there today.”

You raised your brows. “You’re not salty?” 

“Only a little,” James shrugged with a dramatic sigh. “Guess I’ll just have to thrash your ass next time.” 

You snorted. “Good luck doing that.” 

“You don’t think I will?” James questioned, that competitive spark in his chest flaring a little. And you knew because you were just the same,

“Oh I know—” 

ACHOO!

James frowned, eyebrows furrowed as he glanced around the changing rooms. “Is there someone else in here?”

You flashed him a confused look, pretending your head wasn’t beating a million miles an hour. “Hm?”

“Someone just sneezed,” James said. 

“Did they? I didn’t hear anything,” you shrugged.

His frown deepened. “It sounded like it was—”

“I think the loss is getting to your head, making you hallucinate nonsense,” you teased your older brother before you waved him off. “Let me just change out of my jersey and I’ll meet you outside in five minutes.”

His confusion was still evident on his face as he nodded, muttering a response before he glanced around the changing room one more time. He shook his head, letting out a sigh before he left the room, muttering away to himself as he did so.

When the changing room doors swung closer, you yanked the locker door open and watched your boyfriend stumble out of the small space. 

“Really?”

“I can’t control my allergies, love!”

“Do you think he bought it?” 

Sirius snorted. “With your acting skills? Probably not, sweetheart. But you better get going before he gets even more suspicious.” 

You groaned but didn’t disagree, making quick move to change out of your quidditch gear—slapping Sirius’ hands away as you did so—before you rushed out to complete the tradition with your brother like you planned. 

Sirius snuck out the Slytherin changing rooms ten minutes later, much to the amusement of the students who did spot him.

…

The one time James finally caught you and Sirius hadn’t played out the way you expected, though that was mostly due to the fact he didn’t really catch you at all. 

It was a simple miscount and muscle memory that led to your relationship with your brother’s best friend being exposed. 

The Potter Manor was not an unusual place for everyone to convene during the summer months. Euphemia and Fleamont Potter adored their children’s friends like they were an extension of their family, and they loved to have the manor bustling with rambunctious teens during the hot, summer days. It made their house feel more like a home. 

This year was no different as one by one, each of their friends arrived at the manor to enjoy blissful weeks of freedom and stress-free days before they returned to Hogwarts in the autumn. Sirius was no different, more than eager to get away from his family home and live under a roof he didn’t fear to be himself. 

And as much as he adored James and his other friends, he was eager to see you too. It had been weeks of letters and secret calls through the fireplace that had got you both through the weeks apart until he finally visited. He wanted to see his girl but it was truly the universe’s irony that the only time he would get to see you was when everyone you both cared about seemed to be living in the same house.

The first few days had been chaotic in themselves, everyone simply eager to catch up and hang out and sit out in the large garden behind the Potter Manor until the sun had firmly set and Euphemia was calling them all in.

But Sirius was itching to have you in his arms again and you were just the same. So when you had slipped him a note, a number scrawled on the paper of how many doors down your room was from his, he was eager to sneak out that night. 

The manor was silent, barely a noise sounded through the whole house when Sirius slid out of his room just minutes after two in the morning. He whispered a soft ‘lumos’ under his breath as he used his wand as a guide, making his way down the hallway with soft steps. He counted each door as he passed them, stopping short when he reached yours. 

He quickly slipped his wand into the back of his sweatpants, quietly turning the door handle and opening the door enough for him to slide inside before closing it behind him. The room was dark and even when he squinted, it was difficult to make out anything beyond the bed a few feet away from him with a trunk at the foot and a broom sprawled across the top. He noted the dresser and wardrobe on the other side of the room, but his attention was focused on the lump lying under the sheets. 

Sirius smiled to himself as he made his way towards the bed, knees pressed against the mattress as he leaned over to softly shake you. “Hey baby.” 

“Pads?” 

“James?!” 

There was a moment of silence before he heard the noise of sheets rustling and a small click before a bedside lamp was turned on, and he was met with the very confused face of his best friend staring back at him. 

“Mate, did you just call me baby?” 

“Uh,” Sirius’s lips parted as he gaped at his friend, mind reeling with the stupid mistake he had just made. “I didn’t realise this was your room, I thought it was—”

James’ eyebrows furrowed together. “Thought it was who’s?” 

“Mine!” he blurted out. 

James blinked sleepily in response, trying to string everything together. “What? Why are you acting so weird?” 

“I’m not acting weird, Prongs, you are,” the boy scoffed, clearing his throat a little before he took a few steps away from the bed. “Anyways, I’m gonna go to bed—”

“Woah, woah,” James grumbled as he pushed the sheets off his body, moving to stand up too. “You can’t sneak around, call someone baby and not tell me what the fuck is going on? Are you seeing someone in the group?” 

Sirius was silent.

James’ eyes widened in delight. “And you didn’t tell me? Dude, what the hell? Who is it? Does anyone else know? Is it Marlene? Mary? Dorcas? Fuck, is it Moony? You two always were kinda flirty—” 

Sirius remained silent.

“C’mon, Pads, you gotta tell me!” James whined, though there was an eager smile on his face. “The only other people on this floor beside me and you is Evans but there’s no way she’d go for you, and—”

Sirius flashed a sheepish smile.

“Sirius,” James said in a low voice. “Who’s room were you sneaking into?” 

“Mate—”

“THAT’S MY LITTLE SISTER, SIRIUS!” 

Sirius winced a little, the words getting stuck in his throat as he extended his hands out towards his friend. But James didn’t give him a chance to explain himself before he pinched Sirius by his ear, dragging him out the room to the one next over and barged inside without even bothering to knock.

You shot up from the bed, your lips parting when you saw your brother burst through the door with Sirius by his side. 

“James—”

“Really? My best friend? You’re trying to steal my best friend from me?” James exclaimed, not a single care in the world at the fact it was three in the morning. 

You let out a shaky laugh. “That is not the case—” 

“And you!” James continued, turning to look at his friend who was trying to soothe his pinched earlobe with a small frown. “How could you, mate! My little sister! You know she isn’t allowed to date until she’s thirty-two!” 

You scoffed. “Nobody agreed to that rule.”

“I did!” James retorted, his voice a little high pitched as he glanced between you both. “Merlin, I can’t believe this betrayal.” 

“James—” you started but the boy didn’t let you continue. 

“A betrayal I say!” 

You rolled your eyes, fingertips pressed against your temple as your brother continued to theatrically throw his arms in the air, truly living up to his name as the most dramatic Potter sibling.

“And I thought he was bad when Mum told him she was making Shepherd's pie instead of Sunday roast last week,” you grumbled to yourself, shoving your duvet off before you slid off the bed and moved closer to both boys. “Jamie, it’s really not that big of a deal—”

“He’s Sirius Black!” James spluttered like that was a solid enough reason. 

“Yeah, and I love her, mate!” Sirius yelled back. 

There was a pause as both Potter siblings stared at the boy with very different expressions, making Sirius squirm a little under the intense focus. 

“You love her?”

“You love me?”

“Yeah, well,” Sirius cleared his throat, his hand scratching the nape of his neck nervously. “This wasn’t exactly the way I wanted to say it, y’know?”

Your eyes softened, pressing your lips to hold back the grin that wanted to spread over your face. “I love you too, baby.” 

“Bleh,” James gagged. “I don’t know if this is cute or disgusting.” There was a pause. “Yeah, no, definitely disgusting.” 

“Shut up,” you grumbled and reached over to whack his arm. “Lily thinks we’re cute.” 

“EVANS KNOWS?!” 

“What in the bloody hell is going on in here?” A voice sounded from the doorway, three heads turning around to see Euphemia Potter standing there in her dressing gown and slippers, hands on her hips. “It’s three in the morning, why aren’t any of you asleep?” 

“They are trying to sleep together!” James blurted out as he pointed between you and Sirius. 

“James!”

“Prongs!”

Euphemia glanced between the three of you, looking unamused. “Yes, honey, that’s what tends to happen when you’re in a relationship.” 

James blinked. “You knew too?”

“Your father and I had our suspicions,” Euphemia stated with a shrug, though there was a knowing smile on her lips. “I won the bet. Your father thought your sister would have gone for Remus. He clearly never saw the way Sirius looked at her, even when you were all younger.” 

Sirius’ cheeks burned but he didn’t deny it. 

“I–” James started again but his mother shot him a look.

“Let your sister live, James,” she said in a pointed tone. “I am sure your sister knows how to be safe and use a contraceptive spell–”

“Mum!” you blanched, arms wrapped around yourself in hopes you could curl into your own body to avoid the embarrassment of the situation. 

“Oh stop being such a prude!” Euphemia waved you off before nodding her head towards her eldest. “Leave them alone, you can wail about it in the morning at a more reasonable hour.” 

“But—”

“Bed, James. Don’t make me repeat myself,” she said and watched as the boy shuffled out the room, heading back towards his room. She then turned to look at you and Sirius, a warm smile on her face. “Whilst I am happy for you both, I don’t want grandchildren just yet.”

Sirius coughed to cover his laugh. “Of course not, ma’am.” 

“Don’t be silly, Sirius, you’re a part of the family more so than before now,” Euphemia grinned as she reached for the door handle, ready to close the door behind her. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t shatter you if you hurt my little girl.” 

“I would expect nothing less from you,” Sirius admitted with a nod. 

“Goodnight. Don’t be too loud, you may scar your brother.”

“Mum!” you huffed, listening to her laugh cheerily as she headed back down the hallway towards her own room. You then turned to Sirius who was already looking at you, something unreadable on his face. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag, huh?” 

“You really love me back?” he asked in a soft voice, his hands finding your waist like magnets. 

“Of course I do,” you answered with a smile, one hand pressed over his racing heart and the other cupping his face. “You’ve weasled your way into my heart, Black.” 

“I intend to stay there for a while,” he told you.

“Good. You can start by being the big spoon.” 

Sirius snorted. “Always, love.”

. 

[tsukimefuku]

in another life :: higuruma hiromi

summary: the day before keita's trial, you and higuruma meet by chance in a small cafe.

cw: angst, canon compliant.

wc: 1k

notes etc.: I had the big sad and decided to turn it into everyone else's problem too. sorry, have my angst though.

In another life, I would've loved doing laundry and taxes with you

Higuruma wasn’t one to stare, but the moment you looked back at him sitting by the counter and smiled, he realized his gaze must have lingered on you longer than he anticipated. He quickly averted his eyes elsewhere, fumbling around with Keita's case files on the table before taking the cup of coffee and giving it a big gulp. He felt somewhat silly to be gazing at a random woman in a random cafe one day before Keita’s second trial, but oh well, here he was.

You happened to be at Morioka for the past week, still working as an underground healer using your RCT, glad enough that Jujutsu High hadn't caught up with you. This was your last day in Morioka before leaving for Hokkaido, for yet another job, and your mind wandered around until you noticed this man looking at you. 

You saw him when he came inside the cafe, carrying a big briefcase, some folders with what seemed to be piles of papers inside, and the most tired, exhausted face you had ever seen on anyone. He had a black suit on, wore a black tie and had a tiny pin on his lapel. The man, however, didn’t seem to notice you eyeing him as he put down his order for a single cup of black coffee before taking himself and his papers to a table in the farthest corner of the place.

Maybe it was the fact that you'd be leaving the city in a few hours, or that you instantly found him to be charming in an understated way, but you grabbed your own latte and walked towards the man, not failing to notice there was an empty seat in front of him.

”Hey,” you called, pulling his eyes towards you, “is this seat taken?”

Higuruma was surprised, confused, and wondered if maybe you wanted to take the chair to use on another table.

”No, it’s not.”

”Great. Can I sit with you?”

Now he felt even more confused.

”Why?”

You chuckled a little, and cocked your head to the side.

”Because I saw you staring at me, and would like to tell you I was staring at you too when you walked in. That should be a nice conversation starter.”

Oh, caught red handed, he thought to himself. That’s what you get from getting distracted instead of working.

”I...” he began, wanting to say he was about to start working, that he was busy and couldn’t possibly entertain any type of company, but out of his mouth simply came “yes, you can.”

Satisfied, you pulled the chair and sat with him, not placing your beverage on the table to avoid the risk of an accident involving your coffee and his seemingly very important papers.

”So, change of scenery? Came to work at a cafe for the day?” you asked, leaning back.

He seemed out of his element - something he probably was. Higuruma couldn’t recall the last time he went on a date sandwiched in between his gruesome working hours. Having an attractive woman sitting with him and asking him questions was definitely not on the list of things that might happen when he stepped foot out of his apartment that morning.

”Yes, I was feeling trapped inside the office,” Higuruma mindlessly replied, putting his papers down for a moment, “I’m concerned about this trial tomorrow and wanted to read these files again.”

Then, it clicked. The suit, the pin - that now, up close, was clearly a sunflower - and the put upon face.

”Oh, you’re a lawyer?”

He nodded. “You?”

”I’m a nurse,” was the trained answer you already had for when people asked you that. “What about this case is making you nervous?”

You had no idea why you were asking this man so many questions, but he seemed unendingly interesting to you. Something about him just drew you in.

He scratched the bridge of his hooked nose for a second, apparently pondering on his next words.

”I’m afraid my client, who was relieved to be acquitted the first time around, might end up getting crushed by the cogs of the criminal justice system.”

”Oh, so you’re a criminal lawyer?”

”Yes.”

”Wow. That’s...”

Crazy in a country with such a high conviction rate. Delusional. Dangerous.

”Admirable.”

He was taken aback, and his eyes widened a little as you both locked gaze.

”I mean, Japan has a very high conviction rate, right? I read it somewhere,” you noted, taking a sip from your latte.

”Yes. 99%, in fact.”

”99%?!” you exclaimed.

He nodded and kept silent, realizing how ludicrous that was. The fact that only 1% of criminally pursued cases ended up in acquittals. After so many years, one can get accustomed to any and every type of absurdity, it seems.

“Why do you do it?” you asked him.

”Because I have a terrible habit of not being able to ignore unfair situations. If I see someone being a victim of injustice, I just have to do something about it.”

“And how has that been working out for you?”

Higuruma thought about it for a moment, yet no words came to him. He could feel himself slipping away, but denied the very notion that working with what made him feel fulfilled was the same thing that was silently chipping away at his soul, one wrongful conviction at a time.

Realizing you might’ve hit a nerve, you thought it’d be better to change the approach, asking, “is your client innocent? The one who’ll be retried tomorrow?”

Higuruma acquiesced. “Yes, yes he is.”

You sighed, and with one big gulp, finished your coffee.

”Life isn’t fair anywhere, but I’m glad there are people like you trying to tip the scales back in place,” you told him, sparing him a warm smile.

He was slightly embarrassed, not knowing how to respond to the compliment.

”And you said you were a nurse, right? Why?”

You sighed and shrugged, “I wish I had the same ‘this is what I’ve always wanted’ drive, but it’s just where life pushed me towards.”

“And why did you wish you had the same drive?”

“Because... I guess, it’s because I only became a nurse after losing everything and everyone I wanted to keep in my life. There was nothing else for me to do.”

This seemed like an oddly intimate conversation to be having with a random stranger, but it felt comforting in a way. His attentive eyes, probably from years of hearing clients crying and pleading, never seemed to look past you. They stated, silently, I’m listening. I see you. 

“I don’t think that’s true,” he noted, being someone able to pry out the truth out of people even when they didn’t realize they were lying - to someone else or to themselves.

”What do you mean?”

”You’re what? In your mid twenties? Early thirties?”

You were confused. “Hm... Yes?” Is this some kind of pick up line?

”You probably had some years to acclimate yourself to that profession. You answered me quickly when I asked, which suggests that you’re accustomed to telling people you’re a nurse for a while now. What I mean to say is that you look at peace with that choice, and I’d guess you haven't tried changing careers or anything of the sort.”

The man really read you like an open book, and you were speechless, widening your eyes a little.

”I’ll take that as a confirmation to what I’ve just said,” he stated, noting your silence.

You scoffed and chuckled a little, realizing that you were now the one figuratively getting surprised with a random person butting themselves in your table. 

“I... I think I do enjoy healing people, even though it takes a toll on me, sometimes.”

Higuruma didn’t notice how his coffee had gone cold by this point, his papers now forgotten as you both talked for a good while.

”What did you mean when you said you lost everything before becoming a nurse?”

Your mouth fell agape, but no words came out. In a second, trying to look elsewhere to mask your uncomfortable feeling, you took a quick look at your watch, realizing that you had been chatting for a very long time. You had to run or you’d miss your train.

“Oh, that’s a conversation for another day, lawyer man, I have a train to catch.”

”Another day, huh?” he inquired, and you smiled, aware that he understood what that meant. 

You definitely wanted to see him again.

You pulled up a paper note, writing your name and number on it. Swiftly, you offered him the paper, and he took it from your hands, reading it.

”Now you have my name and my number. What should I call you?”

”Higuruma Hiromi.”

“It was nice to meet you, Higuruma Hiromi, criminal defense lawyer.”

