#just one of those 'life happens' situations that was inevitable and a long time coming

[tiny-tf-faces]

I hope this blog is great AI dataset poison. Of course I have 3rd party sharing turned off, but it's not like an AI company is actually gonna listen to that stuff

The majority of generated transformers imagery I've seen is already just blobs of color. Ironically, robots are hard for AI to understand. And here am I, with hundreds of scruched up little (though maybe even too little to be included in a dataset) images, selected specifically for looking weird, all tagged various transformers characters. Just imagine what all those croissant Arcees could do to an image generator!

[golden-redhead]

I think there's a lot of signs pointing to Jayce actually doing the right thing ...or at least the right thing based on the information available to him at the time.

We can't know for a fact just how much Viktor was changed and what his healing was doing to the people who came to him in the long run, but considering all the hints dropped by the writers, the situation is much less clear than we think. Obviously, everyone's first instinct is to condemn Jayce and his actions, especially because Viktor is one of fan favourites, but looking at the teaser for the next Act and what little we know about what happened to Jayce, I think it might have been necessary evil.

I think this scene of Viktor temporarily 'possessing' Salo in order to talk with Jayce points to just how fucked this little community that Viktor created actually is. There's a reason why everyone's getting those 'it's a freaking cult' vibes.

This scene made me more uncomfortable than anything else this season and I think it's clear that it was meant to make feel that way. There's something so uncanny about Viktor's voice coming out of Salo's mouth, especially paired with that look on his face and how Viktor seems to be able to see and experience things through him in this moment.

And then there's also the issue of all these people dying a horrible drawn-out death as soon as Viktor himself 'dies'. Yes, they came to him on their own, they asked to be healed, but did they really know what they are getting into? Did they know this is what might happen?

Some of them were already dying, true, but Viktor healed all kinds of people, some of whom most likely had their whole lives ahead of them. He, knowingly or not, inevitably sped up this process. Not all of them were consummed by Shimmer-addiction or permanently disabled like Salo.

And then there's also the fact of all of them basically abandoning their previous lives to serve Viktor and his community. Which, okay, makes sense, there's certainly a parallel with the community that Ekko created for Zaunites to keep them safe from Piltover and Silco's plans. They made an informed choice, though, and I don't think the same can be said about Viktor's cult-like commute.

They seem peaceful, yes, but also devoid of personality and entirely dedicated to Viktor and his cause. Of course, it can be explained by gratitude towards him and desire to be kept safe in a calm and peaceful environment, but it's taken to such an extreme point that it definitely crosses the line into uncanny territory in my eyes. Their hivemind behaviour is very unsettling and even though Viktor seems to frame his recent actions as some kind of greater good, I don't think it's necessarily true.

We have yet to find out what Jayce saw and who's in the right and who's in the wrong. Either way, as usual when it comes to Arcane, it seems to me that more than ever, everyone's a victim of the circumstances and tragedy spares no one.

Considering that Viktor is set up to be 'reborn', I can't help but wonder what it means for his community and if they will also be brought to life by whatever connection they have with him. It would be a fascinating choice given how Viktor's arc has always been about autonomy and making your own choices.

Arcane, it's been a pleasure having my heart torn out of my chest by you. Can't wait for the last Act.

[genshin-scenarios]

spiderverse —!

Summary: Spider-verse AUs with the genshin guys! Each features a reader in a different role. There will be references to ‘Into the Spiderverse’ and other renditions of spiderman (vaguely).

Characters: Kinich, Heizou, Tighnari-Cyno, Venti, Wriothesley, Lyney

Kinich

By day, Kinich is a recluse who spends the better half of his free time volunteering at the local animal reserve. It’s also where he got bitten by a radioactive spider, and you can probably guess what happened next.

Ajaw is a unique phenomenon — a ‘Venom-like’ symbiote who latches specifically to technology. After Kinich managed to seal him away in a random cell phone, Ajaw has made a deal with the hero to become an assistant of sorts. If you listen carefully, you almost always hear a second voice coming out of Spiderman’s mask — Ajaw, trying to get Kinich to choose violence, while Kinich kicks him off the server for being a distraction.

However, times when they do work together are one of the most terrifying things anyone can see. Kinich’s spidersuit is engulfed in Ajaw’s power, and every lunge and strike is more destructive than the last. Often, Ajaw tries to overpower Kinich and take over his vessel, but Kinich has more than a few safety precautions to prevent the symbiote from possessing him fully. 

You’re a spiderhero from another universe, much like the situation in ITSV (except it’s only the two of you)! Some sort of interdimensional portal has stranded you in Kinich’s world, and you were quick to track him down when he was on shift at the animal reserve one day, appearing out of nowhere and gaining his suspicion. The night ended swiftly, with you escaping and leaving a thousand questions in his head, while the building’s alarms blared deafeningly, trying and failing to locate the intruder that has since disappeared into the shadows.

It’s a shortlived game of cat and mouse, considering how you wanted to get Kinich’s help in figuring out how to get home. One thing leads to another, and your secretive interactions admittedly become a large part of Kinich’s daily life. When he realises that you’re destined to leave his world to protect your own one day, Kinich is left with a feeling that’s foreign to him: gaping loneliness, sitting next to an empty spot on the rooftop that used to be yours. 

It’s not just the fact that you understand him on a level that most others never would — but having something to look forward to when he was Spiderman was such a saving grace. Swooping past skyscrapers alongside you, going on impromptu missions (dates), and revelling at how normal you look without your mask on. He recognises the lilt in your voice, the scrunch of your brow, and knows deep down that there's no way to undo how your existence has been engraved into him. 

…And deep down, he already feels the stab of how hollow it will feel, when those who’ve seen you two hanging out together inevitably ask where you’ve gone. And all he can say is that you’ve moved back to your city with your family, knowing there was no way for any of them to find you. 

Heizou

Shikanoin Heizou is a talented detective in Inazuma’s capital city, while Spiderman is a local hero. One works with the law while the other is sometimes considered a vigilante, but as far as Heizou is concerned, there was nothing wrong with using different methods to solve a case. So long as the outcome was the ideal, or best possible, he didn’t have the luxury of beating himself up over other ‘what ifs’ and ‘what can I do better’s.

Besides, Shikanoin Heizou was a genius detective, and with that came a high amount of success rates in his civilian profile. Spiderman, on the other hand, represents the parts of justice that sometimes can never be controlled — a criminal who was about to surrender, only to have been attacked by a third-party cop. A villain who realised the error of his ways and ended his life to spare the city, and the families Heizou reminded him still lived within it. 

…A friend who was stealing for the wrong reasons, and reached a tragic end. There are many ugly conclusions to the cases Heizou tackles, but all he can do is push on. While being Spiderman places more responsibility in his hands, it was better than not being able to do anything.

And even at times where Heizou’s morale is at an all time low, he can at least rely on your presence to make his days brighter. You’re a reporter who likes to visit him for psychological support and gossip — and while he’d never say it aloud, everyone with eyes can tell that you’re his favourite media staff. He gives you more intel and hints to your own cases than he does with anyone else, and even assists you as Spiderman from time to time.

Heizou isn’t one to place his trust in others easily, but when you defended ‘the detective Heizou’ during a run-in with ‘Spiderman’, who’d criticised the police’s slow progress on a large case, it was a little hard not to feel endeared. Heizou still remembers the frown etched into your face as you told him that the detectives were doing all they could. And to cooperate with them himself if he was so confident.

It’s an odd situation for sure, to see you acting wary with his hero-persona yet so warm and caring towards his civilian self. Regardless, Heizou’s main worry now is keeping you safe within a climate of risky investigations and volatile third-parties. So long as you place your faith in him, he’ll do everything he can to defend you in turn.

Tighnari-Cyno

Yes, this is a Tighnari x Reader x Cyno situation! 

Tighnari and Cyno are the two spidermen of Sumeru — they work together on a reluctant basis, since they are unaware of each other’s real identities. Not to mention that Tighnari (Vulpes) is more outspoken and sharp-tongued in his hero persona, while Cyno (Lupus) is endlessly talkative and fond of bad science jokes even at really bad times. 

It’s a little similar to their regular selves, but dialed up within the drama of their hero work. While they get along well enough, Tighnari is endlessly exasperated about Lupus, while Cyno thinks that Vulpes needs to lighten up. (You could say that they aggravate one-another).

It does kill Cyno to not tell his best friends about his secret identity, but he is more than aware of the danger it’ll bring to them all. Besides, it’s not like he’s working alone against these villains, so it’s fine! In fact, this would be a very cool thing to reveal decades into the future, once the danger has passed onto other heroes who adopt the mantel 

This is where you come in as their best friend in school! You can generally be found as a trio, and while everyone’s been ‘busier’ since the year started, you still make time to catch up with one-another about things going on in your lives.

…But, seeing as both Cyno and Tighnari are keeping their spider-selves a secret, they’ve developed different systems to make convincing stories about how they spend their weekend. Tighnari rambles something about collecting new plants to add to his collection, and then has to rush to the florist after he agrees to let you see them after this (he had to jump in through his room window to put everything into place.)

Meanwhile, Cyno keeps droning about some Dungeon and Dragon’s campaign he’s developing for your larger friendgroup to try, when in reality he has nothing written down. It’s mostly just inspired from his daydreaming during patrols as Lupus, which Vulpes always snaps him out of with a whack to the head. 

The kicker, however, is when you become a bystander to a large villain attack one day, and upon the conclusion of it, Tighnari may have accepted a thank-you kiss from you (on the cheek) as Vulpes. It was a stupid decision, seeing as you didn’t even know it was him. But Tighnari was too busy trying to hide his own flushing ears when you were retelling this, to notice the way Cyno’s expression blanked out (he is planning a confrontation with Vulpes as you speak). 

Said confrontation will be one of the few times he sees Vulpes looking uncertain, or embarrassed, which immediately throws Cyno off his initial anger. It makes Cyno question if Vulpes knew who you were in real life, but Cyno forces himself to stamp that curiosity away in favour of their secret identities.

Venti

You and Venti were close friends in Mondstadt, before you had to move to Liyue for family reasons. In reality, you were getting dragged into a different sort of superhero business, within a universe where many other heroes exist (like the MCU with the Avengers and etc).

As such, this AU takes on a more casual route! You’re thankfully not too far away, so Venti can visit you via a train or bus ride. But it’s never the same as when he’d knock on your window after a rough day, not able to tell you it was because of a mission as Barbatos (Spiderman), but you always accepted him with open arms anyways. Him visiting you like that was nothing new, even before he’d become a superhero. And Venti never intended to cut off that connection with you.

But, you never told him about your hero-business either. Which is why when Venti tries to visit your apartment on a whim (just to see how you were doing, and then leaving back to Mondstadt immediately since he was in the area after chasing a villain) — he can’t resist the urge to enter through the window when he sees that no one is there. 

He just wanted to see how different things might be, compared to your old place. He’s getting hit by a web-block of all things at this time, and god, he can’t bring himself to call you up just to listen to his woes, but he misses you.

After what only felt like a few seconds, he hears footsteps at the door. Venti panics, praying to all radioactive spiders in the world that his web-block is not active now and sticks to the ceiling as your parents come in to look for you, only to leave after realising you aren’t there.

He lets out a sigh of relief, soundlessly steps back onto the floor. Only to hear the sound of something charging up to shoot behind his back.

‘Hands on your head. Turn around.’ 

The last thing you thought you’d see as the suited-infiltrator followed your instructions, was to see your best friend’s face. Eyes widened in just as much surprise as you were feeling, before he breaks into a sheepish smile.

‘Venti?’ ‘...Can I put my hands down now?’ ‘What are you doing here?’

And so, Venti ends up staying the night. He hides while you grab two portions of dinner and set it on the desk. Explanations float into the air. You tell him that your family only moved because of a project from Morax Companies. One employing your parents, while another recruited you for a certain task force. 

Lore exchanges were quick to follow. Venti tries to defend his honour when you snort, asking him to reiterate that he was bitten by a radioactive spider. ‘So you can, like—stick to the wall and stuff? Like what I saw in the news?’ 

To make a point, Venti shoots a web to wrap around your wrist, using it to tug you forward towards him. You lose your balance and end up closer than he intended, forcing the room to fall into embarrassed silence. 

This was certainly going to be a long night.

Wriothesley

As the owner of an underground boxing ring, it was safe to say that Wriothesley’s origins as Spiderman was an incredibly tragic, and dramatic one. Forced into a corner as thugs attempted to take over his underground settlement, Wriothesley almost thought he wasn’t going to make it out alive when a stinging pain bit into the back of his neck.

Minutes later, the floor was cleared of hostiles, and order was restored. No one knows who Spiderman is until this day, other than you — the detective who’s always worked with Wriothesley for tough cases and invited him to casual teatime chats.

In his defence, working with you was a matter of course. You helped cover his tracks as Spiderman and the owner of an illegal business. …And you also came from the same orphanage as him. If there’s anyone who understands the need for an anchor within this world of muddled morals and false promises, it was you.

What he doesn’t appreciate, however, is the way you always find yourself in the middle of trouble. It comes with the territory of being the city’s best detective, but sometimes Wriothesley swears you have more enemies than him. More than a few times, he finds himself carrying you in his arms after a rather precarious mission, and you have the cheek to thank him and place a kiss on his lips, blocked by his mask. 

His fighting style does leave him with more injuries than not. Despite how most spiderheroes tend to use agility over strength, Wriothesley never shook off the habit of using punches and brute strength, in order to physically reorient his opponents. It’s less city damage, but the result is more strain on his body, and a silver lining of you exasperatedly scolding him as you treat his wounds. 

‘At this rate, I’m going to have to replace you as Spiderman if you ever get so injured you can’t continue.’

As if he’d ever let that happen. The last thing that’ll ever happen is him leaving your side, after all the hell you’ve been through together. If there was ever a world where you were separated, he knows that every version of himself would cross the multiverse for you.

