#I hate him so bad I should kill him dead

[jinkiesmariz]

I HATE HIMM !!!!!!!!!!

Anyways here is silly monotone thing and the flats I should smash his head in with hammers meoeowowowww bye I’m stressed and coping

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

Danny Fenton, aka Phantom, has been given a new task!

In short, literally no one in the Ghost Zone/Infinite Realms wants their mostly peaceful afterlife to be rocked by a certain Gotham rogue named Joker. Which, when he dies, is almost sure to happen because of whatever the hell was in that vat he dropped in included ectoplasm. So, yay, he’s also a little ghostly too, meaning he *is* pretty hard to kill. Unfortunately, there’s also a certain vigilante that is quite keen to murder him in recent years.

So now Danny has to keep the mass murderer trauma clown alive for as long as he possibly can while attempting to keep the Joker from. Well. Being the Joker.

Oh, and naturally, Danny got this assignment AFTER Joker got out of Arkham. Again. And entirely blew up the asylum. Time to join the Goonion, he is NOT doing this without getting PAID, thank you.

[happyk44]

percy needs to be haunted by bianca's ghost more

[sun-marie]

being so honest. i have so little attachment to v*rric tethr*s. when i realized the reveal i literally cheered out loud 😶

[xxplastic-cubexx]

on the absolute highest of keys james mcavoy does pull off bald charles really well and i wish we got another movie with bald james mcavoy

[si1v3rtr33s]

monokuma, explaining that the class will have to kill each other to get out:

byakuya, who already had to do the same thing at home:

[anonbinaryweirdo]

i am not okay. I found old screenshots of my babies from like ???? two??? years ago

josmora still gives me so much LIFE

[imagination-overload]

I literally just finished writing a fic exploring this. It's the start of the 'batman can't be wrong' mindset for me.

Starlin is a brilliant writer: his prose is vivid his internal monologue for batman is gripping, the fact that Batman thinks more than he ever speaks is pointed. Hes a writer known for exploring the depths and limits of Batman's psyche and revels in his flaws. I think if Starlin got to stay on the book longer than 1 issue after Jason's death we could have seen that hypocracy/contrast explored more, 10 issues and 1 writer change after the end of a Death in the Family we get introduced to Tim Drake and his Robin origin. Which would have never happened if Starlin was still writing (of those 10 intervening issues he only wrote the first).

There's always been 1 issue I've had with the backstory people give about Starlin's run and why the death of Jason todd happened and that's 'Starlin hated Jason Todd' or that 'he hated Jason Todd as Robin'. The truth is, the man didn't like ROBIN, in fact he didn't like kid heroes in general.

But writing a flawed Batman while also using similar flaws to justify Robin's death (and why kid heroes in general is a bad idea) But not being able to finish that character exploration essentially left DC with 'it's good when Batman does it but not when Jason does it' compounded by UtRH making Jason the villain because he wanted exactly what Batman wanted by Death in the Family part 4.

The parallel that kinda kills me

If you know well The Diplomat's Son issue i suggest you skip to the fourth paragraph, because first three are just me yapping about it to give background to the point I'm making.

So, I think every Jason Todd enjoyer knows about the five issues that are significant to his death. One is obviously 'A Death in the Family' Batman #426 - #429, and the second is Batman #424, 'The Diplomat's Son', all written by Jim Starlin, known for his dislike of Jason as Robin.

Anyway. The thing is that The Diplomat's Son was supposed to prove that Jason is inadequate for the Robin's mantle, and threw him in a situation where Felipe Garzonas, the titular diplomat's son, who is rapist that drove one of his victims, Gloria, to suicide.

Jason is understandably frustrated and angry when he finds out Felipe Garzonas has diplomatuc immunity. Batman is all like 'we can't do anything, just collect evidence yada yada yada'. Jason is fed up with it. So he goes to confront Felipe, and the scene ends wuth Felipe falling to ground and dying. Whether Jason pushed him (he denied it) or slipped (like Jason said was), we don't know. Honestly, I have many things to say about it and got a draft of the post on the topic.

But the point is - Jason was confronted with powerlessness at Garzonas's immunity. And here we go with the parallel. In 'A Death in the Family', Joker becomes Iranian ambassador, and get's an immunitet.