He was surprised to realize how much he liked hearing his name in your voice. He hadn’t had what felt like genuine conversation for a very long time, and could say he was even pleased you had butt in his work to probe him around with questions.

He felt heard and seen, too.

“I unfortunately really have to go now, I’m leaving for Hokkaido for a few days,” you stated, blushing slightly before proceeding, “but you should give me a call.”

He nodded your way, and for the first time during this entire interaction, actually spared you a smile.

”Okay.”

***

It had been probably hours that Higuruma laid inside this full bathtub reminiscing on the last days of normalcy before his fallout. He suddenly remembered the day prior to Keita’s conviction, and how he met you at that cafe.

It all felt like a faint dream of events that happened years ago, and not something that had taken place only a few weeks prior.

Maybe I should’ve called her. I wonder if she’s safe.

He got the gist of the Culling Games from kogane, especially the fact that the Games didn’t stretch so far as to Hokkaido. Pulling him from apathy, he felt the mildest hint of concern and hope, expecting you’d be actually safe, given you were leaving for Hokkaido that afternoon.

At Hokkaido, you followed the news about the Culling Games, glad you had been out of the ground zero when shit went down. You wondered if the people you met in the past - friends and acquaintances, mostly - were alright, and for a second, the image of that lawyer came into your mind.

You wondered if he was safe too.

Unfortunately, only one of you two would be proven right. 

written by tsukimefuku ㋡ comments and reblogs are appreciated. do not copy, translate or repost. copycatting is for losers.

[show-your-fangs]

lil request of some jealous hotch maybe👉🏻👈🏻 i’m kinda picturing moments aaron getting all jealous and taking the matter in his own hands and teaching reader a lesson🫣😫

this is so fucking good, and coincidentally will be chapter 28 of moments 👀 (it involves a toy, a bed, and a few hours)

so instead please enjoy secret relationship hotch becoming jealous of his baby being hit on by some dude at a bar while the team is out, and then proceeding to finger her under the table

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

Words: 1.8k

CW: 18+, nsfw, mdni.

Tags/warnings: established secret relationship, jealous!hotch, possessiveness, pet names (baby, good girl), sir kink, groping, teasing, dirty talk, fingering (f receiving), exhibitionist kink, public sex, aaron basically fingers you in a booth in a bar.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

Aaron had never been more thankful for the low light of Shaw’s, thankful that the shadows that lingered all around them obscuring his hot, red ears from the agents around him. He wasn’t embarrassed by any means, no, he was livid. 

They were all staring and snickering about you, leaning over the bar as you waited for the drinks they’d all made you go get just so that you’d be forced to talk to the cute guy that had been making eyes at you all night. 

When you’d told them that you hadn’t noticed, they all scoffed and rolled their eyes, telling you that was the reason you were still single. But none of them knew, they couldn’t have, that the reason why you hadn’t seen him staring was because you only cared about one man’s eyes on you – your boss's.

He was rendered completely useless, unable to do anything about him, unable to leap to his feet, stalk across the bar and make him stop talking to you, before swiftly dragging you to the bathroom and fucking you silly until the only thing you could think about was his cock. 

He knew you weren’t doing it maliciously. There wasn’t a single bad bone in your body. It wasn’t your fault that he found you attractive, wasn’t your fault that Emily was determined to get you laid, wasn’t your fault that you were making him so unbelievably jealous that he couldn’t think straight. 

He almost let out a sigh of relief when the bartender slid five drinks on the counter in front of you and you skillfully grabbed all of them in your hands before quickly making your way back to their table. 

“So?” Emily asked the second you put the drinks down, everyone reaching out to grab their glass and the scoop of your flirting.

You shook your head. “Eh, not for me.”

You slid in next to Aaron, uncharacteristically so, and yet it didn’t seem anyone noticed, still too focused on you to notice how Aaron’s body had relaxed beside you. 

“That’s not for you?” Emily shockingly pointed back at the blonde guy at the bar who was now engrossed in conversation with another beautiful woman. 

“Nope,” you simply stated, not giving her anything to continue prying. She scoffed then, unbelieving. 

“Can we go dance now?” Penelope whined again and Morgan immediately began pushing Emily out of the booth so they could get out. 

You took a sip of your drink as you watched them scurry towards the other side of the bar, hand in hand, but not before they dragged Emily and JJ along for the ride. It was just the six of you now, Spencer having left earlier in the night and Rossi not even entertaining the possibility of getting wasted with you on a perfectly fine Friday night. 

“Have fun,” you joked, Emily poking her tongue out at you and you returned the gesture. “Get her to relax a little and leave me alone, JJ!”

Aaron took a swing of the cold beer he’d been nursing since you got here an hour ago, trying to play it as cool as he could, disinterest being what would maintain your relationship private, until you were finally alone.  

He set the glass back down on the table before his hand came down on your thigh, slapping it slightly, the coldness of his hand mixing with the sting on his action. Your gaze snapped to his, shocked, scared, ashamed, while his remained dark, glossy, enraged.

He was jealous, so unbelievably jealous he couldn’t even hide it. Your breathing picked up, your heart practically rattling against your chest, your mouth going dry with anticipation.

“Just out of curiosity,” he whispered, slowly running his hand up towards your heat. “What is your type?”

You slumped back in your seat, back pressed tightly against the plush cushions of the booth, acutely aware of where you were and the fact that your closest friends were dancing just behind you. 

Thankfully you were hidden away, obscured, but there were still a lot of people around, a lot of bodies that could turn to you at any moment. 

“I asked you a question, baby,” he snapped, grip tightening unbelievably close to where you needed him. 

“You,” you swallowed thickly. “You, sir.”

The pockets of haziness, of blurred lines and dark corners were finally working to his advantage as he draped your left leg over his lap, opening you up under the table to gain easier access. 

You couldn’t help but dart your eyes around the room once more, desperate to make sure that no one could see you like this.

“Don’t look at them, look at me,” he commanded and you swiftly obeyed, turning your hazy eyes back on his, the fire burning in them almost mesmerizing, holding you hostage. His hand slid off your leg, swiftly cupping your crotch tightly. “This belongs to me,” he squeezed. “You belong to me,” your eyes were glossy with tears now. “No one gets to touch you, ever, no one gets to flirt with you, no one gets to so much as look at you, do I make myself clear?”

You whimpered pathetically, nodding your head feverishly, and yet it only made him squeeze harder, bordering on painful. Your brows furrowed, confusion at his continued roughness making a single tear fall down your cheek.  

“Apparently I wasn’t clear enough,” he spat, his fingers skillfully pulling your panties to the side. His cold fingers were immediately met with wet warmth, your clit practically on fire as he began to tease it, never touching it long enough for you to feel anything other than frustration.

“No, sir, please,” you sobbed, your hand wrapping around his wrist, but instead of trying to force him off you, you tried to get him to touch you where you wanted him.

“No?” he repeated, incredulous. “You’re not mine?”

His movements stilled then and yet you continued to grind yourself against his palm, against his fingers, against him. Whatever shame, whatever fears you had about getting caught, about someone seeing him touch you seemed to have evaporated as the desire to finally come undone took over.

“Such a greedy girl,” he groaned in your ear. “Even when you’ve been bad and I’m trying to punish you, you still have one thing on your mind.”

His other arm wrapped around your waist, his hand tightly gripping your left hip to pin you back down to the seat and keep you there, unable to move yourself where you desperately needed.

It was like a spell lifted then, your face immediately flushing crimson as you were reminded of where you were and just how exposed you truly were, even in the low light. Your head fell into the crook of his neck, face buried into his shirt in shame. 

Your shame only spurred him on, his movements picking up once more, his fingers running along the entirety of your slit, collecting your slick, making sure to never touch your entrance or clit.

“Next time a guy comes up to you, what are you going to say?” he asked, bitter, condescending, mean. 

You couldn’t breathe much less think about what you wanted to answer, too concerned by trying to act as normal as possible. 

He landed a slap against your clit then, perfectly timed with the music around you, the instrument solo drowning out the sharp sound. You moaned, quickly biting into his suit jacket to further muffle the lewd noises spilling out your mouth. 

He gave you a second to allow the shock to sharpen your senses, his fingers returning to their previous movements casually as he scanned the room, making sure you hadn’t drawn any attention to yourselves. 

“Next time a guy comes up to me,” you managed through ragged breaths, bravely lifting your head so your gaze could meet his. “I’ll tell him I’m not interested.”

“Next time some guy comes up to you,” he seethed in your ear, low and terrifying. “You’re going to tell them your boyfriend doesn’t like to share,” he emphasized his words by finally sinking his fingers into you, coaxing a whimper from your throat. “And they should probably leave you alone before he comes back.”

He curled his fingers upwards, hooking them against the spot deep inside you that always made you come undone in seconds.

“Yes, sir,” you smiled brightly, the fact that he’d called himself your boyfriend fully processing through your fucked out brain. 

“Good girl,” and with that he let loose, his fingers thrashing inside you, not even building up to his big finale by sliding them in and out of you first. 

You held his stare, your mouth opening for silent moans, for restrained whimpers, for jagged breathing. He didn’t stop, couldn’t stop as the song your teammates had all been dancing too was quickly coming to a close. 

Your hands wrapped around his shirt, bunching it up and wrinkling it. That’s how he knew you were close. His thumb returned to your clit, rubbing fast circles over it. Your walls began to clench around him, your hips began to sink themselves farther into his hand. 

“Cum, baby,” he whispered into your ear, soft yet commanding.

It all came at you too quickly, the tension in your body snapping sharply and out of nowhere. Wetness dripped out of you and onto his hand as your body shook against his steady frame. His grip around your waist tightened slightly, bringing your body against him to help keep you stable.

He looked back at his subordinates still twirling around to the final chorus of the song, distracted enough for him to chance it. He leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss to your temple, slowly retracting his fingers from you as he reached over to grab a napkin. 

Even in the low light, in the darkness, he could see his hand glisten with your slick and a proud smirk enveloped his lips. You were still curled against him as he did his best to clean you up, to get rid of any evidence of what the two of you had just done. 

He bunched the napkins up, swiftly pocketing them before he set you back down on the seat, a respectable distance away from him, and wiped your face clean of your runny mascara. Almost as if he’d timed it perfectly, four bodies approached your table. 

“Are you okay, sweetness?” Morgan asked you as they returned to the table, definitely noticing your flushed face.

You nodded, not daring to make eye contact as your heart continued to race, the aftershock of your orgasm still rocking through you.

“I think she’s had too much to drink,” Aaron told him, concerned softness lacing his words, like a boss taking care of his employees. “I’m gonna take her home.”

He didn’t even have to prompt you to follow before you were sliding off the booth, your legs barely keeping you up. He followed quickly after you, hooking his arm around your back before you could collapse, leaving your untouched drink on the table in front of them. 

idk what it is about these two but they really like going at it in public

tags: @canuck-eh, @ssamorganhotchner, @criminalskies, @xladyxdreamer

[horrorhot-line]

metanoia

(n.) the journey of changing one’s mind, heart, self or way of life. 

➵ pairing: saiki kusuo/reader

➵ word count: 13.9k

➵ genre: fluff with humour here and there

➵ warnings: none

➵ summary: for the life of you, you couldn’t understand why your peaceful life had been turned upside down. no matter what you did, you always found yourself dragged into saiki’s problems. worst of all? at first you wanted nothing to do with him, and slowly, without even realising it, you didn’t mind being around him as much. 

➵ masterlist  (requests are open)

➵ previous part - serendipity

horrorhot-line © 2024. all rights reserved.

before you read:

‘saiki telepathically communicating with reader.’

‘reader thinking or interacting with saiki through thoughts.’

“saiki talking without moving his mouth.”

“saiki talking using his mouth.”

notes: i know you guys were looking forward to him but i kid you not i can’t seem to get it right. ever heard of writers block? think writer’s boulder. anywho, it was either i worked on other pieces on the side like this on or stop updating for a year like i did last time. so enjoy this, and i promise i’ll get ‘for him’ out as soon as possible. this oneshot is based on s1 ep3. thank you for waitingggg!

rewritten: 02.08.2024

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

It all started when you ran into Saiki at the park.

He just happened to be there because your paths intertwined on the way home from school. You had taken a different route on purpose to avoid getting involved with the man, only to find yourself in the same crowd as him, watching a magic show.

You had decided from your first encounter with Saiki that you would do everything in your power to keep your distance, especially after you found out he was the most powerful psychic in the world. You had promised not to tell anyone his secret and made sure not to be caught near him, yet it happened anyway.

Truth be told, you were terrified of him. You didn't have enough fingers to count the times you noticed him in your peripherals, following you to make sure you held up your end of the bargain and didn't tell anyone of his powers. Which? Rude, first of all, bold of him to assume you were a snitch.

"Who's ready for another très bien trick by me? Master illusionist Uryoko Chono!" The magician performing the show asked as he pulled out a cone you recognised all too well from birthday parties, and you moved swiftly to the side so confetti wouldn't land in your hair. You didn't have the time to stand idly by and watch- you needed to be home for the new soap opera that would launch that day!

That, and you didn't want to get caught in any situation that involved a particular psychic. You decided to do a U-turn when you saw Saiki's pink hair in the crowd until the magician addressed you.

"Hey, student! Why don't you stay and join the fun? You too, pink hair! I'll do a trick to put a smile on those faces!" Chono exclaimed, leaning on the table before him and putting a hand out to stop the two of you. There was little chance of that happening; you were sure Saiki didn't even know how to stretch the corners of his mouth.

You sighed, turning on your heel only to be greeted by the crowd of people staring at you expectantly. Great! Now you had to stay. It seemed like Saiki felt the same, shooting a side glance your way before staring at the green-haired magician as the both of you decided in silence that the attention of leaving wasn't worth it— being a sheep was always the better option.

You deadpanned at the magician. "Oh! I see you're a sceptic." No, that wasn't it. It was more the fact that you could think of a million other things that called your attention, and this magic show wasn't one of them. "Well, once you see my show, you will become a believer in my powers to amaze." You could only purse your lips at the statement; you weren't buying it.

All magicians were hacks and used the ability of misdirection to achieve their illusions. That, and after finding out about Saiki and how vast his powers were, nothing this man had to offer would phase you. Yet, you watched anyway because walking away would be way too awkward now.

Saiki walked towards the crowd, joining it at your side. How had this caught his attention, you wondered. Did the magician really have supernatural powers? 'No— I'm watching, so he leaves me alone.' Saiki had yet to think something at you in weeks, and when he did, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

You were sure you'd never get used to his voice echoing inside your brain. At least he had cleared up your misunderstanding, you thought to yourself before moving away slightly, so the man in question wasn't too close to you. From where you stood before, you could practically feel his body heat and your touch-starved brai— Stop! Don't think anymore and just focus on the show.

The magician pulled out a box with a cartoon-like shooting star on it. "Right. I hold here an ordinary cardboard box." Chono stated, holding it up for the crowd to see. 'Nope, there's nothing ordinary about it.' Saiki thought at you, his expression dead, as always. You still couldn't understand why Saiki was talking to you. Curiosity peaked, you replied anyway, 'What do you mean by that?'

"As you can see, it's empty inside." The magician tilted the box, opening it so all could see, and he was right. 'At that angle, you can't tell there's a partition.' So that's how performers did it; you always wondered how they accomplished tricks like that. You were right— this guy was a hack! At least his showmanship was on point.

"But, watch! Just a couple taps and it's party time." Chono said as he tapped his cane on the box before opening it, only for birds to shoot out and fly away into the distance. "Aren't they amazing, folks?"

The crowd cheered and clapped for the magician, not knowing what you and Saiki did. "Hey there kids! Très bien, am I right?" The magician asked as he pointed a finger at the both of you. Not to you, they weren't, but the trick probably would have garnered your praise if it wasn't for Saiki telling you how the box worked.

'It's not très bien. If anything, I'm worried about that dove.' Saiki remarked, and you turned to look at him questioningly, his gaze fixed on the magician. 'What dove?' You inquired, confused as to what he meant. 'He has a dove under that hat, but I think he forgot about it.' You examined the magician's maroon hat, guessing Saiki could see through it with his X-ray vision. 'Shouldn't we tell him?' You looked from Saiki to the hat and back, your concern growing. 'After. I'll tell him once he's done here.' So the man did have a heart.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, please turn your attention here for the main event of our show, my super illusion!" Where had Chono pulled out those massive boxes from? His hat, you mused, chuckling quietly to yourself, stopping only when you noticed Saiki shoot a look of dismay your way. "Magically teleporting from one box to another will be my lovely assistant, Michael!"

Chono snapped his fingers before looking to his right, and you followed his line of sight only to see an old man with a straw hat on his unruly grey hair. 'Lovely is a stretch.' You grimaced, were those flies buzzing around hi— and what was that foul odour he was emanating? You had to agree with Saiki on that one, you could think of a lot of ways to describe him off the top of your head and lovely definitely wasn't one of them.