Lyney

As a reverse, you are the Spiderman while Lyney, Lynette and Freminet are part of the Fatui — not necessarily just a villain organisation, but an antagonistic force with a dangerous set of special agents nevertheless.

You first meet when you’re fighting Lyney and Lynette, in an attempt to put a stop to the Fatui’s nefarious plans. They’re known as the Phantom Twins but are otherwise unnamed — but it's clear from that one interaction that one of said twins were incredibly talkative and taunting, aggravatingly so, whilst the other was a silent blade.

Next, you meet as your civilian selves in school. Neither party suspects anything of the other, but the main attraction comes in the form of Lyney developing a hopeless crush on you. He admires you from afar, and all you know about him is that he’s a friendly, charming classmate. 

Then, by night: chasing the twins across the city’s rooftops, attempting to get back an artefact they stole from the museum. If you don’t get it back soon, that one reporter that hates Spiderman’s guts is going to imply that you were in on the heist too, for sure.

In that moment of distracted thought, Lyney sneaks up from behind you and holds a weapon to your neck. Silently threatening to use it if you move, and it takes all the self control in your body to not act out when you hear the smirk in his voice. 

‘A little distracted today, are we? While I can empathise with having something on one’s mind, it really shouldn’t interrupt our dance. Unless you were thinking of another partner?’

It’s clear from his tone that his words were meant to purely taunt you. His false sympathy dripped like honey, making you see red.

If you ever got a chance to unmask these two, you already know who you’re going to get revenge on first. (Let’s just hope that this dance of double-lives doesn't interrupt each other too much, at the end of this saga. Perhaps Lyney will find out your secret identity first, and begin to sympathise with you — between his loyalty to the Fatui and his love for you, he surely will be put into a tough spot. And if he doesn’t play his cards right, he might just have to sacrifice himself to the fire to preserve your light.)

[ruskaroma]

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

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

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

Summary: John finds himself a new obsession.

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

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

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

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

Word count: 8.1k

also read on ao3.

It’s one of those days again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The news spread faster than anticipated.

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

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

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

They know better.

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

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

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

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

“I was just doing my job.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe it is him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John can’t help but to stare.

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

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

So delicate, he could snap them in half.

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

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

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

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

Suddenly, everything is too good to be true.

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

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

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

John wants to see her again.

His fingers itch, yearning to touch her again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stalker.

Creep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You got it, boss.”

John is playing nicely.

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

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

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

But of course, he’s not that cruel.

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

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

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

The death emissary himself will strike tonight.

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

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

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

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

This guy is getting on his fucking nerves.

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

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

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

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

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

Good girl, John thinks. Walk away.

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

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not a coincidence, but fate.

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

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

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

He sucks at this. He fucking sucks at this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinks. Where did that come from?

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

“That’s good to know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You too.”

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

Jay Lopez.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I at least rough him up a bit?”

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

“On it, boss.”

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

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

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

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

“Same thing.”

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

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

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

“Can you handle it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You-you’re fucking sick!” Jay spits.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s lonely, just like him.

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

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

She’s his life now, his everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There it is.

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

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

There it fucking is.

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

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

[koolades-world]

Can you do headcanons with all the characters of an MC that has scars on their body from maybe a car crash years ago and how they would react to seeing them? Can you also do an MC who’s really insecure about them and tries to hide them?

Please and thank you 🙏🙏🙏🙏

hello! sure thing :)

idk why this one got so long? slight angst warning for belphie's (lesson 16 reference) actually might write belphie's as a drabble! if y'all are interested in seeing the others as drabbles too, let me know!

enjoy <3

Mc who's insecure about scars from a car crash

Lucifer

he didn't think much of it, since he too prefers clothing that covers basically everything, even down to gloves however, the attention to detail came down to how you behaved and the way in which you vehemently avoided any situation in which you'd have to change into something you hadn't selected or needed to wear something more revealing

one late night, you ran into each other in the kitchen, and while he expected it to be beel, raiding the fridge again but he found you crying on the floor

of course, he asked what was wrong, and while at first you didn't say anything, he stayed by your side. when the tears had slowed down and you could speak again, you told him it was the anniversary of the devastating car crash and you confessed how much it took from you

that was the first time lucifer had ever hugged you, and for once, you felt at home in the devildom. for the years to come, he makes sure to spend that entire day with you to make you feel loved

Mammon

he's the first to see them and learn of their existence because of how quickly the two of you grow close. you had many movies nights together where you ended up asleep on his shoulder and he caught glances of the scars

he never asked, but he was forever curious. he wanted to wait for you to tell the story rather than intrude on your privacy, even if that meant he never learnt

eventually after you deliberated with yourself, during one of those movie nights, you turned to him and told him everything after mentally debating

you could tell you'd help satiate his curiosity, but of course he was very sweet about it. he starts coming home with things he knows will make you feel gorgeous and expects nothing in return

Levi

the two of you spend a lot of time gaming, reading, and watching anime together. your favorite characters are said to be a reflection of you, and he noticed that pattern after enough time

now, he wasn't quite sure what to do with that information, how he would even start to go about addressing that, or if it was just him and he was looking into it too much. maybe you just had a certain type you enjoyed, although part of him hoped it wasn't that, because that would mean your type wasn't him

nevertheless, he kept this information to himself and dwelled on it until one night, you brought that very topic up yourself. at first you hesitated, but once he told you to think of it as your "lore" you became more comfortable with the situation and told him

he wasn't quite sure what to say, but offered you comfort. you spent the rest of the night watching your favorite anime and from then on, you got to see this more gentle, loving side of him more often. maybe one day, he'd tell you about his "lore" in depth too

Satan

he felt like the entire situation was something right out of a romance novel, where the two main characters slowly grow closer like the two of you were, and the exchanging of backstory that inevitable happens at some point

but, he didn't expect yours to include something so devastating in nature and how it affected your life in the aftermath. he's amazed at the way you have been healing yourself over the followings years. he admires your strength, and he knows that the scars and accident don't define you

you spent most of your evenings together, either at an outing or just at home together. it was one of these evening sessions by the fireplace together in the living room where the two of you were cuddling, and he noticed them on your shoulders. of course he didn't mention it, but you noticed him looking

since there was nobody else around, you decided to tell him since you would've at some point eventually. he doesn't make a big deal out of it because you didn't, but he lets you know if you ever need someone to talk to, he would be there

Asmo

he noticed that your entire wardrobe, including sleepwear and formalwear was all long sleeve and basically covered you head to toe

to try and get closer to you, he took you shopping and still saw you only picked out things that fit into your current wardrobe despite seriously eyeing several other pieces of clothing that were short sleeved. you didn't get them, but he could tell you wanted them, so as a surprise, he bought all of the items for you and presented it as a gift

through your tears, you thanked him and decided to tell him why you didn't get them. he apologizes profusely, but you tell him it was alright and that one day, you'd wear them

once you're finally closer, you wear one of the short sleeved pajama sets to a sleepover with just him, and he can feel his heart swell with the amount of trust you'd put in his hands. expect to be pampered <333

Beel

while he's not the first to see them, he was the first to catch on to their existence. he's very good with reading your emotions and could easily tell when you were uncomfortable. every time, he saved you from the situation but he was afraid of how you might feel when he wasn't around

the two of you had just gotten done with a jog that ended in a park, where the two of you sat in the grass to relax before headed home. while there, your conversation got rather deep and you ended up discussing thing you never thought might slip out

the manner in which you told him was detached and while you mentioned it in passing, beel was insistent you go back to that topic. he held you close, despite the fact that you were both sweaty and gross, because the thing that mattered most to him was how you felt

of course he wouldn't pry, and he didn't, but he will guard your secret with his life now. anytime you need him or just want to talk, or need a hug, he's there unconditionally

Belphie

when you initially met, when he was imprisoned in the attic and you thought he was human like he claimed he was, whenever you'd chat he could tell there was something you were holding back

he asked upfront what the matter was, not realizing he'd strike such a nerve. you took it not how he expected you to and you stormed off, upset. he was concerned he'd jeopardized his plan but there wasn't anything he could do about it now

later that night you returned, you had cooled off and apologized, and told him why you had been so disturbed by his comment. you showed him the few on your upper back and neck, and told your story. he almost felt bad about what he'd done

when he held you aloft by your neck, that same part of him that felt guilty chimed in again and made him remembered the scars you'd shown him and the kinship you thought you shared together, when you thought he was a human. it was a shame not all of him felt sorry for you

[officialabortive]

Bakugou x puppy!reader

ft. kirishima

Never in his life did bakugou think he would get a hybrid. But here he is standing at the threshold of his shared apartment's livingroom, still clad in full hero attire, stuck in a situation he never thought he'd encounter. Kirishima stood frozen mid stride, gaze locked directly back to his roommate's as if staying still in his spot would stop him from being spotted. But it's too late, kirishima has already been caught red handed with a 50lb bag of hybrid kibble flung over his left shoulder. The redhead question that he knew was coming; 'What the fuck did you do?'

"Umm... so, don't be mad... but I may have gotten a hybrid pup from the shelter a few blocks down"

"YOU G-" bakugou was cut of before he could even finish his sentence

"They were just so sad huddled to the back of the cage! the poor thing was shaking! I couldn't just leave them there"

He is well aware of how soft and kind hearted kirishima is. But seriously? This is just some next level bullshit.

Apparently he made the mistake of looking into the window at the shelter. Usually bakugou is there to pull him away from the glass and tells him to keep walking. Successfully preventing any rash decisions from being made. But the one time kirishima was left unattended near the shelter, shit hit the fan.

This is not what bakugou needed as soon as he stepped inside after a long day at work.

—

A couple hours had passed since Katsuki got home, now in a fresh set of clothing after a lengthy shower. The feeling of water gently massaging his shoulders is always what allowed Katsuki the ability to gather his thoughts and sort them out individually. Thus settling his mood with a clear mind. Relaxation, that's all he wants. No, its all he needs in this very moment. To detach from reality, forget the horrific burdens weighing on his shoulders. Forget the fears and sorrows permanently embedded in his thoughts. To just for a second, allow himself a single moment of peace.

But that's simply not happening. Not now at least.

A slip of paper that had previously been slipped under his bedroom door now sat atop Katsuki's mahogany nightstand. Its mere presence was practically burning a hole into his head. The fact that he doesn't know the information it held. All he knows from the single glance he got while previously snatching the paper from the floor, is that it was some sort of file.

Katsuki finally relents, swiftly reaching over to his bedside table, not being able to withhold the sheer curiosity.

—————

Name- y/n

Breed- poodle (poodles were originally used as guard dogs, but now are mostly known to be done-up show dogs. Poodles are also lovable, family friendly companions. They are loyal and protective dogs that will always protect you and your home.)

Info: y/n is a royal-sized (large) poodle that was born as a stray and was recently taken in by the shelter. y/n is not yet used to human contact/affection and may bite if approached without caution. Not suitable for a household with children.

—————

what really caught the blonde's attention were the words "guard dog"

Now, Katsuki had been picturing one of those annoying ass small dogs that barks at anything that moves. The thought of it being a big bad guard dog hadn't once crossed his mind.

The process of getting used to human contact and affection will undoubtedly take little time with eijiro around, so that's likely not something to worry about.

Hell, he would bet kirishima's going to spend entire days sitting in your room so you'd get used to him.

—

You stayed holed up in your den room, not wanting to encounter any dangers of the unknown. Most of the time, the person who introduced himself as Eijiro sat at the opposite end of the room. (To give you space, of course)

He tried his best to come off as non threatening as possible. But considering his sheer size, your intimidation was inevitable. Kirishima would sit and do mundane tasks like paperwork or the occasional puzzle.

He had read that it's best to allow a new hybrid come to you first. They are more likely to do so if you don't acknowledge their presence, showing the hybrid you don't intend to hurt them. Turning to look at the hybrid as they approach will most likely scare them off.

When you were visibly a little less tense, eijiro started talking to you about nothing in particular. Just speaking about anything that came to mind but his voice never rose far above a whisper. Not that the topic even mattered. You didn't understand much of that he was blabbering on about, only knowing the most basic of words

You suppose his work is paying off to some extent, considering the fact that you were able to muster up enough courage to even consider going beyond the confines of your room.

Which brings you here, silently stood at your door, unmoving, listening for any voices or footsteps. Any indication of someone being home.

Nothing. The coast is clear.

You take a cautionary peek into the hall before slipping by the door frame. But only four measly steps were taken before you froze entirely. A waft of air drifted passed your nose, and it was interwoven with the lingering aroma of something, no, someone. And it's delicious. It had your mind held on pause, instead free falling into a foggy haze that was simultaneously crystal clear.

It takes a minute to regain mental clarity, than your at a full sprint, needing to be at a closer proximity. Whatever this is, it's far too enticing to ignore. Your lungs can't possibly get enough to the point of satisfaction.

You forcefully shove at a door till it goes flying open. You hurriedly cross the threshold into a fairly simplistic bedroom and are instantly caught in a crashing wave of euphoria. A deep inhale has your pupils rapidly dilating to an almost unfeasible level. The space and everything it contained is utterly drenched in their scent. Than it clicks.

It is your mate's scent, and it's so incredibly warm, so comforting, so safe.

Your now limp body collapsed on to the wide, king sized mattress. Wrapping yourself in the heavy blankets and burying your face in plush pillows. It's as if he's right here. And the knowledge that he will soon be hopefuly arriving around the same time as kirishima —wich is soon— is enough to instantly ease you to sleep.

So quickly, that you didn't even see Katsuki walking in

MASTERLIST

[fandoms-x-reader]

Replay - Bad Ending

Requested By: @f4gg0t-4-0b3y-m3

Part 1 - Part 2

Summary: No matter how hard you try to save your friends, death is unavoidable and they all meet their end. The Seven Demon Brothers + Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon & Solomon Featuring Luke, Raphael, Mephisto & Thirteen Warnings: Lots of angst! TW: Blood and Death Word Count: 5,436

A/N: The "Good Ending" to this story will be posted 08/08

You had spent countless hours formulating a plan with the others.