Honestly, I don't think it's something Starlin did on purpose, although who am I to know. The thing is, Bruce get's pissed. He can't take it, and straight up is the reason a helicopter with Joker and himself explodes. They both live of course, but the fact it, Bruce is a goddamn hypocrite. The difference is what made them tick. And like, there is a big possibility Jason would ignore Joker's immunitet just as fast if it was Bruce who died, but it's not the point. The point is, Jason's reason to (supposedly) ignore it and (supposedly) kill someone are selfless in a way. His personal experiences made him really sensitive to crimes against children and women, and it was portrayed as a bad thing. His willingness to ignore Batman's orders and Garzonas' immunitet were because of empathy and anger at the system that let people get away with shit like that. Bruce was clearly against it. Was he numb to Gloria's death? Obviously no. But he was not willing to break the law in so risky way as to beat up a guy protected by international law. And yet when it was a personal reason, he jumped straight at it. And of course there are all the emotions with you know, having your son killed by said guy with immunited, but is was the same for Jason. I just can't get over it. Because Starlin may have wanted to make Jason look like an aggresive thug, but what he menaged to do is show Bruce's emotional unavailiblessness and hypocrisy.

[on-the-clear-blue]

Danny, staring up at Tim, who currently Robin: okay...so this isn't what it looks like.

Tim, giving dead pan glare: so you arnt breaking into Drake Manor?

Danny, shoulders dropping: okay yeah it's totally what it looks like...but not because you think!

Tim, sighing slightly: so you arnt homeless and thought that since Timothy Drake was recently adopted by Bruce Wanye, and both of his parents are dead you can just move in and live here?

Danny, blinking owlishly: I mean, yeah? I mean, not homeless, and I didn't even know that dude got adopted, like good for him, hope that he is safe and shiz, sucks that he parents died and all but not here to squat dude.

Tim, raising a single eyebrow: then why pray tell are you here?

Danny, kicking at the ground a bit: so like...ugh, so I might be um like...a...fudge what's the word...ah! Psychopomp? Like I am a dude that helps like people's ghosts pass and like keeps em happy.

Tim, squinting behind his mask: the only person that died here is Jack Drake and I assure you, his soul would not be happy going to where he deserves to be.

Danny, holding up his hands: wow lot of misplaced aggression there boy wonder...no I ain't here for him, like him and his wife did like...so much tomb raiding they would make the Victorians jelly. I am here cus they stole some dudes shit and he wants it back...like yesterday.

Tim, tilting his head: so you are here to steal an artifact.

Danny, popping the P sound: Yup, something about some guys clay tablet, he liked keeping his hate mail for some reason, said this one was about how he shorted some dudes iron? Or was it copper... my Mesopotamian isn't the best.

Tim, eyes widening, because he knows *exactly* which tablet he is talking about: Oh...yeah no bro, you seem chill but I really can't let you have that so why don't you just like...walk away and I won't be forced to do something kay?

Danny, frowning: Sames dude, up until that .y guy cus like...I *really* wasn't asking...

Tim, sighing as he extends his bo staff: Try and just like, not hold a grude yeah? Don't need a new villain...

Danny, pulling out an ecto gun and turning it on: I don't know man...I feel like we have good banter.

(They fight, Tim is still training so he is a bit sloppy, and Danny isn't shooting to kill, so it's more of them playing cat and mouse throughout Drake Manor, it ends with Danny stealing the tablet but having to leave the ecto gun, which gets broken when he escapes)

Tim, panting as he watches Danny flee: Fuck...is this what B feels after fighting Catwoman?

---

Bruce, rubbing his temples as Tim explains why he was late for training: You tried to apprehend an unknown, with a weapon of an unknown source and power...in the home of your secret identity?

Tim, looking properly chastised: God...yes that happened...he wasn't that bad honestly...was pretty witty.

Bruce developing a twitch in his eye: No.

Tim: No? No what.

Bruce, glaring hard at his adopted son: No falling in love with a villain.

Tim, looking scandalized now: Oh? What is this? Hypocrisy thy name is Bruce Wayne!

Bruce's glare turns into a batglare: Ten laps around the cave and fifty bo staff katas...no villains!

---

Danny becomes Tim's rogue, but not really, most of their battles are more each other showing off their new gear/moves they learned.

Danny also is only using tech that his parents made and he upgraded since he really doesn't want to go ghost in front of *Robin*, who is totally not his crush, and the only reason why he won't is because batman would 100% be on his ass.

Danny, pulling a massive creep stick with a nail driven through it out of seemingly nowhere: The new and approved Creep Stick! This time with nail to add tetnus damage!

Tim, watching as 'The Inventor' escapes once more: I hate seeing him leave but by God do I love watching him go...Damn should have turned on the camera just so I can see it again.

Barbara chiming in: Keep the main line PG Robin.

Batman, through coms: Hn...we shall be having words when we get back to the cave

Tim, sipping a soup that The Occultist made: "So like...why were you even here?

---

When the Titans tower incident occurs, Tim could only watch in awe as the Inventor, not only comes in from the ceiling with a literal metal chair, and then continues to beat up the guy with a bad Robin cosplay.

Danny, panting as he holds up the chair again: Back I say! Back! My blorbo!