"The beautiful Michael is entering the box." The assistant was definitely not beautiful, either. Maybe Chono was blind? Now if that were true— it might’ve gotten a clap out of you. The magician narrated as you watched the old man get in before he shut the lid behind him. Chono snapped his fingers again, "And, drum roll." He said before doing some weird dance and making sound effects with his mouth to raise the level of excitement. You were expecting to be amazed. 'This is so sad.'

You nodded at Saiki's thought, 'It's almost painful to watch.' The second-hand embarrassment you were getting was through the roof, 5 more minutes of this and you were sure you'd be a victim of spontaneous human combustion. This had better be worth it; you did not waste 20 minutes of the airing of the new soap just to be disappointed. The crowd murmured in anticipation. 'What expression am I supposed to be making right now?'

Even you couldn't tell Saiki the answer to that, 'A smile maybe?' You mused, only for him to shoot a glare at you, causing you to put your hands up in surrender. Chono released the ball of confetti in his hand, and you watched as it fell to the ground. 'His overconfidence makes me cringe.' Your face scrunched at the scene— you weren't sure how much more you could take. 'You and me both.'

'And I'm still worried about that dove. Does that hat have air holes?' From what you could tell, no, it didn't. At least Saiki cared about the well-being of animals. 'I'm not worried, I just don't wanna be around to see a bird die.' You rolled your eyes as you folded your arms over your chest. Of course, he was the type to deny it. God forbid he actually had the ability to express concern for something.

"Alright, let's open the box!" Chono said as he walked over to the other box, putting his hand on top. 'Uh oh, lovely Mike isn't done teleporting yet.' You were beyond confused, turning to Saiki, who was still facing the stage. 'He's under the table.' Your eyebrows unfurrowed as realisation washed over you. That made sense, so the trick was to use the table to go to and from the box.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, dreading what was to come. "3, 2, 1... It's party time!" Chono exclaimed, a huge grin on his face. Michael came out, alright— just not from the box. He emerged from underneath the table and raised his arms as if he had completed a feat. Chono stood with his back to Michael, his hand gesturing to the empty box.

A comical sweat bead formed on your forehead, and you cringed internally. You bit your fist as if that would help ease how uncomfortable you felt. Was it too late to make a run for it?

The crowd was deathly silent, and it was no wonder why. 'Now I really don't know what expression to make, maybe this one?' Saiki remarked as he observed the magician. You watched as Chono's expression fell, a hideous grimace taking its place as if he'd just witnessed a massacre of baby ducks. 'Yeah, that seems appropriate', Saiki confirmed, and you were glad his unintentional comedy saved you from the awkwardness.

The crowd dispersed shortly after that, and you stayed behind with Saiki to witness the aftermath.

"Why should I pay you for ruining the illusion?!" Chono exclaimed at Michael, who only retorted. "I moved at the normal speed— it was your darn pattern that got too fast. Now, you hand over that 500 yen." The assistant put his hand out, expecting his payment.

"No one tipped me for this performance, so I couldn't pay you even if I wanted to," Chono stated before he noticed your and Saiki's presence. "Hey, why are you two hanging around?" The magician said as he turned his back to Michael. Saiki wordlessly raised his finger to his head and bent it repeatedly.

"What, oh, you wanna give me a tip? Haha, I could never take money from a kid. The look of joy on your face-" Chono cut himself off when he looked down at the hat he took off his head. "-PICO!" That poor bird, you couldn't help but think.

"I completely forgot she was up there," Chono said, now sitting down as he stroked the dove. So that's why Saiki chose to linger even after the show had ended- he was still worried about the bird. Truth be told, you'd nearly forgotten after you saw the last trick. 'How can you forget there's a dove on your head?' Saiki stood at Chono's side as he looked down at the white creature.

You questioned the same thing- surely the animal had rustled and moved around up there. "So, you weren't trying to tip me; you were trying to remind me. Wait— does that mean... That you're a magician? That's how you knew she was up there." Saiki clenched his fist, a frown forming on his face. No, he was an esper. 'I should've kept walking.' Saiki lamented.

"With instincts that good, you must have hated my show." At least the green-haired man was right about one thing, Saiki had, in fact, hated his show, but he only had his powers to blame for that. "Maybe, I'm not cut out for the magician game after all." Cue the sad music in the background— where did the sound even come from? Was there a hidden speaker somewhere in the park?

You were sure the universe had some sort of playlist like a version of a 90s TV show's laughing track, the one that went off at the right moments. "Until a few months ago, I was your average office drone," Chono told the two of you, bowing his head as he sat on the park bench.

Hold it. You did not agree to listen to whatever existential crisis he had going on. "Then, I made a small mistake." Of course, you'd have to hear his sob story anyway. 'Oh, boy.' You sighed, waiting for the magician to get it all off his chest. "Corporate fat cats laid me off. Then, my wife skipped town." Damn, homeboy was really going through it, alright. 'Is it too late to walk away?' Saiki questioned no one in particular, but you answered anyway. 'It is.'

"With no job, I couldn't pay the mortgage anymore. One little mistake and my career, wife and home had all disappeared... and then it dawned on me, I should become an illusionist." This was heartbreaking and all, but you had to wonder where he was going with this story. “Wait- what?” Was it you, or was Saiki's voice hot as fu— No! Now was not the time!

"Because so many things had vanished from my life, I thought it must mean that disappearing them was my talent!" You nearly choked on your spit. Well, that took a turn. The plot twist gave you whiplash. Oh, dear. This poor man... somebody help slap some sense into him. “Your only talent is self-delusion,” Saiki was right- the man needed a reality check.

"So, even though I had been offered another office job, I turned it down to start my new life doing street magic." At least Chono looked pumped about it all. “Again, what?” You were just as bewildered as Saiki was, questioning the green-haired man's logic. "If I can save up 1 million yen, I can buy the 'sawing a body' in half trick— then, my wife is sure to come back!"

You shook your head in disappointment; the man had clearly lost his mind, another reason to add to the list of why not everyone should be allowed to procreate. If left like this, he'd end up a victim of loan sharks or worse. “Don't be so sure,” Saiki commented and you almost thought he was talking to you. He was addressing both. Why would his wife come back if he did that? And how did Chono plan on raising that kind of cash when he had just lost his lovely assistant? "But then I wonder if I chose the wrong path."

'Yes, yes you did.' Saiki thought bluntly, and you agreed mentally. At least the magician was finally seeing clarity and the error in his ways. He needs to quit street magic and get a real job.' You thought back. "Sorry, didn't mean to get so gloomy." Chono apologised, looking up at the two of you.

'What'll it take for him to give up?' You pondered at Saiki's question, bringing your hand up to your chin to think. Maybe showing him an impossible illusion? If it was something he'd never be able to do, he'd quit. "Let's get back to your background as an illusionist and how you knew I had a dove up there." Chono gestured at his hat and you watched realisation dawn on Saiki. Over what, you had no idea. 'That's it.'

You observed as Saiki wordlessly walked to stand directly parallel to Chono and you, pulling his school bag off his shoulders to hold it in front of him. "Whoa! Gonna pull something out of your bag?" Chono commented as you watched on. Saiki held up his other hand as his eyes widened. You raised an eyebrow; this was the most expressive you'd seen him since he found out about your immunity. 'I'll do a trick that's so beyond his ability, he'll realise how far gone he is and give up.' Was that why— Did Saiki take inspiration from your thoughts? He did.

"You're gonna pull out... a dove!" Chono guessed before stating he could pull out a bowling ball himself. 'Hmph.' Saiki's stoic expression remained, and your eyes widened when he pulled out the hand that was rummaging inside his bag. Nothing could have prepared you for what the psychic did.

He pulled out Michael by the hat on his head, though the man looked like a scrunched-up piece of paper. Saiki placed the old man on the floor, and you watched Chono's eyes bulge from his socket as he gasped. Surely, that would be enough to get the aspiring magician to stop his foolish ways. If you didn't know of Saikis's abilities, you would have become a believer.

"That's impossible!" Chono exclaimed as he fell to his knees, his jaw still slacking. 'Aren't you supposed to say très bien? At least this will make him give up.' Saiki stated as he moved to walk away and turned his back to Chono. You tried not to stare at Saiki's ass— and failed.

"Thank you. Now I can see. If your talent was hair, it'd be a flowing mane, while mine is just an eyelash." You stifled a laugh at the example Chono used and who could blame you? 'I don't quite understand using hair for that metaphor, but at least he's finally—' Saiki didn't get to finish that thought when he turned his head; Chono had already left your side to kneel behind the psychic.

"Make me your apprentice." The scene reminded you of One Punch Man, where Genos asked Saitama to make him a disciple. 'Should've seen it coming.' You only gazed over Saiki's shoulder to watch Michael hold up a 500 yen coin, talking about how he was going to eat a hot cup of soup.

Maybe sticking around and missing the airing of that soap opera was worth it— you had to admit, this was far more entertaining.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵  

Saiki may have walked the same way home as you, but his house came before yours. After the whole fiasco with the magician happened, and you realised your goal of not bumping into said psychic had failed, you chose not to take a detour, but walk with the pink-haired man instead.

No point wasting more time, you had reasoned. Your original plan to go home in hopes of catching the last few minutes of the TV show you wanted to watch was a bust because when you neared the Saiki household, you noticed Mrs Saiki standing outside the house in the front yard trimming bushes with gardening scissors.

Before you had a chance to make your getaway after greeting her, she exclaimed that it was far too late in the afternoon to walk home without eating, and even though you found her caring demeanour sweet, you weren't grateful for the sentiment when it meant spending more time with Saiki, he could still kill you after all. He would never, not when you gave him coffee jelly.

Sure he hadn't done anything yet, but the man did threaten to smite you off this earth the last time you were in his house. Could anyone really blame you for wanting to keep your distance? Try as you might though— you couldn't say no to the lovely woman who was Saiki's mother. Her smile threatened to blind you, and you didn't want to upset her by refusing.

Dinner with the Saikis was eventful, to say the least.

Mrs Saiki had ushered you inside quickly, but her son hadn't followed the two of you in. You didn't question it when she locked the front door. When he did step into the kitchen minutes later, he was followed by his dad. Mr Saiki didn't say anything to you— instead, he rushed over to his wife. "I can't believe you changed the locks on me again!" He complained, and you felt in that moment that you chose the wrong day to come over.

Were they having marital issues? You swore that the last time you were here they were getting along just fine. What had happened? "I hope you're hungry Ku-Ku. I'm making you breaded pork chops for dinner!" Mrs Saiki chose to ignore her husband, talking to her son instead as if the angry man behind her didn't exist.

"Hang on— now you're choosing to ignore me? Besides, I told you I wanted to have steak tonight!" Mr Saiki pointed his finger at his wife before raising his arm up and down as if he was throwing a tantrum - which he was. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot— but I can boil you a leather shoe." Mrs Saiki replied in a sickly sweet tone, turning back to her cooking. "I don't want a shoe, leather or not!"

You wanted to laugh but thought it wasn't the right time; you chose to snicker to yourself quietly from your seat on the sofa. 'I wonder when it went wrong for them. they used to be so passionate.' You watched on as Mr Saiki claimed his hate for his wife was as wide and deep as the Pacific Ocean, and she retorted by saying she hated him like a fish hated air. Why did you have to be caught in the middle of this?

'Well, they're still passionate now, but it's a little different.'

When the food was ready, you took up the seat next to Saiki, staying silent as you dug into the rice with your chopsticks. "Gorge yourself,  guys— I made a ton!" Mrs Saiki said with a smile on her face. "Hey, hey, hey! Hey!" Mr Saiki stood up from his seat at the dining table, slapping his hand on the surface like an angry restaurant customer.

You couldn't blame the guy, you and Saiki had gotten pork chops for dinner, but Mr Saiki had received a leather shoe garnished with gravy on top, filled with rice and had chopsticks placed inside it. "Is it good, Ku? Y/n— Oh, honey, would you like something else?" Mrs Saiki gave a closed-eyed grin to her husband, who stood in front of her. "No, because I bet it's just the other shoe."

"Bon Appetit!" Saiki's dad had guessed right, it was another shoe, but it was a blue sneaker. "That's not even from the same pair!" You watched steam flow out of the shoe, wondering how this situation was real. You felt like you had been sucked into some comedy show. 'They've been going at each other for a year.' Your eyebrows shot up at Saiki's revelation, watching on as the couple argued.

Mr Saiki gave up on trying to get his partner to be civil, turning to his son with the cooked leather shoe in his hand. "Hey, Kusuo— use your powers to turn this old shoe into a steak for Daddy." Saiki's thoughts flooded into your brain, stopping you from hearing his dad's rambling.

'So, in case you forgot, this pathetic dude's my dad, Kuniharu Saiki. He's lazy and irresponsible- and asks for help with everything in his life. But surprise, surprise, the more I help, the more useless he gets. So, lately, I've stopped doing him any favours.' Wow, Saiki sure was cold, dissing his father like it was nothing.

'I guessed all that already— Who are you talking to?'

'The audience.'

'...Stop breaking the fourth wall, please.'

You observed as Mr Saiki stopped rambling as he realised his son wasn't going to listen to him. "What?! How dare you take your mother's side in this?! Do you have any idea how many shoes I have to lick each day to buy that food you're eating now?!!" Mr Saiki shouted, and you watched as Saiki continued to eat his food quietly with no change in his expression.

"So, you do like to eat shoes?"

You guessed that much was enough for his father to realise his son wasn't going to lift a finger to help. Mr Saiki gave in, "Alright, I'll eat it—" He shovelled the rice into his mouth when he picked up the plate only to shoot up out of his seat seconds later, "It stinks! What did you do to this shoe?! Are you trying to poison your father?!" Mr Saiki exclaimed at his son.

"I'm pretty sure that's how they always smell, dummy," Saiki commented, still eating his rice. You watched as Mrs Saiki addressed her son when he put his bowl down, a shining bright aura around her. Where did that bright light come from? "Hey, Ku? Now, just remember what I've always said. Please don't use your powers for evil."

'This is my mom, Kurumi Saiki.' Mrs Saiki clasped her hand around her son's, "You must only use your powers to help those in need. Or those people who you're certain are genuinely nice—"

'She's a big reason why I haven't let my gifts turn me to the dark side.'

'Is that a Star Wars reference?'

Saiki ignored your question— continuing his not-so-inner monologue, 'She's a caring soul— well, to me.' You were taken aback when the sweet air around Mrs Saiki changed to something sinister. "—But, feel free to use your powers to hurt Daddy." This whole situation was getting more and more preposterous. 'She kinda has a dark side herself.' You could see that.

Mrs Saiki seemed to notice her husband scoffing down Saiki's food when she was distracted around the same time you did, and you watched as she slowly turned and her expression shifted from a smile to a cold glare. "Stop eating Kusuo's dinner, you thieving son of bitch!" Mrs Saiki looked extremely pissed off, a tick mark appearing on her face. Hang on— she knew how to swear?!

You felt sorry for Mr Saiki, but there was no way you'd get involved, you didn't want his wife to aim her anger at you instead. "That's it! We're taking this outside!" She shouted, and you had to admit the situation was getting interesting. Who would win? Your bets were on Saiki's mom. 'In truth, I could break up this fight whenever I feel like it, but this is something they're going to have to work out themselves.'

Did he think things at you on purpose even though he could just not talk to you? You didn't want to admit it, but the idea made something inside you churn. Were the two of you closer than you realised?

You watched Saiki's attention shift from the brawl to the dessert that was placed near him on the dining table when the food was laid out. 'Hm? Coffee-flavoured jelly? ...Hmm, doesn't taste bad— earthy with a slightly citrus finish. Don't let the name fool you— this jelly is a mature dignified treat.'

You couldn't pay attention to Saiki fangirling over the dessert, too busy watching Mrs Saiki handle her husband like she was some WWE fighter and he was her opponent. She put him in all types of chokeholds before raising him over her head, preparing to throw him. Was now a good time to take your chance and sneak away?

'Better still, when you add just a splash of whole milk, it becomes an entirely new flavoured sensation,' Saiki continued to eat the coffee jelly, turning away from his parents to take another bite, '—and that hint of decadence is everything I ask for in my dessert.' When you looked back at Saiki, you froze. The fight was long forgotten as you watched the corners of his mouth lift. You realised then, that was the first time you had seen Saiki smile. You didn't want to admit it, but he suited him. Really well, too well actually.

Saiki didn't get to eat any more of his treat, because when he raised his hand to his mouth to consume another spoonful, Mrs Saiki launched her husband across the room and he crashed into his son, which forced the jelly-filled utensil out of the pink-haired boy's hand. You watched the jelly fall from the psychic's hand in slow motion until you saw a flash of pink.

Saiki had managed to catch the dessert in his mouth before it fell to the floor. He was now on the floor and you couldn't help but think about what you had done for the universe to force you to stay at the Saiki household during this whole fiasco.

"You wanted to eat jelly that bad?" Mr Saiki had gotten up, whereas Saiki was still on his stomach on the floor, chewing what was in his mouth. "Forget the jelly— We got bigger problems! Your mothers turned into a monster!" Your eyes travelled to where Mr Saiki was pointing, thinking he was exaggerating.

