#if the hitman really do this job the first time

[packsvlog]

saw ur headcanon itch and wanted to scratch it

headcanons for new boyfriend gojo, toji or nanami?! 💞

damn im kinda in luv with u for sending this so quick, or whatever…

so, for new boyfriend i’m guessing recent relationship, right? cause i like the way you’re thinking, so let’s go.

ps: i try to make things normal, but i always create a plot, i’m so sorry (i’m not).

GOJO, TOJI & NANAMI AS NEW BOYFRIENDS. ⋆.˚

✶ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬: foul language / sexual innuendo on toji / reader has no gender.

✶ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k

──── ✎ ° ⋆ GOJO SATORU, the helpless fool in love.

First of all, Gojo as a new boyfriend is a different person than Gojo as a boyfriend of many years, for the simplest reason of he does not not how to be a one. He knows how to be a friend or best friend, not to be biased by my own ships (stsg) but I don’t think Gojo is the type of guy to fall for a stranger — he needs connection, thrives of being know.

Your relationship with Gojo as best friends is quite normal, he acts as a child, you scold him for it, and one day out of the loop of normalcy, he catches himself eager for your judgmental stare and scoff. And you also notice how his mischievous smirks and absolute terrible pranks are always on you. You are the one to notice his crush, so you flirt back.

Enters the shocked Satoru, because canonically he gets no bitches, even if he is gets a lot of attention (from middle school girls) and has a cocky personality.

Your first date started terrible. I’m so sorry to be the breaker of such news, but as said before, Gojo doesn’t know how to be a boyfriend. He thinks that everything in life can be easily scripted, not noticing that you, as his best friend, doesn’t need to be impressed.

So, Satoru keeps telling you about his grande missions (forgetting you were there, fighting as good as him) or funny jokes (that you helped him make). He gets nervous when you kindly point it out, but you’re sweet with him, grabbing his hands and taking control of the talk, him following your lead. It kinda becomes a little something in your relationship, when Gojo gets lost, you light his way.

Soon, his nervousness goes away and you’ll be back to having your best friend, that now kisses you from time to time (all the time).

──── ✎ ° ⋆ FUSHIGURO TOJI, the one who finally wins a bet.

Toji is the type to use dating apps and swipe right for the girls that pose with nice cars, or in trips all over the world — he wants to have a girl with money so he can gamble more, he is not a good boyfriend material, sorry.

But you are no dating app type of girl (sometimes you slip, but that’s unimportant). You’re just a hitman, that Toji catches talking with Shiu, he tries to hit on you, and you hit him, with your fist! It’s a match!

He is pissed off but not as much as he is intrigued. You have money, he knows that, but don’t get him wrong, your right hook send this man into a spiral of thoughts, he is already begging for you.

You know of Toji, his name spreads like wildfire in your line of job, he is a murderer and a bit crazy doing his work and way of spending his earning, but his looks outstanding him a lot. So, you make a bet, he stop gambling for a year, and you give him a chance.

You knew this was never going to happen, an addicted don’t stop so quick, and you barely see the guy. You think you are not an effort to be made.

Shocking the whole population and making gamble games loose a comically large quantity of money (he really will me missed), Toji keeps his word and now he is coming to make you pay for yours — a date is set!

As a new boyfriend, Toji needs to be reminded he is in a relationship. Sorry to say it, but it takes him four months to delete his dating app, he wasn’t using it, but it never clicked in him to do that. Toji also very much dates at home for the sole purpose of not leaving the room, you have to threaten him lots and lots for the guy to remember restaurants exists.

He sucks at first, but he is good at what he does with you, so you keep letting him get away with his slack of boyfriend duties, until you give him an ultimatum.

Now, remember that one year Toji kept himself busy with work and no gambling? You can say he has a large amount saved, and to shut your pretty ass up, he is spending with you — he takes you to Korea, buys whatever you set your eyes on, restaurants every day and bed bagging on the wall every night.

He is an asshole, but he can do a pretty job when his lovely partner threatens him.

──── ✎ ° ⋆ NANAMI KENTO, the one who fumbled first.

Nanami Kento is like the prize of life. Not to make a man the center of yours, but you can’t say you are not winning when this hunk of a male specimen who treats women with respect beyond the minimum is yours.

Women, men, everyone is fighting for him. You remember very well the eyes burning you whenever he was talking with you, specially Gojo’s six, prior dating.

Nanami is the set in stone exemple of how to be a perfect guy. But let’s make one thing clear, he did not liked you at first. Not because sometimes you can be weird like Satoru, is because he terribly wanted you, but he hates the idea of dying and you as well — both sorceress.

Contrary to popular belief and shocking a whole nation, Nanami Kento fucks up pre dating, ladies and gentleman. He shows up one day at job saying he is going on a date with a baker from his favorite shop.

You slip a few tears before moving out of the room. He sees them, and he hates himself for it. You both were almost dating, that’s why it hurts.

That night, while crying and eating ice cream and watching “How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days”, Nanami Kento knocks at your door, and soon as you open, he is kissing you. He never went to the date, he could never want anyone but you.

Your relationship, despite all of this, starts wonderfully. This man worships you, he makes sure you know how much he loves and care for you, there is no space for insecurities because he is filling everything with his love — you’re drowning in Nanami’s affection.

There is too many dates, too many flowers, too many trips. And this man does not work a lot, he hates to work, the clock hits his hour and he is out the door (curses get eliminated quickly). He is always coming home to you, no one can stop Nanami from falling into your arms.

As a punishment, he is forbidden from going to his favorite bakery — he doesn’t mind (he misses the onion bread so much).

[juuuuunaaaaaooooo]

This is her face when he pulls the trigger!

And just after!

[thewriterwithnoplan]

Ferrari's Fairytale (1/3)

Summary: World Championships are the most important part of any Formula One team's history. Except perhaps, Ferrari's. Known for their rabid fans, filthy-rich investors, and pretty boy drivers it shouldn't be a surprise that the team has brought together Soulmates from across the globe. And fate, it seems, is working awfully hard to put all the pieces into place for Ferrari's perfect fairytale - one that's been in the works for decades now.

[Part 1 of Pretty Girls and Ferrari Boys]

Soulmate AU: Soulmates share injuries and pain.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader (Eventual)

Word Count: 1650

Warnings: Swearing, no Charles in this first part sorry it's his epic love story and those take time ;)

Masterlist

There was something wrong with your soulmate.

Really there had been something wrong with them since you were eight years old. But right now, there was something particularly wrong with them.

“Just some bruising over the ribcage, but no actual damage internally.” The medic presses a latex covered hand gently against your ribs.

“They feel broken.” You suck in a pained breath and glare over her shoulder, at the little framed picture of her cat, Terror, on her desk. “You’re sure I’m not about to sneeze and puncture a lung?”

“Funny.” Though the look she gives you as she pulls off her gloves is less than amused. “Which one of us went to medical school again?”

“My best friend. You might know her. She’s stunning, generous, gives me free check-ups, did I say stunning? Goes by Sunny.”

“It’s Doctor Sunny to you.” She slingshots one of the gloves at you. “But it’s good to know you only keep me around for the free check-ups.”

“My soulmate would bankrupt me without you.”

Sunny taps at her computer, “The fee isn’t that high.”

“Sure,” You shrug. “If you aren’t in here every other week.”

“Have we ruled out hitman as their profession?”

“Since we were eight?”

“I don’t know much about hitmen, maybe they start them young.”

You lower yourself carefully from the observation table and move stiffly toward her desk. “Give it to me straight Doc. How much longer have I got?”

“I’m afraid you’ll live, ma’am.” Sunny doesn’t even look up. “A tragedy for all, I know. I can give you a moment if you need time to process– Ow! Bitch.”

She rubs at her shoulder and huffs.

“I’m going to have to log that in the database, you know.” She says.

“Good, maybe we can both find our soulmates and be done with it all.”

“Real romantic, dude.”

“Your soulmate hasn’t been terrorising you since you were a kid.”

“I had my fair share of scraped knees,” Sunny wrinkles her nose when you stick your tongue out. “You do know it won’t stop after the two of you meet, right? That’s a schoolyard myth.”

“After the talking to I’m going to give him, you bet your perky ass it’s going to stop.”

“That’s the second instance of workplace harassment I’ve coped from you in the last minute.”

“Fine. Your ass is not perky.”

“Mature.” She hums, “What time did you say the pain started?”

“Ten-thirty-ish?”

“All good then.” Sunny makes a few more clicks before powering down her computer. “Your chest and my arm, all nice and logged.”

“You know, sometimes I think you became a Match Medic specifically so you could put every little thing into the database to make it easier to find your soulmate.”

“Perks of the job.” She scoops up her handbag. “Come on, let’s bounce before the front desk starts scheduling over my lunch break.”

“You remember how I said you were stunning and generous and stunning?”

“I’m not buying you lunch.”

“Could this week get any worse?” You throw your head back dramatically.

Sunny cracks a smile at your antics, “Only a few more hours and we’re free for the weekend.”

“Are we still on for pamper-night tonight?”

“Always. Mine or yours?”

You end up spending the night in Sunny’s apartment, covered in different rejuvenating oils and masks until you look like low-budget horror movie villains. In your fluffy robes with The Princess Bride on in the background Sunny tries to teach you how to make Hainanese Chicken the way her mother did. Terror cries at your feet when you tell him he can’t have raw chicken. Sunny pops a bottle of cheap champagne that makes you both grimace and promise one another that you would find an excuse to get a nicer bottle soon. You take turns washing the excess from the face, foot, and hair masks off. Then curl up together on the couch, sipping broth, digging into rice and slathering chicken in Sunny’s family’s super-secret chilli sauce. You both fall asleep at a very respectable eleven o’clock.

So, it’s fucking strange when you wake up feeling like you had spent the night inside a paint mixer.

“Are you okay?” Sunny frowns as she stands over a pan of eggs. “You look ill.”

You squint over your coffee cup, “Soulmate is playing up.”

She plates the eggs next to a small stack of bacon before turning to put a hand to your forehead. “They shouldn’t be making you feel sick, illness doesn’t transfer like that. Are you sure it’s coming from them? Could you just be hung over?”

“It’s definitely him, third weekend in a row, like clockwork.” You take your plate gratefully, “It’s like I always tell you. It’s not nausea. It’s more like…”

“Impossible to explain for you and every medical practitioner you’ve ever seen?”

You groan, “It’s like my brain spent the night trying to escape my skull and the muscles in my neck were in on it.”

“It’s not unheard of for soulmates to feel the repercussions of an intense work out. There was this study from four years ago on high performance athletes and their partners that–”

You groan again, “Oh god and now there’s a nerd in my ear!”  

She tosses a gelatinous bit of egg onto your plate. It lands with a splat that makes you fake gag. “Oh, grow up.”

“You should be nice to me,” You lament, “I’m wounded!”

“Your soulmate is wounded.”

“And I’m sure their best friend is taking very good care of them!”

She pulls a face at you but still takes your plate to the dishwasher for you. As she’s rinsing them, she asks, “What’s on for the rest of your weekend?”

“I got a call from my parents on Thursday and guess what?” You sipped at the cold dregs of your coffee, “The dentist finally figured out which one of them the toothache is coming from!”

“That’s great,” Sunny’s smile was genuine. “They’re going in to get it fixed?”

“Tomorrow morning, both going under local anaesthesia.”

You hip checked her lightly out of the way to rinse both your cups. “You want another coffee?”

Sunny propped herself up on the counter, “My caffeine addiction is rubbing off on you I fear.”

“Listen, we have to get through the day somehow.” You coaxed the machine back to life before leaning against the counter to look at Sunny. “Anyway, my parents were supposed to go to this race tomorrow. Dad is particularly devastated and has practically ordered me to represent the family ‘at our home race.’ It’s been tradition for him and mum since they got married. It’s kind of a big deal for him. The man is obsessive.”

“My parents had something similar to say about our family legacy and studying medicine.”

“Speaking of… You remember all the times I sat up with you studying, or brought you food when you forgot to eat, or ran errands for you, or made sure you took breaks, or–”

“Fine, I get it, I’ll go to the stupid race.”

“Oh, how kind of you to offer.” You passed her one of the cups. “It won’t be that bad. Motorsports are supposed to be fun live, right?”

Sunny snorted, “Thank God. Motorsports? I thought you meant like a horse race or a marathon. I was getting war-flashbacks to track-and-field.”

You put a hand to your heart, “You were willing to relive cross country for me?”

“I was willing to ogle fit, sweaty men for you, definitely.”