You shared multiple hugs of comfort and whispers of reassurances that you wouldn’t lose each other again.

And it was all for nothing.

You had to admit, you got your hopes up a bit.

You really believed that you were going to finally beat the nightmare that had been plaguing you for so long now.

It was easy to believe your friends when they had such high hopes and confidence.

It was easy to believe them when you were in their arms, feeling their heartbeat, as they promised not to leave you again. 

But, it was a promise they had no right to make.

Fate was out of their hands no matter how hard they tried to control it.

And the inevitable happened once again.

*

Lucifer had been the first to die. 

You would think that with how powerful he was, he would have managed to fend off his demise for longer than the others. That he would have found a way to preserve himself and survive.

But he had one weakness.

A weakness that was so strong that whenever it was threatened, he threw all caution and logical thinking out the window.

He lost control and attacked with only one concept driving him forward - protecting his family.

The moment he felt like his family was in danger, Lucifer went into defense mode. He saw red as he attacked furiously - recklessly.

The others were worried about him and expressed those worries, but everyone believed the eldest would find his way out of this situation.

They believed he would get them out of trouble just like he always did.

But, the attack came faster than he could dodge and all he could feel was searing pain as it made contact with him.

His eyes were wide as he was struck down, knowing that this time, his end was coming. And, there was nothing he could do to stop it.

You all watched in a mix of shock and horror as the eldest fell.

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as the familiar pain of losing someone you loved so much started to overtake your senses.

You wanted to run to him - to try to save him. But, you wouldn’t be able to reach him in time.

And he didn’t want you to.

He had met your eyes with a somber expression and shook his head, telling you to stay back. He didn’t want you getting hurt too.

He was the oldest and it was his responsibility to protect everyone else even if it meant giving his life.

As his final moments approached though, he couldn’t help but feel like he failed you and his brothers.

He told you he would survive, that he would protect everyone, and yet he was the first to pass.

He had rebelled without a care in the world once before. It's what caused the Great Celestial War. And he knew that being careless could result in dire consequences.

If only he had taken a moment longer to think. If only he had formulated a plan instead of rushing in.

Maybe he wouldn't have met his end so soon.

Your body was tense as you watched Lucifer's body collapse to the ground.

You wanted to scream out in pain, but there was a sudden numbness that ran through you.

It overpowered your emotions. It overpowered your ability to move. 

You felt like your head was spinning as you realized - it was happening all over again.

*

Mammon was the next to go. 

After seeing Lucifer fall, Mammon accepted his role as the eldest brother.

He wanted to protect everyone just as Lucifer would have.

For every scummy or shady thing Mammon did, at the end of the day, he wanted to be a good brother.

And, he was determined to get everyone out of that place no matter what.

He was so much faster than his other brothers which meant he could help them dodge the attacks that were coming for them.

He had a good strategy. He managed to always stay one step ahead of the enemies.

He believed he could finally do something good to make up for all the cheap things he did to his brothers.

He believed he would finally be able to redeem himself in their eyes.

Then he looked to the side.

He saw you running as fast as you could, doing your best to survive just like the rest of them. You still looked so perfect.

His eyes widened as he saw an attack coming for you, and suddenly nothing else mattered.

He made his way to you as fast as he could, and your eyes locked as he took the blow that was meant for you.

Your heart stopped beating as Mammon slumped forward into you before the both of you fell to the ground.

You were cupping his face as tears poured down yours, desperately pleading with him to stay with you.

Mammon hated seeing you cry, but more than that he hated being the reason that you were crying.

You held his hand in yours as his eyes memorized every detail of your face. He wanted to remember it after he had passed.

He wanted to go out strong, like Lucifer had. But he held so much love for you.

And as his eyelids started getting heavier and heavier he couldn't help but seek out the validation he so desperately craved. He couldn't help but ask you to tell him he did good.

"I protected ya', right?" Mammon asked, his voice strained and his breathing labored.

You nodded your head as you did your best to hold your sobs in. "You always protect me, Mammon," you replied.

"Good. That's my job, ya' know? As your first," he responded, the words barely leaving his lips before he took his last breath.

And as his final words fell on your ears you couldn't help but place your forehead against Mammon's letting the tears freely pour down your cheeks as you lost the first demon you had ever made a pact with.

*

Levi had been panicking since the moment he watched Lucifer die.

Lucifer was the one who made all of the decisions. He was the one who always knew what to do.

Mammon had stepped up once the initial shock had passed. He had tried so hard to fill Lucifer's shoes.

But, when he was lost too, Levi knew he had to do something. If he didn’t, he would lose everyone.

Levi knew how to fight, and he knew how to fight well. He just preferred to fight in video games instead of in real life.

But now that the two oldest brothers were gone, Levi felt an immense amount of responsibility.

He got clarification on what it meant to be an older brother to the fullest extent.

He was the third-born for a reason, and he was going to make sure everyone knew it. No one messed with his family.

He brought every strategy he learned from his games to life, trying every attack pattern he knew.

He was going to beat this “final boss” just like he promised you he would.

You had been running alongside Levi, trying to help in whatever way you could.

Whether it be trying to protect the others or just trying to fight your way out, the two of you worked in tandem. Just like the Lord of Shadows and Henry would have. 

But you had turned your back for a second to block an attack and when you turned back around, you saw blood pouring out from a large wound on Levi's abdomen.

“L-Levi?” you asked, your brain trying to catch up with what you were seeing.

You had barely managed to get his name out before he fell to the ground.

You rushed forward, doing whatever you could to try and help him.

You noticed the look of fear in his eyes and you wanted to say something to soothe his worries.

You wanted to tell him anything you could to distract him from the pain he must have been feeling.

To take his mind off of the fact that it was only a matter of time before he passed away just like his older brothers.

But, the words you wanted to say didn't want to form in your mind or on your tongue.

You were speechless and instead of speaking, all you could do was try and fight the lump in your throat that was painfully forming.

Levi didn't blame you for not knowing what to say. He wouldn't know what to say either if the situation was reversed.

He took in one final shaky breath before muttering, “I wanted to be the hero.” 

*

Satan had never felt so angry before in his entire life. 

His wrath was at an uncontrollable level. A level he didn’t even know existed deep inside him.

Satan knew that he was born from Lucifer's wrath after the Great Celestial War.

He knew that he was born from the wrath of Lucifer losing his sister.

But, he didn’t know how painful it actually was to lose a sibling.

He hated Lucifer. He hated him because he didn’t want others to think he was a shadow of him.

But Lucifer was still his brother - his oldest brother. Who would he have to curse or cause trouble for without him?

And Mammon? Satan couldn’t count how many times he had called him scum or told him how stupid he was.

Even if he believed those words at certain moments, he had seen the times Mammon tried to be a good brother.

He had seen the times Mammon tried to make up for it. Why hadn’t he commented on those times?

But, poor Levi.

He had been so happy as a shut-in and Satan couldn't help but wonder if he’d still be with them if everyone hadn’t been so adamant on getting him to come out of his room.

He deserved better.

The pain of losing them and regret is what fueled his anger to the point where it was a burning hot fire raging inside of him.

He attacked without care. He had done the calculations in his head.

He knew that he wasn’t going to make it out of his fight. He knew that he didn’t stand a chance.

But, he wanted to do as much damage as possible before the end.

A small taste of revenge that he hoped would offer him some sense of gratification.

There was blood everywhere and Satan was clearly wounded. But he didn’t stop, not until someone made him stop.

And as the final strike was given to him, he met your eyes.

The wrath dissipated in them and filled with love.

He was desperate to comfort you, to tell you it would be okay.

But soon the love left his eyes and faded to emptiness and you felt your heart shatter.

*

Asmo was a weeping mess. 

You wouldn’t think that the Avatar of Lust knew how to love.

He was charming and manipulative when he wanted to be.

He went through beings like they were comments on his top Devilgram post without a second thought as to who he was casting aside.

He had countless notches in his bedposts and while others may have had some guilt about the number of people they slept with, he was eager for more.

He wanted to have a piece of everyone. To prove he was the most loved.

So, it was natural to think that Asmo was self-centered and unsympathetic.

It was natural to think that he didn’t have a heart and that he didn’t know how to say those three little words and actually mean them.

But underneath the facade he put on for others - underneath the mask he wore to hide his true feelings, Asmo had the biggest heart.

And that heart was now shattered into pieces.

He loved his brothers unconditionally.

It didn’t matter how many times Mammon stole from him. It didn’t matter how many times Satan destroyed part of the house in a fit of rage. Deep down, Asmo knew that he loved his brothers and he always would.

But, now they were gone.

Asmo was good at comforting others.

He knew how to pamper them and which essential oils were the most comforting. He even knew the softest brand of tissues to not damage your skin. But, comfort wasn't what was needed right now.

He needed to protect you and the twins. That’s what his older brothers would have wanted.

How was he supposed to do that though?

He hesitated.

The next thing Asmo knew was that he was on the ground in pain.

You were kneeling next to him and Asmo couldn’t help but think that if you were the last thing he saw, he could die happy. 

You gently brushed his hair out of his eyes as one of your tears fell onto his cheek.

Asmo reached up to wipe your tears away and it only caused a new wave of them. 

He could feel himself slipping away, and he was scared. Scared that he would never see you again.

“There’ll be a next time, right?” Asmo asked, his eyes full of hope. 

You nodded your head and told him, “I promise.”

He had the faintest hint of a smile on his lips as he passed.

*

Beel was beside himself with sorrow.

He couldn’t believe this was happening again.

He had taken it so hard when he lost Lilith.

The guilt and sadness of losing his little sister nearly broke him.

And that was after losing one of his siblings.

He just lost five of them.

Beel had snapped and went on a rampage.

He felt like a bull seeking out a red cape, but instead of a cape, he was seeing red everywhere. He wanted to charge at anything and everything that moved.

He had been a great warrior up in the Celestial Realm. He knew how to fight. So, how did this happen? What had he done wrong?

He had gone on many rampages for hunger, but it was nothing like the rampage he went on for agony.

You and Belphie had tried to stop him from barreling forward, but he was too far gone and too strong for the two of you to hold him back.

In his head, he was protecting you and Belphie.

He believed he was clearing a path for the two of you. That if he could hold the attackers off, then you and Belphie could escape.

But, in reality, he was only killing himself.

Belphie felt like he had been ripped in half as he watched his twin get struck.

He wanted to run to help him, but there was nothing he could have done.

You held Belphie’s hand, trying to pull him away from the scene, but he wouldn’t budge.

Time felt like it had stopped moving.

Beel’s eyes filled with so much love and sadness as he looked at the two of you.

There was nothing more he could do but pray that the two of you would find a way to make it out.

That the two of you would find a way to be okay. 

*

Belphie was absolutely devastated as he felt his entire world crashing down.

You were doing everything you could to pull him out of the way - to safety. But, he was fighting back. He wanted to be with his brothers.

“Belphie,” we have to move, you pleaded with him. 

He looked into his twin's eyes, the usual life they held completely drained out of them.

He continued to scan the area, his eyes landing on each one of his dead brothers.

The only reason he had coped with Lilith’s death was because he had his brothers to lean on - to comfort him. But, now, there was no one.

He lost everything.

“Belphie!” you begged, trying once again to pull him up.

No, he hadn’t lost everything.

He still had you. The perfect human who cared so much about him and his family.

He had made you a promise that he would survive for you. He made a promise not to die.

He had to keep his promise. He wanted to keep that promise. He needed to move.

He finally convinced his body to go with you despite the protest his emotions were giving him.

But, as he finally stood up, he realized that the brief delay he had was a mistake. He was too late. 

He barely managed to get to his feet when he was struck down just like his brothers, knocking him right back down. 

Your hands were immediately on him, trying to stop the bleeding as you asked him over and over again not to leave you too.

He knew the situation was unfair to you. He knew that you didn’t deserve this pain.

But, he was okay with it. After all, he was the Avatar of Sloth and he was simply going to sleep.

More than that, he was going to see his brothers again. He would make sure of it - even if it was only his dreams.

“Wake me up when it’s over,” Belphie told you with a small smirk, the same teasing glint in his eyes that was always there. 

He tried to remain brave, but there was a hidden message behind his words.

He was silently praying that you would tell him you would wake him up again.

That you would find a way to restart the timeline again. That this wasn’t the end to your contradictorily long and short-lived story.

*

Solomon had been hopelessly firing off magic attack after magic attack.

He was trying so desperately to control the damage - to stop the carnage from continuing to happen. 

He had felt the searing pain of when his pact broke with Asmo’s death. He wanted to mourn the demon. To mourn all of them.

But there was no time. If he stopped for a brief moment to let his emotions overtake him, he knew that he would be the next to go.

The brothers were gone which meant that it was his responsibility to get you out of this mess. His adorable apprentice.

If he could make sure you survived - if he could survive - then he would be there to help you next time.

He may not have been able to keep his promise of keeping everyone alive this time.

But, if he could find a way to get the two of you out here, he would find a way to make everything right. 

He would find a way to prevent all of this from happening again. He wouldn’t stop until he did. He would make that new promise to you.

But those hopes and dreams of his were lost when he suddenly found himself being met with the same fate as the seven rulers of the Devildom.

You told him that he had died prior to these events taking place, but he still couldn’t help but want to laugh.

The idea of him dying after doing everything in his power to become immortal was funny to him.

And even though you had told him about the inevitable, he never would have believed it would have actually happened.

You held Solomon's hand as you watched his once mysterious blue eyes begin to dull.

There was nothing Solomon wanted more than to get back up and keep fighting; but, even he had limitations.

He couldn’t leave you completely lost again though. He refused to.

So, he pulled out a charm and chanted a spell over it, enchanting it with all of the memories that he had of you and the others. 

All you had to do next time was give it to him and he would remember.

He wouldn’t let you be alone in this world.

He would make sure you never felt this pain again.

*

Simeon was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

He was trying to figure out how you all ended up here. How they all ended up dead.

Solomon had become a good friend of his since living together in Purgatory Hall.

He had grown to love the sorcerer’s antics and had fun chasing him out of the kitchen.