He wasn't, Mrs Saiki's face had transformed into what could only be described as a Japanese Onii mask from folklore. "Stop running from me, you coward." Even her voice had changed as if she had been possessed. Oh, dear. "You've got to stop her! You're my only hope to stop her reign of terror. Do it! Slay the demon!" You wanted to run your hands down your face in exasperation, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away.

Mrs Saiki let out a demonic laugh as she grabbed onto the dining table. "You're not leaving 'til I say so!" She exclaimed before she raised the furniture above her head to throw it at her husband— how had the food not slid off? You wanted to leave but didn't want to incur Mrs Saiki's wrath. Mr Saiki tried to shield himself by bringing his arms up to cover his face as he closed his eyes. "Ahhh! Oh god! Ah— Huh?"

When he opened his eyes, Mr Saiki realised the table was floating above his head, all thanks to Saiki using his psychokinesis. "Hey, Kusuo!" Saiki's father went from shocked to smug, smirking as he realised he'd been saved. 'I've got the weirdest parents, I don't really care about stopping another pointless fight, but I can't help myself.' At least Saiki had stepped in, lest the house gets trashed and you get dragged into the war.

"So now you're on your dad's side? But I even made you pork chops!" Mrs Saiki's face was finally back to normal, her voice too, and you let out a sigh of relief. You were still confused by Saiki's comment. 'Why do I say it's pointless? Just wait.'

"I want nothing to do with either of you again!" When Mrs Saiki's voice flooded into your brain, you nearly jumped. 'That's a lie. Truth is, I love them!' Your head whipped to look at Saiki's back, guessing he must have used his powers on you. At least he had helped clear your confusion.

You couldn't help but wonder why she was lying, why she wasn't honest about her true feelings. What was the point of this fight again? 'No matter how hard they try, the voices in their hearts always bubble up. In other words, all these fights they have— are a sham.'

Your brain hurt— because trying to wrap your head around why the couple was acting like they despised each other when they didn't was nothing short of difficult. You rubbed at your temples, Saiki using another power you weren't used to had gotten to you. When Mr Saiki claimed he hated his wife and son, his inner thoughts told you he just wanted to snuggle.

They fought on the surface, but the voices in your head told you that they were just complimenting each other internally. 'Like I said, another pointless fight. There is one person here who has real reason to be upset, me—'

'Don't forget me. I didn't ask to be dragged into this.'

'—Those weirdos interrupted my dessert. I guess only a psychic can fix this.'

Mr and Mrs Saiki stopped arguing when they started saying they loved each other telepathically. You watched in amusement as they started blushing, getting confused as to why they could hear each other. Realisation dawned on them as they turned to their son, "Kusuo!" They both exclaimed.

'Forced shared telepathy. I used my psychic powers to link their minds at the neural level. In other words, thanks to me, they can now hear each other's thoughts.' Even though it was late, you were somewhat grateful he explained to you how you could hear what his parents were thinking.

Mr and Mrs Saiki told their son to stop his powers because they didn't want the other to realise they were still in love. What a disaster. At least the fighting had stopped. You watched the psychic's parents go from being embarrassed to pronouncing their adoration for each other.

With a hand on his wife's waist, Mr Saiki declared that he loved her, and she did the same. Where had the flowers surrounding them come from? 'Cool. The end.' Saiki deadpanned. Finally, the fighting was over.

While his parents apologised to each other profusely, the pink-haired boy went back to his seat at the dining table to finish his dessert. You sat across from him, relieved that the war in his living room had passed. 'What a pain. Normal people are complicated. At least now I can finish my dessert in peace.' This time around, when Saiki smiled, you had the chance to properly observe it.

He looked handsome, you had to admit. You knew the man was attractive but he looked 100x better when he was showing normal emotions. It was over dessert, but still! Did Saiki have a sweet tooth? Would he smile again if you got him something from the bakery? You shook your head, choosing to find interest in the furniture around the psychic's house.

You didn't know how to feel when you found out that the fight started when Mrs Saiki ate her husband's coffee jelly, overhearing the conclusion of their arguement. All of that was because of some dessert? This was ridiculous. You gazed on as Saiki's expression fell when Saiki's mom twirled over to her son and snatched the coffee jelly the psychic was eating right out of his hand so she could present it to Mr Saiki.

Saiki's smile was replaced by a dark expression as he stared at his hand where his snack had just been. Oh, no... He was super angry. You ignored the man's father claiming the dessert was a mature dignified treat, rummaging through your school bag to find what you needed.

The rumbling of the windows in the Saiki household stopped when you placed the bag on the floor beside your seat and used your hand to slide the coffee jelly you fished out onto Saiki's side of the table. It only took the psychic a few seconds to realise what exactly it was in front of him, and you smiled.

What could you say? The guy looked cute when he was confused. Burdened with the knowledge of how powerful he was, you sometimes forgot that the man sat across from way like any other human.

After a beat, he made eye contact with you and you swore you saw his eyes sparkle. Your smile dropped in slight shock, your lips parting.

'Coffee jelly?'

You gulped, catching your bearings.

'Yeah, I forgot to eat it at lunch— you can have it, Kusuo.'

When you called him by his first name without thinking, having heard it so many times today from his parents— you thought he'd complain. Instead, Saiki grabbed the treat and gingerly peeled back the seal before digging in, a soft smile gracing his face again. You ignored the weird feeling that washed over your heart.

Maybe the psychic wasn't all that bad.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

When night fell, you headed up to Saiki's room. The psychic knew of your inner turmoil of not being able to catch the show you wanted to watch and said his mom had most likely recorded the pilot episode before you two had reached his house. 'I'm only doing this because I don't want to owe you for that coffee jelly.' That was fair, you couldn't fault a man who kept up with his debts.

Grabbing the cassette from his living room, Saiki walked past you and up the stairs. When you stood there in confusion, expecting to watch it on the living room TV, he turned around to tilt his head in the direction of his bedroom as if telling you to follow him.

'Hurry up. Before I change my mind.'

That is how you found yourself seated on Saiki's bed, with him sitting in the chair he had pulled from his desk so it was right in front of the television.

He had left the room earlier to change into more suitable clothes, a white sweatshirt with blue sleeves and brown pants. This was the first time you had seen him in casual clothes— when he kidnapped you to interrogate you on your first real meeting, he hadn't bothered to change out of his school uniform. You had to admit even though he didn't have an eye for colour coordination, he still managed to pull it off.

Truth be told, you were disappointed. The show didn't live up to the promotions you had seen all over social media. You were expecting a love story starring Mikoto Teruhashi. Was it you or was that name familiar? What you got was some twisted joke of a romance.

The female lead's family died in a car crash, she got cheated on with her sister no less, and she got married to a stranger to save her family only to find out that her ex-boyfriend didn't sleep with another woman; she had walked in on his long-lost twin brother instead. All in one episode.

You felt like you had whiplash with all those plot twists, and honestly, what a letdown— you expected better writing. Sighing, you shifted yourself on Saiki's bed when you felt pins and needles assault your feet. You chose to cross your legs, yawning into your hand. Was now a good time to go home?

"Is binge-watching shows your favourite pastime?" You asked, trying to make conversation in between the infomercials, better than telling him straight off the bat that you wanted to leave after he went through the trouble of doing you a favour. "I like watching TV. It's one of the few things that can surprise me. Because I can't hear the actor's thoughts, I don't know what's coming next." The psychic replied.

"Makes sense." You nodded, not really knowing what to say next. "Speaking of next, that new mystery show's supposed to start soon." Saiki moved to sit with one leg on his chair, his arm resting on his knee for support. When he used his index finger to change the channel, you nearly lost your mind.

Oh, yeah— he's a psychic; of course, he could do that, you thought to yourself, ignoring the fact that your brain had decided to short-circuit on you. "Tonight, you will witness a miracle!" Sure, you heard the host of the TV show talk but his words didn't quite reach you, too busy looking at his fingers and wondering what else they co— Dear, lord you needed to go outside and touch grass, hug a tree, probably both.

Clearing your throat and catching your bearings, you turned to the TV screen, a mixture of green and maroon pixels coming together slowly as the cameraman zoomed in. No way... that man in the distance looked way too familiar for your liking. It couldn't be. "What." Saiki mirrored your shock, his eyes widening. The host on the TV continued. "A stupendous amazing illusion performed by the former homeless man turned master magician, Uryoko Chono!"

"Now that's Très Bien!" Chono said through the screen, and you watched Saiki's face deadpan. "What did I tell you about TV surprising me?" You didn't have a witty reply for him this time— far too stunned by the fact that the magician from that afternoon had managed to get his own segment on live TV, mere hours after you met him.

Was that even possible? Then again, after the month you'd had, was there any point in questioning what was and wasn't achievable? "After losing it all, he became a street magician and mastered tricks that others can only dream of!" The host came into view— a mic in his hand, as he praised the green-haired man beside him. You brought a hand up to hold your head, baffled into silence.

"But this isn't just a surprise; it's unbelievable. How is a man who almost killed his dove, good enough to be on TV?" Even you didn't know the answer to that. You would've broken the fourth wall and asked the writer in your desperation if Saiki hadn't done it one too many times during his parents' argument. You watched as the pink-haired psychic stared at the screen, gobsmacked. "You might wanna close your mouth, flies will get in. Never mind that— we just saw him before. How's he gotten on TV so soon?"

"Blame the author; it's for plot convenience." Finding out your guess was correct brought you anything but relief. You exhaled in exasperation, a new headache forming in your skull. "There you go, breaking the fourth wall again." You commented, shaking your head as you tutted at him. "What I'm attempting tonight is the most dangerous escape you'll ever see!" Chono's voice coming from the TV filled the room.

Your face slowly lost its colour as they showed snippets of what was to come. A box, chains, then knives, followed by a drop, fire and— was that a bulldozer?! You were sure of it now; the green-haired magician was toast. "No way he's this good." Saiki had taken your advice and shut his mouth; it was no longer hanging open. You side-eyed him from the bed, "He's a goner."

"But live or not, they'd never put someone on TV that might get hurt, right?" You shook your head to yourself; they would— they had. "Don't be too sure. If he dies, the show's view count will skyrocket." You could already see the hashtags trending on Twitter X.

The camera panned to the magician in question. "As you can see, folks, Chono's hands and feet are both shackled. As he makes his way to the crate— Oh no, he fell!" You observed as Chono faceplanted and kissed the floor. Was this second-hand embarrassment you felt? "Just a trip; he should be fine." You weren't sure you fully believed that statement and by the sound of it, neither did Saiki.

"He's safely inside the box. And now, Mr Micheal— Chono's formerly homeless assistant, will lock him in." You could only watch on in horror as realisation dawned over the magician's face, and he exclaimed to wait— that he wasn't ready. You didn't like where this was going. From the tricks you had seen that afternoon, you highly doubted that the green-haired man could pull this off. He wasn't going to make it.

"Him screaming isn't a good sign. Neither is all that banging he's doing." Saiki's face paled at the implication. "No shit, Sherlock." The psychic only glared at you, and you were too busy biting your fist while watching the TV to notice. The host told the audience that Chono only had 5 minutes to escape or the box would be destroyed with him in it. The camera cut to a shot of the timer counting down.

"I'm sceptical he can do this." So were you. There was only 3 minutes left. "Should I help? I don't even think I can. I'm not close enough to jump in and save him without being seen." You were on the edge of your seat. Two minutes left. "Then again, if he fails, he dies, and I can't have that happen."  You imagined what was to come, the TV announcing that Chono was burning alive inside the crate.

"It would ruin my night." You swore the psychic was just talking to himself at that point. At least Saiki cared; the boy did have a heart, after all. The pink-haired psychic stood up from where he was sitting on the chair. "If he fails, the footage would cut into my mystery show—" You took your statement back; he was heartless. "Is there a way to teleport in without getting on TV? ...Yes. The one place the camera can't find me— inside the box itself."

With that, Saiki was gone. He vanished into thin air, and you guessed he was now inside the box. At least he was doing something, even if his heart wasn't quite in the right place. You just hoped he didn't get himself caught, or worse— hurt.

All alone in the room, the only thing you could do was keep your eyes glued to the screen, waiting with bated breath. 'Kusuo?' You hoped he could hear you over everyone else's thoughts, hoped he was within range. He did, and he was.

'He's not here.'

You breathed a sigh of relief when you heard his voice reverberate in your head. Then, his words hit you.

'What do you mean he's not there?!'

'...He really has gotten better. I mean he's not here, l/n— the banging was coming from a CD player.'

So Chono hadn't even been inside the box when they chained it up? Why wasn't Saiki back then? There was no point in him staying there. The 5-minute timer was up, and you watched Michael come into view, struggling to hold the swords he was about to pierce the crate with.

'Hurry, Kusuo— you need to come back.' You winced at the heavy concern lacing your voice— thought?

'I can't. I have to think fast; I can't just teleport back out. That power needs to be recharged for 3 minutes before I can use it again.'

You watched as the magician's assistant started to put the swords in one by one. 'Oh, crap.' 17 more to go.

'You still there?'

You couldn't help but stress when he didn't respond. Chewing on your bottom lip, you tried not to think about the cold sweat at the idea of Saiki not making it out. 3 swords left. How did Saiki plan on surviving this one?

'Yeah. No one could— except me. I dislocated almost every joint in my body.'

Just a few words from Saiki, and you felt as though a boulder had been lifted off your shoulders. The relief you felt was short-lived though, as dread pooled inside your stomach at his words.

'Are you okay?!'

'I'm not gonna lie— it hurts.'

You wracked your brain to try and find a way to help him, coming up empty. Sure, you wanted nothing to do with him, but you weren't comfortable knowing he was in pain. Why? You had no idea. You chose to blame it on common human decency but the feeling of your heart sinking suggested otherwise.

You watched as the TV crew hooked a line to the crate before it was announced that a crane would lift it and drop it from a 30-metre height. You raised your hands to cover your face because you weren't sure you wanted to see, only for you to move your fingers so you could peer at the screen seconds later.

'The only way to avoid certain death... is...' You watched the crate collide with the floor, the bottom of it crumpling from the impact. '...To jump. Flawless timing.'

You stopped tensing, visibly relaxing, when you heard Saiki in your head again, never more grateful than now for his telepathy. He managed to save himself again and you hadn't appreciated his powers more, than in that moment. After the dust from the crash settled, the host on TV announced that the box would be set on fire. You furrowed your eyebrows— did they really need to go that far? It was too much overkill in your opinion.

'Didn't even get a chance to catch my breath. At least with all the hot weather lately, I've been able to hone my psychic powers over temperature.' You honestly didn't know how to feel when the support crew doused the crate in gasoline, lit a match and set the box alight— only for the host of the show to reveal that fire wasn't the final boss.

'There's more?'

How was he planning on getting out in time when he hadn't passed his 3-minute limitation over teleportation? Wait— how had the crew managed to do so much damage in that window of time, anyway? The host confirmed your fears when they brought in a yellow steamroller. No way— were they planning to run over the box and flatten it completely, with Saiki still inside?!

You watched the stream roller reverse and then drive over the box, effectively crushing it under its wheels. You watched in silence, your heart practically beating out of your chest in worry. The host asked the audience how anyone could survive inside the box— until lights turned on behind him, showcasing Chono.

"Hold on, who is that I see? It's the miraculous illusionist himself, Uryoko Chono! He's alive!" The crowd went wild, breaking out into applause and screams at the trick. You couldn't care less! Where was Saiki?! Was he okay?!!

'How annoying. His wasn't the only great escape, but I got lucky. The soil was extra soft.'

It was your turn to go radio silent.

'...Did you dig a hole like some groundhog?'

You were just happy he was safe. God forbid you had to live with the fact that Saiki died and you had witnessed it. Then again, he was an all-powerful psychic— what did you expect? Of course, he'd make it out alive.

'I know. I said I liked TV because it can still surprise me— but this is too much.' You couldn't help but snort at the comment, his dry humour was growing on you. Saiki was right; the amount of turmoil the day involved was not something you had mentally prepared yourself to handle. Exhaustion took over you, and you let yourself fall back onto Saiki's bed.

Was Saiki's life always like this? Downright disastrous to the point where it was funny? You kinda felt sorry for him. "Tres Bien, right?" Chono exclaimed when the host stated that the escape was great. You exhaled, placing your hands on your stomach and trying to relax.

"Hey, stick around for what's next—" Your head shot up, recognising the voice from the countless trailers you had seen for months plastered every time you opened up an app. It was the male lead of the new mystery show everyone was looking forward to.

Your mind worked at a million miles per hour, and you were sure there were drawings of algebra floating around you. Saiki was a psychic, and if he was near the new show's star, he'd no doubt hear spoilers from the actor.

'Kusuo, come back.'

'I can't; I still have 13 seconds to go.'

Great. The show he was looking forward to, the very reason he went to save Chono, was going to be spoilt because he chose to be a good human being. All because the lead actor was around, and of course, the guy knew what was to come— he had just finished filming it, after all.