“Alright, first of all – fuck you. But also same,” You clinked mugs and nodded solemnly at one another, “Maybe we can find some fit, sweaty drivers to ogle instead.”

Sunny hummed, “What do I wear? Is it like sprint cars or more like V8s – ooh is it an illegal drag race?”

“Girl, no.” You swatted at her thigh, “It’s Formula 1, which is perfectly legal and safe and much faster than any of those options.”

“Alright, Miss Daddy’s-Girl, go off.”

“Shut up, I’ve had to hear him go on and on about it my whole life.” You pulled a face at your coffee. “The man has had a hard-on for Ferrari since before he met my mother, and then he met her in the Ferrari hospitality at an F1 race, and he’s fucking worshipped them ever since.”

“Oh my god, why am I only just hearing about this?” She grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks and cooing. “You’re a little Ferrari baby.”

You blew a rather unladylike raspberry at her and knocked her hand away, “Because it’s embarrassing! Dad was only there because he and his friend won tickets. So, when Ferrari marketing caught wind that soulmates had met in their pavilion, they practically fell over themselves.”

“Holy shit!” Sunny practically howled in delight, “Is that where all those baby pictures of you in little Ferrari onesies came from?”

“Ferrari’s own little fairytale, Mr-won-his-way-in and Miss-heir-to-a-real-estate-monopoly. It's like Romeo and Juliet; if Romeo and Juliet survived, had a kid and decided to make it the poster child of their love story.”

“Don’t sound so disgusted, that’s cute as fuck.” Sunny snatches up your empty cup and stacks it next to hers in the dishwasher.

You frown, “Not everything has to be a love story.”

“I don’t know, girl, I’m pretty sure you just asked me to play out your parents first meeting with you tomorrow.” She winks at you over her shoulder as she heads toward her room.

“Oh, fuck off, Sunny.”

“I think this calls for new outfits!” She emerges from her room, towel over one shoulder. “What was your Mum wearing when she met your dad?”

“We are not reenacting my parents meet-cute.”

“Who knows, maybe you’ll have your own meet-cute with a certain pain-prone soulmate, hm?” In the moment it takes you to reorientate yourself after her comment, she’s breezing past you with a bright, “I’m having first shower!”

You squark in indignation. Like hell, you’ll let either of those things happen to you this weekend.

(Part 2 : Ferrari's Prince - 03.05.24)

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Exhausted - John Wick X Female (Wife) Reader - ft. Boy

Title: Exhausted

John Wick X Female (Wife) Reader - ft. Boy

Additional Characters: Boy the best Boi

Requested by @fujinswife!

WC: 1,713

Warnings: Hitman stuff mentioned, killing people insinuated, wounds mentioned, bullet grazes mentioned, blood, one curse word, Reader takes care of John after a long day sort of cute fluff, massages cause John deserves them, Donald Glover mentioned), slight angst like the tiniest of angst, and fluff

You watched the clock on the wall, sitting on your favorite chair with a book in your hands. Though you had originally been enraptured with the new romantic drama you bought at Barnes And Noble, your mind began to wander and your eyes landed on the clock on the wall; tick, tock, tick, tock. It was almost ten, pretty late for you, but not for your husband. While you would probably be in bed by now, snuggled up with Boy, and cuddled in the arms of your beloved, your husband, John was out on the job.

Being a Hitman was a hard and stressful job, going out to find your hit and, in better words, eliminate them. It was taxing on the body and mind, and it was for you also at times. You always became overwhelmingly worried whenever you found John gone from bed and a Post-It note on the fridge. The words, 'going to the store' in black ink. You knew by now that that was code, code for 'I'm going to go and fight people and possibly come home with a wound or two.'

Now you didn't mind taking care of your John. Cleaning his bloody knuckles and bullet grazes helped you rationalize with your brain that your Johnny was alive and with you. That he came back, somewhat safe, but he was there with you in the flesh. Though you had to admit, the blood on your hands after helping your husband haunted you and made your skin crawl. But no matter how many times John tried to let him clean his own wounds, knowing how much you hated the sight of his blood, you'd stop him. You didn't think your husband was a burden, you were beyond willing to take care of him. You'd do anything to make sure he was alright.

As your gaze broke from the clock, you tried to re-read the page that you were on, glancing up when you heard the pitter-patter of clawed paws, watching with a smile as Boy entered the room, making his way over to you and sitting at your feet. You hummed, leaning down and past your book to rub Boy's head, his eyes closing in bliss as you scratched behind his ears. You hummed again, leaning back against the back of your chair, and looking at the front door. "I bet," You began, glancing at Boy with a smile, "He'll be home in ten minutes." You finished before tilting your own head. "When do you think Dad will be home? Hmm? Soon, right?" You asked Boy, who only whined a bit before laying his head on his front paws, making you sigh, nodding knowingly. "Yeah, another thirty. You're right."

For the next forty-five minutes, you sat and read, periodically making sure Boy was alright or taking a bathroom break. The room around you was dim, only a few lamps lighting it as you listened to the owl occasionally hoot outside, and the constant sound of crickets chirping outside in the garden. The book in your hands was as anticlimactic as you thought it would be from the first sentence. You regretted giving it a chance, really. You thought it was going to be a heartfelt book, with drama but a happy ending, like Pride And Prejudice or something, but you felt extremely underwhelmed when the main character, Maryanne, ended up marrying Lord Leo after her childhood friend Steven confessed to her. After all they've been through!? You thought as you stared blankly at the page. Steven sacrificed everything for you, and this Lord Leo had been caught cheating on you with your cousin Claire! You couldn't find it in yourself to even finish the last two pages, tasting a sourness in your mouth. 

"Should've called off the damn wedding." You muttered, earning a head raise from Boy as you shut the book and sat it aside, before you could say anything more to Boy, you watched as he looked over at the door suddenly, his tail wagging, and you smiled, staring at the door yourself as you felt your heart hammer in your chest. John was home. You watched as you heard the keys jingle in his hands before you jumped out of the chair and slid across the hardwood floor with your socks, almost hitting the door as you looked out the peephole just in case before hastily opening it. John stood there, blood on his bottom lip, hands, and dotting the collar of his white suit shirt, and yet, he still gave you a smile. 

Entering, you closed the door behind him, instantly taking any weapons from him to put away in that safe of his, before rushing back to find him standing where you left him, shoulders slightly slouched as he stared down at Boy at his feet, still fiercely wagging his tail. Breaking their stare down, you took John's hand in yours, leading him to the bathroom. As John sat on the lid of the toilet, you grabbed the first-aid kit from under the sink, and for the next half-and-hour, you cleaned any and all his wounds. It was silent as you worked, your tongue sticking out slightly from your mouth as you dabbed the cotton ball on his knuckles, cleaning off the blood. John just watched you, like he usually did, mesmerized by the thought of you caring for him, and just you in general. You were so careful when treating him. It warmed his heart, body, and soul.

After you finished cleaning his wounds, you helped John into the shower, before rushing off to find a new fresh pair of pajamas for him, throwing them, and his towel, in the dryer for a couple of minutes so they would be warm for John when he got out. For the rest, it was like clockwork, helping him out, giving him clothes, brushing his hair for him as he brushed his teeth slowly, and finally holding his freshly bandaged hand as you led him to the kitchen for some dinner.

Sometimes words were exchanged, but most of the time, there wasn't. The silence engulfed the two of you and it was nice, peaceful. You both basked in it. After you and John finished your food, you traveled to the couch where you turned on the tv, handing John the remote for him to browse through channels. Your hands then landed on his shoulders, gently putting pressure in all the right places, easing the tension in his muscles. You kissed his cheek softly, giving him what he needed to relax as he leaned further into you, sighing as your fingers trailed up his shoulders to his scalp, your fingernails scratching gently, running your fingers through his slightly damp hair.

Pulling away, you walked around the couch to sit beside John, smiling and chuckling lightly at the smile of content on his face. You sat down, leaning into his side as John's arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. The two of you watched the TV for a good while, which ended up being a Donald Glover movie, before you felt John's head turn, the stubble of his beard softly grazing your cheek, causing you to giggle quietly, turning your head a little to meet his gaze. Before you could say anything, John leaned down to press his lips onto yours, You smiled against his lips as you placed your hands on his stubbly cheeks, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. His hands ran down your body until they reached your waist, gripping you tightly, protectively, his thumb rubbing small circles on your hips, sending tingly shivers throughout your entire being before you both pulled away. 

You hummed, gazing lovingly at your husband, your eyes beholding the man's beauty, your fingers gently brushing against his cheeks, chin, and jaw. "What are you thinking about?" John mumbled, his voice husky with sleepiness. You opened your mouth to answer, but a yawn escaped you instead, shaking your head as you hid your face in his neck, feeling a bit embarrassed. 

"Just you." You answered softly, snuggling further into his neck as his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. You smiled as you laid your hand against his chest, you could feel his heartbeat quicken, a soft chuckle escaping him. "I'm glad you're home." You told him as his hand cupped the nape of your neck, pulling you closer to his shoulder, his fingers running through the hair on the nape of your neck; kissing the top of your head.

"Me too. I missed you." He answered, kissing the top of your head. 

You sighed contently, nestling your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent deeply. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy. "I missed you too." You muttered against his neck, closing your eyes as you fell asleep in his arms. 

John sighed, holding you close as he watched Boy waddle over from his food bowl, looking up at him with big brown eyes. John took his time, scooping you up in his arms before standing up, grunting slightly as he strained his side a bit. Boy followed after you and John as he headed to the bedroom, hopping up on the bed as John laid you down gently in the bed, tucking you in the soft, fluffy covers. When he stood back up, he looked at Boy, staring at him for a moment before reaching down and petting the dog, smiling slightly as Boy leaned his head into his hand. 

“Good Boy.” John muttered, not wanting to wake you, as he rubbed Boy’s ears before Boy moved to lay beside you, your arm subconsciously wrapping around the pup before going back to sleeping peacefully. John sighed slightly before he got in bed on his side, pulling the blankets over him before turning on his side to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling your back into his chest. The night went on peacefully like this, the three of you falling fast asleep and waking up to each other. This process continued like this, every day, for months and years to come. You wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. Just you, John, and Boy, against the world.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Another celebration ficlet request! The original ask for this one seems to have gotten deleted, and it was sent on anon, so I can't even tag the person who sent it in. 😫

I hope you still see this and enjoy, nonnie! 💖

Heaven's in the backseat

Rated: E

Words: 1,000

Tags: Mafia AU; Hitman Eddie Munson; Mob boss Dick Harrington; Mentions of Stommy; Knife play; Dubious consent; Obsessive behavior; Violent thoughts; Car sex; Eddie has anger management issues and Steve is a little slut

Notes: Previous part | Part 1

Eddie has just lit his first cigarette of the night when one of the waiters informs him that Mr. Harrington wants him outside. As he grinds the cigarette under his boot, he imagines doing the same thing to Dick’s stupid head. 

Working for a mob boss is so goddamn exhausting. 

A week where Eddie doesn't come close to kicking the proverbial bucket is a good week - especially now that Dick has been taking him along as a bodyguard more and more often. He’s not complaining about that, though. Occupational hazard. 

No, what’s really annoying is the damn black tie affairs. As if squeezing into a fucking suit wasn't enough, the social dynamics of the underworld are mind-numbingly complicated. All of the big mob families are either related or out to kill each other - more often than not both at the same time. It makes events such as this an interesting affair, to say the least. All night long, Eddie has been hovering at the edge of the room while the boss ate and drank and shook hands with other important farts. Always vigilant, always ready to pull his knife from its holster under his suit jacket. And now he can’t even step out for ten minutes to have a fucking smoke? 

The car is parked in the driveway when he arrives. Next to it are the boss himself and a swaying figure with disheveled chestnut hair wearing a rumpled suit. 

Eddie’s blood bubbles and his steps speed up.

“-fucking disgrace,” Harrington says just as he flies down the stairway leading to the car. “You’ll do anything for attention, won’t you?” 

Eddie doesn’t catch the slurred reply, but it must’ve been the wrong one, because Harrington slaps the boy across the face before wrestling him into the backseat. Eddie’s hand is already on the knife when the asshole turns. For a heartbeat, he revels in the temptation of lodging the blade right in the middle of that ugly face, but he reigns himself in. Too much security, too many witnesses. 

“My son is drunk,” Harrington says. “Drive him home.” 

Before Eddie has a chance to reply, he has stalked past him and back into the venue.

*

“What the hell took you so long?” 

Eddie casts a look into the rearview mirror to see the venue disappearing behind them and Steve straightening up in his seat. His voice is still slightly slurred, his eyes a bit unfocused - but he's nowhere near as drunk as he appeared seconds ago. Eddie's mouth tugs into a grin. 