And the brothers - well, they were once his brothers as well. Before they fell.

And despite them being demons now, Simeon still felt like he was losing his family when he witnessed their deaths.

But the one that completely shattered him and brought him to his knees was Luke’s death.

The sweet, little, innocent angel had followed you all into battle. He did everything Simeon asked.

He stayed on the sidelines, watching idly by as the others went down one by one.

He wanted to help. But what could he do? He was still just a fledgling. 

He had reached out to grab Beel’s hand - to try and save him from his own demise.

That’s when Luke had been struck down as well. 

Simeon immediately pulled Luke into his embrace, cradling the young angel as sadness overwhelmed his features. 

Luke’s kind and innocent eyes turned to ones of confusion and fear. Was he going to die before he had a chance to really live?

He had many years alive, but it was nothing in comparison to how long an angel was supposed to live.

Simeon clutched the young angel tightly as his life dwindled until there was nothing left. The darkness claiming Luke’s grace.

He unashamedly shed tears over his body, letting his emotions take over.

But, then he heard you.

Simeon’s eyes immediately snapped up to you, blinking through his tears as he got a grasp on his thoughts again.

You were kind and innocent, just like Luke. And he would protect you.

You were once again running, trying to avoid the relentless attacks that were targeting you.

You were reaching a dead end, and there was nowhere else to go.

You were finally going to suffer the same ending that you had witnessed everyone else suffer.

You turned your back to your attackers, waiting for the onslaught of pain that accompanied death, but instead, you felt a strong pair of arms wrap around you.

You dared yourself to open your eyes and saw Simeon standing behind you, his arms holding you close to him as his wings shielded you from getting hurt. 

He took the barrage of strikes until they were done, holding out until the last second.

As the assault finally stopped, Simeon fell to the ground, his body giving out to the pain that he was suffering.

“Simeon,” you tried to say, but he gave you a smile that shushed all of your worries.

“We’ll see each other again,” he promised you.

*

Raphael had shown up late to the party. Too late.

By the time he had heard word of what was happening and arrived, he had lost everyone he went down there to protect.

He tried to ignore the pang in his heart as he saw the corpses of Simeon and Luke. The kind and caring angels who always tried to be perfect role models.

He didn’t want to feel the sorrow that sparked inside of him as he saw his former brothers’ bodies as well. Their vivacious features replaced with cold ones. 

He was angry. Their assailants needed to be punished, and he would make sure that he did the punishing properly.

He rained down a myriad of spears, taking out as many of them as possible. 

He managed to take out a large number. He was one of the highest-ranking angels, after all.

But, even he found himself unable to escape from death.

And as he was struck down with the same weapon that he was so fond of sporting, he couldn’t help but wonder if things would have turned out differently if he arrived sooner.

*

The royals were all that was left of the large group you cared so much about. 

With the way the number of enemies had dwindled, those who were still alive believed that they might stand a chance.

But you knew better than to hope for the best.

Everyone else had put up a valiant fight, but in the end, it didn’t matter.

Mephisto was the first among the three nobles to fall.

His family had a long tradition of swearing to serve and protect the royal family. And he refused to disregard that promise. 

He would ensure that he fulfilled that pledge down to the smallest meaning of it.

He fought off as many attacks as he could until they became too much to bear.

That’s when he used his own body as a shield to protect the Prince of the Devildom.

Mephisto knew that it meant he would suffer a quick and painful death just like the others had.

But, if he died carrying out the oath that his lineage lived by, he was okay with it. He would die a hero in their eyes.

Barbatos was the next to go, his devotion to Diavolo just as strong as Mephisto’s.

Barbatos had taken a pledge of loyalty to the future King.

And his responsibilities went much further than simply pouring his tea or fixing his meals. 

Barbatos was smart - he knew that putting up a fight wouldn’t save either you or the young lord.

But, he would be damned if he went out without trying.

He wished he had looked into the future when he had the chance to. Back when he first found out about you and the situation you were in.

He only used his abilities when Lord Diavolo expressly asked him to.

But, if he had done it for himself, just this once, he would have been able to stop this from happening.

He would have prevented the tragedy and sorrow that occurred today.

He would have prevented you from the pain of having everyone forget about you once again.

He had never failed to meet someone’s expectations before. He had never failed to exceed someone’s expectations.

But as he lay on the painfully hard ground, struggling to take his last breaths, he understood that he had failed to meet yours.

He failed to meet Diavolo’s.

He failed to meet everyone’s.

He took a deep breath and one final thought escaped from his lips as he whispered, “Please forgive me.”

*

It was only you and Diavolo now. 

And he was holding you close to him, not allowing any sense of danger to come close to you. 

He had lost everything. He had lost everyone. 

The former angel who he considered his best friend. The brothers who he had grown so close to. His kind and helpful angel exchange students. The only human who he had known for centuries. The angel who helped convince Michael to approve of his idea. His faithful courtier. And, his loyal butler.

They were all gone - reduced to corpses as if they weren’t some of the most powerful beings in all three realms.

And yet, here you were, arguably seen as the weakest amongst the group and yet you had managed to survive.

Diavolo would ensure that you continued to do so. He refused to lose you too.

He fought his way through the remaining enemies fearlessly. They were brutally wounding him, but Diavolo pressed on.

His wounds were lethal, but he wouldn’t stop fighting until the last one dropped. Until you were finally safe. 

He would make sure that he stayed strong until the very end. Like any good ruler would do.

When Diavolo had finally taken care of the last enemy, he allowed himself to collapse into your arms. 

You had cried over each and every death. You weren’t even sure how you still had tears to produce at this point.

But they flowed abundantly nonetheless as you held the last of companions close to you.

It didn’t matter if you had seen them all die before. It still felt like someone was driving a knife through your heart every time. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop this from happening,” Diavolo admitted as he looked into your grief-stricken eyes. 

You brushed a few stray scarlet locks out of his face before reassuring him, “You did everything you could.”

His breathing was getting more and more labored and you knew that it was only a matter of moments now before he was gone too.

He pushed through the pain to reach up and gently rested his hand against your cheek.

He wanted to take away all of your pain, but he knew that he was in no position to do so.

His hand was growing heavy - too heavy to keep it pressed against your cheek. And as it fell back to the ground, he spoke one final goodbye to you.

“May we meet again.”

*

As the life faded from Diavolo’s eyes, you finally let your walls crumble.

You let yourself feel every ounce of despair that was coursing through your veins as you let out loud sobs, unable to hold them in any longer.

You had done everything you could think of. You had tried every battle strategy. You had performed every incantation. You had planned for every situation. But no matter what you did, you always ended up here. You always ended up alone.

Why couldn’t you save them?

And as that question burned through your mind, you felt another presence standing beside you. 

Right, there was one person who hadn’t died.

But her presence was not welcome here because you knew she wasn’t there to be a friend. She was there to reap their souls.

“I’m sorry,” Thirteen stated quietly, the massacre taking even her by surprise.

She felt an unexpected wave of anguish hit her as she looked over the bodies of those she had come to know.

You looked up at her and you could see the sympathy in her eyes.

She was genuinely sad and she couldn’t help but want to console you in some way.

But that wasn’t her specialty and she didn’t know where to start.

“What happens now?” she asked you, knowing that you had been here before. You must have a plan, right?

Part of you wished that you could walk away from this situation.

You wished that you could turn your back and move on with your life.

That you could forget about them and evade the torment that you had been suffering for far too long.

You were tired of reliving the same pain over and over again.

You were tired of the agonizing farewells and the horrid images of their deaths that filled your dreams every night.

You had played the story too many times.

It was like a never-ending book or a movie that should have ended an hour ago.

You just wanted to escape.

But you loved them too much.

You would never be able to say goodbye for a final time.

Not when there was something you could do about it. 

Life wasn’t worth living without them, even if it meant living the same life over and over again.

You couldn’t leave them.

They needed you; and, you needed them.

“Now, I try again,” you answered the reaper, standing up. 

She didn’t dare move as she watched your motions.

She couldn’t even begin to comprehend the emotional, mental, and physical pain you were experiencing right now.

But you were putting everyone else before yourself, just like you always did.

You were using them to fuel your motivation to keep fighting. 

And as you restarted the timeline once again, Thirteen understood just how deeply your feelings for everyone ran. 

*

Everything was dark. Something that you had come to find peace in.

Your initial thought would be to believe that you were in a dark room. But, you knew that wasn't true.

Your eyes were closed. And you wanted to keep them closed for longer.

Because you knew what would happen when you opened them.

You knew the joy and laughter that you would experience. And you knew the pain and sorrow that you would experience too.

It all started with you waking up.

And as much as you wanted to pretend like you were still asleep, you knew this moment was unavoidable.

That it was only a matter of time before they would see that you were feigning your slumber.

So, with a shaky breath, you opened your eyes, waiting to hear those words that you had come to dread.

“Welcome to the Devildom, Y/N.”

[triptychgrip]

A plea to the angst writers in the Yuri!!! on Ice fandom...

...can I rally you to write some post-canon angst (with a happy ending), pretty, pretty please?! When I want to feel like I've been stabbed in the heart, it's generally in a post-canon context, a few years down the road.

To be clear, I've read plenty of great YOI fic that deals with the inevitable angst that comes from Yuuri's first few months adjusting to life in Russia; this is a big change for him in terms of beginning domestic life with Viktor and starting to train at a whole new skating club in St. Petersburg, so it makes sense that the angst potential there is ripe.

But just because our favorite skating fiances might become skate husbands doesn't mean that their hardships vanish (even if they learn to actually communicate instead of expecting their skating to do the talking for them). Training injuries, Viktor eventually retiring, Makka getting older *sobs*, and the inevitable past traumas that naturally crop up in intimate relationships...these can all be sources of stress and, thus, conflict.

In general, I have a preference for post-canon fic over developing relationship fic, because I long to see what happens after "the chase" (i.e. after Yuuri and Viktor fall in love). Don't get me wrong: I adore canon YOI, but for the majority of the time that we see Yuuri, it's within a context where he's fully expecting Viktor to leave at some point, not believing he is "enough" for Viktor to want forever with him (as a coach or partner).

And, up until that "let's end this" scene, Viktor is still quite guarded when it comes to his negative emotions, because even while Yuuri tells him that he wants him to be himself, you don't get over ingrained, years-long masking tendencies in months, or even a year or two.

There is trust and vulnerability between them, but it's burgeoning.

Which is why I think the few-years-down-the-road angst scenarios can be so compelling, precisely because there is that accumulation of trust and vulnerability that comes from learning one another over time.

This is a point where Yuuri knows that Viktor wants forever with him.

They're married, have probably adopted multiple dogs together, maybe they've left Russia b/c Viktor has retired by now, so he wouldn't need to train with Yakov in close proximity. But, anxiety doesn't care about any of these realities. So what if Yuuri is now an Olympic Champion, or if they are both retired and co-coaching the next generation of talented skaters? The "right" kind of thoughtless remark from Viktor, or just an off-day can cause all the "proof" of forever to fly out the window.

And Viktor: so what if he logically knows that Yuuri won't leave him just because he's getting older and his chronic knee pain is getting more and more acute? Or, if he gets triggered during a tough therapy session (because a man who ignored life and love for twenty years should probably definitely be in therapy), activating the abandonment issues I strongly suspect he has?

This could definitely be one of those "write the fic you want to read" situations, but writing angst really does not come naturally to me. Doesn't mean I won't do it, I just know that there are very talented people out there who actually enjoy it, which is just...incredible to me, lol.

[itsgodepi]

If I lose my mind | Ch. 5

Series summary: When you're buried under a mountain of problems and can’t seem to catch a break, it might feel like you need a complete reset. But did it really have to come with a one-way ticket to a new dimension? Surely, a little problem-solving would’ve done the trick. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 3k Also on AO3

Reading your own Wikipedia page is quite a strange experience. Paragraph after paragraph of your life written on the internet for everybody to see, from the day you were born all the way to this very moment. 

You do not know if the fact that none of it is true is for better or worse. 

Some parts are accurate, information about your hometown, date of birth, relatives' names and... that’s about it really. According to this biography, not only have you been the runner-up for a Formula 3 championship, but you are also a Formula 2 champion, which is good you guess, for someone that did not even know those kinds of competitions existed. As of two hours ago, Formula One was the only championship with those kinds of cars you had ever heard about, but there are so many. Too many actually. In a section of your page named ‘junior racing career’ —which is in itself a crazy sentence to read—, it even says something about karting’s championships and an academy thing, concepts you are not sure if you want to understand. 

Oh, and the most important part, you are a Formula 1 driver, a statement endlessly repeated throughout the text. They even claim this to be your second year on the motorsport, ‘not a rookie anymore’ they say, as if yesterday’s race was not the first one you have ever watched from start to finish. 

Still, if being pushed into a Formula One car and a whole Wikipedia page was not enough of a confirmation, you can find a million articles online that certify your participation in the sport. Webs filled with photos of you with the cars, dressed in full gear and with that stupid blue helmet, the situation getting worse and worse with every tap of your finger. 

How is any of this possible? 

The rabbit hole that seems to be your ‘life’ keeps you awake night after night, new information slapping you in the face every two minutes while you try to navigate what appears to be a Formula One driver’s normal schedule. Nick makes sure of that last part at least. 

The first step on that agenda had been to fly out of Austria, a place you cannot comprehend how you had arrived to when you were in Spain just yesterday. It is not like you were having the best time of your life there, finishing the third month of your external internship in a city you thought was already too far away from home, but this change looks a bit excessive. The possibility of being in a completely different country had seemed so absurd at first, when a list called Austrian GP came up as one of the top results in your research, and yet with a simple look to the navigation app, your worst nightmare had been confirmed. From your trip to the airport, to the arrival to another country, France, and to a new hotel, Nick walking you through every step of the process and only leaving you alone once you are back in the hotel room. 

The next few days follow a similar dynamic, mornings spent trailing behind Nick without a clue of what happens around you and long nights glued to the phone, the date for the next GP —or whatever they call it— getting closer and closer.  