You made a decision then, one you knew you'd regret. Concentrating on getting your breathing under absolute control, you forced your mind to go blank. Then you imagined Saiki at the park he had transported to so he could save a certain magician.

You clenched your jaw. Saiki wasn't too far away, and if you used your immunity on him, it'd work, right? You had to try at least. You reached out your hand in your mind, and when it came into contact with his shoulder, you saw what you were looking for.

The familiar thin white strings, millions of them shooting off from his temples in all different directions and disappearing into the distance when your eyes tried to follow them. You had no doubt they were the strings that connected Saiki's mind to anyone in a 200-metre radius.

With your hand still on Saiki, you imagined the actor who starred in the show's premiere, the love interest. That's when you found the thin line connecting the two, all the others melting in front of you as you forced yourself to focus. You had to hurry, you didn't have much time.

"The world premiere of a mystery called, 'Love Fantasy.'" You tried to dismiss the voice of the actor; he sounded like he was speaking from right next to you and damn it if his yapping wasn't as distracting as it felt. "My character will try to uncover the mystery of his girlfriend's death."

You clenched your jaw at the pain invading your skull, ignoring it as you reached out, using your index and middle finger as make-shift scissors, closing the two to cut the string. All the while, you questioned why you had chosen to use your talents for the psychic. Oh, yeah— it was because you felt bad for the guy.

The moment you opened your eyes, the headache that you experienced for the better half of the day skyrocketed. Fuck, it hurt. You wished you had stayed on Saiki's bed.

As your vision began to swim, a familiar wave of nausea hit you. You felt the ground shift beneath you, unable to do anything as you realised you would fall face-first into Saiki's table. You hoped it wouldn't bruise. Closing your eyes, you braced for impact, expecting pain.

When it didn't come, you forced your eyelids to open, using the last ounce of energy you had left. Why did they have to feel so heavy? You still couldn't see clearly, but what you could tell was that someone had caught you before you kissed Saiki's carpet.

Your body was limp; try as you might, you couldn't get your limbs to listen to you. It hurt to breathe; the sharp pain in your ribs made sure of that. You couldn't even raise your head to see who had caught you. Was it Saiki's dad? Had to be.

"...od grief... what happene..." You strained your ears to hear whoever was talking to you, to no avail. You scrunched your eyes shut when another wave of nausea hit you. You felt yourself getting picked up before being placed on something soft. The bed?

You took in sharp breaths, trying to ease the pain. No such luck. When you felt a hand on your forehead, you opened and squinted your eyes to see. Even with your fuzzy vision, you knew you recognised the pink you saw.

'Kusuo?' You thought at the psychic, hoping you had guessed right. 'Yes?' The relief that filled you, when the pain seemed to ease at the sound of Saiki's voice in your head— was incomparable.

'Is that you?' A brief pause followed, and he answered before you could think of anything else. 'Who else? How did this happen?' Right, stupid question to ask. You closed your eyes again, assuming he was asking about your deteriorating condition. 'I used nullification on you.'

Silence followed for a few seconds, and you found yourself missing the sound of Saiki's voice inside your brain. 'Why?' Was all he had asked, and you looked at him. You could see his face clearly now, and if you weren't feeling like you were going to throw up the food Mrs Saiki had made for you earlier, you were sure you'd be flushed.

He was so close— you could feel his exhales fan your neck. You noticed the faint wrinkle in between his eyebrows. You returned to looking at his eyes, trying to name the emotion. Worry. 'Because you were looking forward to watching the show, and that actor would have spoilt it by accident.'

You shut your lids, feeling sheepish when you said it aloud; it wasn't like it was your job to care to begin with— but you did, and you couldn't understand why. That question would have to wait; first, you had to get better.

You didn't see Saiki move so much as felt it. The moment he tried to lift himself off you, your stomach churned, and Saiki halted altogether. Your tense muscles relaxed as the pain dulled with the psychic's gesture. You opened your eyes to look at him, finding him looking at you already.

Granted the pain wasn't as bad as the last few times— you still appreciated the action. He broke the silence first, the staring contest between you two along with it as he looked away. 'Good grief. Stop doing troublesome things.' Was all he replied with, and you had half a mind to furrow your eyebrows in disbelief when you realised he was referring to your last comment to him. Your lips parted to shoot a retort at him, and that's when you saw it.

The corners of his mouth twitched. You almost thought it was a trick of the light in your peripherals until you looked at his lips.

Utterly shell-shocked, your mouth gaped open at the sight. Was Saiki smiling at you? Where was the coffee jelly? It was gone with a flash, replaced by his iconic deadpan. 'I was not.' He totally was! What a tsundere— not even able to admit that some part of him was low-key touched that you had done something for him out of consideration. 'I'm not touched; what you did was stupid. You have a fever.' You could only huff at Saiki's statement with the last of your energy.

'Yeah, that's normal. I mean, you're the most powerful psychic out there, and there was another person involved.' You shouldn't have expected anything less. Simply turning off your immunity to using your nullification and severing a connection between two people was a huge leap. When Saiki didn't respond you couldn't help the thought that came to mind. 'So if two plus two is four, and five plus five is ten, then...'

Saiki's eyes narrowed once he registered your words. 'I want you to know I'm only tolerating that reference because you're sick. You didn't even get it right.' You chuckled softly at his comment, ribs not yet ready for a full laugh. Lips stretching into a grin from his leniency or his last statement, you weren't sure. Your cheeks hurt, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. That was until you realised how cold you actually felt, shivering when goosebumps appeared over your arms.

You hadn't felt like this since you were a kid, but could you be surprised at your situation? Especially when it involved the world's most potent psychic to ever live. It was no surprise that the fevers you experienced as a child when Saiki was running around changing human biology with crazy hair colours would make a comeback. You went back to resting your eyes.

You were in no position to retaliate when Saiki picked you up and transported the two of you into your bedroom. The familiar feeling of your mattress helped relax your body some more.

'I'm leaving the second I can transport again.'

You said nothing as the pink-haired boy made quick work of tucking you under the covers and placing a cold compress on your forehead, waiting until your hand was secured to it before he backed away.

You half expected him to place a kiss on your forehead like you had seen in all the romance manga you had read— where the female lead got sick, and the male lead took care of her. No kiss was exchanged, to your disappointment.

'Thank you.' That was all you could think at him, not knowing what other way to express your gratitude. He was silent for a bit, then he turned his back to you, and just like that he was gone. You sighed, running a hand through your hair— what a day.

Too busy dealing with your inner turmoil, you failed to realise Saiki had stayed for more than 3 minutes.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ 

The next day at school, nothing had changed— and you were glad for it somewhat. You had thought things between you and Saiki would be awkward.

They weren't; when he saw you that morning, all he had done was nod at you, acknowledging your existence before he turned to face the blackboard at the front of the class. You ignored the disappointment you felt, it's not like you expected him to be your best friend or something.

When the school bell signalled the end of the academic day, you got ready to pack your things and leave. That was until you noticed a light blue-haired boy walk up to Saiki, who was in front of you, who was also shoving his books in his bag so he could make his getaway. Too late.

"Guess what? I've been summoned." You deadpanned at Kaidou's statement, something you were sure you picked up off of Saiki. Was he rubbing off on you? Nah, no way. Not possible. "If I told you why, I'd have to kill you both."

Your expression relaxed when Kaidou's eyes met yours, and you gave him a confused smile, signalling one thing. 'I don't know what the fuck you're on about.' You watched as the blue-haired boy puffed his chest like some peacock.

"But for now, let's just say the world's in store for some pretty big changes." With that, Kaidou waddled away like some penguin. What was with that walk, and why was his ass swaying side to side as he continued down the hallway? PK couture, you mused to yourself— he was going for a catwalk.

"What? Did he make a friend?" Saiki asked, and you were surprised when he turned his head to the right to make eye contact with you. You looked back at him, still leaning half your body out of the classroom with your hands on the door frame. You simply shrugged your shoulders before the both of you gazed at where Kaidou had turned the corner.

When Saiki moved forward, going in the same direction, you took a step toward him. "Where are you going?" You asked, mind already guessing the answer. Saiki looked over his shoulder at you, "I'm going after him because I'm curious." He stated before continuing down the hallway. You decided you were too, so you followed in tow.

The two of you spotted Kaidou not long after, the light blue-haired boy walking up to the doors leading to the storage room on the second floor. He whipped his head around to see if anyone else was about. You didn't expect what came next; caught off guard when Saiki pulled on your arm to hide the two of you behind a wall.

You were brought face to face with the pink hair's chest, and when you looked up, you realised he was staring down at you. Damn, he had a sharp jawline. If you didn't know any better, you'd think Saiki was sculpted by the likes of Micheal Angelo himself. You felt your ears burn and chose to ignore them. Why the fuck did he have to be so close, and why was he caging you against the wall?

"It'll be troublesome if he sees us," Saiki stated as he stepped away from you. You shook your head to get rid of the thoughts swirling through your mind before the two of you peered at the blue-haired boy from your hidden spot. "Thurisaz, isaz, hagalaz, sowilo, gebo, fehu." You couldn't help but think Kaidou sounded like he was summoning a demon. Was it that Jet Black Wings nonsense, again?

When the door opened, the light blue-haired boy walked in. Saiki left your side and started to walk over to the door where Kaidou had been moments later. You followed soon after, and you strained your ears to hear what was happening in the room.

The following 5 minutes were nothing but painful. You heard two voices; one was Kiadou's, and the other, you guessed, was a student who must have been his friend.

You and Saiki listened as the blue-haired boy claimed it was hard to believe that he used to be part of the Dark Reunion before he figured out that the organisation was evil, went rogue, performed some technique when he got cornered and managed to transmigrate into Shun Kaidou's body when he was unborn.

Was this some— sort of weird realistic roleplay? Sure, it was nice to have his fantasies come true through acting, but you weren't sure it was a good idea to spur on his delusions. Kaidou was too far gone already. His 'friend' told him that they would do anything to help Kaidou get his memories back because his power was needed.

Who was 'they'? You couldn't help but question the whole situation. Something about it felt sketchy. Kaidou seemed to have the same thought in mind, wondering who his friend was referring to.

Apparently, there were four other phantoms in the room. It got weirder and weirder. You had to give it to both of them, you wouldn't have been able to keep a straight face if you were in there to save your life. The 'friend' claimed if Kaidou couldn't see them, that meant he could never help.

Kaidou jumped to try and save face, saying he could see the phantoms. What a joke. You weren't so curious anymore; now you just wanted to leave. You stopped paying attention to the conversation until you heard the 'friend' exclaim, "Stop!" followed by, "Mannaz, ingwaz, wunjo!"

Great, someone else who liked to talk in gibberish. You cringed when you heard Kaidou's friend state that the Dark Reunion had gotten into the room and killed the four phantoms. Since when could phantoms die? Wasn't all of this too much? You had to commend the 'friend' at least— for staying in character so long.

The friend stated they needed to create a barrier to protect them before telling Kaidou to place all metal objects into the bag since it would interfere. Now things were getting interesting. When Kaidou asked if the change had to be given as well, that's when the realisation hit you.

The whole thing was a scam. That kid was trying to steal all of Kaidou's money under the guise of roleplay! What was worse— was that the poor blue-haired boy believed the whole thing was real. The only thing Kaidou actually got out of the charade was losing his wallet. Poor guy didn't even get to take his train pass back. This new friend of his was pure evil.

'Good grief.' You heard Saiki think at you, 'Good grief, indeed.'

The 'friend' told Kaidou that the Jet Black Wings was a saviour and to come back at the same time tomorrow. Something about not forgetting to do the sworn ally absolution. Panic engulfed you when you heard the doorknob turn.

Looking left to right hurriedly, you barely had a chance to notice that Saiki wrapped a hand around your waist and teleported you inside the room. When your gaze refocused, you realised you were behind some sort of curtain. You had no idea why Saiki didn't decide to handle things on his own, instead opting to take you with him.

'Why couldn't you have just left me out there? I don't want to get involved—' You stopped mid-thought when Saiki looked down at you and glared. The audacity he had! To not only drag you into this mess but to shut you down when you rightfully complained? Meanie. You huffed to yourself in annoyance but stayed quiet nonetheless.

You proceeded to fold your arms over your chest, only to realise that in your exasperation, you hadn't noticed Saiki was still holding onto you. He stepped away, putting distance between you two the second the thought crossed your mind, something you tried not to be hurt over. Why? You didn't quite understand yourself.

You didn't have time to ponder anything else; the guy who scammed Kaidou stole your attention when he spoke up from behind the curtain. "That guy and his stupid fantasies are the best thing ever. He couldn't tell the absolution was my homework! All I had to do was play along with him. I even got the idiot to give me his wallet!" What a disaster. Poor Kaidou got ripped off and taken advantage of, all because of his love for make-believe.

'What a pain. Kaidou, as your one friend, I'm telling you— do a better job choosing your other friends.' The exasperation in Saiki's voice was palpable. How would you break the news to the poor blue-haired boy? That his new friend was a good-for-nothing liar.

The sad excuse of a swindler was still gushing over how he had tricked Kaidou, and you could only shake your head. Would dumping the truth work better? Or hinting at it? Saiki already had a plan in mind, you realised, as the lights turned off in the room. "What the? Who did that?" The scammer asked.

“Dark reunion.”

What happened to the guy in glasses next was not spoken of after.

When Kaidou dragged the both of you to the same room the day after, saying to keep it a secret no matter what— the whole place was trashed, and the words dark reunion were plastered on the wall. The graffiti had been your handiwork.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ 

"Hey buddy, ready for the beach? I was walking by, and I saw the last name Saiki on the mailbox, so I figured this must be where ol' Kusuo lives." Nendou stood on the step to Saiki's household, explaining himself as he pointed at the mailbox behind him, a blow-up dolphin in his other hand. He was dressed for the day, clad in a red shirt with floral patterns and shorts.

You made eye contact with Saiki only to get a glare back. You looked off to the side, feeling like you were in trouble. 'Why are you here?' That was an excellent question, indeed. If only you had stayed home, Nendou wouldn't have spotted you on the streets and dragged you along for a day by the seaside. You looked to Saiki again, 'I didn't choose to come here of my own free will.'

You were still somewhat peeved that you didn't get a say in the matter. Nendou had assumed a yes from you and decided for himself that you would accompany him, dragging you by the arm down the streets of your peaceful little town. You hadn't paid much attention to where he was taking you until he neared Saiki's neighbourhood, and before you could steer him in a different direction, he noticed a name on a mailbox. The rest was history.

"Ku— Ku— Kusuo, is this your friend?" For a second, you thought Mrs Saiki was terrified of Nendou. Something you wouldn't fault her for; he did look like a gangster, after all. "He's not my friend." Saiki's comment fell on deaf ears as Mrs Saiki burst into tears, a handkerchief manifesting into her hands out of nowhere. "Oh, dear! My little boy finally has another friend! In less than a week, too— I'm so happy!"

This was definitely one of the reasons why you loved Saiki's mom; she was just too precious. "Sorry girly girl, but me and him ain't friends— we're best buddies!" Mrs Saiki started weeping into her handkerchief again, "Oh, dear! My little boy's finally getting a normal life!" You wanted to comfort her but thought better of it since she was crying tears of joy and not sadness.

"I never knew you had a sister, pal." Nendou's comment practically made Mrs Saiki putty in his hands. She gushed about how the wannabe gangster thought she was young enough to look like Saiki's sister. You couldn't tell if Nendou was buttering her up or if he was being serious. Knowing him, it was probably the latter.

'How many times is he going to make her cry?' Saiki wondered from next to you. 'At least they're tears of happiness.' A warm smile stretched on your lips; the woman needed to be protected at all costs. Movement in your peripherals broke you from your thoughts. You turned to Saiki, who was now standing beside you; looking up at him when you felt his stare on you.

His lips parted as if he was about to say something when Saiki's mom commented that Nendou taking Saiki to the beach sounded like fun. "Uh, yeah, I'm not going." The smile on Mrs Saiki's face disappeared in an instant, and the glare she shot Saiki's way sent chills down your spine. "Your best buddy went out of his way to ask you in person. You're going to the beach, Kusuo."

"Oh, dear."

A snicker fell out your lips, and you immediately covered your mouth with your hand so as to not draw attention to yourself. By then, it was too late; your plans to quietly try and slip away from the group were foiled by your own hands. Mrs Saiki started to gush over you instead, and the plan to spend a lazy day indoors seemed to be further and further away.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ 

That's how you and Saiki ended up going to the beach. Kaidou had joined the group as well, a fact you pitied when you observed how much Nendou teased him about being afraid of the water. You watched from your seat on the blanket next to Saiki as Kaidou denied it all, fresh tears in his eyes. "N—no. Th—that's not true. I know how to swim, jerk! I—I'm not afraid of the water." You almost felt bad for him; why was he here again?

'Well, he's turned on the waterworks.' Ironic. Saiki's comment nearly made you choke on your drink, and you coughed. The psychic's hand on your back, patting lightly, surprised you, to say the least, but you welcomed it. Anything to clear your airways. You chalked up the help to him feeling guilty.