“What, I don't get a thank you for driving you? Where are your manners, little nymph?” 

“Why should I thank you for doing your literal job?” Steve’s mirror image scoffs at him. His bottom lip is pink and a little puffy where his father slapped him. “And don't call me that.” 

“I'm a bodyguard, not a chauffeur,” Eddie says. “There's a difference, y’know?” 

“You're a dog,” Steve drawls. “You do whatever my dad tells you to.” 

Eddie’s hands tighten around the steering wheel. Steve’s mouth curls at the edges, but his eyes stay bored. 

“How about you?” Eddie asks, once he has blinked the crimson shadows from his vision. “What did you do to incur his wrath? Must’ve been pretty bad, if you feigned being so wasted he’d send you home like some misbehaving child.” 

“None of your business, is it?” Steve snaps. Then, after a second or two, the aloof facade slips back on and he shrugs. “He caught me in the bathroom with Hagan.” 

Something slithers low in Eddie’s gut, dangerous and deadly like a coil of venomous snakes. 

“What? That ugly, freckled fuckface? C’mon, you can do better than that.” 

Steve laughs, a sound like the edge of a knife - bright and pretty and sharp-edged. “Why do you care? You don’t own me. What is it to you if Tommy fucking Hagan shoves his cock up my-” 

He doesn’t get any further than that. Eddie pulls over to the side of the road and slams on the brakes. One fluid motion later, he has scaled the middle console and has Steve pinned on the backseat, wrists trapped over his head in a one-handed vice grip. 

“Oh, honey,” he murmurs, voice low and lethal. “But this is where you’re wrong, see? You are mine. And one of these days, I’m gonna make sure everyone knows it.” 

Those pretty eyes go wide as he slides the knife from its holster. The blade gleams, catching what little light there is in the dark car. With one flick of his wrist, he slices away the top button of Steve’s expensive shirt, revealing the long, graceful line of that neck. Steve exhales a shaky breath and his throat bops with it. 

“One of these days,” Eddie murmurs, trailing the tip of the blade over tan skin, leaving just the thinnest of red lines. “I’m gonna kill everyone who ever looked at you or touched you wrong and claim you as mine. Stuff you so full of my cock you forget about everyone else, until the only word you remember is my name. Carve my initials into that pretty skin of yours so nobody ever forgets who you belong to.” 

Steve looks up at him, eyes bright and hazy, and a little whimper falls from his perfect lips. He writhes deliciously in Eddie’s hold, and for a moment, Eddie thinks he’s scared, that he’s gonna plead for mercy. 

But then he slots his leg between Steve’s thighs to hold him in place and he feels it. He looks down at the boy in awed surprise and can’t help the grin that creeps over his face.

When Steve speaks, his voice is hoarse and breathy, but not from fear. 

“Do it, then,” he challenges, rolling his hips and grinding his hard cock against Eddie’s thigh. His lips strain to meet Eddie’s, breath warm and wet against his skin.  “Make me yours.” 

Eddie has never been so happy to obey in his life. 

Part 5

More celebration ficlets

[vendetta-if]

Kinda along the lines of "if MC's family put a hit out on them", suppose an heir!MC went power-hungry (Or paranoid) and put a hit out on people, what would be the reactions of everyone (ROs, Yvette, Luka, Gramps) if they were the one that MC put the bounty on.

Ash

Would be utterly devastated. They'd probably fight off all of the hitmen's attempts and burn their way back to MC. Once they're finally face-to-face with MC, they'd just ask them the reason behind all of this and ask them to kill them themself. If there's anyone they'd rather die to, it would be by MC's hands and in MC's arms.

Rin

Would be seething in cold fury. There'll probably some hints of sadness and sorrow because they really thought they can trust MC, but that is eclipsed by the rage of the betrayal. Probably never going to be able to fully trust anyone else outside of their family for the rest of their life.

They'd pay MC the same courtesy, putting even higher bounty on MC's head. It'd be an all out war between the Morozovs and the Aikawas, no matter how good of a friendship Luka has with Takashi. It would be such a Pyrrhic victory for whichever family left standing that the result might as well be mutually assured destruction.

Santana

Would be devastated and in despair. Probably going to just give up and wait for their fate. After all, what else can they do? They're not good in combat, their power can't help them, they don't have any connections or resources that can get them out of the city or to safety.

Their only wish is to be able to meet MC again for one last time and ask them why are they doing this? Santana is a nobody compared to MC and their family, considering them a threat is laughable. Should've just told them if MC is now bored of them instead of this.

Skylar

Would be in disbelief and in denial. There's no way MC would do this to them, right? It must've been villains they have fought who got away and now hold grudge against them.

With their dual powers, it would be easier for them to fight off the hitmen. But also, they'd probably fly up directly to whatever ivory tower MC resides in, phase through and try to clarify it with MC.

But once MC makes it clear that it is indeed them, Skylar's just brokenhearted, disappointed, upset, and a lot of other mix of emotions. They swear they would be the one who take MC down, no matter how many years it would take, before taking off and leaving.

Luka

Honestly, for the first few weeks, he probably wouldn't know what to do and is probably shutting down emotionally from the overwhelming stress and grief. He doesn't understand why MC would betray him like this; he has sacrificed his youth to raise and take care of MC and he thought he was doing a good job. He also doesn't want to hurt MC because he cares for them and he promised his brother.

Thankfully for him, he's got a hitman with powerful ability as his boyfriend. Jackal, upon finding out about all of this, would be livid and curse out MC for being an ungrateful brat. He's basically the only thing anchoring Luka and he tries his best to protect him and to keep him from spiraling even further.

But in his heart, he swears, once everything starts to die down and Luka is somewhere safe, he will hunt down MC, even if Luka will end up hating him. Luka might've made a promise not to harm MC and to always keep them safe to Viktor, but Jackal has never made such promise to anyone so far.

So, yeah, the probability of MC getting rid of Luka through bounty is pretty slim considering he has Jackal, who has spent most of his life surviving the same ordeal. And not only Jackal's haemokinesis is really strong, but Luka's own teleportation ability makes him a very hard man to catch.

Grandpa

Deep sorrow... and emptiness. He knows what he has to do, for the sake of his only remaining son and for himself... It's probably the hardest decision he has--and probably will--ever make in his entire life, but in the end, he knows it's necessary.

Grandpa can be stone cold--even more than he already is--when he purposefully shut down his emotions and repress his feelings, and that will be what he does for MC. Even though MC might be the heir and probably de facto head of the family in Elysium City, the old man still has a lot of sway, respect, and fear among the members of the family and some of the city's elites and officials. Especially the branch in New York, it is still under his control.

He would declare MC a traitor and start to try turn MC's own people against them--probably not all, probably some decide to stay loyal to MC, probably some just see more opportunities to rise through the ranks under MC's leadership... But the number of those who do side with Grandpa would not be small and there will probably be some kind of internal civil war within the family.

He would also put a bounty for MC's head, higher than the bounty MC put on him and he would also immediately cut off any of the family's companies that are not directly under MC's name, effectively cutting off MC's supplies of money and resources as well.

In a battle of attrition, Grandpa would probably win, plus he’ll constantly surround himself with the strongest and most loyal of his men, and with his own power allowing people to do as he commands, it is going to be really hard to kill him.

Yvette

Would be scared for her life and depending on whether you reconcile with her or not, it can be either a sense of acceptance or a sense of regret. Maybe she’s just reaping what she sowed; after all, it is already some sort of miracle that she can even live this long without any problem despite having pissed off the Morozovs.

And now, after years of being under Viktor’s protection,of course, it’s going to be their chid who’s finally had enough. She knows she has no chance of fighting or even simply confronting MC.

Her strength has never lied in combat and her powers have always been used more as support, and now, as she’s getting older, she has started to pass her prime. But what she can do is use her powers to get away and escape encounters.

Maybe she’ll leave the city if she can, but she honestly doesn’t know what to do after—or how long can she keep evading these hitmen.

[snivyartjpeg]

Yuma Month Day 26 - Role Swap

god i was excited for this one. it first started off as a joke, but the more i thought about it, the more interesting this swap became. so here's my massive lore dump of changes that'd happen in the story beneath the cut (spoiler warning):

i think, fundamentally, yuma and yakou are very similar characters. they're both very protective and kindhearted, with a strong sense of justice and a penchant for attracting terrible luck. because of this, some things would remain the same, such as the NDA's dynamics with their doormat chief as well amnesia!yakou's massive unpaid intern energy. i think yakou would be pretty similar to how he behaved in the light novel- a bit more optimistic and naive, like yuma. but there are two key differences between them that'd make this a different story, especially in ch 4: yuma has a forte, and yakou is very selfish. so here's some changes:

yakou's wife is his shinigami now, as you can see, while shinigami is yuma's dead wife. i think mrs furio would act cooler than shinigami. she'd still be playful, but she takes her job more seriously. also she hands yakou the solution keys normally without throwing up. they still have to do the dance and mouth sword thing tho. and the other stuff. that's just death god protocol

shinigami (or in this case the unnamed Mrs. Kokohead but i will still be calling her shinigami for convenience sake) was a scientist at amaterasu who studied forensics and thanatology instead of regenerative medicine. this also means that the pill she gives zombie yuma is not going to bring him back, but instead grant the zombie homunculi a peaceful, painless, but permanent death

speaking of zombie yuma, he's the homunculus now! yakou is 100% human and also doesnt have a forte. he's still number one, but instead of having a forte he's just that good at solving mysteries

yes this means makoto looks like yakou now. sorry makotoheads. i think he'd have really long, shaggy hair dyed to be like. idk. black or something. also he's more clean shaven bc stubble with a mask on is a sensory nightmare

yuma still cant cook. he subsists entirely on takeout, meat buns, black coffee, and beer. he's still in a lot of debt and under a lot of stress and his personality is essentially "what if canon number one just gave up"

he doesn't smoke though. he tried once and got into the worst coughing fit

imma say it right now. kurumi is not a love interest. yakou likely disguises himself as a faculty member instead (also i think one of the teachers gets a crush on fem yakou bc i just know she'd be hot)

ANYWAY what about chapter 4? im SO glad you asked! because here's where things get spicy!

so, lets start with the dead wife. shinigami catches onto huesca's inhumane research and she's just as adamant about bringing the truth to light as she always is. she blows the whistle, so he blows her up. yuma investigates, but they dont let him look any further, yada yada, yuma stews in his misery for five years

yomi sends in the evidence to motivate yuma to kill huesca, and makoto lets it happen because a dead huesca would be convenient. he even introduces the hitman, fully expecting yuma to make use of him

yuma doesnt. in fact, he wants to kill huesca with his own hands. and now that these detectives are here, he can do it and even return alive. the thing is, he doesn't want to put them in danger, so he chooses to do almost everything alone (sound familiar?)

his plan is simple:

ask desuhiko for a peacekeeper uniform. desuhiko trusts him enough to take "i want to investigate kanai ward's ultimate secret by infiltrating their ranks" as an answer. he does, however, let yakou know about this as an offhand comment before the mystery ever begins

hold fubuki's hand. it doesnt really matter how. she'll gladly allow it because she's fubuki. he stores her time powers and heads out the sub. yakou also learns this as an offhand comment played off as a joke (maybe fubuki affectionately comments about how she never expected the chief's hands to be so soft... idk. there has to be some way for yakou to have this as a future clue)

use his peacekeeper status to sneak into amaterasu HQ and demand a functioning ama-pal from that one creepy researcher

use ama-pal + fubuki's borrowed powers to bypass huesca's security. sneak the bot past the hard-of-hearing doctor and press the button to shut off security

this would probably alert huesca, but since the doctor never received a warning, yuma has enough time to rush in and stab him before he realizes what's going on

leave HQ while still in uniform, dispose of the disguise once he's safe, and return to the NDA like nothing happened. success!

soooo.... yakou, on that same day, decides to investigate amaterasu HQ with makoto

all the while, vivia has his suspicions about yuma's actions and keeps an eye on him in spectral mode. he... basically witnessed the whole thing, so he gets up off his ass and decides to follow yakou to the lab because he has a Very Bad Feeling about this

just like canon, he senses the death god and deduces that our protag has been killing off murderers, and so he wants to protect his chief as well as his peace and quiet (his dynamic with yuma would be the same as his dynamic with yakou, since it's entirely believable for yuma to treat vivia with the same kindness yakou did)

yakou tries to speak to huesca, but surprise! security is disabled and he's dead in the lab! no one else at amaterasu liked huesca enough to check on him, so yakou and makoto are the first ones at the scene of the crime. yakou, of course, decides to start investigating this murder

vivia somehow sneaks into the lab (dont ask me how) and confronts yakou, threatening him with his boxcutter and adamantly imploring him to stop pursuing this particular mystery in the same way he did yuma in canon. unfortunately, this attracts attention, and now they're in trouble (maybe even yomi's there to fetch his files). at this point, yakou has enough solution keys, so he panics and goes right into the labyrinth (and maybe others can enter for another reason that isnt coalescence idk)

so... they go in the labyrinth... vivia tries to stop him every step of the way, until the answer is right in front of them

yakou kills yuma with his own hands. there's no stab wounds or toxic gas to leave any doubt. yakou begins to question what good his justice really does. it doesnt even save them from their predicament, just like the other deaths. instead, makoto ex machina comes in to save them, and hands yakou a small black box

when they return to the agency, everyone is heartbroken over their chief, who seemingly died out of nowhere. fubuki tried rewinding time, but to no avail. halara tried everything to wake him up, knowing it's futile. desuhiko stood aside, feeling completely helpless. and yakou and vivia return looking like they just came back from hell

they barely get the chance for a funeral before the knockout gas trap activates... you know the rest

AAAAND SCENE! so that's my extremely long winded lore dump about this au. i thought about it Way Too Much but god it's so interesting to me. i love these characters and swapping them was immensely fun

[persephone411]

Ordinary life (jw x reader)

My first ever fanfic here. English is not my first language so there can be errors. Have fun.( Feedback is always welcome)

Summary: you meet John during a business meeting with your father, things heat up quickly and escalate as he drives you home

Mafia AU!, Dad‘s best friend, oral sex (male receiving)

Masterlist

The evening was cold and the restaurant was busy. Silently you look around the huge room, scanning everything while still looking cold and uninterested.