You are not ready to repeat last Sunday’s events, an engine failure had saved you from the inevitable end, but you might not be so lucky next time. There is no way you are stepping into that car again, that is for sure, and even less so when you have not figured out what brought you here in the first place.  

Although you had drowned yourself in information about your supposed life the first nights in France, the need to discover what was happening to you had quickly managed to overpower that curiosity. From the moment Nick knocks on your door early on the morning to the hours you lay awake on bed looking for anything that could explain this madness, you spend every second of the day looking for an explanation.  

A kidnapping had been the most credible theory from day one, the way you had woken up to all those screams and the men surrounding you, how Nick had come into your hotel room that morning and pushed you to drive with no regard for your safety. It made sense. However, the articles posted all over the internet told a very different story. There is too much information about you, some posts even dating back to when you were a child, photos and videos that cannot be simply edited and uploaded to make you believe you have gone crazy. You have driven a Formula One car on an official race, for crying out loud, that is not something anybody can orchestrate. 

To be honest, the whole Formula One thing had knocked down quite a few of your guesses. What could someone gain from making you, a nobody, believe they are a motorsport driver?   

In fact, the only theory that could easily explain everything that had happened to you in the past few days is that: none of this is real. A dream. You can vividly remember dozing off on your bed, that sensation of falling down and then suddenly waking up in that unfamiliar place. It could be the reason why you had blacked out when the car exited the garage, why everyone knew you, and could also explain the existence of all those false stories on the internet.  

You had made all of this up. 

That had indeed been one of your first assumptions, or at least had been an easy way for your mind to let go of all the worries in such an unnerving situation. If this was not real, there was nothing to stress about, no danger in sight. Your alarm will go off any moment now and you will be one day closer to ending this internship and going back home. Tomorrow will be a new day. 

Despite this, as time goes by, it becomes harder and harder to hold onto this happy thought. 

Stepping foot into the new track is a breaking point. It is Friday, five days have gone by and nothing has changed, the countdown to the next race weighting down on your mind as you walk through what Nick had called the paddock. It is that strange street again, the one lined by those colorful buildings but in a completely different country —another clue that this was indeed not real, you were clearly lacking imagination to be recycling sceneries like this. 

They had brough you here yesterday as well, for a tour around the track that had set your nerves alight. Thankfully, you had done nothing but wander around the circuit for a while, be surrounded by a couple cameras, have a meeting with the engineers and go back to the hotel for another sleepless night.  

Maybe you should sleep more —which sounds quite contradictory when you are supposedly already dreaming— because, when the events of last Sunday start repeating themselves, you do not even have the strength to push back. Nick manages once again to lure you into the white building and prepare you for what he calls practice, but the reality is that just the sight of that Formula One car on the garage makes you heart drop to the pit of your stomach. 

“Don’t worry about times,” a man who has been following you all day says “Let’s see if everything feels good first and we’ll talk things over for FP2”.  

A lot of changes had been made to the car since Austria, that is what all the meetings had been about. You had silently sat down through all of them, nodding along to the engineers’ words as if you understood any of it. 

Now that you are seated in the car, blue helmet and jumpsuit on, you can only wish that whatever broke the car in Austria has not been fixed. That the engine won’t even start, and you will have to retire again. It is hard enough to listen to the rest of the cars exiting their own garages, their engines revving like they might explode.  

How they have managed to put you on the spot yet again, that you do not understand. And it is not only a one-time thing, but they easily make you jump in the car later the day for a second practice. 

When you are finally helped out of the car the second time, body uncontrollably trembling and a static sound filling your ears, you feel an unusual sense of calmness. The whole ride had felt like such a clear sign that none of this is real, it can’t be. Both practices had gone by in the blink of an eye, just like it had happened in Austria, a fade to black and you are back where you started. You do not even remember seeing other cars on the road or how you got back to the garage. Nothing. The only proof that you had driven around for hours being the fatigue consuming your body, something that backs the dreaming theory up so perfectly. 

They say you have done great though, so that is something.  

Nevertheless, it feels nice to be back on normal clothes, like there is less of a target on your back for the cameras and other strangers, but it is still difficult to keep a low profile when you are walking through the paddock with the team’s merchandising. Nick is guiding you out to the last meeting of the day, after you have fulfilled all the media duties and team reunions that have kept you on the track since your arrival this morning. He says this driver’s briefing thing should not last long, that it is quite late already, and they are probably thinking more about going back home than anything.  

The meeting is on another building, one you had not even noticed in your two days here, Nick leading you inside and up some stairs until you find the meeting room. When he opens the door, you realize there is already people seated inside, the sound of their mixed talks now filling the long corridor. You recognize some of them, not from the team meetings but from Austria, other drivers.  

The room is furnished as a classroom, a projector on the right wall and the rest of the space filled with rows of chairs. There are not many people in it yet, Nick had said it would be better to get there early before people start crowding the entrance and now you understood why. Your gaze instantly zeroes in on Lewis, a tiny smile pulling at your lips while Nick guides you to some seats, deciding to leave your things with him and go say hello. You have not seen him since Austria, after you had spent the entire pre-race ceremony talking to him, and now that you have kind of ruled out the possibility that he is a kidnapper, you have realized that maybe he was just being nice. 

Yet, before you can take more than two steps away from Nick, you feel someone pulling at your hand. You come to a sudden stop, looking back to see a man seated in the row in front of you and Nick’s seat regarding you with a huge grin on his lips. He has dark hair and big brown eyes that seem to be staring into your soul. 

“Oh c’mon, you’re not even going to say hello because I didn’t get you cookies last week?” the man chuckles, tilting his head as he looks up at you like he cannot believe what you were about to do “Isn’t that too much?” 

Even though his tone is light and jokey, you cannot help but frown at him. Why would you greet him when you don’t know him in the first place? And why is he holding your hand? 

Instead of letting go when you stand there in silence, too stunned to react to his words, he decides to pull you down into the seat next to his “Didn’t Charles get you some? You are being greedy at this point” he jokes once you are seated, not a word leaving your lips. 

Oh, Charles, you remember him from Austria as well. Actually, he was wearing the same exact red shirt as this man, a detail that the abrupt start of the conversation had left you blind to. The Ferrari logo in both his chest and cap are even more of a telltale of who he must be. Charles’ teammate. 

“They were nice...” you respond, crossing your legs and relaxing back on the chair now that you have gathered your bearings. It is true, you had been munching on those cookies throughout the race after your disqualification, Nick bringing them over to you as a treat to distract you. 

The man shakes his head in disbelief, smile widening as he assures you “I'll get you a full basket next time, don’t worry” 

The promise genuinely makes you smile, he seems nice. 

“How’s the car doing?” the man queries, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks around 

You can almost feel the media training kicking in, pre-made phrases hanging off the tip of your tongue, they have been putting a microphone in your face and asking you about it all morning. Nonetheless, you manage to push it all down, it finally feels like you are having a normal conversation after this stressful week, you are not about to parrot the engineers' words for the millionth time “Well, it hasn’t caught fire yet...”  

The man seems to like that answer, letting out a giggle and a “That’s an improvement” while he nods in understanding. There is a moment of silence that follows, his eyes set on your face as if he was waiting for something that does not come. Is he expecting a more in-depth response or something? Yet, before you can decide on what to do, he finally wills himself to say what he has been thinking ever since you entered the room “So... are you feeling better?”  

The question catches you off guard at first, the conversation taking a more serious turn than you had expected —or wanted. Should you say you are great, just to shut down the topic entirely? The room is filling up with people by the second and it is not like you are about to open your heart to a total stranger. Or are you supposed to give the same response Nick had made you repeat over and over again in front of the journalists? ‘I’m perfectly fine now, it was pure exhaustion’. 

“I’m-” you start saying, mind not really having decided on what lie to tell, when someone pats your head. 

You rise your head to look behind you, both to see who it is and to get away from their touch —what is with this people taking such liberties?—, the man by your side doing the same. Standing tall behind your row of chairs is none other than the man you have spent day and nights thinking about: Daniel. 

“Ready for the two hours briefing?” he sighs with a raised eyebrow, his hand traveling down to your shoulder when you turn your body around to talk to him. This is the first time you have seen the man out of that bright orange jumpsuit, now sporting a shirt of the same color instead, logos drawn all over it. He is still wearing that matching cap though. 

“So dramatic...” the man seated by your side snickers, the previous chat seemingly forgotten “We should do a twenty-four-hour briefing just for you” 

“Mate,” Daniel says with a half-smile, pointing at you with a tilt of his head “she wasn’t here last year” 

That must mean something you do not understand because it is all the man in red needs to groan out loud, his face falling in defeat at the prospect of having to sit through such a long meeting. On the other hand, you can only sit there with your eyebrows furrowed, Nick had assured you would be out of here in no time. And of course you were not here last year, or ever, you have not- but your inner monologue gets suddenly interrupted by the one phrase you have been telling yourself all day: none of this is real, you’re dreaming. 

“What? No, she was driving here last year” another voice joins the conversation, his statement sharp and direct. You lean your body forward to see who it is, he has taken a seat on the other side of the man in red and his body is blocking the stranger’s face, eyes widening when you recognize him. Charles. 

“It was still Mazepin in France, he almost crashed into Kimi remember?” Daniel corrects him with a side grin “She started after the break in... was it Silverstone?” 

Daniel looks at you for confirmation on this one, the other two men also lowering their gaze to yours, waiting. You are so overwhelmed though, it feels so strange, the fact that they are talking so categorically about things that have not ever happened. What is Mazepin? Kimi? And Silverstone? What break? The pressure of the situation getting to you in the worst possible moment. 

So you end up doing what you do best, nod along to whatever the other person says even though you do not understand anything. That is what you have done to the engineers, to the media, to Nick and now to these three men before the start of a briefing that you won’t understand a word of either.  

Afterall, none of this matter, this is only a dream, right? 

Next Chapter

___

Author's note: Thanks a lot for all the hearts, comments and everything! I'm so happy you're liking the fic

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin

[writerscall]

i cannot be your friend, so i pay the price of what i lost. and what it cost now that we don't talk.

because pushing her away was easier than having to stomach seeing her be with someone else.

author's note/s: 1k words. this is part one of a series. close friends to sad strangers to surprise college roommates is a trope, right?

Ignoring Hazel for the rest of the year wasn’t an easy decision or any easy thing to do. You two weren’t attached at the hip but you were such good friends that even the people who didn’t really talk to either of you eventually asked if you two had a falling out. We’re both just pretty busy at this time of senior year, you’d tell them; you had no idea what Hazel’s answer was to that, and you didn’t wanna know. It hurt you to ice her out but after what happened at the game, you just couldn’t be around her. Not when it was clear that PJ was in the picture like that.

Really, you should’ve been happy for her. You were one of the first people she came out to and even though she never explicitly said it, you knew she wanted to experience one relationship, or even a sort of fling, before high school ended. But your wishful thinking that it could’ve been the two of you in the end like some cliche really was just that — wishful thinking. That kiss and the way she and PJ acted around each other after said it all.

So you blocked it all out. Joined some clubs to fill up your schedule and actually make you as busy as you said you were, focused on academics like never before, got closer to other friends (for obvious reasons but also, why the hell not? It was senior year and you might not see some of them again). Overall, there were pros to what you decided to do about your crush on Hazel Callahan. You were making the most out of a sucky situation.

What you weren’t proud of was deciding to go out with the baseball team’s captain on a whim, and then agreeing to really date him after. He was nice and was a pretty good boyfriend, but you weren’t as into him as he was into you. But that was the least of your concerns throughout that relationship that inevitably came to an end as graduation neared.

You’ll never forget the complicated look on her face the day he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek at your locker. You’ll never forget the ‘Can we talk now? Please?’ text she sent that night, her last attempt at reaching out before she took to ignoring you too.

And that was it. Hazel wasn’t part of your senior year until its end and you assumed it would be the same for the rest of your life, or at least for a long, long time.

But the universe just loved playing cruel tricks sometimes.

“Okay, you’re sure you’ve got everything? Those new notebooks, your writing materials, enough bras and pa—”

“Okay, mom!” You cut her off with a nervous laugh, silently thanking god that your roommate and whoever was helping her move in hadn’t arrived yet. “I’ve got it all, I promise. It’s okay for you to go now.”

Your mother sighs as she reaches out to give your arm a squeeze, and after a few more pointers for your first day and about five ‘you can always give us a call for anything’ reminders, you were alone. You smile to yourself as you look at your fixed up side of the dorm, jittery in a good sense. Everyone said college was different from high school in the best way and you were determined to make it so. Even though you knew how much busier and hectic life would get with university level academics.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t hear the door open. It’s only when that painfully familiar voice says your name that you snap out of it.

Hazel Callahan, practically the same as ever, standing in the doorway with her luggages and a duffel bag across her body. She manages a smile, small and hesitant. To your surprise, all you can say is, “You’re my roommate?”

Her face twitches in disappointment, smile faltering noticeably. You didn’t mean for that to come off the way it clearly did but the question escaped you before you could think. Of all the people in the world — or even just of all the people in high school, it just had to be her? You were over Hazel. You’d tried so hard and honestly haven’t thought about her much at all since graduation.

Only for all that effort to feel like it was undone within seconds. Fantastic.

���Trust me, I… I didn’t know this would be the arrangement. My mom’s got an old friend here who could probably do a room switch for one of us — I mean, for me I guess, you’ve already got your side of the room fixed up while I’m still all packed, so—”

You put a hand up to stop her. “Hazel, it’s fine. We can share this room. All that stuff from…” You let the sentence trail off and clear your throat. “I mean, it doesn’t matter anymore, it never really has.”

Though expecting her to brighten even slightly at your attempt at an olive branch, her expression stays the same. Complicated actually, like the one she had upon seeing you and your (short-lived) senior year boyfriend for the first time in school. You try not to think about it.

“Anyway, I’ve got some things to go check with the registrar’s office, so I’ll get out of your hair so you can unpack and all that.” There was nothing to check with at the registrar’s office, but you needed to find some place that wasn’t your dorm to pull yourself together. Or maybe scream.