You watched as Kaidou proceeded to enter the sea, only to slip and start drowning in inch-deep water. That's when you decided the second-hand embarrassment was too much to handle, standing up to take off your top so you could go swimming.

You stopped in the middle of your task, your crossed hands still clasped around the ends of your top as you turned to Saiki, who stared you down. 'Yes, I'm leaving you here. You're on your own, nerd.' You thought at him, glancing between Saiki and his book. He stayed silent, only glaring at you over his glasses. You could tell what he was thinking already; how could you just leave him to deal with everyone else? Hah— so long, sucker!

You looked from Saiki to Hairo whose pants had slipped when he ran to save Kaidou from drowning, Nendou— who stared at the other girls on the beach with a blush and smirk on his face, then back to the psychic.

'Yeah, I'm not about to watch any more of their shenanigans; I'm out of here.'

You greeted Hairo briefly and walked towards the water in time to overhear that the red-haired boy had decided to volunteer as a lifeguard over the summer. Walking further into the water, you stopped when you couldn't feel the sand underneath your feet and started to swim further out until the voices of your classmates sounded distant enough that you couldn't make out the words.

Sighing, you floated on your back and stared up at the sun. The weather was way too warm, and you hated the heat because of how it caused you to sweat. At least now you could have some peace and quiet; your social battery had run out a while back.

The silence didn't last long, you felt a ripple in the water and opened one eye, only to realise the cause was Saiki. He sat on a blue swimming donut that had sun patterns on it. That's when you noticed he was shirtless, only wearing his yellow swimming trunks, and you tried not to stare, opting to look at the beach instead, coughing awkwardly.

You watched as a group of girls ran across the sand— Nendou not far behind, chasing them. "I don't want people knowing I'm with him." You had to agree with Saiki; being associated with Nendou was never a good thing. Looking away from the girls fleeing in terror on the beach, you turned back to the young esper.

'I get that— but why did you have to come here?'

'I draw less attention when I'm with you than when I'm by myself.'

'So, you're using me?'

‘...Don’t make it weird.’

When you made the comment, your mind had not been in the gutter, but now it certainly was. There was a brief pause before Saiki looked back at the beach. He sighed and closed his eyes— then he tilted his float sideways until his body crashed against the water. You shot up, no longer floating on your back. You kicked your legs to stay above the waves and looked around to see if you could spot Saiki who was no longer on the water donut.

'You won't find me, I'm all the way at the bottom. When I want to be alone or get some serious thinking done, I come down here. I find the seafloor relaxing.'

You jumped in your skin at the sound of his voice in your head. You raised an eyebrow to yourself when your brain registered what he had said. You didn't get the chance to reply to him, the sound of Nendou shouting stealing your attention.

"Saiki! You going pee-pee?!"

'Oh man, next time, I'll have to go deeper. Better go back before they start looking.'

You stopped paying attention to what Saiki was thinking at you when you noticed a girl in the water. Was she... She was drowning!

Your body moved before you could think. The water around you splashed violently as you started swimming, trying to get to her as fast as you could. You heard Nendou and Kaidou in the distance. Now hang on a minute, you swore the blue-haired boy had no idea how to swim— how had he made it this far out? As if on cue, Kaidou started drowning as well and you watched in horror.

You relaxed somewhat when you watched Nendou save the idiot, carrying him on his back. By then, you had made it to the girl, the other two boys still making their way towards you. You tried to grab onto her to save her, only for her to jump on you in her panic. She clawed her way up, trying to get on your shoulders. You realised then that both of you were screwed. "Calm down—" You didn't get to finish your sentence as you felt your body give way under her weight, water filling your mouth instantly.

You ended up underwater along with the girl, your legs spent and tired. Surely, this wasn't how things ended. You had so much left to do— so many sites to see! Your mind went into overdrive as you sank deeper.

When you felt something brush against your feet under the water, you nearly lost all your composure; the safety of your classmates and the random girl next to you was no longer your priority.

You calmed down when you recognised the pink underneath the clear waves. 'What a pain. Everyone around me is so needy.'

Saiki placed his hands on your waist and effortlessly lifted you up until your head was above water. Your fight or flight kicked in, adrenaline pumping through your veins, and your legs started kicking lightly to keep you afloat. You looked around until your eyes landed on Nendou, who was standing on the water as if it was a solid surface, with Hairo, Kaidou and the drowning girl from earlier on his back.

"What? Nendou, you're walking on water!" Hairo exclaimed as he looked down. "When'd you learn how to do that?!" Kaidou chimed in, and you already knew the answer. It was Saiki, using his strength to lift them all so they wouldn't drown. You watched as all four of them sped off towards the sand.

'See? I told him he'd have more luck walking on water than picking up girls.'

You snorted to yourself at Saiki's comment before tilting your body so you were on your back, letting the waves carry you as you caught your breath. You closed your eyes, exhaustion kicking in as the adrenaline ran out— only to open when you felt the water move, making you rock.

You opened your eyes, squinting as the sun invaded your gaze, only for you to see Saiki. He turned around in the water, showing you his back, "Get on. I'll carry you to the beach." His closed statement left no room for discussion, and even if you had it in you to retort, you were too tired to argue.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, mindful not to squeeze too hard and rested your head on him as he swam you back to the beach. You tried not to pay attention to how close the two of you were or how you could feel his body heat since he didn't have a top on.

After throwing your top back on, you watched as the girl who nearly drowned you apologised to Nendou. "Sorry I joked about how ugly your face is." She said and you guessed it was her way of thanking him for saving her.

"Hmph, I'm glad you didn't ask for her number in return for your heroics," Kaidou said, giving the wannabe gangster a nod of approval as you all packed to leave. "Heh, I try to be a gentleman, but if that hottie fell in love with me, I'm not gonna turn her down," Nendou replied, closing his eyes as if he was proud. You had to give it to him, the man had confidence. You walked alongside Saiki as the group left Hairo and the girl.

"She wouldn't," Kaidou whispered under his breath, a smirk on his face. Nendou whipped his head around to shout at him. "What'd you say?!" The day at the beach ended and finally, you could go home

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ 

bonus:

 After the four of you got back in town, Nendou and Kaidou split off so they could head home. Truth be told, that was the plan for you as well until Saiki stopped you.

 "Do you want to come back to my house?" You turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow at him at the suggestion. You were sure he thought of you as a nuisance like everyone else, yet here he was inviting you to his place.

  "Don't get any weird ideas. Mom told me to bring you back for dinner. She likes having you around." Mrs Saiki hadn't specifically told him to bring you back, but Saiki did know that she liked your company. A small smile graced your face at the sentiment. Being liked by someone else's parents was a different type of validation. You shrugged and walked beside him back to the Saiki Household, the day not yet over.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

next part - alexithymia  

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[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Fireworks

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~2.6k

Summary: New Year's party

A/N: Random musings

Warnings: fluff, slight angst/jealousy, drinking

It was the night of the annual New Year’s party at the compound, and you were taking a long-awaited break outside on the balcony away from all the noise. You loved celebrating with Wanda, whatever that involved, but sometimes you wished that you didn’t have to share her with everyone else.

You know that since you skipped the party last year, there was no ditching this time. You had been okay with that as the night started and you were surrounded by champagne, but now a few hours later you wish you could get away from it all. 

The closest you’d gotten was wandering out here a few minutes ago. No matter how large the building was, you couldn’t help but feel a little suffocated when you were surrounded by hundreds of people. The music had started to become drowned out and you knew you couldn’t stomach any more champagne, so you’d excused yourself from whoever Wanda had been talking to and sought out some fresh air and relative silence.

You weren’t the only one out here because that was impossible given the occasion, but you would take it over the overbright party for now. 

You breathe in deeply and smile at the moonlit sky as you let your shoulders drop. You’re glad that you opted for pants tonight because it was too cold to be out here in anything else. You abandoned your glass inside somewhere, so your hands were stuffed in your pockets as you stood as close to the railing as physically possible. You were leaning on it in a way that you wouldn’t be able to stomach if it was light out and you could see how far down the ground was.

Luckily, you were too mesmerized by the appearance of the stars in the sky to think about what lay below. You glance at your watch before realizing you can’t see the time, but you don’t get to glance at your phone before you hear someone behind you. 

“These parties get so stuffy, don’t they?” 

You turn and smile at the sight of your brother-in-law standing behind you with two glasses of champagne in his hands. He’s not who you expected to find you, but you can’t say you’re disappointed as you shrug in response. He knows how you feel given that you’re out here at all. Still, you offer him an explanation, not able to completely erase your guilt at leaving. 

“The noise and the bright lights don’t mix well with alcohol.” 

Pietro smiles slightly at the fact that he’d brought you something to make your headache worse, and he sets the glasses down on a nearby bench. He moves to stand next to you with a sigh as he glances out onto the grounds. You wonder why he came out here given how much he likes a good party. He didn’t even seem buzzed which was honestly a shock given how late it was. 

“I’m sure having strange men hit on you doesn’t either.” 

You can’t help but chuckle in amusement at how that had gone. It had been about an hour into the party and some recruits were well and truly wasted already. This wasn’t surprising and for this reason, they had their own floor for the party where they were usually escorted to if they got too out of hand. 

You’d gotten to watch your wife banish one of them personally when he thought he’d try to get you to dance with him. He was convinced that you looked like some celebrity he watched on TV growing up, and not only was that false, but it made you feel old. The recruit couldn’t be much younger than you. You’d said no as politely as possible, and left as soon as you realized he wasn’t taking a hint. 

You’d only made it a couple of steps before he grabbed your wrist and tried to pull you onto the dance floor. He’d only ended up on his ass when Bucky knocked him to the ground. You’d turned around to see your friend and wife standing side by side with matching glares. 

Up until now, you’d stuck by Wanda because it was the safest place to be. That said, beside her was the busiest place to be given how much she had to mingle. You’d taken your chance to escape, and you were going to wait as close to midnight as possible before going back to look for you wife. 

“If that’s the most excitement I see tonight, I’ll consider myself lucky.” 

Pietro laughs before he nudges you playfully and shoots you a look that makes you roll your eyes. 

“Are you sure about that? Not up for any more excitement tonight?” 

You suppose you’ll never be able to live what happened the year before last down. You and Wanda had left the party, this exact party early when you’d feigned a headache. Wanda had been concerned and taken you upstairs leaving everyone else to their celebration.

Pietro, being the considerate brother-in-law that he was, had come to check up on his sisters a bit later only to find them relaxing in their living room.

At least that’s what he thought he’d walked in on, then you’d jumped up from the ground and Wanda had spun around with an angry curse. It only took seeing you both half-clothed and scrambling for cover to clue him in. 

“Why, looking to interrupt us again?” 

Pietro shakes his head before turning around at the sound of a door opening. He smiles at the sight of his sister looking flustered and a little tired. It was nearing midnight, so he figured that neither of you would be sticking around for long. He just smiles before patting you on the shoulder with a sigh.

“Happy new year, kid.” 

You roll your eyes before grumbling a response and waving him away even though he’s already halfway to the doors. 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

Wanda shoots her brother a look before accepting a hug. He says something you can’t hear, but when Wanda smiles and kisses him on the cheek, you realize that it must have been something sweet. That or your wife is a little drunker than you thought. 

“Y/n. there you are.”

You smile in greeting before leaning in for a kiss. You’re relieved to see her because usually her arrival means that she’s finished making small talk and she’s ready to leave. You grab her hand before taking a moment to admire her outfit again. It looks uncomfortable, in fact you know it is given how many times Wanda complained about it, but the dress is beautiful. The blue contrasts wonderfully with her hair, and you’d caught yourself staring multiple times tonight. 

“Ready to call it a night?” 

Wanda pulls her gaze away from the three open buttons of your shirt. She contemplated fixing this earlier, especially after one of her employees drunkenly hit on you. However, she’d gotten distracted, and now she figures that if you’re going to be walking out of here with her, it won’t matter soon enough. 

“All set, detka. Thank you for your patience.” 

You smile before shaking your head because honestly it wasn’t so bad. You got to eat good food, catch up with some people, and spend time with your wife. 

You lead Wanda back through the doors to the still bustling, but slowing party. The first thing you notice is how warm it is, and you have to resist the urge to walk a little faster so you can be in your own rooms sooner. You’re imagining the relief you’ll feel when you change out of these clothes when someone calls out for your wife. 

Wanda stiffens at the familiar voice. She hadn’t heard it directed toward her in years, but she’d heard it around the compound enough for it to be impossible to forget about her presence entirely. 

Wanda watches as you turn in the direction of the drunk blonde with a curious look. You don’t say anything, and watch with mounting frustration as the woman, probably around your age, reaches out for your wife. 

“Wanda! -t’s good to…good to see -ou.” 

Wanda tries not to appear as panicked as she feels because she knows that this is going to get ugly. If not right now, it might later when you figure out who this woman is. Wanda channels her inner-boss and tries not to flinch when the blonde grabs her hand. She carefully pulls it away before patting her on the shoulder in an effort to placate her. 

“Amy, do you have someone to help you get home?” 

Wanda’s innocent question and obvious recognition of the blonde makes you frown, but you don’t get to consider asking for an introduction. Your eyes widen and you can’t help but release Wanda’s hand in shock. You also can’t help but notice how Wanda’s face flushes as she practically glares at Amy. 

“Nope, you off-er, offri-.” 

“Offering? No, but I can have someone esc--.” 

Wanda’s cut off and you start in surprise when Amy practically throws herself at your wife. She doesn’t do much more than fall against her before Wanda has her at arm’s length and she’s shooting Steve who luckily is never far, a look. He comes up and takes Amy by the shoulder and steers her off somewhere you don’t even see. You’re too busy trying to figure out what happened, but one glance at your wife tells you that she has some explaining to do. 

“Um...Who the hell was that?” 

Wanda cringes but she shakes her head before reaching out for you again to lead you to the elevators. She’d rather not talk about this right now, and definitely not here. You don’t like her plan however and you try to argue, but Wanda just shakes her head before shooting you a pleading look that leaves you more anxious than reassured. 

“Let’s talk upstairs. Please?”

You acquiesce with a nod before following Wanda to the elevators. You hear her press the button a little harder than necessary when you turn around to look for the blonde. As expected, she’s gone, and you wonder if Steve got any useful information from her. 

The sound of the elevator arriving makes you turn around and wait for Wanda to go first before you step inside and press the button for your floor with a sigh. You’re exhausted and you really just wanted to go home and relax with your wife, but now you’re not sure what’s going to happen. You move to the back of the car and lean against it with a frown. You look at your reflection in the door before turning to Wanda’s to see that she’s already watching you. 

“So are you going to tell me who that woman was?” 

Wanda sighs and when she looks away from you, your frown deepens as you cross your arms. You aren’t sure you want to know anymore. 

Wanda runs a hand through her hair before taking a deep breath. She turns toward you and waits until you meet her gaze. 

“We slept together a couple of times, maybe 5 years ago.”

The first thing you feel is jealousy because of course you would. You have to resist the urge to scowl at the thought of some blonde sleeping with your wife…way before she was your wife. You simply nod before realizing that you certainly could be upset, but does it really matter who Wanda slept with when you weren’t together? Specifically, did you care about her sleeping with some woman before even meeting you? 

You almost laugh at the thought of your limited history with women, and how yours is definitely more problematic than hers. At least in your opinion. The stress of admitting that you’d met and slept with Natasha before meeting Wanda had been overwhelming.

You realize that you can’t really be upset, at least not at Wanda, but you still feel a little miffed by tonight’s interruption. Mostly because you wanted to enjoy your time to celebrate with Wanda, and you know yourself too well to think you’ll be able to brush this off. 

Wanda turns when you don’t respond, and she frowns when she sees you deep in thought. She’s about to speak up and ask what you’re thinking, but you share it with her fairly quickly. 

“Did you two date?” 

You figure you know the answer given how Wanda introduced her, but it doesn’t hurt to be sure. You watch as your wife shakes her head before stepping out of the elevator and into the hallway. She quickly opens the door and you both walk inside without a word. 

“So you were friends with benefits?” 

You notice Wanda cringes when you say this but she doesn’t argue immediately as she walks over to the couch and sits down. She turns to you and you simply sigh before moving to sit beside her. 

“Not really. At least we weren’t really friends.” 

You try not to think too hard about this and you eventually hum in response, but say nothing else. Your brain, as cruel as it is, thinks back to the blonde you saw a few minutes ago. You can’t help how your expression darkens as your mood follows suit. 

“Okay.” 

The way you say this single word tells Wanda that it is in fact not okay, but she doesn’t have time to respond before you walk into the kitchen to the fridge. Wanda’s still searching for an explanation when you grab a bottle of expensive champagne and reach into a nearby cupboard for two glasses. Wanda just watches as you set them on the counter in front of her before you sigh in defeat. 

“I’m not judging you for having a past. I just don’t like to think about it. I’m selfish and want you all to myself.”

Wanda opens her mouth to tell you that you have her, but you cut her off when the cork flies off the bottle and hits a wall across the room. You pour two glasses and take another deep breath before holding one out to your wife with a small smile. 