,,So, who are we meeting again?“ you ask your father, who sat with you on the round table, already looking though the menu.

,,An associate. I need him to do a job for me"

,,ah" you only say ,,what kind of job? smuggling guns again?"

you sip on your water, still not really interested in the business dinner your father has brought you to.

,,No, Mr. Wick will kill someone for me. He is a hitman. The best in the field to be precise. We are old friends“ after a while he added: ,,look (y/n) I know you don’t care about the family business unless it brings you money you can spend on pretty things, but I advise you, to be a bit more invested. You are my only daughter“

,,yeah, but I won’t take over the business. We both know that. Instead I am engaged to some guy I have never met before“

,,be quiet!, you’re causing a scene“

Your father hissed and looked around the restaurant, but no one paid attention to you.

You sighed and also grabbed the menu, reading it without actually caring about the various expensive and eccentric dishes. In the end all luxusry restaurants were the same.

After a few moments of cold silence between your father and you, he suddenly stood up.

,,John!“ He called out and you slowly look up.

When your father told you that John was a good friend of his, you had anticipated someone who looked like your dad. Slightly overweight and with already greying hair. Nobody could have prepared you for how attractive John actually was. Shoulder long, slightly wavy dark hair, a perfectly trimmed beard and dark attentive eyes. He was tall, at least one foot taller than you and although most of his body was hidden under an elegant black suit, you knew that we was well build. Although he was still talking to your father and hadn’t paid you any attention at all, you immediately sat up more straight. Your father noticed that and smiled.

,,John, I want you to meet my daughter (y/n), she will keep us company this evening“

You smile calm and politely, although your heart was beating like crazy.

,,Nice to meet you (y/n)“ You nearly shudder as you hear his rich, deep voice. As he shakes your hand, you can’t help but notice how small it looks in his palm.

,,Nice to meet you too Mr. wick“

Your voice is more quiet than usual and you feel like you could melt under his gaze.

After the introduction he sat down at the table.

During the whole time as he was reading the wine card, you could only stare at him, noticing how his brows furrowed slightly as he red though the different wines. Nervously you play with your napkin on the table. After a few minutes you three order food. ,,and I also have the Chateu Margaux“ John ads calmy. ,,I‘ll have a glass too“ you quicky add. John’s gaze met yours and you smile nervously. ,,good taste“ he comments with a slight smile. You return the smile and could feel yourself blushing at the compliment. After the waiter is gone, John and your father start to talk about business, but you felt John’s gaze every few minutes resting on you, causing you to cross your legs under the table. You shudder as your legs accidentally brush against each other under the table. Luckily and also surprisingly your father didn’t notice any of the stolen glances between you two. After a few minutes the tension became too much for you and you excused yourself to the toilet.

As you entered the huge marble bathroom you were luckily alone. As you breathed out all tension seemed to disappear from your body. You turned to the big mirror and touched your cheeks, noticing that they were burning.

,,Jesus“ you murmur to yourself, while leaning against the Mable counter. You shook your head and couldn’t help but giggle. Never before you’ve been so stunned by a man you only met half an hour ago. Of course you’ve met lots of handsome man as the only daughter of a mafia boss, but no one had such a strong effect on you as John.

For minutes you stood in the empty bathroom, mentally replaying every gaze between John and you. You had to be delusional, certainly he, a over 50 year old hitman wasn’t interested in a young mafia princess, who was also the daughter of his good friend. You finally broke free from your trance as another woman entered the bathroom. You smiled tensely at her and noticed with mild annoyance the wetness that had collected in your panties at the thoughts of John ,,Fuck“ you muttered quietly and played with the thought of getting yourself off quicky, but then you only refreshed your make up fixed your hair and pushed up your boobs slightly in the strapless dress and left the bathroom, feeling slightly more confident.

The confidence stopped as soon as you retuned to the table and met John’s gaze. Was it imagination or did he look actually hungrily at you?. You couldn’t help but feel caught because of your thoughts about him. You sat down again and only a few minutes later the food arrived. During dinner you tried to bring as much to the conversation between John and your father as possible, which brought you approving looks from your father. He was probably proud that you were finally interested in the family business, when instead you just wanted to get closer to the attractive hitman sitting with you at the table.

,,you raised her good“ John said after a while to your father, who smiled while you were beaming too under his praise.

,,Yes, I am very proud of her“

Your father confirmed. ,,and in a year she will marry Tarasov’s Son, bringing our families together“

,,Ah“ John commented with a neural voice.

,,I am not marrying him by choice“

You threw in quicky.

,,But you will“ your father said with a certain amount of coldness in his voice.

You sighed and turned back to your food.

After you three finished eating, your father invited John spontaneously back your mansion and you couldn’t hide your happy smile at the thought of spending more time with John, although it was in your fathers presence. Your father paid and you left the restaurant.

As you stood outside, your eyes widened.

,,is this yours?“ you asked and pointed to the sleek black mustang. It was a beautiful car and very fitting to John. Elegant but powerful.

John chuckled as he noticed your enthusiasm.

,,it is“ he confirmed while nodding.

You bit your lip.

,,can I maybe drive with you?“

You asked while coyly looking up at his face.

,,if your father allows it, why not?“

You turned around to your father

,,Daddy? Can I drive with John?“

You asked him while giving him your best puppy eyes.

He sighed

,,sure why not, But John, promise me that you take care of her. I‘m serious. If anything happens to her on the way to my mansion, I will kill you and I won’t care about that you are a professional hitman“

John chuckled and again you couldn’t help but shudder

,,I promise, our little princess will not be harmed“

,,our“ not ,,your“

You had to suppress a giggle.

Wordlessly John opened the passenger door for you and then walked around the mustang to get to the drivers door.

You sighed as you sank into the soft leather seats. The inside of the car was warm and you felt safe and secure.

,,seatbelt on” John ordered as he sat down in the drivers seat.

You pouted but he didn’t fold.

,,I’m serious about keeping you safe. Nothing will happen to you ”

Stunned by his protectiveness you put on the seatbelt and John started the car.

You couldn’t suppress your smile as the engine roared to live and the headlights went on. The cassette player also went on and quiet rock music filled the car. As you look over to your driver, you saw a faint smirk on his face. You two drove off though the strongly lit streets of New York City.

,,you know where my dad and I live?“ you asked him and he nodded while keeping his eyes on the busy street. After a bit you started to humm along to some 80s Hardrock song.

,,Guns n Roses? I wouldn’t have thought of you as someone who listens to that kind off stuff“

You smiled ,,well, Mr. Wick. You‘ve known me only for about five hours. There are many things you don’t know about me“.

Ypu look at him and he meets your gaze, because of a traffic light, his face is bathed in red light and the darkness in the car made the whole moment seemed even more intimate.You fought back the urge to place your hand on his thigh. After a bit the car left the busy city and the streets became darker and emptier.

,,you should have turned left“ you noticed as John drove in the opposite direction.

,,I know. But I also know a better Route“ he answered.

,,I probably shouldn’t trust a hitman saying that. You could kill me“

,,I could. But I could also do many other things with you“

His voice was calm, but you noticed how he gripped the steering will more tightly.

Immediately mages of him bending you over the hood of the Mustang flooded your mind and you bit your lip. One round bend over the hood and a second in the backseats sounded not bad. Inconspicuous you tried to take a look at said space. John chuckled.

,,This aren’t the thoughts of a good girl Mrs. (y/l/n). What would your father say?“ he taunted you playfully.

,,well luckily for you Mr. Wick, I am not a good girl“

He chuckled again:,, yeah, figured that out already. Little minx“

,,only for you Mr. Wick“ you practically purred ,,can I choose a song?“

,,Sure. You can connect that Casette to your phone“ he instructed you.

You connected your phone to his car and quicky found the right song. ,,Ordinary life“ by the weekend started to play.

,,you know, if I red the signs correctly I would almost say that you are offering me something“

John said after the first verse of the song.

,,maybe I am“ you answered him with a smirk.

,,Fuck you will be the death of me“ he muttered. Your eyes met and wordlessly he drove to the side of the road.

As soon as the the car stopped you reached over the middle console.

,,does this car have lights on the inside?“ you asked as you tried to find the zipper of his pants.

,,Sadly no, I‘d love to get a better view of you you swallowing my cock“ Johns voice was rough.

,,dammit, where the hell is the zipper?“

,,wait, let me help you“ John sounded amused as he slapped your hands away lightly, then you heard finally the promising noise and felt him move to free his cock. Quicky you opened your seatbelt, which had been digging into your shoulder and leaned again over the middle console. Then your hands found his errection and you couldn’t help but be amazed by its size and girth. Slowly you started to stroke it, firstly with one hand, then with two. John let out a quiet growl and his hand found its way into your hair.

,,Just like that“ he muttered darkly. After you felt the pre cum on his tip you licked your lips and wrapped them without a warning around him. He gasped in suprised and you started to twirl your tongue playfully around his member while he tightened his grip on your hair.

,,(y/n)“ he whispered, sounding a bit breathless.

You kept licking him until you finally took him deeper in your mouth and started to suck. A low moan left johns mouth and the sound of it alone made you wet. Slowly you started to massage his thighs and took him deeper, nearly deepthroating him.

,,Just like that. Good girl, take my cock“

He muttered, his voice was rough and sounded a bit strained. You got faster als started to bob your head, taking him deeper in your mouth. John moaned again as you ran your tongue over a prominent vein on his cock and you could feel that we was greeting closer. You swallowed around him and kept going. The car was still parked on the side of the road and it was completely silent except for Johns groans or moans and the wet sounds of your mouth.

,,I‘m close“ the warned breathlessly and tried to pull you off him, but you didn’t obey and kept going until his hips started to buck uncontrollably. You took a deep breath through the nose to prepare yourself, then he came with a hoarse moan. You took everything and swallowed obediently. Then you let yourself get pulled up by him and your eyes met. John was still panting as he starred at you

,,you are incredible“ he said quietly and wiped something from the corner of your mouth.

,,Thank you sir“ you whispered back.

He laughed quietly

,,keep calling me that while looking at me like that and I fulfill that fantasy of yours with the backseat“

,,I‘d love to“

He shook his head, then closed his pants.

,,Not today, little one.I‘ll have to get you home to your father“

You pouted but, then returned to the passengers seat.

He restarted the engine and his hand squeezed your thigh as you drove through the night.

Fifteen minutes later you reached the huge mansion where your father was already waiting for you.

,,Thank god, I was already getting worried. Why the hell did it take you so long?“

,,Empty gasoline tank. We had to do a little stop“ John lied effortlessly.

Your father only nodded.