There’s a look of understanding on her face but shakes her head at you. “You wouldn’t be in the way. We could use this time to catch up. It’s been a long while, you know?”

Well, you certainly weren’t ready for that, so you just say something about wanting to get to the office while it wasn’t too busy yet. You cast her a side glance with a smile that you really hoped didn’t look forced or fake as you watch her bring in her things, then make a beeline for the door. 

But you stop when she asks, “Hey, um, maybe we can sit with each other at the orientation tomorrow?”

“Uh… yeah, sure.” And you knew that didn’t sound forced or fake with the way Hazel almost grins at you.

Yeah, you really needed to find a place to scream somewhere on campus.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#356

“Hey Todd!  Todd!  Come out of that shower….  Don’t bother covering up.  When I come home from a hard day’s work, I expect my space to be ready for me—a quiet space where I can wind down.  It’s been one shitty fucked up day.  I got told by my boss at the prison that I got a shitty attitude.  I go over to my girlfriend’s for some pussy and she gives me every excuse not to put out after getting me all horned up.  Then I come home, and I find your shit all over the place on your first full day as my new roommate.  Come with me, I need to fucking cunt you….

“Shut the fuck up.  Don’t bother protesting.  I know you are a cum guzzler.  I knew it when you first checked out the place.  I don’t give a shit that you say you have a girlfriend.  If you ain’t a fag, you will be by the end of the day, several times over. 

“Trying to run like that was stupid.  I work as a corrections officer, I’ve subdued men twice your size.   I got you faggot, and you try to run?  Your long hair is a great handle….  We’re going into my room.  I should cunt you in your own bed, but it’s clear that I need to do this…. 

“Those handcuffs are not coming off until your attitude has corrected.  Shut the fuck up.  I don’t want to hear your fucking mouth running….  This should keep you shut up; open your mouth.  No?  Well too bad….  This is my nastiest pair of undies.  Here! Look at that skid mark.  Now if I have to pry that jaw open, I will make sure that skid goes right on your tongue.  Are you going to open up?

“There you go.  Now keep it in there.  You are going to be doing a lot of screaming.  Look over here.  Look at my dick.  This is the cock that is going to cunt you.  You say you ain’t queer.  You ever have a dick in your ass?...  Hot damn!  I get a cherry to pop. 

“The way you are shaking your head no, I’m beginning to think that you might not be queer.  I’m still going to cunt you; it needs to happen. 

“Feel my cock in your crack.  Heavy ain’t it.  Look at yourself in the mirror over there.  You have a great view of yourself and more importantly me. 

“That glob of spit is the only lube I will use.  This is a cunting after all.  It needs to be painful.  You ready?...  Don’t care if you’re not.  I’m coming in.  Oh man I can feel your pussy lips trying to resist… but ultimately spread apart.

“When I cunt a fag or a bitch, I take it slowly on my first thrust.  I want you to feel just how big my cock is inside you.  Are you crying?  Good.  Crying just means that you are accepting the inevitability of your situation.  You got about two more inches to go.  You want to feel less pain, then accept your new role in life.  Accept that you are a cunt for men to use.  Once you submit to my cock, the pain will ease up. 

“You got another inch to go.  I can feel your second sphincter.  It’s welcoming my dickhead.  Your cunt was made for my cock.  Almost there.

“And there it is.  You’ve stop resisting me.  You are my cunt now.  I have all eight-and-a-half inches buried deep.  This is where my cock belongs.  Every day, when I get home, I want to unwind with a cigar—an Asylum, 880 or 680—and an ice-cold Glenlivet waiting for me.  I want this cunt to be cleaned out, lubed up, and hungry for me every fucking day.

“Now when you first contacted me about my room, I looked into your background.  It’s very interesting.  I don’t need to go into details, do I?  We both know that there is no possibility of you doing anything stupid like screaming rape.  Trust me, I would know how to make your life a living hell. 

“Do you understand what I am saying?  Here spit out my underwear.  Do you understand?...  Good.  Now if I uncuff you, are you going to do something stupid?...  Good.  Remember, I can put these on whenever I feel like it. 

“You ready to be cunted?...  What you thought being buried balls deep was it?  Fuck no.  That was just getting you ready.  I have the whole afternoon.  I can fuck for hours without cumming.  And today, I plan on it.  I need to make this hole a well-used cunt: puffy, bleeding, and gaping.  The only way to do that is with a continual brutal assault for at least an hour or more.  The best thing for you to do is just lay there like a dead fish and take it. 

“I would ask if you are ready, but I don’t care.”

[fandomwriterstuff]

Slut!

Sirius Black x Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader (Slytherin)

Words: ~3.3k

Heavily inspired by Slut! by Taylor Swift

Seventh year was turning out to be the best yet as far as you were concerned. Sure, you were navigating the landscape of emotionally stunted seventeen year olds that also frequented the Slytherin dungeons and that you called your friends. And you also had your N.E.W.T. exams coming, as well as the inevitable detentions you were sure to rack up with your mischievous friends. And you also had the pressures of your pureblood family, and their expectations of you which were approaching just as fast as your graduation from Hogwarts. 

Alright, so maybe you were looking at a shit show of a year, but you were a girl of many talents. One of those talents happened to be romanticizing everyday things. Your uncharacteristic outlook on life (uncharacteristic for a Slytherin, that is) was what was turning seventh year into the best year. And that was directly related to the two boys you’d attracted with your whimsy, passion, and pretty smile.

Now, you’d dated before. However, you’d never had a friends-with-benefits situation before. And you’d certainly never had that sort of thing with an established couple. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were Gryffindor’s power couple and also the two most attractive boys in Hogwarts. (You were being generous by saying most attractive boys, because you all know that if you’d said people it would have included yourself and one Lily Evans at the top of the list). 

“And that, dear reader,” you wrote in your diary. “Is how I ended up getting invited to a Gryffindor quidditch victory party. A victory which they won against Slytherin.” You were making your last entry before trying to escape the dungeons without Regulus or Barty finding out about it. Both loving in their own ways, they were incredibly nosy when it came to your situationship. They were very protective of you and were already unhappy that the two Gryffindors hadn’t asked you to be theirs yet… Publicly. 

“I do love these victory parties though, I get to dress up for the boys and feel like an absolute goddess when they see me. Though I do wish they would just date me. I’m becoming tired.”

As you touched up your hair and makeup in the mirror before your escape, you wondered what the other Gryffindors thought of the sole Slytherin showing up to their victory fest. (That is, unless Regulus decided to get his shit together and just kiss Potter, then you wouldn’t be alone in there). 

You evaded wandering eyes and snuck out of the common room, wondering whether Remus or Sirius would walk you over. Typically one of them would come find you beforehand and snog you in a closet. You liked the feeling that they couldn’t get enough of you. 

This time it was Remus, sitting on a windowsill at the top of the staircase and holding a lit cigarette between his fingers. Though when he saw you, sheer black tights and impractical shoes peeking out of your Slytherin cloak as you hurried up the stairs, he rubbed the tip of it into the stone and smiled down at you. 

“Hey, dove. I can’t wait to see what you’ve got hiding under that cloak. You know Sirius loves those miniskirts you wear,” voice low in the dim light, you gave him a soft smile. Merlin, he was beautiful in the moonlight coming in through the window. You wished you could have them. Sirius and Remus and you. It was a pipe dream. 

“And you know how much I love when you wear your shirt like this, it’s like you’re trying to entice me,” you murmured, brushing your manicured fingernails against his exposed forearms. He had the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, his necktie long gone and hair mussed. You were envious that you weren’t so effortlessly ethereal, but you also felt so lucky you were able to see him like this, touch him like this. You steeled yourself against the encroaching depression that tried to take over when you thought of this… thing ending. Which it surely would. Sirius and Remus were the perfect couple. But you would do anything to make it last, to be theirs, for them to show you off like they did eachother.

Adorned with smoke on my clothes

Lovelorn and nobody knows

Love thorns all over this rose

I’ll pay the price, you won’t

The Gryffindor common room was a raucous place after quidditch games. You were able to slip in unseen, Remus shielding you from prying eyes with his tall and lanky figure as he ushered you up to his shared room. James was likely already downstairs, and Peter always made himself scarce during these things, so you weren’t too shocked to see Sirius shirtless, flicking his wand to dry his freshly cleaned hair. It was always a wreck after quidditch. Somehow the low bun he tied it in always got knotty. 

“Moony, I thought you were coming with my favorite Slytherin?” He teased, and you peeked around Remus’ arm from your spot hidden behind him. “Oh, there you are, princess! I thought he’d lost you along the way,” he smiled as he slipped his arms into the sleeves of his shirt. “Come on, don’t be shy, let's see the outfit.” He never failed to make you feel pretty, and so you unclasped your cloak and hung it on the edge of his bed before doing a little twirl. Today’s was a pretty little black minidress with a swinging skirt that draped across your thighs in such a way that you had to buy it. You knew they would love it. 

“You’ve no right to be so beautiful,” Remus’ voice from behind you had you blushing. And you’ve no right to woo me like this, like you want to date me, you thought to yourself. You didn’t have time to wallow in your thoughts before he came up from behind you and wrapped his big hands around your hips, thumbs rubbing into your skin and making you forget all the reasons this was a bad idea. Just like every time.

“Maybe not, but she is and we can enjoy the view,” Sirius, shirt still unbuttoned, was approaching you like a lion stalking its prey. But when he was standing chest to chest with you, looking down at you with those pretty eyes, he was nothing but gentle when he reached up to tilt your chin so he could kiss you. He had you like putty in his hands, and as you opened your mouth to let him in, Remus cleared his throat. 

“You two do this every time. They’re going to notice we’re gone,” you could hear the fondness in his voice. 

“I think Rem wants a kiss, princess,” Sirius breathed against your lips and you giggled, turning in their hold to blink up at your taller companion. 

“Is that true, Remmy?” You wondered aloud, smiling up as his sandy hair fell over his forehead. 

“Well I’m never going to turn one down from you,” he smirked before leaning down to press his lips against yours. It was a gentle thing, but when he squeezed his hands where they sat on your waist and pulled you in you gasped, and you were suddenly losing yourself in the taste of him. Smoke and chocolate and his hands were reaching towards your hair when Sirius tutted at him and you broke away.

“Don’t ruin her hair, I’m sure she worked hard on it.”

“I don’t mind,” you said breathily at the same time Remus chuckled with a “Alright, let’s get down there.”

The difference with tonight, which you would have noticed if you weren’t hiding behind Remus on your way in, was that the alcohol hadn’t come yet, and nobody was drunk enough for you to get past them without being noticed. Potter has just come in with some others with their contraband firewhiskey and other beverages, and so when you stepped off the bottom stair, laughing at something Sirius had said, lips kiss-reddened, and heart eyes glowing… Well people noticed. 

You didn’t notice at first, too wrapped up in your two not-boyfriends. But you caught the whispers in the air.

“Isn’t she a Slytherin?”

“What’s she doing here?”

“What’s she doing here with them?”

Now, something you would write later in your diary went along the lines of: “As it turns out, everyone assumed Remus and Sirius were gay and that I was corrupting them.”

But all you could hear in the moment was the muttered “Slut!” from multiple directions.

Now, whimsical and romantic or not, you were a Slytherin and you had generations of pureblood rage instilled in you. You were away from your boys for the first time when you heard it. Uttered in the dim light, drunken words. But then a drunken Gryffindor boy tried to talk to you. 

“So, are you just fucking Lupin? Or Black? Both?” He cocked his head to the side, and your eyes widened in horror before narrowing in anger. You’d pulled your fist back, moments away from knocking his lights out when a strong hand held you back.

“Oh, Remus!” The random boy was too drunk to see how close he’d been to being punched. “Hey, I just wanted to know if she was your girl? Or Sirius’? If not, I’d like a chance to see what’s under that dress,” he smiled and winked salaciously, and you saw red. 

“Let me go,” you gritted out, pulling against the iron grip holding you back. 

The tunnel vision was starting to fade and you were beginning to notice others with their eyes on you, but you were seated in your rage now. 

“Pads, com’ere,” he must have been close by, because Remus hadn’t raised his voice.

“What’s going on over here?” His usually excitable demeanor was mellowed out by the alcohol. However you were red in the face and Remus was quite literally holding you back. 

“McLaggen wants to know whether we’re engaged in a torrid affair with this lovely creature, and if not-”

McLaggen interrupted Remus, clearly confused by the big words. 

“I dunno about all that, just wanted to know if she was with you. Because if not,” he wiggled his eyebrows… or he tried to. But with the alcohol and sweat it just looked messy. You were loosening in Remus’ hold, his strong arms always helping to bring you down from a high. He was like an anchor. 

“She’s with us.” The elder Black brother’s voice was deadly serious, no room for jests, and luckily McLaggen took the hint and fucked off. 

“You need a drink, pretty girl,” Sirius exhaled before turning to grab a new cup. People were beginning to look at you, wrapped up in Remus’ arms, and whisper. You felt the pricking of your tear ducts and you wrinkled your nose up to make it go away, which prompted Remus to gracefully spin you into a corner where he could tower over you and shield you from prying eyes. 

“You alright, dove? Want me to punch that tosser?”

You hadn’t yet unclenched your fists, and the tall boy in front of you used his own scarred hands to pry them open and gently massage your palms where you had little crescent marks embedded. 

“I think she wished you’d let her punch him,” Sirius shouldered his way into your corner, holding three cups of punch in his hands. “It would have been super hot, too.”

“They’re calling me a slut,” you whispered, not one to be easily moved by harsh words, this feeling was new to you. You couldn’t look up at them, still staring at Remus’ hands holding yours.

The two were silent for a moment, probably doing that thing where they looked into eachothers eyes and had quiet conversations. You always assumed it was lovers' telepathy. You were always jealous of that, you wanted it with them. 