Jason, seething as he actually hisses at this random teen that appeared out of nowhere, scurrying away while cradling his broken arm: You shall rue the day! Jason Todd was here bitches!

Tim, staring up at Danny, face a bloody mess and an adoring look in his eyes: omg he stalks me, this is must what the other guys felt when I did it!

They don't really start dating, it's much more Danny breaking into Tim's house and just not leaving.

Tim, watching as his "arch enemy" is sprawled across his couch, bucket of ice cream in one hand, spoon in another, phone balanced between his ear and shoulder, pants and socks tossed haphazardly across the living room and just chilling in his boxers: Now wait a damn minute.

Danny, pausing while looking up from his ice cream (which is actually Tim's, since the boy is rich and buys the good shit), pointing his spoon accusatorily at Tim: Your fucking late Mister! Drag race started half an hour ago and we agreed to watch it together!

Tim, blushing under the Robin mask: Sorry case got good and- wait wait wait, when did we agree to watch drag race together?

Danny, rolling his eyes: when I made breakfast this morning? I even gave you extra strong coffee for your solem swearing that you would be here.

Tim, thinking back to earlier: I just...remember a bright white orb giving me a mug and a plate of food...

Danny, scoffing: this is why I need to drug you to get to sleep more often. Now take off your gear and get over here, they about to choose who shall sashay away!

Tim, nodding slowly: Hope it is that one queen from last episode, that lio sink didn't have any- wait! Ugh you keep distracting me! When did you fucking move in? I don't even know your name!

Danny with a spoon just an inch away from his mouth: Jazz? Yeah I uhh...I gotta call you back...(clicks hang up on his phone) Your joking right? For the shits and gigs?

Tim, shaking his head slowly: No shits, not a single gig my dude, 100% honest.

Danny, who had just arrived this morning since his parents are renovating because Fenton HQ is a glaring OSHA violation, but also who's middle names are "commit to the bit" and "Gaslight GateKeep Girl boss" : Babe we have been dating for like, *months*...d-do ou really not remember?

Tim, existential crisis made manifest: Oh no...I have been mind wiped.

Danny, astounded that worked: Baby I am so sorry...

They "date" for like a week before Danny starts feeling bad that he tricked Tim (who he finally got to see maskless, he had to stop his heart to not show any outward reaction to that, cus like hell he is cute) and wants to come clean but he honestly never had seen Tim more happy nor more healthy.

Danny, sitting across Bruce at the Manor: S-So um...like yeah we um...met at a science convention? My um...my parents were show casing stuff and like...we met there?

Bruce, eyes narrowing because that sounded like a lie: Hn.

Dick, happy that Tim finally felt comfortable to bring his "boyfriend" to dinner: B stop glaring! Your going to scare off Timmy's Bf! God you weren't this bad when I brought over Roy that one time.

Bruce doesn't stop glaring, and it's making Danny even more nervous: Um I uh...need to use the bathroom one sec...

Tim moves to guide him but Alfred waves him to sit down: You really must eat Master Timothy, I did make your favorite today. I shall guide Mister Fenton to the lavatory.

Alfred does indeed lead Danny from the dining room, but the second they are far enough the old butler suddenly has a shotgun in hand, skin suddenly a pale blue and objects around the parlor turning green and floating: While they do try and see the best in others, I do not Phantom, now I must ask you to kindly leave and never contact Master Timothy every again. I shall not let my charge fall for such as the likes of you.

Danny blinking at how he was addressed, a sudden ghostly blue mist escaping his mouth: Oh shit.

They have a ghost fight, all while comically popping in and out of the dining room, making excuses for whyvthe other is gone.

It ends when Tim, finally fed up with why his boyfriend is taking so long opens the door only to see him duking it out with Alfred, fully gone ghost and was loosing.

Such leads to confessions of lies, real feeling and why Alfred has been able to be a spry 60 even though he fought in WWI and it is very much the mid 2010s.

(Danny and Tim do end up together, this time with no lies about a mind wipe, and get Kon and Bart to join their polycule later on)

[slutoru1207]

Its not a competition

A group of Mark Graysons from different realities sat in a rough circle, postured like they were at some kind of interdimensional support group. Except, instead of discussing trauma, morals, or the existential horror of being a multiversal constant, they were arguing over who had the best Reader.

Because apparently, that was the priority here.

Viltrumite!Mark crossed his arms, looking unimpressed. “Mine is obedient and listens to my every command.” His voice was laced with pride, like he was stating a universal truth. "No complaints, no resistance. They know their place."

Sinister!Mark scoffed, leaning back in his chair, his cape flaring dramatically as if the very air respected him. “Obedient?” he echoed, eyes glinting. “That’s boring. Mine created an entire rebellion against my empire.” He grinned, teeth sharp. “I kept them alive so we could fuck in between fights.”