,,Good, I hope (y/n) behaved. I know she can be a bit feisty, always looking for trouble“

,,Yeah, she’s got one hell of a tongue“

[ceilidho]

Your vegas wedding! Ghost did something to me fr. It gave me something I didn't know I needed hahah

Now I need to know more! How did they end up getting married? What will reader do now? And how are the boys going to react?? I need answers 😭

Anyways, your writing is amazing! I found you through your bear shifter! Price fic and I've been hooked ever since ♡

awww thank you so much 😭😭 i'm surprised by how many people enjoyed that au - i never really know which ones are going to hit and which are going to kind of fall by the wayside.

i didn't flesh out the idea very much because i never intended it to be an actual fic, i just really enjoyed the idea of the reader waking up the next day with the deed already done lol. i looooveee writing moments of revelation or first encounters.

but the vague idea in my head was that Ghost was some heavy in between jobs (like a hitman/bounty hunter type of guy; even more of a lone wolf than in canon, but maybe still works as a sort of "collective" with the rest of the 141) who'd just finished up a job in vegas. I imagine he was probably getting a drink in the same bar as you and your friends, though a lot less inebriated lmao (i really struggle to picture Ghost ever getting drunk?? there's a really popular Ghoap fic called Poison Apple where the author describes Ghost as this very controlled, disciplined man who will only have one drink and that's it, because he's the one in control, and wooowww that's soooo how i see him).

i feel like reader probably got pretty drunk, yknow typical for a night out with friends, and caught his eye and actually approached him instead of the other way around and maybe spent the next hour flirting and talking to him (like. TO him lmao, like just chatting chatting chatting while Ghost is content to hang back and just listen, vaguely amused) before finally giggling something like "wouldn't it be funny if we just got, yknow, married? in vegas and all?" and i think it's the first time in awhile that Ghost just does something on a whim lol.

i'm so glad you enjoyed the bear shifter price fic!!!! i'll have more coming soon whenever i get my ass in gear and finish up part 3 of the ikea soap idea lmao!!!

[ace-reviews]

WINTER 2024 ANIME RECOMMENDATIONS

I counted and there are 8.5 blonde ladies in either a lead or primary love interest role this season (8 if you count the one whose hair is sometimes black as half of one). Do what you will with this information. I only share it because it’s something that was ticking me off that I noticed.

Anyway, we’re trying out a new format this season: Instead of only recommending anime we’re not familiar with, we’re each picking one we are familiar with and one we went into completely blind.

ACE’S RECOMMENDATION #1: MR. VILLAIN’S DAY OFF

After the deluge of isekai that try to teach the importance of having a healthy work-life balance by having the lack of one kill off it’s main character in the first five minutes of the episode, it’s really nice to have something that teaches the same lesson by choosing to model what one looks like rather than killing anybody. It’s also got a lot of pandas in it, which is always nice.

ACE’S RECOMMENDATION #2: SENGOKU YOUKO

Satoshi Mizukami seemingly can’t catch a break with anime adaptations of his manga: Lucifer and the Biscuit Hammer sucked and this one is being seriously overshadowed by all the other really good and/or long-looked-forward-to adaptations this season. (Planet With was an anime first so it escaped the curse.)

Anyway, please watch this and have your friends watch this and buy the Blu–Rays and have your friends buy the Blu-Rays so my dream of a (good!!!) Spirit Circle anime can someday come true.

---

CHARLIE’S RECOMMENDATION #1: SOLO LEVELING

(for the sake of our more sensitive readers, actual screenshots of the anime cannot be shown at this time)

If you like Cheat System anime, and don’t mind “a bit” of graphic violence (read: so much. There’s just so much violence.) , give this a shot. It’s based on one of the Korean manhua that made the genre what it is today, and as far as I’m concerned, they’ve done a good job being faithful to their source so far - they didn’t even give them Japanese names, you guys.

CHARLIE’S RECOMMENDATION #2: A SIGN OF AFFECTION

(adorable)

It’s cute, and disability rep is always a bonus. I like how they animated the sign language, which seems fairly realistic to me, someone who speaks no sign languages.

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FEN’S RECOMMENDATION #1: LOOKING UP TO MAGICAL GIRLS

This is a series I’ve been following since there were only five chapters out in the manga, so I would like to preface this recommendation by saying I’m the only one who’s actually right about it. I’m a veteran, a true soul who’s stuck with it for the past x years since it first released, and as such everything I say about it is valid and correct and anything people who aren’t as familiar with it says is complete horseshit pulled out of their ass. This is a factual statement.

Mahou Shoujo ni Akogarete, which has been translated for the manga as “Looking up to Magical Girls” (correct) and by vile HIDIVE as “Gushing Over Magical Girls” (bad and wrong) is a trashy, over-indulgent yuri series for weird perverts that is good, actually, (genuinely), and if the adaptation manages to capture Onanaka Akihiko’s remarkably deft hand in weaving the series’ fetish gags with the story’s genuine moments of pathos and surprising character depth then the anime will also be good, actually.

Dude trust me.

FEN’S RECOMMENDATION #2: METALLIC ROUGE

This is an anime original series about super fighting robots on Mars doing a hitman shit on android rebels for the government and also yuri, maybe. ACAB includes Rouge Redstar, watch this show.

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BONUS RECOMMENDATIONS: DUNGEON MESHI AND ‘TIS TIME FOR “TORTURE,” PRINCESS

A recommendation to watch Dungeon Meshi is the most redundant thing on the planet this season, but even so you should still watch Dungeon Meshi. Also, Fen and I had a bit of a back-and-forth over who would recommend Torture Princess since it was something she was familiar with and something I had only heard of and I wasn’t going to recommend it because I thought she would and she apparently chose not to recommend it because she thought I was going to so take it as a recommendation both from someone who is and someone who isn’t familiar with Torture Princess to watch Torture Princess.

[howtofightwrite]

This is probably not the right blog to ask, but I'm not sure where else: is there a way to write a convincing hitman? Any obvious do's or don't's?

Well, first off it's important to remember that most of the assassins you're familiar with from pop culture are pure fantasy. There's no real world analog for characters like John Wick, Leon (The Professional), Vincent (Collateral), or 47. They belong to a theoretical tier of professional assassins that (probably) don't exist.

I'm going off a 2014 article from The Howard Journal of Crime and Justice, but unfortunately, it's been pay walled sometime in the last 8 years, so this is going to be mostly from memory. The authors classify assassins into four groups: Novices, Dilettantes, Journeymen, and Masters.

Novices are the amateur assassins and hitmen. These aren't really killers for hire, so much as just people who like the idea of getting paid for killing someone. When novice hitmen have ties to local criminal enterprises, it's really easy for police to identify them, because they generally don't travel to commit their crimes. Everyone in the (criminal) community, usually has a pretty good idea who the killer was, and no real interest in protecting them.

Novices who manage to pull off a couple contracts without getting caught graduate into Dilettantes. Again, not a lot to say here, these guys come from a mix of backgrounds. They're not really professionals, but they do commit the occasional killing for pay.

Journeymen are professionals. They may be ex-military, or they may simply be career criminals. As with Novices and Dilettantes, they're likely to stay close to home, which, in turn, makes them relatively easy to identify during criminal investigations. When you're looking at organized crime hitmen, they're likely to fall into one of these three categories. Street level soldiers who get tapped to carry out a killing are usually novices or dilettantes, a criminal enterprise might have some journeymen further up in the organization, at their disposal.

Masters might not exist. These guys have military, intelligence, or specialized backgrounds, they travel some distance to kill their targets, and then they disappear and head home. Here's the problem. All realistic investigation of professional assassins is based examining the failures (something, mentioned in the referenced article.) This means, if someone doesn't screw up, avoids detection, and escapes capture, we don't know anything about them. We only know about the assassins that are stopped or caught. So, let's look at those four fictional characters for a moment.

Wick is a pure fantasy character. He exists in a world with a massive conspiracy concealing a secret society of assassins, that are so well entrenched they mint their own currency. Keanu Reeves is worth watching (in the first film) for his movements, dude moves like someone with a serious combat background. The actual assassin component of the story is just thin connective tissue to tie one fight scene to the next. It's visual art and absolutely worth watching, but not because the writing makes sense.

Leon (Jean Reno, The Professional), is in the range of a journeyman. He operates exclusively in New York, and while it's not (completely) clear how he came to become a hitman, he illustrates some of the problems associated with staying in a specific geographic area. At the same time, not a terribly realistic character, and the idea that the more advanced you, the closer you get to your target is just goofy. It makes for some excellent film, but, if your job is to kill someone, you're not getting paid more to garrote them, than to put a round of .308 through their skull from two blocks away. In fact, you're probably getting paid much less, because your odds of getting out after things go sideways are almost nil.

Vincent (Tom Cruise, Collateral) is probably the most realistic prototype for a master on this list. Through the course of the film, we never get a lot of information about his background, but what little we know is that he travels. His preferred MO is to set someone up as a fall guy for his killings. He arrives in a city, receives his weapons, and intel on his targets, runs them down, and then gets out of town. He has some kind of military, possibly special forces, background. Given he's creating a reasonable cover for his activities, and given that he's getting in and out very quickly, it's plausible someone like that could exist. The most unrealistic element is just that he could carry out so many high profile killings in a single night, multiple times.

47 (David Bateson, also Timothy Olyphant and Rupert Friend, Hitman... all of them), is a bit of a nightmare scenario, but he illustrates something very interesting that has some theoretical realism to it. Now, for those who are unaware, 47 (sometimes Agent 47, or Codename 47), is the player character of the Hitman game series. (Olyphant and Friend played him in the film adaptations.) You can play the character as a complete psychopath, gunning down everyone in your path. There's not much realism in that approach. Beginning with the second game, the series started integrating a scoring system which prioritized killing as efficiently or creatively as possible. Now, creative kills were in the first game, but the only incentive was that they were often far easier than running and gunning. In it's current incarnation, the series has a strong emphasis on finding ways to eliminate targets in ways that appear accidental.

So, we have an assassin who specializes in getting in and out undetected, killing their targets in ways that appear accidental, and travels all over the world. Do you have any how hard it would be to prove someone like that existed?

Now, before I go on, I should point out, there's an inherent absurdity to the games. 47 is a 6'2” tall bald white dude with a bar code on his neck, and no one ever notices when suddenly the sushi chef gains six inches, loses his hair, changes ethnicity and happens to be the last person to be seen near the target who suddenly died of fugu poisoning. It's a running joke in the series that 47 can flawlessly blend into any crowd so long as he's wearing the right outfit.

At the same time, the hilarious thing about that joke is, it's real. When Tom Cruise was preparing to play Vincent in Collateral, something he did as personal prep was to disguise himself in a UPS uniform, and deliver packages in public. This included getting into an extended conversation with someone, without being recognized. This was in 2004, in Los Angeles, he was already a household name at this point. So, while Hitman turns the costumes swaps into a joke, there's a disturbing level of reality to that mechanic, if you look like you belong, people tend to assume you belong.

The original Hitman did have an interesting touch that the later games moved away from: You had to repurchase the weapons you wanted to take with you on each mission. So, there were no forensic ties between his guns from one killing and the next. There's a slight irony because the 1911s 47 carries are a semi-rare variant (AMT Hardballers, usually called Silverballers in game), so he's regularly discarding some fairly expensive, high-end, handguns. At the same time, he's getting paid enough to cover that, though, maybe, a slightly more common 1911 variant would probably be less conspicuous.

So, yeah, master assassins probably don't exist in the real world, and most of the assassins we know about tend to stay close to home, but if an assassin does travel, it would make identifying them significantly harder. Also, be instantly suspicious if your gardener suddenly turns into a 6'2” bald, white dude with a bar code on the back of his neck.

-Starke

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[anthurak]

A little while ago, I floated an idea for a future-fic of Helluva Boss wherein Blitzo quits the assassin business and leaves I.M.P. in the hands of Loona. The funny thing is though, the more I’ve thought about it the more I’m starting to think this may be a very likely endpoint for Blitzo’s full arc and the show as a whole.

Because I think the show has already outlined or at least strongly hinted at what Blitzo’s murder-buisness really represents for him, and it might not be a good thing.

Remember this exchange all the way back in Loo Loo Land?

“Does anybody love you, BLITZO?”

“No. But I’m really good with guns now!”

Think about that for a minute. Blitzo matter-of-factly states that he believes no one loves him, but that’s okay because he’s good at killing people, ie; his job now. And taken in context with what we’ve learned about Blitzo since this episode, I think this line really paints a dark, depressing picture of Blitzo’s relationship with his work.

Because we know that under the surface, Blitzo craves emotional connection and intimacy. He is actually desperate to be loved. While at the same time being terrified of being hurt if he lets himself be open and vulnerable to another person.