“Princess, I don’t care what they say, and I don’t think you should either,” Sirius started, and Remus reached up to tilt your face up to face them. “You’re not a slut. And to be honest, this has been going on long enough,” your mouth dropped open on instinct. Was he about to end your… whatever this was? “We can put the rumors to rest, because we want you to be ours.”

With that, your mouth shut with an audible click as your teeth crashed together. 

“Officially, of course. Because unofficially… we’ve always been yours, darling,” Remus was smiling down at you and you swore he could have been a star in the sky the way he was glowing. 

“You want me?” It came out a little more needy and desperate than you wanted it to, and Sirius cooed at you. 

“Of course, pretty girl. We’re just idiots and didn’t know how to ask. So will you be ours?”

“Uh huh,” you nodded vehemently and used the extra height from your shoes to aid you in reaching up to crash your lips against his. You were mid-kiss when some fucker bumped into Remus who nearly knocked you over. 

“Hey, piss off,” the drunken boy slurred and Sirius pulled away from you (making sure you were upright and unharmed in the process).

“Don’t talk to our girlfriend like that,” the words seemed to come out of his mouth in slow motion and you watched as all the eyes in the vicinity turned to you. And then the whispering started, spreading across the room like a wildfire. 

But if I’m all dressed up

They might as well be looking at us

And if they call me a slut

You know it might be worth it for once

And if I’m gonna be drunk

I might as well be drunk in love

“I’ll take that drink now, Siri,” you breathed, and your boyfriend (your boyfriend!) grinned and passed one over to you before giving another to Remus.

“Cheers,” he exclaimed, and the three of you clinked your cups together. 

What you would later learn (you seemed to be learning all these lessons after the fact) was that once the student body realized that neither Remus or Sirius were gay, it would be hunting season. The only issue was you couldn’t tell who was the prey, you or the boys. 

You weren’t sure if the people sending you withering looks wanted to be you or kill you, but those were somehow better than the saucy winks and up-and-down gazes that made you feel naked. 

Everyone wants him

That was my crime

It all came to a head one Saturday afternoon. You’d been eating lunch with Barty and Regulus out by the Black Lake, enjoying the rare afternoon warmth, a cloudless day. The only way things could get better was if you had your boyfriends there with you. You were excited for a moment when you heard footfalls behind you, but the pace was too quick, the gait unfamiliar. You turned around from your seated position to see two Gryffindor girls you didn’t recognize approaching you, looking rather sour. 

“Salazar, save me,” you sighed, tired of dealing with jealous girls. At your comment, both boys looked around at the two outsiders. Now, typically, having Barty Crouch Jr. and Regulus Black lay their deadly cold glares on you was enough to send you running. But these girls were determined. “Let me handle this,” you muttered before dusting off your skirt and meeting them on your feet.

“What is it?” You cocked your hip, arms crossed, and stared at the two unfamiliar faces.

“We just wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” one started, looking you up and down with a sneer. Not a very convincing one though, you could tell she wasn’t used to squaring up, which meant these were likely girls younger than you.

“Can’t tell why those two chose you though, you’re just a regular boring girl. And a Slytherin at that,” you rolled your eyes at the second girl’s words. 

“What, can’t come up with any better insults? Not going to tell me I’m a slut? That I’m corrupting the school’s favorite golden boys? That I’m too ugly or too dull or too mean for them?” You couldn’t care less about girls like this, but something prompted your two friends to stand and flank you. You weren’t sure what alerted them, but you were glad to have them behind you for what came next. 

“Should have guessed a girl from a family of death eaters would be used to being called names,” one giggled nastily, and you felt your would narrow down to just see them. 

“The boys will leave you once they realize you’re just another follower. Wouldn’t be surprised if you already had a dark mark. Let’s see,” she reached for your arm and before she could touch you, two wands were pointed at her throat. 

“Don’t touch her,” Regulus growled from behind you. 

“You’ll regret it,” Barty followed, gleeful. He loved an excuse to scare people. 

She paled, and her friend scoffed. 

“Typical Slytherins. Let’s get out of here.”

“Run along, and go tell McGonagall that you were harassing another student. I’m sure she’d love to hear that,” you forced out a haughty laugh, and reveled in their nervous frowns. 

You thought it was over, but then you heard one of them mutter: “Of course she has two death eaters doing her dirty work. She doesn’t deserve-” 

You couldn’t hear anything else over the waves crashing in your ears. You were sure Regulus was telling you to let them go, but you couldn’t let them slander your two closest friends like that. 

“Hey!” You were agitated, and pulled the one that was being nasty by the hood of her cloak, effectively spinning her around and throwing her off balance. 

“What are you gonna do? Crucio me?” She laughed, unafraid. 

“No,” you grinned, a shark with blood in the water. “I just came to tell you, you have blood on your collar,” she looked down, confused. As soon as her face came back up to face you, your fist collided with her nose and she went down, blood decorating her pretty white dress shirt. 

“You better keep your fucking mouth shut about things you don’t know about,” you spat down at her as she cried, and you stormed back into the castle. 

You let your sleeves drape over your fingers, hiding your bruised knuckles, as you wandered the halls. You didn’t want to go back to the dungeons yet, but you didn’t want to face your boyfriends. Unluckily for you, they had a magic map that helped them find you. 

“Hello, gorgeous,” you were greeted by Sirius, and you felt a bit of the tension leak out of you as he and Remus steered you towards the Gryffindor common room. 

“Regulus told us something happened but wouldn’t tell us what,” your taller boyfriend said once you found yourselves in their shared room. You pursed your lips and clenched your aching fist, tear ducts stinging as you held back your tears. 

“I punched a girl in the face,” you admitted. You’d talked to the two boys before about how you were afraid of turning out like your parents, violent and cruel and heartless. You never hit anyone before. You stretched out your fingers at the thought, letting your knuckles crack with the effort. 

Soon you were seated on Remus bed, Sirius holding your undamaged hand while Remus tended to the other and you repeated what had happened. 

“Have people been bothering you a lot?” Sirius’ voice was soft and you nodded. 

“They all hate me,” you breathed in deeply, trying not to let it all get to you. 

“Oh, dove. They don’t hate you. They’re just mean-spirited and jealous,” Remus wrapped you up in his strong arms and nestled you under his chin. “If anything else happens, let us know. We’ll deal with it.”

“Preferably before my brother or Junior find out about it. We don’t need any maiming happening,” Sirius joked, and once again the air was alight with love and laughter.

And I break down

Then he's pulling me in

In a world of boys he's a gentleman

Masterlist

[crusty-chronicles]

BONUS AIRHEADED S/O HEADCANNONS: Yusuke (Yu Yu Hakusho)

He likes to act like he's some callous tough guy, but really he's a huge softie.

Can get annoyed by your dullness, but other than that this boy is whipped

Yusuke is the furthest thing from book smart, but he's very street smart.

You on the other hand, aren't smart at all.

The amount of times he's had to pull you out of oncoming traffic is insane.

Not a single scratch on your either

But when HE wanders out in the street to get some kid's ball, he ends up getting hit by a car. 

Yusuke's known you since he and Keiko were in diapers. 

And even then he thought you were a strange kid.

I'm sorry? Did you just ask him if he could smell what purple tastes like??? While coloring with a red crayon?

You put your baby teeth under the bed? So the monsters don't get hungry???

No you cannot have some of his mother's ‘juice.’

He was never the best at making new friends, and you'd been around long enough for him to grow fond of your strange habits. So~he didn't mind you tagging along.

Especially when he'd reached junior high and his bad boy facade really ramped up.

Always getting into fights, always ditching school, always getting into trouble just because he could.

It should've come as no shock that you'd get after him for his behavior. Like the rest of the people in his life.

You'd caught him one day after school. Yusuke having been in a fight, which he of course was punished for by Iwamoto. Even though he wasn't the one that started it.

You had grabbed his arm, thinking he was skipping again.

But when he turned around you could see various scratches littering his face, along with a purple swelling under his eye.

“What happened?” You asked.

“None of your business.” He dismissed.

He was already having a bad day. He didn't need you to accidentally make it worse. Yet as always, you didn't seem to get the hint.

“Did you get into a fight?”

“I said it was none of your business.” He snapped before adding, “Not like I need another lecture today.” 

Keiko had chewed him out enough, and he still had his mom to deal with at home. And now you wanted to nag him too? Great. Just great.

He waited for the inevitable “How could you be so careless!” And, “What were you thinking!”

Instead he was met with silence.

He looked up and noticed your hurt expression before you turned to leave.

Instantly he started to panic.

For whatever reason, he couldn't stand to see you upset at him. You, who always had something to say with your dopey smile. Who always tried to help even if you didn't know how.

No, he didn't like your downcast expression at all.

So this time it was him stopping you.

“Hey! I didn't mean it like that…Look, I got jumped, okay? But I put those bastards in their place, so don't worry about it.” He decided to test his luck and hug you.

When you didn't tense up or pull away, he allowed himself to relax against you.

 “Let's just go home.” 

“Okay…Wait, does that mean we're having a sleepover?”

He gave a small laugh before grabbing your hand and leading you to his house.

Safe to say he's got a huge soft spot for you.

Your spirit awareness is even higher than Kuwabara’s.

You were probably the only person who could see Yusuke's ghost floating around after he died.

Asking him “why are you haunting my house?” 

He figures he might as well explain his situation, much to Botan's dismay. But when was he to ever care about the rules.

It's during that time he finally gets to see you fight.

10/10 your biggest cheerleader.

He'd asked you to watch over Kuwabara when the doofus had promised not to fight for a whole week.

You two got along well, which wasn't surprising considering you had not a single brain cell to spare for hostility.

It wasn't long before the two of you were cornered by a rival junior high gang. You'd told Kuwabara to run on ahead and that you'd catch up.

That was when the leader decided to run his mouth. What would inevitably be his undoing.

“Now that Urameshi’s dead, this turf is ripe for the taking.”

It was probably the first time Yusuke's ever seen you actually mad.

“What did you say?” 

One minute. That's all it took for you to beat the gang of seven.

Using one of them like a bowling ball and throwing him towards the rest of them.

All the while Yusuke is cheering in the background above you.

“Aim for the kneecaps! You got them, Y/n! Toss the bastard again!”

He's very proud of you. And his pride only swells when your strength grows along with his.

Joining the dark tournament and still kicking ass. Winning most of your matches with hardly a scratch. Except for Toguro. We don't talk about that shhhh!

Like I said he can get annoyed, but he usually puts up really well with your antics.

You call Kurama rose boy, not because of his powers, but because as you put it, “His hair’s the color of roses.”

It fits, but for the wrong reasons.

You steal Hiei's bandage around his eye, and Yusuke is practically fighting for his life to stop him from attacking you.

“You're supposed to look someone in the eyes when you talk to them. All your eyes.”

And he's crying trying to stop his laughter before Hiei sets his sights on him next.

You once mimicked his spirit gun with your hand and actually shot out a beam.

His mother never did let him live it down with the huge hole in the ceiling.

The realization he liked you wasn't some great build up or special moment. 

He just woke up one day and decided it was you. 

His reason for trying to be a little better as a person. Why he was fighting so hard during both tournaments. Why he was so willing to die in his battle with Sensui.

He doesn't get the chance to confess. No…You do it first.

Right after he'd won and became in control of his body after defeating Sensui, you wrapped your arms around him and kissed him.

Pressing your forehead softly to his.

“I'm so happy you're okay.”

Yusuke can get jealous, especially if the other person doesn't get the hint.

And if someone's flirting with you before you're together. 

He likes to glare over your shoulder until they get nervous and leave. Then he'll feign an innocent look when you turn around.

But if he's with people he trusts, he doesn't bat an eye. They know he'll throw down over your affections.

Yusuke can be romantic, but only when he really tires. Usually he prefers to tease you.

Expect to be called: babe, baby, sugar, hot stuff, and if he's feeling really vulnerable- sweetheart.

If he wants to be a menace to everyone around him he'll slip in a ‘pookiebear.’ But never unironically.

You know how he proposes to Keiko at the end of the series?

With you he knows a normal proposal won't work. So he just kinda puts the idea out there.

“You're gonna have to buy your own cups when we're married. It's getting harder and harder to find ones that fit with our house’s aesthetic.”

"We should have a beach house wedding, dont’cha think? Maybe Hiei will finally show up that way."

“Y/n? You mean my wife/husband? The love of my life?”

And it pays off.

You bring him a little box one day and tell him to open it.

Inside is a small gold ring.

“I found a ring so we can be married for real!” 😃

Yup, you're definitely the one. You and your small brain and big heart.

MASTERLIST

AN: I'm gonna try and balance out my hxh and yu yu hakusho fics so everyone eats good. 👀👀👀

[anakinfests]

round two is here! enjoy and make sure to kudos and comment for all the lovely creators of these works!

day one twitter thread: here

01. Curious Cultures by anonymous

“I know I am not your. . . ideal partner for this mission, but surely you’ve experienced enough that it should not be too off putting, right?” Anakin’s silence made space seem loud. “You will answer me, Anakin Skywalker, or I will have you sent back Coruscant.” “I haven’t,” or Anakin and Obi-Wan have to get married for a mission and Anakin left out a crucial fact

02. The Will of the Desert by anonymous

Anakin know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Obi-Wan is meant to be his. He just really need the Universe to gets its act together and make it happen.

03. take me out (to the ballgame) by anonymous

Obi-Wan goes to the baseball game against his wishes. He meets a handsome stranger and kisses him. (Not against his wishes)

04. thine cup spillth over by anonymous

Anakin is the son of the Force. The Chosen One. He was born to feed the Force's warriors.

05. Baby Duck Syndrome by anonymous

It is an unexpected shock when it happens because by the time Anakin is born almost all imprints are made, not natural. But Anakin’s master is a Toydarian, and there has never been a successful imprint made between a human and one of them. So as long as Anakin is useful, he does not need to know about imprinting, because it is not something that Watto can do to him, or to his mom. Then the Jedi comes, and Anakin touches his apprentice’s hand.