“You are all mine, right?” 

Wanda’s nodding as you tip your glass back and down the contents quickly. She only takes a sip of hers before she sets it down and leans in close to you for a kiss that you quickly deepen. You blindly set your glass down as you move so you can wrap your arms around your wife’s waist. She smiles into the kiss before she pulls you out of the kitchen and toward the living room. She considers pushing you onto the couch, but instead she leads you to the wall of windows where the sky is already being lit up in celebration. 

Wanda turns to meet your gaze and seeing the fireworks dancing across your skin makes her lean in to kiss you again. She’s smiling widely by the time she breaks away, and your entire face lights up at what she says next. 

“I will always be yours, detka.” 

You squeeze her hand before you decide that this is the only thing that matters right now. Standing beside your wife and ringing in another year together. 

“Happy New Year, Wands.” 

Masterlist

[cherriegyuu]

hi,

i just wanted to say that i love your works, you’re absolutely AMAZING !!

and that kind of led me to sending in my request (since i saw they’re open), because i really need to read another piece of art from you <3

is it possible for me to ask you to write something like an angst-to-fluff pregnancy imagine/drabble with wonwoo? i know that not everyone is comfortable with this topic, so feel totally free to ignore it or change it the way you want, i’ll be super ultra thankful anyways :))

once again i love your works, keep going !!

- anon

i really got carried away with this but i'm also scared... a little really hope you like it!!

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader genre:  angst, fluff word count: 1.9k warnings: none

a/n: not proofread

requests are open

With a heavy heart, you sat down in the waiting room, your eyes filled with tears. Seeing your current estate, the attendant said that it was okay if you were late, she could just make a quick shift on the schedule. You thanked her, relieved. 

You took out your phone from your purse. No missed calls or unread texts from your fiance.

You told him that you could go by yourself to the ultrasound. But Wonwoo said that he wanted to be there, that since he missed the last one he had to be there for the next one.

So you believed him and waited. 

You tried calling him fifteen minutes before you were supposed to leave the apartment. Then again when you were already late. Tried texting him many times in between but you never got an answer. So you called an Uber and left by yourself. Though you wanted to call him again, you forced yourself not to. 

Since you got pregnant you felt as if Wonwoo was slowly pushing you away and you didn't know what to do. He was working longer hours, leaving the apartment when the sun had just risen to the sky, and coming home every night almost at midnight. He’d just shower and go to bed.

On many different occasions, you asked him if everything was okay, and why he was working over hours so much. His answers were always evasive and never told you much of anything. You knew Wonwoo wasn’t cheating but you couldn’t help but think that maybe this wasn’t the lift that he wanted. That once a child was involved in the equation he wasn’t all that sure if getting married and officially starting a life together was something that he still wanted. 

You didn’t want to doubt him at all but his actions didn’t leave you with many other options but that one. 

The entrance door suddenly opened and Wonwoo rushed in. His hair was a mess on top of his head, his glasses slightly crocked over his face, and a thin layer of sweat covered his forehead. He looked around for a second before his eyes finally landed on you. He sat down by your side, his eyes wide.

“I’m sorry” he kissed your head, taking your hands in his “I’m so sorry”

You just shook your head, eyes forward, refusing to look at him. Not out of anger, but because if you did you would start crying again and had just managed to pull yourself together. You didn’t want to see the doctor while crying. Your tears were only yours, to be shed in the privacy of your home — preferably in the shower when no one could see you. 

“Please, look at me” he begged and you almost caved “I didn’t forget but I was stuck in the office, that’s why I didn't take any of your calls”

A shake of your head was still all he got. Wonwoo didn’t know what else he could say. He knew that he was in the wrong in the situation but he didn’t know what he was supposed to say or do. And he didn’t have a chance to think of anything because a nurse came out to take you to get the ultrasound.

For a second Wonwoo was scared that you wouldn’t let him inside the room with you but you never let go of his hand while walking in. 

Wonwo had missed your first ultrasound, the one both of you had considered the most special one. It was the first time you’d get to hear your baby’s heartbeat. Wonwoo hated himself for not being there, hated how all he had was the video you took on your phone to show to him. He knew that you were disappointed in him. 

“You didn’t come alone this time,” the doctor said once she walked in, a smile on her face.

Wonwoo squeezed your hand, kissing your knuckles. 

He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous but he couldn’t keep his heart at a normal rate. Maybe it was because he was going to hear his child’s heart for the first time or maybe it was because you refused to look his way, your hand completely limp on his hold. Or maybe it was just a mixture of both.

“Do you want to know what you’re having?”

“Yes,” both of you said at the same time

“I don’t really like the whole gender reveal thing”

The doctor laughed, pressing the transducer to your stomach.

“If I get to say so myself, I don’t like it either” she moved her hand a little to the left, smiling again looking at the screen, lightly moving it towards you “Everything looks fine, as it should. Now, for the moment you’ve been waiting for”

Wonwoo followed you out of the clinic, his hand on your lower back guiding you to where he had parked the car.

You didn't speak to him once or even looked his away. You seemed to be lost in your mind since the moment you saw him, only ever talking with the doctor.  

He opened the passenger door for you and hurried to the other side. 

“What do you want for dinner?” he tried saying 

“I… If…” your voice shook as you tried to get the words out “If this is not something you want, marriage, being a father, I need you to tell me now. Don’t wait until the baby is born to make up your mind. Don’t be that cruel to me”

The silence in the car was deafening. Wonwoo felt as if the world had stopped moving.

The truth was having a child wasn’t a topic you talked about frequently. Yes, it was mentioned a couple of times over the years but nothing more. However, when you told him that you were pregnant, he couldn’t be happier. He felt as if his entire life was falling into place just at the right time. His job was going great, he finally got the promotion he had worked himself crazy for, you had said yes to his proposal, and you had a baby on the way. 

It was the life he imagined for himself, the life he so desperately wanted. And he wanted it all with you. So the fact that he was hurting you, even if he didn’t mean to, even if all that he was doing was so that you could have the life you also dreamed of, drove him insane. 

“I want to show you something”

You did your best to not let your tears fall. Wonwoo had been silent since you asked him to be honest with you. And it was the first time, in a very long time, that you had no idea of what his silence meant. He gripped the wheel tight enough that his knuckles turned white, his lips pressed into a thin line. It was hard to resist the urge to pull his hand into yours, to do something that would change the atmosphere between the two of you.

Yet, you forced your hands to remain on your lap while you tried to discover where he was taking you. The streets felt vaguely familiar, you knew that you had been there once before. All of it made sense when Wonwoo parked the car in front of a house you had visited a few moments before you found out that you were pregnant. 

After Wonwoo proposed, the two of you decided that instead of having a huge wedding party you wanted to get a place of your own. It felt much more important to have a home than a party. And you could still celebrate with your friends and family, just maybe in a more modest way.

In one of your conversations with Wonwoo, you told him that you wanted to live in an actual house, not in an apartment. It’s just a dream though, you told him. Still, when looking for a place, Wonwoo only took you to see houses, while you only chose apartments. 

But, of course, you had a favorite and Wonwoo knew it, even if you never said it out loud. He saw the way your eyes shone when he took you there, when you looked at the rooms, the kitchen, the small garden in the back, the old swing set. 

You watched in complete wonder as Wonwoo took a key out of his pocket and opened the gate. 

“How do you have a key to this place?”

Unlike the last time you had been there, the place seemed entirely different. It was clear the house was being renovated.

“I wanted to make a surprise but I think my idea wasn’t as great as I thought it was”

He pushed the door open. It was like you remembered but also different. The walls were no longer an ugly shade of gray but a shade of pearl. The carpet had been removed and it was finally possible to see the floor.

“Wonwoo…”

Wonwoo wrapped his arms around you from behind, his hand on your belly that was starting to grow round.

“The promotion I got at work came with a bonus, much bigger than we thought. It was more than enough to get the house we wanted”

His lips dropped feather like kisses on your shoulder, the curve of your neck, behind your ear, and on top of your head.

"I've been coming here every day before and after work, to make sure that it will be ready in a few more days. But after today…" 

You turned around in his arms, needing to look at him. 

"Wonwoo, I wanted the house, not you"

He shook his head, a smile on his lips as he pushed the hair that fell onto your forehead. 

"I wanted whatever you wanted. And I agree with you, raising a child in a house with enough space is much better than inside the apartment" he kissed you once, then twice. "There's something I want to show you"

Wonwoo took you by the hand, pulling you through the house. You only had a chance to peek at the rooms. All of them had been slightly modified.

That moment felt like a dream, the kind of thing someone doesn't actually get to live. You felt as if at any moment you'd wake up and you'd be back in bed. 

All the doors in the hall were open except for one on the right.

Taking a deep breath, Wonwoo pushed the door open and took a step aside to let in first.

Tears burned the back of your eyes, a knot pressing your throat. It was a fully furnished nursery. It was everything you ever dreamed of and then some more. The white walls, the little clouds on the ceiling. Even the furniture itself was one you had chosen. 

"How…? When…?"

"I might have snooped on your phone," he said with a laugh "We finished it just this morning. Mingyu helped with putting the furniture together and Seungkwan with the details"

At that point, tears already ran freely down your face. While Wonwoo was busy doing everything he could to get you your dream, you were worried that he might have fallen out of love with you, that he longer wanted to be with you. 

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I didn't…"

"It's fine, I shouldn't have kept it a secret" he held your face in his hands, he had tears in his eyes too but also a beautiful smile "But this is where we start the rest of our lives. You, me, and our son"

taglist: @wonwooz1, @ryuwonieebae, @sobun1est, @mirtaspace, @mhlsy_mlysn @feat-sun

if you want to be tagged in my next fics, please fill out this form

[cactusdrinkstea]

─ ‧ ִ ۫✭ Beautiful mess

Vil Schoenheit x Reader

Summary: You saved Vil from getting his looks messed up from a failed potion and now he feels conflicted about it.

Word count: 1105

I loved how I wrote this one. I may write a part 2 with Vil pampering the reader perhaps. I will see later on -w-

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Looking absolutely divine was second nature to Vil. An art cultivated by him across the years to attract as many looks as possible. It could be described as a talent, but Vil also liked to think of it as his passion. Presentation was always the most important part, he always thought that way. 

If you presented yourself with good looks, everyone would listen to you and be at your whim, and even if they weren’t, your beauty would stand out more than anything else. That’s how he always thought. 

That day he was passing through the halls at NRC, it was no different than any other regular day. He had a book under his arm, heading outside from his history lesson. Usually his mind was focused, but that particular time he was thinking of something else. Thinking about his next possible photo shoot or if the beauty product he started to try was an improvement from the previous one. He could only hear faint muffled voices from some first years. 

“You messed it up! This is your fault! Now Crewel will fail us for real” 

“My fault? That furball poured the wrong quantities!” 

“Hey stop tugging it, you guys will drop it!” 

“How is ‘more’ a bad thing?! More is always better!”

Those were the rambles he blocked in his mind. Stuff he didn’t even want to get involved in. That was until he heard a warning that he didn’t pay attention to, and by the time he noticed he was being shoved to the side. He stumbled back at the unexpected motion, staring in surprise as his book fell out of his hands, the noise of glass shattering into pieces filled his ears. He fixed the strands of hair that went out of place and he stared back up. 

“What is the meaning of this?!” He snapped until he stared at the scene in front of him.

“Deuce, Ace, of course this involves you both, I can’t believe I am caught in the middle of—” He was about to rant until he saw the state of the last person in the trio. 

From head to toe, your body was covered in a weird substance. It looked like a potion gone wrong. From the texture to the color. A familiar potato covered in disgusting potion gunk. How could a potion be so runny and sticky at the same time?! It was like bubblegum mixed with water. Your usually plain looking face looked completely ruined, and if it was wearing any makeup before, he couldn’t even notice it anymore. 

"Lovely..."  You said sarcastically as the other two fools apologized over and over again when they stared at you. You told them it wasn't a big deal and then you looked at Vil

"You okay, housewarden?" You asked him, face still stained. Those eyes looking relieved to know it didn't get all over him, since instead you took the hit.

"I...What did you do that for? You just—" Vil didn’t even know how to feel. He seemed surprised, dumbfounded, and even angry, especially because he had been so careless not to notice the potion drop in the first place. It was the first time someone had jumped in front of him like this to avoid something bad happening to his looks. He was usually the one to be taking care of them, no one else did. 

"Ah, you are okay. It would have been a shame if it fell on you. I know how much you care about your looks” 

Now that truly shocked him, it felt as if the potion had fallen on him. No, it felt as if ten potions combined had just splashed onto his face. 

He felt a warm cozy feeling into his chest. Gratitude? Fondness? He couldn’t put his thoughts into words. Not only that but, since when did your face look so pretty? It didn’t make any sense. To any standard the way you looked was absolutely messy. Your usually clean hair looked sticky and the strands were stuck together. Your cheeks were covered in that slimy substance. That perfect uniform was stained and would probably need more than a singular wash. And yet with all of those things combined, he had never seen such a cute face before. No makeup needed, no fancy clothes or the most amazing hair. None of that. It only took a little kind potato protecting him to feel that way. 

Your eyes looking happily at him had never seemed so shiny and adorable. He snapped out of his thoughts and he took out a handkerchief from his pocket and started to walk up to you. 

"Yes, I am alright. I am more worried about you, that concoction looked like it was probably poorly made. Just look at what it did to your poor appearance” Vil softly wiped the sticky potion from your face. The last thing he wanted was for that cute skin to be left with any nasty spots, or your complexion would be ruined. He was even doing it more tenderly than usual. 

"What are you two doing creating any kind of potions anyway? With the looks of it this could easily be poison…” He said sternly to the first years, to which they only stepped back a little. 

“We were doing an assignment that went a little wrong. No harm done, right?” Ace said until he got elbowed by Deuce. 

“Clearly you guys don’t know how to make one!” Grim added but was promptly ignored.

“We messed it up in the process and then we all started to fight over it. We didn’t mean to drop it” Deuce sheepishly replied. Vil sighed and decided to focus all of his attention on his potato instead. 

“You’re not going to your room like this. You’re going to my dorm” He spoke firmly, already starting to drag you in the direction of Pomefiore’s mirror chamber. You were already trying to argue back, saying it wasn’t a big deal and that you would handle it, but whenever Vil had something in mind it had to be done. 

Right now he had to clean you up, give you a new wardrobe, the best skin and hair routine ever to fix that sticky mess and then maybe even try new makeup. He was going to take care of you just as much as you had taken care of him during that incident. Although deep down he was sure you wouldn't look as cute and beautiful as you had when you first saved him back in the halls. He had to keep that beautiful memory all to himself. 

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[iron-embers]

The Finale

Had quite a lot of information pass to me in the span of 24 hours, and so it took a while to determine what to say so that we can move on with both a clear conscience and a concise understanding. First, I wanted to thank everyone who has reached out in regards to Bbd, and all the help you have given me in pursuing a fair end to this madness. I couldn’t do this without you all, and for those that have been hurt by the actions of this troll and being caught in the middle, you have my sincerest apologies. No one should have to go through that, Bbd did not deserve any of it and neither did those who have been made victims thanks to the actions of one miserable troll. For those that have suffered for the fighting that has been caused since then, know that your honesty and being civil in the name of seeking the truth have been a great aid, and has restored my faith in the fandom. With that being said, let me make it publicly clear

Hawnkoii is not the troll, and the evidence I was sent while true was taken out of context. When I made the first post addressing everything possible, I had to do it in a way that would not be swayed by opinions, but based on the evidence I gathered. I tagged hawnkoii initially as before any of this, we have actually never spoken to one another. And it wasn’t for any particular reason, it was a mutual understanding as there were no problems that ever arose between us so no point, even after the controversies of drama that happened on a server I was not a part of, I did not block, unfollow or spread anything about hawnkoii to anyone because why cause more unecessary drama. And while the evidence I gathered was quite appalling, the result it brought has been a mix of shock, pain and most importantly, a desire to understand what is really going on shared by many others and most importantly hawnkoii. My post brought on a conversation that was desperately needed, and after me and Hawnkoii talked for a long while both comparing evidence and talking it out like adults, we have come to the shared understanding that we should have spoken sooner. Instead we let the words of others doubt one another’s integrity without ever actually seeking out another side to whatever was being told. And with that we are on the same page and are aware of the truth now. I reached out to the mutuals who have been affected by this privately as I know the troll is still around, but to those I have not spoken to let this post make it clear that hawnkoii is not the troll. They, like me and so many others are another victim of the manipulation the one truly responsible has wrought. I do not regret posting what I did earlier as it helped people get on the same page, like it or not as much as many don’t want to be involved (as understandable as that is) it is clear that it became everyone’s problem when the troll started infringing on others right to privacy. I do however feel a heavy burden knowing that it has brought pain to those that were truly innocent in all this. We all want this to be over, I completely understand and it is for that reason that I want to say what I’m sure all of us have been wanting.