Which of course brings us to what we learned in this latest episode: That Blitzo has been living with the guilt of accidentally maiming his best friend and outright killing his mother. Blitzo states outright in this episode that Fizzarolli should hate him for what he did, and very nearly admits that he hates himself for it too.

So taken together, I think we can safely say that Blitzo’s whole ‘badass hitman’ act and even his whole fixation on the assassination business may very well be part a coping mechanism. A way for him to bury his trauma, guilt and whatever other baggage he’s constantly on the run from. A way that he can say he doesn’t need love and intimacy because he gets all the fame and respect he needs by being this badass hitman.

And even more unsettling, Blitzo’s being a hitman could very well represent him INTERNALIZING his intense guilt and self-loathing. That Blitzo sees himself as a killer and a destroyer of lives because that’s what he did to HIS mother and family. We know that Blitzo tried to reach out to Fizz in the aftermath of the fire, but was blocked by some unnamed ‘they’, likely the other survivors of the circus and particularly Blitzo’s father, Cash. Imagine if they pushed Blitzo away, calling him a killer, of his own mother and everyone else who died in that fire. And Blitzo wound up just… accepting that moniker.

Also, does anyone else remember how in the first episode, I.M.P. took a job to kill a mother, who just so happened to have a son and daughter who look about the same age?

A killing which Blitzo was going to do with zero hesitation whatsoever? In hindsight, much like with Moxxie’s comments about ‘a mob family’ in the same episode, I can’t help but feel this might be giving us a hint at just how deep Blitzo’s repression and internalization of his guilt really runs.

As we dive further into Blitzo’s background and learn how he got into the hitman business, it’ll be interesting to see just how beneficial or outright toxic Blitzo’s hitman career path actually is for him? ie; Does Blitzo get something genuinely positive out of the assassination business? Or is it something actively blocking Blitzo from forming healthy relationships and facing his problems? For a potential contrast, look at Moxxie and Millie: Both seem to be in the assassination business because they like it and they’re good at it, but they don’t seem to have based their lives around it like Blitzo seems to have.

Which brings us back to my original concept: We may reach a point eventually in the show where Blitzo has to give up the assassination business for his own good. Let go of this fixation he has on the whole ‘badass hitman’ persona in order to face his real problems and move on with his life.

But instead of dissolving his company outright, Blitzo instead passes leadership/ownership of the company onto someone else. Hence my idea of Loona, after her own personal arc over the course of the show, inheriting the company.

[amomentsescape]

hello! may i please request a hurt to comfort oneshot of Victor meeting the reader for the first time? he's just out on the town post-job, getting a milkshake or smth and sees reader in a really nice, pretty outfit crying quietly alone on a bench. for whatever reason, he goes up to them and asks why they're crying and they explain that it's their first birthday party ever and all their friends cancelled/ghosted on them.

i'm in a similar situation where i'm about to have my first birthday party ever and i'm really nervous that something is gonna happen. every other time i've tried, something comes up and people either cancel on me or just ghost me complately :,)

Birthday Wishes

Victor Zsasz x Reader

Summary: Victor finds Reader alone on their birthday.

Warnings: Reader being called "pretty," mentions of bad friends

Word Count: 1,018

A/N: Happy, happy birthday <3 I wish you the best day and hope that things were different this time. P.S. I wrote this in a sleep deprived stupor, so I hope this all came out to your liking still :)

Victor literally never catches a break. And honestly, he liked it that way.

He's spent so much of his life "working" that he doesn't know what to do with himself when he's not assigned a hit. And this is clearly why he found himself walking the busy streets of Gotham with a half melted vanilla shake in his hand.

Isn't this what the normal people do when they're off work? Not that Victor has ever been normal, but he is currently trying to find any way to keep his mind off of the fact that he isn't working.

Honestly, not having someone to kill was more stressful than the opposite. If he's not killing, then what's his purpose?

He looked down at the sad shake in his hand and let out a sigh, feeling conflicted on what to do.

His mind raced with thoughts on tomorrow when he would finally be back to his calling, stalking along the roofs of the tallest buildings with the prettiest views.

He tossed his shake into a nearby trashcan and continued to walk, ignoring the odd glances from those he passed along the street.

Victor kept up his pace and barely noticed how the crowd was beginning to thin out.

The quieter environment was welcomed, but this moment of peace was quickly shaken to the sound of pitiful cries coming from around the corner.

He would have normally relished in this sound, but something about the sobs and sniffles triggered an unfamiliar feeling in Victor's chest: worry.

He poked his head around the corner and saw you curled up on a bench, your face shoved in your hands.

He was quick to notice your elaborate outfit, immediately wondering if this was some type of date gone wrong. But he was quick to shake that thought away. You were much too pretty to have been stood up. At least, that's what he thought. Hell knows he wouldn't have stood someone like you up, hitman or not.

He hesitated for a moment, debating whether talking to you would be a good idea. He wasn't exactly a warm and welcoming sort of person to most, and the last thing he wanted to do was worsen the state you were already in. But at the same time, who cared? He was likely never going to see you again anyways unless your gorgeous self showed up on tomorrow's hit list.

He approached you, his heavy footsteps enough to quiet your crying, your head carefully rising to see who was near.

And the moment his eyes saw yours, he knew he had been right; you were very pretty, and he could almost immediately feel his usual confidence waver ever so slightly at the confirmation.

"What seems to be the matter?" he asked softly, not wanting to startle you.

And to his surprise, you casually rolled your eyes, not even slightly uncomfortable by his looks or presence.

"It's stupid," your voice broke.

You grimaced at how hoarse you sounded, looking away from his gaze quickly.

"I wouldn't consider this stupid," he quickly responded.

He nodded his head to the empty space beside you. You scooted over a bit and allowed him to sit despite still being a stranger to you.

Victor just sat there and watched you for a bit. He was silently hoping you would eventually open up to what was going on. But of course, he wasn't one to pry. In fact, he wasn't one to even engage in a situation like this to begin with.

In a city like Gotham, you were obviously not the first person he came across crying by themselves. But you were certainly the first person to catch his attention.

Finally, with a shaky breath, you spoke up.

"My friends..." you scoffed at yourself. "I can't even call them that anymore. What kind of friends aren't there for your own birthday?" you sniffled.

The realization dawned on him as he took in your words. Well this was even more upsetting of a situation than he had originally planned.

"They canceled?" he asked.

You let out a dry laugh. "Some did. Others weren't even kind enough to send me a text saying they couldn't make it."

You shook your head as you stared into your lap.

"You know, I spent every year of my life not celebrating my birthday because I was scared of this exact thing happening. And of course, the one time I felt confident enough to do it, my nightmare became real. Is there something wrong with me?"

The moment the words left your mouth, your eyes widened, shifting up immediately to meet his gaze.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn’t be spewing my trauma on a stranger."

You could already feel your eyes burning with tears again, the sensation making you angry. It was one thing to be pathetically crying on a random bench out in the open, but it was an entirely different thing to be doing this in front of some handsome man.

"Victor," his voice broke you from your thoughts.

You looked back up at him.

"What?"

You were surprised to see him smile softly at you.

"My name is Victor. So now we're not strangers, hmm?"

His smile was contagious as you found your body relaxing at his friendliness.

"(Y/N)," you finally responded after a moment.

"Well, happy birthday, (Y/N)."

Victor began to stand at this, a feeling of disappointment weighing in your chest.

You assumed he was leaving until he paused and looked down at you, his hand reaching out.

"Shall we?"

You tilted your head in confusion. "What-"

"It's your birthday. About time you finally got to celebrate it, hmm?"

A smile broke out on your face as you took his hand, following him away from that lonely bench.

This may not have been how you planned the day going originally, but there was no way you were going to argue with it. If you would have known some handsome man was going to show up and sweep you off your feet, you would have happily cut your "friends" off a lot sooner.

[evrensadwrn]

.................okay but ROMANTIC Vincent x bodyguard could slap 😗🤨😲now that might be something I could potentially eat up. Suddenly I am hungry.

cringefailure french boy needs a bodyguard i got u bae dw

ʚ♡ɞ

You work for the Marquis de Gramont as a bodyguard

You’re well-versed in guns and all that combat jazz

You get your hands dirty for this guy, and commit acts of violence

It’s just your job anyways

It’s much better than being a common hitman or mercenary because then you have a boss to hide behind

A particularly hot boss to be specific

He’s attractive, you and the other Myrmidons agree upon that

Vincent is young in comparison to literally everyone in the Table’s circle of representatives and agents

He’s a hyperglot, he’s got a taste in art, he likes cats more than dogs, he’s sexy as hell, and he’s interesting when he talks sometimes

God, isn’t he just amazing?

It’s when you’re at the Louvre with this guy again(second time this week)

“What do you think about art?”

A simple, innocent question

Your answer goes along the lines of something basic

Nothing too profound, just rather something short and simple

And that sends the Marquis to talking about art and history as a whole

Now you know the difference between Baroque and Renaissance art

And you know Realism, Impressionism, and Romanticism

Vincent finds Romanticism particularly interesting: a quiet theme romanticizing the softer and more gentler parts of life

You can see that in him

Vincent gets excited when he talks about art

You can see it when he smiles, or when his eyes are practically gleaming as he talks

You only nod, answer simple and short when he pauses to ask

Then—

Then Vincent has you accompanying him more than often

You get a chance to talk to Chidi a whole lot, Vincent’s right hand man

And you get to hear more of Vincent’s ramblings

Attending bourgeois luxuries

Palais Garnier, and all that stuff

It only takes nine months(fuck, that’s nearly a year) for you to actually start seeing Vincent

Vincent, not the Marquis— but just him

A guy that plays piano and fills most of his days learning a new language if he’s not doing anything important

He holds everyone to high standards including you

But there’s always something that Vincent likes about you

It’s clear in his actions, really

“These gloves would suit you, don’t you think?”

Vincent likes giving gifts, he doesn’t know anything else about relationships or how to properly say it

But it’s clear

He first got you gloves when he saw your hands were particularly bruised

Then it just straight up jumped to him giving you a car, sleek black and elegantly shaped

God, you wish you were joking

But you wanted to test the waters first

“I want you to come with me to the Louvre again”

“Alright, kiss me on the cheek first”

Was that too bold?

Either way, after a moment of pause, which was Vincent just processing it—

—he kissed you on the cheek

What kind of chapstick was he using to get those lips so damn pink and perfect and soft?

You’ve been eyeing those lips for a while now

And feeling it first hand-

Fuck, it was exhilarating

“So are we gonna go now?”

Vincent put a hand on his hip as he asked you

“Yes, sir”

Shit, you were so fucking whipped

reblogs appreciated as always<33

[beansricejc]

JOHN WICK x READER - The Courier

part 3!

[part 1] [part 2]

summary: John’s being a little slut and finds out you’re more dangerous than you let on. More background details of Y/N. You invite him to your base for a few drinks, and John seems to be asking too many questions. In response, you use an unconventional method to make sure he’s not a snitch. John desperately needs to relieve some tension after you finish, so he takes matters into his own hands. Female reader, John x Crime Boss Reader, slow burn, 5500 words.

author’s note: thx for the love! i love writing these, and i really like making the reader (you!) an anti hero. (you’ll see). i would highly recommend reading the first and second part if you’re new here! linked above! lmk what you think! tysm! 💕

warnings: nsfw, organized crime, implied death, violence, alcohol, cursing, sex work, significant age gap, male mast3rbatįön.

A few days have passed since your encounter with John in the Continental, ending with that steamy and tense kiss in the hallway. You had even given him your number. John hadn’t actually texted you yet. His mind was racing with the possibilities between the two of you.

Well, there was you. A young, powerful, self-made crime boss. Or as your employees would say ironically, a girly-pop criminal.

Right.

Of course, there was John, a middle-aged hitman with a dark reputation, even for the criminal underworld. Retroactively feared throughout the industry, there was a general unspoken rule to not fuck with John Wick. That was just common sense at this point.

And here he was, fidgeting with this metal-engraved business card you gave him during that makeout session, so he could keep in touch.

He’s anxious about the feelings he was developing for you. John had kept up with his playboy culture ever since his wife passed, and in his mind, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to give that up.

“Mm, mister Wick, you look awfully distracted.” the escort he had called over to his hotel room to help him relieve some tension he had after his encounter with you.

Her name was Bethany, or Brandi, or something. He didn’t really pay attention. What he did know was that she had excellent hand and blow job skills.

This Brandi chick was right. He was distracted. She’d been trying to get John hard for 15 minutes, and he couldn’t manage. How fucking embarrassing.