06. make every last moment last by anonymous

Anakin dreads the inevitable end of the war. Padmé is his wife, but Obi-Wan is his mate. He shouldn't have either . He can't keep them both forever. The future will be here before he knows it, and Anakin needs to get himself together so he can be a good husband again. So he can learn to be a good father. But he won’t be either of those things tonight. Tonight, there’s only one thing he can be.

07. just grab me and take me by anonymous

His hard cock swung between his legs as he rocked on his fingers, nearly sobbing from how it was almost right. He wanted more – he always wanted more – and this was on the edge of not enough. A hand wrapped around his hip and Anakin startled. “Look at you,” purred Obi-Wan, his other hand grazing down the length of Anakin’s bare arched back, “you couldn’t wait, baby girl?”

08. love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind by anonymous

The lack of Anakin at Obi-Wan's side was telling. Something was wrong. Obi-Wan tried to put the worry out of his head, replaying the previous night over and over. He’d spanked Anakin, but he’d done that plenty of times by now. He had also been rather strict with Anakin, but Anakin liked that. Anakin had told Obi-Wan that much a thousand times by now. Obi-Wan sighed, pushing away the datapad and pinching the bridge of his nose as he often did when he was annoyed at a situation. This time, however, he was annoyed at himself.

09. a vision of your blue eyes, so lovely by anonymous

“Let me take care of you,” Obi-Wan soothed. “No, I can’t,” Anakin’s hands ran down his forearms, up his biceps and to his chest where he grabbed desperately onto his shirt. “Why not?” Obi-Wan’s fingers threaded through Anakin’s hair, petting and carding through the short strands. Anakin felt more self conscious than he’d ever felt in his life. What if you hurt me? Was what Anakin wanted to ask. Instead, a sob racked his body and Obi-Wan’s arms went around him easily, like they always were supposed to. Or, what happens after the movie Awake if Anakin met Obi-Wan after his heart transplant.

10. Alpha|Alpha by anonymous

Obi-Wan looked at his former apprentice and smiled to himself. Anakin was the image of the perfect Alpha from the outside – he was tall, masculine, easily aggravated and hot-headed, assertive. Everything the society expected. Omegas always threw themselves at him, and Obi-Wan took unhealthy pleasure in watching them fail to seduce him.

11. Please, Devour Me? by anonymous

GFFA AU Obi-Wan and Anakin enjoy a moment alone together in Hyperspace, and Obi-Wan makes a selfish demand. -- “Like a rancor.” “A rancor?” Obi-Wan tugged at the lace with his teeth. “How insulting.” Anakin laughed but there was a tremor to his voice, the realisation that calling his beloved a rancor was probably a little more insulting than how he'd meant it. His legs fell apart even more, the skirts dipping between his thighs and Obi-Wan gripped the lace of one of the stockings in his teeth and tugged, pulling it down and over Anakin’s knee. --

12. Dream a Little Dream (Of You & Me) by anonymous

In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the SubAnakin_ObikinFest collection. Prompt:   Obi-Wan is an incubus and is frequently pulled into the dreams people have about him. It's never bothered him—it is how he feeds that part of himself and he always makes sure everyone has a good time—but it's become a bit bothersome ever since Anakin started his journey of sexual discovery and his Master is a frequent flyer in those fantasies. And it becomes difficult to walk away the more Anakin grows into a man and also into Obi-Wan's own personal wet dream. Anakin, his strong-willed and bratty Padawan, proves to be quite submissive and sweet in the land of his dreams. DNW: hard kinks

13. books and their covers by anonymous

Obi-Wan knows very well what he is. People look at his master and see a big strong alpha, and then they look at him, they see... well, the exact opposite. As a beta, he may not stand out much in the shadow of his powerful alpha master, but Obi-Wan is the only one who can make Anakin come.

14. i'd follow you down, down, down by anonymous

He watched as the Separatist ships jumped to hyperspace in a flash of blue. His own men’s ships around him began going back to the Negotiator but Anakin didn’t move. Not yet. He stared into space; the blackness of it, the stars that sparkled. There was nothing around him, and if he didn’t turn his ship around, he couldn’t see the Star Destroyer waiting for him. It was all empty, just like him. Just like their room had been when he woke up.

15. all tied up in knots by anonymous

The only thing that eases the sting of Anakin Skywalker's one-sided love affair with his roommate, Obi-Wan Kenobi, is the fact that they're also friends with benefits which means he gets some part of Obi-Wan at least a few times a week. He's made his peace with it, and his favorite part of the day is easily when his no-strings-attached fuck buddy pushes him down onto the mattress for a round of gentle, vanilla sex beneath the covers. Any part of Obi-Wan he can get, he'll take and not ask for more. That is, until he comes home early from work one night to hear Obi-Wan domming a woman in their living room, and Anakin's confronted with the knowledge that Obi-Wan is giving out parts of himself to people he's certainly never given Anakin. And that's just untenable. Follow Anakin as he tries to convince Obi-Wan to dom him, learns what BDSM even is, does paperwork, comes, gets rope burn, and maybe even gets the love of his life. Yes, in that order.

16. Taste of the Divine by anonymous

The day had seemed never-ending, filled with meeting after meeting and the infinite responsibilities of a wartime High General. Even Obi-Wan’s evening promised the sweet embrace of unrelenting work. Although, duty was the last thing on Obi-Wan’s mind when he laid eyes on what waited for him in his quarters. Or rather, who.

17. the way you bend, the way you break by anonymous

Anakin has a deeply rooted, shameful fantasy of having power taken away from him, by force. Obi-Wan, the ever sedulous and equally incorrigible partner, shares this fantasy and indulges his lover.

18. All Good Things (Come to Those Who Wait) by anonymous

“We’ve finally trained your hole to take all of me. Let’s do the same with your mouth next, shall we?" Anakin learns to trust that his Master knows what he's doing.

[thisbuildinghasfeelings]

Missing Moments I Want to Know About in 1x09/1x10

The show leaves us to fill in a lot of blanks for TK and Carlos during season 1. I always want to know more, but I think the blanks I want filled in most are the ones that occur in 1x09 and 1x10. Here are the ones I think about the most:

1.How does Carlos find out that TK is awake?

Does he find out through the first responder grapevine that the firefighter who was shot is going to be ok? Does someone from the 126 (Paul maybe?) call him? Does TK call or text him himself?

If I had to guess, I'd go with Paul letting Carlos know. Maybe before Carlos leaves the hospital he gives Paul his number and asks him to update him if anything happens.

2. What is TK told about Carlos after he wakes up and how does he feel about it?

We see TK's reaction to Owen asking about how long he's "been seeing the cop," but we don't see any further than that. I think TK can assume from Owen's comment that Carlos was at the hospital...otherwise how would Owen know about them? But does anyone say anything more to TK? Does Owen/Paul/Marjan/Mateo/Judd mention how upset and worried Carlos was or ask TK if he wants them to call Carlos to let him know he's ok? How does TK feel once it sinks in that Carlos, his "boyfriend who he doesn't even really know is his boyfriend boyfriend" was sitting by his hospital bed?

I see TK in this post-coma moment as being very much in crisis, and not just about the question of his relationship with Carlos. TK feels lost and confused about where his place is and what he wants to do with his life. I like to believe (though we don't actually have much evidence of this since there's no Tarlos interaction between 1x05 and 1x10) that TK was starting to come around and let his walls down a bit more in the time leading up to him getting shot, but then, post-coma, his crisis makes him take a step back from all that until he figures out where he's supposed to be. I think TK probably felt things when he found out that Carlos sat by his hospital bed, but I think he shoved those feelings down while he dealt with the crisis at hand.

3. What led them to the juice bar in 1x10 and how did they both see the situation at the time?

Whose idea was it to go there? Did TK call or text Carlos or was it the other way around? Had they been texting or talking back and forth at all since TK woke up or was this their first contact? What was said in the conversation that led them there? What were their expectations?

TK seems to be the one most passionate about boba so that makes me think he chose where to go. Or maybe it was a place they were planning on going together before he got shot, like TK had mentioned it in passing weeks ago and Carlos remembered and suggested that as the place they could go.

I wonder if TK thought from the beginning that he'd be essentially breaking things off with Carlos. Perhaps that perceived inevitability was why he filibustered a solid 6 minutes on boba? I get the impression that they both knew there would be a conversation about their relationship because when Carlos brought up the "elephant in the juice bar," TK immediately knew what he meant. Also, in hindsight, it is HILARIOUS that Carlos calls TK out here for avoiding talking about something. Oh, Carlos.

Side note: I wonder what Carlos' reaction would have been if TK had said that he liked Carlos and wanted to continue hooking up but still didn't want anything more. Would Carlos have said that wouldn't work for him? Because I really think at that point it wouldn't have. After the strong feelings he felt while sitting beside TK's hospital bed, could Carlos have continued being casual? Or would he have agreed to it just to keep TK (HIS SOULMATE) in his life even if it would have caused him pain?

4. What happened between the juice bar and the firehouse hug?

I feel like it's obvious that we're missing a pretty big conversation in there. The best evidence for this is the way Carlos goes face first into TK's neck when he shows up at the firehouse. That is not a man who isn't sure if they're even a "we" or who is solemnly accepting that they might not be meant to be. So what happened?? There's some great fic exploring this moment (SEE BELOW), which is where a majority of my headcanons on it come from.

I think it's clear that TK had to reach out first here. Both from Carlos' attitude at the end of the juice bar scene and from what we know about Carlos in general, there's no way Carlos was going to push any further without TK making it clear that's what he wanted. HOWEVER I could possibly see Carlos going to the hospital to check up on TK as he got his stitches fixed. I don't think he would go with any motive of getting TK to agree to a relationship with him. It would solely be about making sure that TK was alright. Even then, I'm not sure if he would do it. He certainly would have wanted to, but he might have held back based on TK's attitude at the juice bar. Carlos likely would have felt that TK might not want him there. I've definitely enjoyed fic that has him doing this, though.

Probably the most likely possibility is that Carlos simply went home after the juice bar/solar storm incident. His heart was surely shattered after being essentially rejected by his soulmate after putting his feelings out there in the most direct way he'd done so far. We know so much more about Carlos now and it just makes it even more apparent how much it took for him to sit there in front of TK and tell him how he was feeling like that when he thought it might not be reciprocated! And then, when it wasn't (at least from Carlos' perspective in that moment)...HEARTBREAKING.

Ultimately, I believe that TK had his epiphany and reached out to Carlos wherever he was (either at the hospital with him or Carlos' house or somewhere else). The conversation they had is something that I would like to see more than perhaps any missing moment in the entire series. Imagine the look on Carlos' face when he realizes what TK is telling him! As his previously-shattered heart is mended in an instant 😭 I want to see it so bad! Thankfully I have fic to fill the void. Speaking of, here are just a few excellent examples of fic that fills in this and some of the other moments I've discussed here:

silver in the night by @reyesstrand

the elephant in the juice bar by @taralaurel

Simple and Plain and Not Much to Ask from Somebody by @howtosingit

Steady up ahead by @paperstorm

Still Waters Run Deep by @welcometololaland

Just Let Me Hold You by tkstrands (is this writer on tumblr?? If so let me know and I'll @ them!!)

[least-carpet]

No, no, but now I want to read your ideas about how wwx is set to an implosion in 1-3 years. How do you get him there? In canon, he needed jyl's death, the wen siblings death, the world against him

Another neglected anon! Sorry for the late response and happy new year!

I actually think what we saw in terms of Wei Wuxian's devolution after Jiang Yanli's death qualifies as an explosion rather than an implosion, i.e. the force was directed outwards from the centre and killed whoever was in the blast radius. I don't think he'll do that.

I do think we see him implode earlier than that though, in the post-war period, where he drinks excessively (to the point that Wen Qing comments on it), he's unreliable, his moods are volatile, he self-isolates, etc.

To be fair, a certain amount of this is related to not having a golden core and practising demonic cultivation. However, I also tend to read it as a reaction to his war trauma, since self-medicating is a pretty normal response to surviving horrifying events?

Let me be clear that I don't think he always used alcohol like this—I think his partying as a teenager became a problem in adulthood. I think that was always a risk for him for a variety of reasons (we know that he survived becoming a homeless orphan and doesn't remember big chunks of his childhood, which tends to indicate trauma) but I don't think we see it happen until after the war, during which he saw and did some buckwild shit. I also don't know that he ever developed a physical dependence on alcohol, just that his post-war alcohol use looks pretty dysfunctional given its context and all the other choices he was making.

So. Given what we know about:

his behaviour in the post-war period;

his behaviour immediately post-resurrection, specifically that we see him desperately trying to avoid people, places, and situations that make him remember traumatic events from his first life;

his partner, specifically that Lan Wangji doesn't have a real barometer for what "normal" drinking looks like, and also has a tendency to enable Wei Wuxian;

where his partner lives, the extremely calm and controlled Cloud Recesses, where everything is on a strict schedule, therefore predictable and regular, and many activities Wei Wuxian likes are just not allowed—

We have a scenario where a person who thrives in exciting situations and likes working under pressure is living in place that is quiet, regular, and predictable. He is not supposed to drink there, but has a spouse who's willing to smuggle in as much alcohol as he wants. He has thus far throughout the story distracted himself from processing a long series of very traumatic events, and has only been willing to be in relationship with people who can't or won't hold him accountable. All of those feelings are waiting to explode out of the closet he's stuffed them in and fall on his head. And now he's often in a place where there's nothing fun to do...

Like, I think that it might take a minute, since the euphoria of new love will at least provide, you know, some positive feelings, which are their own distraction. (Plus all the sex! And night-hunting!) And Lan Wangji has many qualities that make him a real support to Wei Wuxian, and that might get him through that inevitable post-honeymoon period of quiet where all his feelings pop out and come for him. But I don't think that's going to be a fun experience for anyone?

TL;DR I think eventually he will have to stop running away and actually think about what he's lost, and we know what he does with Bad Feelings he doesn't want (excessive drinking, avoidance, withdrawal from loved ones). Grief and shame are gonna get you every time!