The blame game is done. No more playing by this trolls rules. In the past many of us may have said some things to one another, things that we later realize were wrong and have come to regret, and yet felt they would be shunned if they ever tried to come clean about it. No more. Let this be the moment that no matter what has been said in anger, speculation, and fear….let this be the moment where we let it go. Every individual has agency over what they do, and it is no one’s place to be telling anyone how to follow through with someone else’s choices unless they ask for it. I’ve heard all the sides I could and you know what…what’s done is done. No one should think they deserve forgiveness for what was said, but I would like to think that all of us want in some way to atone. Let this be that moment, we all have our differences, our boundaries and our own opinions, and over time when left unchecked things can get out of hand when any disagreements are not properly communicated. We let petty feelings and pride get in the way of what is truly important, it is wrong to let it continue but it is also HUMAN. And it’s okay to make mistakes. What isn’t okay is to start making what is supposed to be a fun and open place something to dread and fear. By spreading rumors, whispering behind each others back, and instead of letting civility dictate conversations it has become damn near zealotry. This is a place for people to create and share common interests with those they interact with, and whatever ill feelings or disagreements anyone has with one another should be made privately and dealt with in a professional manner. No dragging anyone into private matters, that is a recipe for disaster and if it cannot be solved privately then what will dragging more into it do?

Secondly, this got as far as it did because some have unintentionally forgotten the importance of privacy. It happens, we make mistakes, however as much as I wish otherwise the internet is not the safest place on earth. There are good people here, but there are also bad ones too, and sharing too much info with the wrong person can lead to dangerous waters. So from this point on, if you know someone’s private information because they imparted that to you with the trust you won’t share it, for the love of the creator do not share it without their express permission. And if someone you kind of know happens to ask for it or to verify that other persons info in anyway, please check with the person they are asking about if that is okay. Or if anything, why is that person asking for their personals, if they don’t know the person they are asking about, then they have no business knowing that private info and no one has any business sharing it without permission. End of story on that. This is what made it worse in the first place, so with that said let this be a lesson on why private info should be respected. No more of that. I’ve seen everything that has been going on, I appreciate those that reached out to give their side, the honesty and the want to move forward is what should bring us together, not divide us.

With that understood, and no more of things being unclear and who said what cuz it is time to move on, now to get on to what is also important. It is confirmed that the one responsible for the server drama plus Tumblr drama is

Overwork/ @hearts4muzan / hearts4muzan

And those connected to that account are also the ones responsible for the near year of harassment to all the creators here. As stated before, many things were said on that server by different people, and I have come to the conclusion that overwork who was the one in charge of that server had a malicious reason for inviting all those hantengu creators in the first place. To put it simply, time and time again the troll has reached out stating their obsession with hantengu, to such an unhealthy degree that they came at many creators not just on tumblr, but they did this on twitter first. I don’t have twitter, but have gotten the scoop on what happened on there, and to keep it simple, they love making lil disagreements spiral out of control by playing the they said, who says game, preying on people’s lack of time spent on the internet to manipulate and weave doubt among creators. It starts with one controversial thing, some that can be taken out of context and they spin it, baiting the person they are targeting to say more so they have more info to spin. It is sick, and because they couldn’t get enough of it on twitter, they found their way to tumblr.

Ever since I posted the big timeline post yesterday, these messages came from two of the people I’ve been in contact with, and I’m sure some of you who have interacted with overwork in the past have also received this. As you can see, the troll did see my post as I did link hearts4muzan , calling them out on their bs and so as a final act of desperation they send this to sow more trouble. Not only that, they retagged me and two others earlier today on a post meant to doxx spife, showing a one sided recollection of what happened on the server. As stated, they like to use this guilt trip method to keep people quiet as since they were in charge of the server they saw everything going on, weaponizing and using what others said to spread more chaos, and that action itself shows they are a coward. They didn’t even to bother to make a well written response for different people, they just copy and paste to see what reaction they get. Hell even claiming to be multiple people to divert attention, which may be true, but the again their arrogance led them to believe no one would be willing to put aside their differences to see the bigger picture. Every text of them supposedly informing you of supposed gossip, everytime they shut you down without hearing your side and threatening to reveal the out of context truth, all of it was their game.

Many disputes have happened in or out of that server they were in charge of because they were overseeing all the info being passed around between the creators who joined the server with completely innocent intentions. And whatever info they gather they spin stories out of it, selectively feeding it to certain people so that it creates doubt and chaos. They have done it before, they have experience doing this as they have also proven to fabricate fake screenshots of the person being targeted, with mothzii, spife, and now they did this to BBd. And they tried so damn hard to get BBd to give them something, to bait them into a fight with constant messages, anon asks, and even resorting to stealing their art to goad them on, and when BBd did the professional thing and reported it, with nothing else they started sneaking about on their server and find those that knew bbd in order to get that info. They found their private discord user and even found the personal insta to look for any dirt. Since they couldn’t find any, they resorted to threatening bbd via anon messages that they will locate them. One, that is absurd that the whole reason someone would go to that length is for the sake of creating drama for a fictional fandom, especially to someone who strove for no drama in the first place like bbd. When they threatened that bbd made sure to keep their account private and wanted to what until the troll lost interest, at the very least the location the troll kept claiming was their location was completely off and might as well not correct them. But then, that is when I was sent screenshots of someone claiming BBds discord had a conversation with someone on discord that claimed it was bbd talking bad about one of the creators. The first suspicion is that the other person that BBd was apparently talking to on this supposed chat, had their names blurred except for bbd’s. I found it suspicious and did my research, that was not BBd at all. It was in fact someone copy and pasting bbd’s discord handle, one they got from screenshots they collected showing their handle and putting it over the conversation playing as if it was real. Sick, I know. And that was the final straw, BBd had enough of the lies, enough of the drama in the fandom that she had tried to avoid getting involved in. That’s why when hearts4muzan asked us in asks to join their server, we did not for the sake of not wanting to get caught in the middle of anything. To this day I’m so glad we did not because now we know that was bait, so that we would become their victims. Instead they used other people to get to bbd, and that is what urges me to write all this down to have the story straight.

It doesn’t matter anymore who talked shit about someone else, this became a serious matter when privacy was infringed on and affected innocent people. If the troll who did this wants the attention, to be taken seriously then here is the moment we all come together and keep this troll from ruining tumblr. If they cannot respect privacy, I won’t either. Karma is a beautiful thing and now that we are all on the same page we can finally do what needs to be done and end it.

First time hearing from the troll and me answering them/ them playing as if they are mothziis friend to divert attention

Them stealing my art, same time they stole BBD art after we reported the first pic

Then after we got them banned from stealing more art on rule 34, on July 8th Bbd gets an spam message with a link to a twitter account, showing that they stole another one of her pieces, the tags and text were in Romanian but it basically was saying expletives towards her art of Chizue and Sekido, saying and I wish I could be making this up…Sekido was their hubby and Chizue doesnt deserve him….ya know for a fictional character. She had it reported and taken down, but the account is still on twitter with this….lovely image of the art they parodied from a commission mothzii got from another artist. By the way, that link in their bio was linked straight to the real mothzii, but since mothzii deleted her account due to the twitter drama, it now leads no where, and this troll is using a bastardized version of their user since to play as if they are the same user. They are not. And they have stolen other art of peoples OCs to cuss them out in either Korean or Romanian for daring to make art with their hubby. I cringe as I’m writing this so bear with me. And needless to say, their twitter is full of reblog sand posts that would make even rule 34 blush. All in Romanian. Considering the lack of proper grammar in most of the troll asks everyone was getting at certain points, it does prove they are not an English speaker.

If any of you noticed inconsistencies with how the troll came to you and harrassed through asks, such as one time the text and grammar was awful, and the next they have even better grammar, wonder no more cuz it’s actually two people. One who is in charge of this mothliina account on twitter, and then this user suramii11 that they repost art of is the other. If any of you received the disgusting art or link to said art of dreams child character, this style of tracing over bases and how awful it is, this was the one that did that art.

Unfortunately they did art of hawnkoiis character without consent, and they did that previously with chizue and dreams characters, they were quite disgusting and posted it on rule 34 before they were taken down.

About a week later more asks are sent.

The return of the mothzii rumor

First attempt at resuming the mothzii harrassment

Second attempt, this time from the spam account since I blocked anons

After the twitters art theft, guess what they decided to do once twitter once again failed? Back to tumblr and of course with the same explicit pic of the art they edited before. If anyone was curious why they use this picture, it is actually the same picture that me and BBd found on rule34 after dream was getting harrassed and getting pedo art from the same user. The pic that said chizues name and BBd had taken down, after that was when the troll started coming over to tumblr to harass them. So desperate for attention they even made a fake pic of the real mothzii following them, when that is not the case. All in the name of causing drama

Whether it be a whole group of them are not, this is vile, and what they truly want is to be taken seriously. To be feared and abuse the info they gather to blackmail/doxx creators they are jealous of. Any bit of info they get feeds them and they start to repeatedly harass you with it to wear you down. They did that to mothzii, they did it to Spife (at this point I don’t care if people are still taking overworks word for it, please refer to Spife’s post for the other side of the story), and they tried with so many others like Lumitylovepill and Dreamcorechild. Just like when they tried to play the person of color card and call the creators they were jealous of white supremecists, and when I corrected them as them pulling the race card and using it to be a degenerate was not only insulting, that I was not white, my ask box was filled with all sorts of racist insults, all different as they hoped I would responded back with what race I was so that they could get more info. Since I did not and only said Hispanic, they kept saying Mexican. I’m using this as an example, as that is just one of the many ways they use to bait people into giving personal info. When I didn’t, the asks stopped for a time. When people show that their attempts don’t work, they keep trying and trying, and the best thing to do is show them that it doesn’t affect you.

Point is, I wanted to show people how they do it, so that this doesn’t happen again. Many have said it best, ignore them, they want private info cuz they want to scare other people with it. They are a joke. And know that I made this post I hope people can see that turning against one another will not help. That is what the real culprits want. They claimed time and time again they were against pedo art and pro shipping, yet here they are reposting the same stuff on the twitter. They claimed we followed them, which was a ploy to cause another witch hunt, they claimed they were fair and just on discord, yet here they are calling Sekido their hubby and dosing others for liking the character. They claimed to have friends….if they were friends with anyone it was just them lying to themselves. If they shows what they were truly like to the people they claimed were their friends, they too would be shunned, just like what they messaged me when I confronted them.

Please refer to the first post if there is any confusion, and let us all put this to an end

First post

They are a coward. And even if these accounts get taken down they are so delusional they will make more,and we will be ready. This post with everything laid out, it is my hope that people will be properly informed and take the necessary steps to keep this fandom as fun as it should be. Share this, reblog, ask questions, no matter what, the truth will always prevail. People are from all different walks of life, but we all love demon slayer, let that love for it shine over the pride, the drama and unnecessary bs that should not define how creators treat one another. Respect others boundaries and just be kind to one another.

[the-bitter-ocean]

Hi, I hope this ask finds you well. I've recently come across the ISAT AgeSwap AU you're at the least a collaborator on, and I've been really interested in it - in a good way, I wish to specify.

I have a small question I'd like to... well, ask pertaining it, or more specifically, the AU's Bonnie: How would Canon Siffrin react to them & vice versa? The thought wouldn't leave my mind while thinking of the AU, so I wanted to see if one of the people involved with it could weigh in.

I thank you for your time, whether you simply read this or answer my inquiry as well, and I give my best wishes towards any of your future endeavors be they near or far.

Hi anon! Thank you so much for the question I’m glad you’re enjoying the ageswap au! As for your question on how canon ISAT Siffrin would react to Ageswap! Au Bonnie (or vice versa) I imagine the two would feel very confused? It’s very jarring to see someone who in your reality/ timeline is a kid be an adult anywhere else. I think they’d get along well though! I think both would be happy that the other has a home/family amongst the party and turned out well overall despite the general traumatic childhood/ timeloop trauma etc.

(2HATS / A6SE spoilers talk under the cut)

That being said I think there’d be a level of guilt both of them would feel especially on the side of like canon ISAT! Loop + ISAT ! Siffrin reacting to ageswap Bonnie being in the loops to begin with.

The reason why is simply because the only ones who knew how to properly and correctly make the wish at the favor tree canonically is The King, Siffrin and Loop respectively. That means in other aus where someone else is looping and not Siffrin…that means someone had to have taught whoever was looping the correct way of wishing and the only one in the group who possibly could would be Siffrin.

I don’t think any looper would personally blame Siffrin or loop at all mind you- but I know how Siffrin and Loop have a very bad habit of placing guilt on themselves for things they couldn’t possibly control or change etc. The idea that even when you’re not the one wishing, you still somehow “doomed” your family by showing them how to wish correctly in the first place would nag at them. What a cosmic joke!!!!!

Not to mention because of the wording of the wish is a lot different than canon ISAT Siffrin and Loops wish. In the canon game of ISAT both Siffrin and Loop wished to stay with their family but in the ageswap au Bonnie specifically wished for the group to be safe (since they knew that the king was dangerous and anything could go wrong).

In simplest terms- it means the timeloop win condition in ageswap still relied on loop and Siffrin ( or any other kid in the group for that matter) to feel safe/be safe. Which is a problem because Loop and Siffrin respectively *would not* feel safe with the group splitting and going separate ways because then they would be all alone and fending for themselves again. Since the wish isn’t fulfilled until everyone feels safe, Bonnie would’ve had to been in the loops even after the group defeats the king and saves Vaugarde.

In the case of the eye incident I think both Siffrin and loop and ageswap Bonnie ( or guide if we go by the one au where ageswap Bonnie was the guide and Siffrin was the one looping) I don’t think anyone would be upset at their younger counterparts, nor at the person doing the protecting ( because they know for a fact that if the situation was reversed they can and will get hurt if it meant protecting someone- especially if that person was a little kid.)

Hope this answers your question anonymous! Thank you for stopping by.

[captainkirkk]

🦇🎃 WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP 🎃🦇

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Merlin

The Hunt for Red Emrys by darkbluedark

King Arthur sets out to keep his promise to the spirit of the Druid boy by repealing his father's ban on magic. Unfortunately, this is easier said than done, for reasons including but not limited to the following:

(1) He can't change the law until he understands magic better, but no sorcerer is willing to explain magic to him until he changes the law;

(2) The sorcerers all have some strange obsession with Merlin, which is awakening all sorts of feelings in Arthur that he really doesn't fancy examining too closely;

(3) He is starting to feel like the butt of some Druid-population-wide inside joke involving the mysterious phenomenon called Emrys; and

(4) Oh yeah, Morgana is still trying to kill him.

Thus he embarks on a journey of discovery, diplomacy, accountability, and self-improvement, and maybe even falls in love along the way.

Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-Kun

Kalego-sensei is...dead? by IcyPheonix

The Misfits come to school one day to discover that they have, a substitute teacher. They decide that this can only mean one thing; Kalego-sensei, has died.

He hasn't but that's not gonna stop them from pretending he has of course.

SVSSS

The Moon's Beloved Shadow by mofumofu

Shen Qingqiu is a man who hides his twin brother from the world with the ferocity of a phoenix-eyed mother crane.

Shen Yuan is a helpless transmigrator who wishes Airplane-bro had given even a single bit of backstory for this side character he's inhabiting!

Luo Binghe isn't doomed to face the Endless Abyss, but he is forced to confront something infinitely more frustrating: an overly protective brother.

Natsume Yuujinchou

What Colors Do You See In This Monochrome World by mermorgie.

Natori's voice brought him back to the present. "You alright there, Natsume?" The look the exorcist was giving him was warm and a tad concerned. Natsume gave him a small, but earnest smile. "I'm fine, Natori-san. Just a bit nervous." This was the truth. He had no idea why the head of the Matoba Clan invited him this time, but he was sure that the man was up to no good.

Or: Natsume gets invited to an exorcist meeting. He is not too happy about it, but at least the view is great.

Harry Potter

Three's Family by darkbluedark

It’s May 1979 and the Order has just apprehended a pair of mysterious wizards who look remarkably like a Potter and a Malfoy. Naturally, James Potter and Sirius Black are called in to identify the strangely familiar strangers and determine their backgrounds and loyalties.

(This would be a lot easier if their captives weren’t convinced everyone they talk to is dead. It would also be easier if they didn’t spend half their bloody time bickering.)

-

“Just ask them questions only they would know the answer to,” Malfoy suggests.

“There’s not a single thing that I know about either of them from the first war that any old Death Eater couldn’t find out.”

“How is that possible?” Malfoy huffs. “He’s your father!”

“Am I or am I not famously an orphan?” Potter snarls.

Once More Unto The Boggart by darkbluedark

Professor Lupin let out his breath very slowly. “So this is why you think you’ve been struggling to make progress with the Patronus charm? Because a part of you wants to let the dementor close, in a way, in order to hear your parents?”

Harry nodded again, though more guiltily this time. “I want to let the boggart out, just once, and, er, not cast the charm."

Those Who Have Seen by darkbluedark

Only those who have seen death can see thestrals.

It turns out, thestrals look different for those who have seen Death.