John took a peek at your name that's engraved onto the thin piece of metal. Ah, that seemed to do the trick. Blood swam to his shaft, growing his erection, and Brandi smirked a bit.

John’s pride wouldn’t allow him to admit that the sight of your printed name could do such a thing to him.

If anyone were to find out, he would simply die.

It didn’t take long for Brandi to take John into her mouth, stroking what she couldn’t fit with her hands. John closed his eyes, not wanting to establish any emotional connection with the woman to give her the wrong idea. He would simply sit back, and enjoy the pleasure he paid for. Even if the passion wasn’t there, it would have to do.

-

Meanwhile, you and three other women had a man wrapped in tarp and duct tape in their grasp, shuffling down a long pier towards the body’s destination. The Hudson River. The sheer pollution would eventually eat away at its flesh. A sure fire solution to you and your little problem at the moment.

The four of you grunt, count to 4, and swing the corpse out of your grasp, a splash following the collision to the water.

You sighed, snapping off your latex gloves, feeling your phone vibrate a few times in your pocket. God dammit, what now? You attempted to get rid of the fresh corpse body stench from your nose when you pulled your device out, and seeing a text from an unknown number. It was directed for your personal line, and not your business line. Interesting. That’s when it hit you, in your drunken stupor, you shared a personal business card with the one and only, John Wick.

Of course you did, you moron.

You huff out and click on the bright notification on your screen, opening the app up.

Unknown #: Hey, hope you still remember me. It’s that smoking hot guy from the bar a few days ago. You doin' okay?

You rolled your eyes at what John called himself. The smell of swamp water and bird shit entered your sinuses. Thank god that it successfully replaced the cold, damp, dead body smell. You can hear seagulls caw above your small group of women, heading back to your SUV as if nothing had happened.

Now, you're typing away at your screen to reply to this middle-aged man who had taken two days to even utilize your number.

You pause, raise your eyebrows, and slowly read the message over again. Interesting.

The feeling of his hands around you, squeezing your hips and biting your lower lip. The sensation is teasing your mind, so much so that you block everything else out.

You’ve touched yourself about 5 times since then, and you can’t seem to get this stupid man off of your mind. You craved him. Everything from the glares he shot at you with those dark eyes of his, to the sting of his scruff on your soft cheeks.

“Hey,” one of your employees interrupts your midday fantasy. You jolt slightly, blinking at the taller and muscular woman, she’s been working for you for about a year, her name is Jenny. “You ready, boss?”

You take in another deep breath, more lake smell entering your nose, and you can feel the moisture in the air. Somehow you managed to find a time when no one was even outside. Even if they were, no one asked questions. Mind your own business in this city, and you’ll go a long way.

You nod and climb into the back seat of the truck, get situated, and let your employees handle the rest. The truck starts driving, and here you are again, focused on that damn phone screen.

You grunt.

God dammit.

Y/N: yeah, I remember you, old man.

As if you haven’t been thinking about him since you escaped to your hotel room the other day.

Look at you. Crime lord. Criminal mastermind (sort of). You're a big-time player.

All of that, just to act like a schoolgirl when any guy you’re remotely attracted to gives you some sort of romantic interest.

Classic.

Of course you still knew how to talk to them, charm them, get them wrapped around your finger. That was a piece of cake. But what if one wanted a kiss?

Well, time to skedaddle.

-

John had just finished onto Brandi’s face, handing her one of the hotel room towels so she can clean herself off. It was a lot, thick and stringy ropes of cum had landed on her cheeks and lips. He was still recovering and catching his breath.

Then he hears his phone vibrate. It’s you.

He smiled. You texted back quicker than he anticipated.

Great, she’s calling me old again. John sighed to himself.

Sometimes he forgets he’s damn near old enough to be her father. Was that.. weird? Maybe he just shouldn’t think about it.

John: alright, girl boss, whatever you say.

John set down his phone and waited patiently for Brandi to finally leave for the night. He slipped her a wad of cash, and she was gone faster than she came.

John can’t get his fucking mind off of you. The number of times he has had his way with you in his head was too many to count on two hands. Does he feel bad about it?

Yeah.

Did he want to stop? No.

He oh so desperately wanted to see what was lurking underneath your clothing. He hasn’t felt this way in a long time.

John was a total slut, don’t get me wrong. A few times a week he’d have different women over. Some were regular hookups, and some were random girls he picked up at the bar or club. If he wasn’t doing a contract, he was definitely balls-deep in some random chick on his couch.

That was just life though. At least for John.

He used to be a romantic, date nights, flowers, gentleman type acts. But now, well, you know already.

John sighed and decided to double-text.

Of course a man his age wouldn’t understand the almost taboo nature of the double text. A rookie mistake some would call it, others would think it’s stupid to look into it that much.

John: u wanna have some drinks with me tonight?

-

You’re still shocked that John called you a girl boss over text. You’re still staring at your screen, bewildered at the thought.

A girl boss?

No way. Absolutely not, those chicks were always pyramid scheme fanatics that would reach out to you over Facebook to convince you to join their cult company.

That wasn’t you! You were a hard ass. You ran your crew well and knew what you were doing at all times.

But you were a woman.

And a boss.

Oh fuck.

You and the few employees in the truck hop on out. You had driven from that pier back to your warehouse headquarters. This is where the magic happened.

Right on the outskirts of Brooklyn, your enterprise came out of this warehouse. Filled with fast and reliable motorcycles and other expensive toys. There were a few women who were scurrying around to get some deliveries finished before the end of the night. You notice that one of your assistants decided to change the music on the stereo system.

The same assistant, Marissa, hurried over to you, took your bag, and handed you a coconut Redbull. You mumbled the lyrics to an Ice Spice song that was blaring in the warehouse.

The realization hits.

You look up, looking Marissa dead in the face.

“Please. Be real with me.” you speak to her, and she awaits your question. You take a deep breath. It’s the moment of truth. “Am I a girl boss?”

Silence breaks out in the warehouse. Everyone dropped what they were doing to wait to see what your personal assistant would have to say to that. The only thing being heard now is that Ice Spice song.

Oh god. That wasn’t a good sign.

Marissa pressed her lips together, her green eyes shifting around the warehouse.

“I mean, technically speaking, I suppose someone could call you that, you’re not cringe though!” Marissa assured you. Your breath hitched, and your heart felt like it stopped.

How embarrassing.

You swallow your pride in, nod, and shove your hands into your big overall pockets.

“Alright. Alright. Cool.” You nod, pulling your phone out and walking away from the main action, everyone went back to work as if they didn't just eavesdrop on that conversation.

What a fucking question that was.

You look at the last text John sent you and are surprised to see that he asked to have drinks.

You pause, staring at the text message. You know John doesn’t understand the concept of double texting, he was like, 45, or something. Poor guy didn't know any better. You sigh.

“Is Wickathan bothering you again?” your assistant Marissa asked, chuckling over the nickname you made for John.

“He wants to have drinks tonight, but look at me. I would rather smash my head into some bricks than go out tonight, I’m exhausted.” You groan, the feeling of disappointing John hits you right in the chest.

Why are you so worked up about him, bitch?! You ask yourself. You’re too hot to stress yourself out about this.

Marissa gives you a grin.

“Well then invite him here.” Marissa provides an idea for you. You raise your eyebrows, and nod affirmatively.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You tell her, flashing her a grin and quickly texting John back.

Y/N: you wanna just have drinks at HQ?

You liked calling your work headquarters, or HQ to shorten it up. Really made you sound like a secret spy with a base.

Well, you weren’t a spy but it was a base.

Sometimes you forget that you’re running an entire criminal enterprise, the Ice Spice blasting at your self proclaimed headquarters wasn’t helping.

-

John can only imagine what this headquarters looks like, and is quite intrigued by the idea of having drinks with you there. Now that he’s planning on seeing you tonight, there’s a bad feeling in his stomach.

Does he feel bad about seeing an escort right before meeting up with you? That can’t be it. Can it?

Dammit, John. You’re a bachelor, you can’t be falling for some girl because she’s pretty and powerful. He cursed at himself internally.

His eyes glaze over his reflection in the mirror as he ices his shoulder, which was hit pretty bad by some asshole with a golf club during a job yesterday. It left a very purple bruise and was sore as hell.

He wondered if there was an appeal to his battle scars all over his body. There probably was, right? Whenever he was shirtless in front of a lady, her attention would immediately focus on all of his tattoos and marks on his flesh. Of course, they were stories from a younger and less experienced John.

Sometimes it would even scare them off entirely. But if they got past the tatted-up back and several scars, you could get a glimpse at his toned body. John's not a bodybuilder material by any means, he was lean and in shape, the ideal size for a professional killer.

He was perfect for the job.

John’s mind is racing, he knows you’re dangerous. You built an entire empire in a mere three years, people would kill for your skill and position on the food chain.

It kind of turned him on.

Especially ever since he found your business page, where all of the information for clients was readily available.

John noticed an "As Seen on Tv!" tab on the professional-looking website, he clicked on it out of pure curiosity. He didn’t know what to expect.

It was a YouTube video of a compilation of CCTV footage, showing various car and motorcycle chases. They were cut and spliced into a well edited video that had Industry Baby by Lil Nas X playing in the background.

That couldn’t be you, could it?

Oh, it was. You and various people in your crew who also did deliveries for your company.

John could tell from your figure whenever it was you on screen, and he was particularly shocked from seeing GoPro footage of you.

He sees you jumping out of the window from one moving car to the hood of another, shooting at the driver through the windshield, killing him instantly. Of course, as soon as the bullet was fired from the barrel of your gun, whoever edited the video censored it. John could still see the blurred-out figure slump to the side but was obvious that he was dead. You had even climbed through the shattered glass and took over the driving, shoving the corpse off of the seat as if it were a regular work day.

You and your crew obviously knew what you were doing, that was a fact. Ruthless, violent, and skilled, a dangerous combination for anyone. John noticed that you seemed to be more precise, the difference between you and your other employees was noticeably significant. They were still very impressive nonetheless.

As skilled as you were, you were still an amateur compared to John. He figured you most likely excelled at combat on the road but in a regular circumstance? You probably weren’t as efficient or deadly.

He was right.

“Fucking hell,” John mumbled to himself, it wasn’t anything new to him, but seeing this as an advertisement for their business of a website was… something. That’s for sure.

It was like watching a bunch of kids goofing around and getting it all on tape. Well, that was exactly what it was. A bunch of young women on the screen, and swap out the word goofing with maybe, rampaging?

His eyes were glued to his screen as he watched the video boasting their skill set, even showing a worker and you drifting your expensive bikes down the highway.

And now John's in his car watching the video once again in the parking lot of the warehouse that Y/N had invited him to.

John was pleasantly surprised that this young crime lord had invited him to her home base after only meeting him once.

Well, technically twice.

John hadn’t bothered with his work attire, he had thrown on a pair of nice jeans and a long sleeve black shirt. He even went the extra mile to put on cologne and touched up his beard.

John sighed and exited his car, locking up and sauntering towards the large industrial looking warehouse.

He could hear a plethora of noises from the building, the big garage door was open, and he raised his eyebrows at the image of dozens of women doing advanced mechanical work on modified bikes, or even riding off on said bikes.

John wasn’t sure what to expect but it sure as hell wasn’t this.

Especially with the Latin girl pop that was blaring from the very impressive stereo set up.

Your chop shop was clean, organized, and busy. Extremely busy. John had been squeezed past by about 7 women already who were hard at work.

It was clear that John was a fish out of water, he was quite literally the only man in this warehouse. He wasn’t sure if he liked that or not.

What’s the opposite of a sausage fest? John asked himself.

But where were you? John narrowed his eyes and did his best to find you, which happened to be squatting near a motorcycle that was suffering from some serious curb rash, which you were attempting to fix.

It was a sight that was a complete 180 from the other day at the cocktail party. Compared to the long and elegant black dress, you were now in a crop top and some denim overalls, that looked like it had seen better days.

John had to admit, it was pretty cute. He was used to only flirting and going out with women who were refined, and classy. That's what you displayed the other night.

But after seeing those clips of you online, and seeing you here, he knew that was all a front.

You were feminine for sure, however, you obviously had a masculine energy to your personality. John wasn’t used to that, it was really refreshing.

Before John could, one of your workers had hurried over to you.

“You think I should go hybrid or classic?” One of your modification technicians asked, her name was Marie, and she had worked for you for the past 2 years. You looked up, checking out the pictures on her phone she showed you.

This was a difficult decision. Lashes make or break a woman. The choice of a lifetime really.

“Hybrid, you’ll serve cunt with hybrid for sure.” You answer, and the two of you laugh at the ridiculous statement you just said.

Your attention turned to John, who was about 20 feet behind Marie, who was also trying not to laugh.

“Serving cunt? Do I even want to know?”

That was the first thing John had said to you today. You bursted out laughing, trying your best to contain it. It didn’t work. Marie turned around, and her blue eyes widened at the mere sight of John.

He was intimidating by nature, tall, dark, and mysterious. Now add in his deadly reputation, he could make anyone’s skin crawl with just a glance.

“Holy fuck, you didn’t tell me that Wickathan was coming.” Marie blurted, immediately covering her mouth afterward. Your eyes bulged at her, that name was meant to be an inside joke between everyone in your crew.

Dammit, Marie.

“Oh my god, bitch!” You stage whispered, smacking Marie on her shoulder in disappointment.

Did John hear that right?

“Wickathan?” John repeated, stepping up towards you and your current project. The man was a force to be reckoned with, he towered over you, especially now that you weren’t wearing heels. “Did you come up with that yourself?” He asked. It suddenly became hot in the room, caused by his husky voice that was directed towards you.

You forgot that you had just been staring at him for the past ten seconds, with awkward silence swirling between the two of you. Oof.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I thought it was funny,” you admitted. “I bet the Boogeyman gets fucking old, huh?” you asked, using a mocking tone on the nickname.

John respected your bold attitude.

You could see the way John was looking at you, despite you being a mess from working on bikes all day. His brown eyes trailed up your body and he smiled at seeing you without anything fancy on. He could get used to this.

A woman of many talents? Sign him up.

I might not be a bachelor for long, I better be careful. John thought to himself, smiling down at you.

“Come on, squirt. Let’s have that drink.” John teased, and your face starts to pinken.

Squirt?! What the fuck? You think, stepping from behind the bike, arms crossed while glaring at the menace of a hitman.

“Hey hey, I’m no squirt. What the-"

John interjects by grabbing you by the waist, physically picking you up, and holding you up in the air. You shout at him, and he’s chuckling devilishly at the sight.

Jesus Christ, in front of everyone? I’m their boss! This looks terrible! You’re internally panicking.

“Hey!” You exclaim, attempting to wiggle out of his death grip.

“Oh yeah, you’re a total squirt.” John teased, setting you back down and ruffling your already disheveled head of hair. Your cheeks are beet red, and you grab his forearm and tug him behind you to your private office.

You were a crime boss for fucks sake, is John out of his mind?

John’s laughing at the sight of your much smaller frame guiding him by hand to your office, in fact, he was getting a little excited over it.

Excited would be the understatement of a lifetime.

The sight of your smaller feminine frame compared to his towering large body made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. John shut the door to her office behind him, listening to you sigh and grab two beers out of her fridge.

Interesting. Beer fridge in the office. Respect. John notes.

You handed him a beer but your eyes went straight to his face, on further inspection you noticed a healing black eye and a few new scrapes. Those weren’t there a few days ago. You furrow your eyebrows at him.

There was no way he finished a contract that quickly between seeing you then and now, right?

“Hey, what the hell happened to you?” You ask him, walking closer to him and grazing your dainty fingers over his new wounds. John felt a lump form in his throat.

Oh sweet baby Jesus, she’s so close to me again. Shit! Shit! He’s thinking to himself. John chuckled in an attempt to cover his flustered nature.

“Oh you know, just work. Typical Wednesday for me,” he tells you, he can barely think straight since you’re standing so close to him. You’re wearing that same perfume that you wore when you saw him last, however, it’s overcast by the smell of exhaust and rubber, probably from working in this warehouse all day. “Nothing crazy.”

You rolled your eyes at him and went to go sit on your couch.

“Uh-huh. Who was it this time?” you asked John as he sits fairly close to you on the sofa. Just close enough for his leg to graze your thigh.

John knew exactly what he was doing. A classic playboy tactic, but why did he get this feeling he didn’t want to just hit it and quit it?

John cracked the beer open and read the label. PBR? Unexpected, alright. He couldn’t be mad at that. He took a long sip. Fantastic.

“Ah, some guy that pissed some Cartel member off. The usual.” John sighed, playing back into the couch, stretching his left arm out and laying it on the sofa, coincidentally right behind where you were sitting.

Coincidentally.

This is when John noticed that your couch was purple and velvet. That was some taste you had there. He scanned the room, it was obvious that whoever had this office was a woman in her 20s.

So, you, clearly.

John was shocked that this incredibly feminine office belonged to a crime boss, but he has seen weirder things. But he did have to admit, the office was quite eclectic. Bohemian? What was the word for it? Well, it was something.

“So, how’s work for you? You guys seem awfully busy out there.” John commented as you opened your own beer, his eyes trailing down your body again.

Oh boy. You notice his chest puffing out ever so slightly, god, he was the real deal.

Don’t show weakness, he’s expecting you to fold! Absolutely fucking not! you reaffirm to yourself.

“Pretty good actually. We’re gonna have to do a plate swap on all of the bikes soon though.” You explained, your eyes never leaving his chiseled face.

Shit.

He’s fine as hell.

You stop yourself, you were talking about work. Details about work. Well, not the nitty gritty but, wait a minute.

“Oh? How do you go about that?” John asked, flashing one of those mischievous smirks that he was giving you the other night.

The worst part about it? It fucking worked. His stupid attractive face, those dumb strong hands, his fucking hair that was perfectly styled backward.

He knew it too.

The question he gave you threw you off though. He wants more details on how work is. You raise your eyebrows as your brain goes into panic mode, almost like it’s wired to sense danger or threats.

John can sense that your whole demeanor has changed, long gone was the spunky girl from a minute ago. You were a whole other creature now as you analyzed him, what did he want? Why was he asking questions about your work?

You set your beer down on a side table and sigh.

God dammit.

Whatever, hopefully this would work. Your legs stretch over him until suddenly you’re straddling his lap. John has to cover his mouth to prevent beer from spitting out of his lips, just from pure shock.

“H-hey!” John exclaimed, the feeling of your bottom on his lap and thighs was almost heavenly. Was this seriously happening right now?

You take your hands and wiggle them up his black long-sleeve shirt, in a frantic search for any sort of wires, recording devices, anything really.

But to John, he’s only seeing the attractive young woman feeling him up, her small hands grazing over his lean and muscular torso. They travel to his sides, and then up and down his back, unknowingly tracing over skin that’s covered in tattoos.

Your fingers are making John melt, plus, here you were, only inches from his face. He can’t stop looking at your lips as you’re determined to find anything that would be used to record a conversation.

You’ve lasted this long and built your empire because you were clever, ruthless, but more importantly, cautious.

And here you were, feeling up John fucking Wick to see if he was bugged or not. The most lethal man in the world is centimeters away from you, his hot exhales sticking to your face and neck like sweat.

John can feel his cock grow to the sensation of you straddling him and searching around his body.

John’s heart is pounding, you sigh and take your hands out from underneath his shirt.

Alright, hair it is.

So now, like the little shithead you are, you sit up slightly to dig your fingers through his head of long black locks. Of course, your chest is at eye level with his face, even almost touching it.

“Y/N, w-what are you doing?” John laughed nervously, he wasn’t sure why he was nervous, and his hands were already advancing to your thighs and hips.

What if I just fucked her right here and now on this couch? What I would do to make her scream my name, shit, I want her to ride my cock so bad that she aches for me the next day. John’s mind is screaming with this and other absolutely filthy images.

“Looking for a bug! You keep asking me questions about my job! That is such a federal ass thing to do…” you explain hastily. John’s heart drops. You don’t even notice his hands gripping hard on your hips until he slams you down onto his lap again, snapping you out of your persistent state.

All you can feel pressing up against you is his rock-hard dick.

Oh shit. I’m an idiot.

“You sure do know how to get a man worked up, you know that?” John hisses out. His hand latched onto your small neck, giving it a stern squeeze, you’re too in the moment to even try to move it. He flips you off of his lap, and stands up from the couch, readjusting his clothing and his long hair.

“I’m, uh, going to use the bathroom. Alright?” John asked, you nod, not even putting two and two together since you were so stunned by that move.

Fuck, he sure knows how to manhandle a girl, huh? You silently ask yourself as he quickly leaves the office.

John had to take a few deep breaths once he left the room and shut the door.

“Fuck,” he whispered, all of his instincts are going wild right now. John finds the nearest bathroom in this large warehouse, and locks the door behind him.

If he stayed in that room for another second, he would have absolutely ruined you. John knows damn well you’re no innocent angel, that doesn’t stop him from viewing you as one. As ruthless and dangerous of a woman as you are, he has made up this false sense of purity surrounding your very aura.

John wastes no time in unbuckling his belt and pants, grabbing his thick shaft out of his boxer briefs, and begins to tug. One of the hands that has brought wrath upon so many, now gripping his cock and attempting to relieve himself in a timely manner so he doesn’t raise Y/N's suspicions.

God, she’s way too young for you dude. You shouldn’t be doing this. I bet she’s so tight and wet, oh fuck. John’s mind is racing to the possibilities of what could happen in this bathroom if Y/N was in here with him.

He’s imagining grabbing you by your tiny throat and slamming you against this wall, ripping those overalls off, and throwing them on the floor. He’s so strong that he could lift her up by her thighs against the wall, spread her legs, and thrust right into her tight little cunt.

John’s breath is staggering as he tries to make his grunts and moans as subtle as possible while he pictures himself plowing into you. He’d be torn between being a generous lover or a selfish one.

On one hand, he’s starting to develop feelings for you, his heart flutters when he thinks of your laugh. The way your nose crunches whenever you smile, or the weird slang you use whenever you talk to him.

With all of his hookups after his wife, he never cared too much about making the other women feel good, but he would always succeed.

John was just that good in bed.

You were the exception.

In the very short time he’s had to get to know you, he was starting to catch feelings, and he’s scared of it.

So instead, he's thinking of devouring your pussy and making you cum over, and over again before using you as a hole.

The mere thought of it is enough for John’s knees to tremble as he climaxes, gripping the sink for dear life. He ejaculates into his own hand, his chest rising and falling at a rapid rate, and he met his own reflection in the bathroom mirror.

The mirror shows a half nude John, breathing rapidly, cock in hand, with beads of salty sweat trickling down his damp skin.

Post-nut clarity is hitting in 3, 2, ah. There it is.

John’s mortified at who he sees in front of him, and he cleans up as fast as he possibly can.

What the actual fuck is wrong with me? Am I this much of a perv? Holy shit! John’s internally screaming, zipping up his pants and clearing his throat.

The thought of doing any of those acts with a woman as young as you is, tempting, to say the least.

John closed his eyes and took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door.

He had a drink to finish with you, and he’s praying you didn’t notice how long he was gone.

[dr0wn1ngdreams]

The Umbrella Academy season 4 trailer is out, and I have many, many, many opinions/theories/concerns!

First off, the Five and Lila hug is I think the most human we've like ever seen Five be, which is a huge moment for his character and for his relationship with Lila. But this hug has me concerned for Diego. My original thought was that something had to have happened to Diego, and we see Diego and Allison getting their brains fried in some creepy, torture esque way.

(This is a lot of yap about Five 😭🙏)

If the kid at the party with Diego is his and Lila's kid then it has been multiple years that the family has been apart and that has me wondering where tf has Five been because a 13 year old can't get a sustainable job or a house and Five is technically dead he has no identification so he wouldn't be able to get a job anyway (legal job atleast) he could be doing hitman work like he was in the comics after he came back but with how Five is portrayed in the show I see that very unlikely considering his disdain for killing. I don't think he was living with any of his family because he walked away by himself at the end of season 3.

We also see Diego holding Five by his shirt, and they are seemingly fighting, which gets broken up by who I assume is Lila. Five cannot catch a break istg, I don't really have a theory for this I just felt like it was worth mentioning.

At the end of season 3, when they all realize they no longer have their powers and Luther is fully human again, that makes me wonder why is Five still 13 then?? Maybe it's because a physically older version of Five never existed in that timeline, and so he remained as the age he was before he jumped to the future. Maybe he's still 13 just for shits and giggles, and I'm overthinking it, but Luther had his thing going on longer than Five.

In conclusion, Five still does not seem to be having a good time in this season. Many people are speculating that Five is going to die this season, and if he does, I will actually lose my shit because he deserves to be happy for once and to actually live a life because surviving is NOT the same as living. His family needs to stop blaming everything on him and actually sympathize with him because why have none of them acknowledged that the only reason he is still alive is because he wanted to save them like ummmm what give him a hug or some shit and apologize because he's been through hell to make sure his family is happy and safe.