Silence.

Some of the Marks shifted uncomfortably. Mohawk!Mark just nodded in approval. NoGoggles!Mark looked toointerested.

NoGoggles!Mark’s grin was feral, bruises barely healing from whatever fight he just crawled out of. “Mine likes to punch the living shit out of me!” he laughed, tilting his head like a dog listening for a whistle. “She really hates me! Like, actively hates me! It’s so fucking fun.”

Viltrumite!Mark and Sinister!Mark looked at him like he just said he enjoyed getting hit by a truck. Which, knowing him, he probably did.

Mohawk!Mark shrugged, amused. “Mine always has plans to kill me,” he said, scratching his chin like he was fondly remembering an assassination attempt. “Too bad she gets cock-drunk before she can actually initiate them.”

Sinister!Mark snorted. “Pathetic.”

Mohawk!Mark smirked. “Jealous?”

Sinister!Mark glared. NoGoggles!Mark looked like he wanted to fist-bump him.

Mainstream!Mark had been sitting there quietly, arms crossed, waiting for the nonsense to end. Now, he just shrugged and said, “I got mine pregnant.”

Silence.

Dead silence.

All the Marks stared at him.

Then, like some collective, hive-mind realization, their eyes glinted at the same time.

“Yeah,” Sinister!Mark mused, rubbing his chin. “I should do that next.”

“Damn,” NoGoggles!Mark muttered, a lightbulb clearly going off in his head.

Viltrumite!Mark simply hummed in approval, like it was already on his agenda.

Mohawk!Mark clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Guess I gotta stop dodging those baby traps.”

Mainstream!Mark’s face dropped. “Wait—NO—guys, that wasn’t—”

Too late.

The multiverse had just been given a really bad idea.

[eveningdawn222]

people who act like batman isn't "judge jury and executioner" because he doesn't kill people are like. genuinely so funny to me because. they're very obviously thinking of "executioner" as like. the stereotypical guy with axe who chops people heads off, and not, yknow, the literal definition of the idiom itself, which is about someone who has the ability to judge and then subsequently punish someone unilaterally. which is quite literally what batman does.

he has the ability to decide what is a "crime" to him, he is the one who decides whether people are guilty of those crimes, and he is the one who executes their punishment. the severity of the punishment doesn't matter - he is unaccountable to anyone else, and indeed is allowed to commit as many crimes as needed to reach his arbitrary ideal of "justice."

the ideal of batman is this: a man who is so fundamentally changed by an act of senseless violence that he takes it upon himself to fight back against the rot and corruption in the world. he does this not through political activism, not through ridding himself of his wealth in favor of a greater good, not through community outreach, but through an individualistic fantasy of being a hero.

and you'll say: charlie, but he does do that !!! he donates his money all the time, he funds social programs, hospitals, orphanages, gets people jobs -

and i will say this: so why don't things get better?

because here's the base of it. gotham, at its core, can't get better. no matter what bruce wayne does, there will always be more crime, more villains, more death, more people for batman to beat up in back alleys. because that's what sells.

reoffending rates don't matter in gotham, prison reform doesn't matter in gotham, what actually causes crime doesn't matter in gotham because that doesn't sell books.

and so here it is; dc has unintentionally created a world where batman can't win, but can't be wrong, and where thousands of nameless, faceless, only-created-to-die civilians must be pushed into the meat grinder that is gotham, to fuel bruce wayne's angst and vindicate his constant, tireless, noble fight against the forces of evil.

and then: a new robin, who is poor and who's parents are dead or gone because of this cycle; who is happy go-lucky and hated by editors and fans for being robin, for not being dick grayson, for being poor.

and this robin is written, unintentionally or not, to be angry at the ways in which batman's (the narrative's) idea of justice is detached from its victims. bruce seems perfectly fine to allow countless unnamed women to be at risk from garzonas in his home country, yet robin is the one who is portrayed as irrational and violent.

this robin is not detached from gotham in the way bruce wayne is: this robin is a product of gotham.

(and here's the thing. you can't punch aids. you can't fight a disease with colorful fights and nifty gadgets. and how would robin dying from aids add to batman's story; it would call into question the systemic changes that haven't been made in gotham. how does a child get aids, in batman's city?)

so robin dies, and then bruce (the narrative) spends the next couple of decades blaming it on him. it is jason's fault; he was reckless, he just ran in, he thought it was all a game. if only bruce had seen what was coming, if only he could have known that jason wasn't rich enough or smart enough or liked enough to be robin.

batman gets a little more violent, a little more self destructive. he hurts people more and almost (!!) kills a couple guys. this is bad because it's self destructive and "not who he is." it is not bad because batman should not be able to just beat people up when he's angry.

and then he gets a shiny new robin - who is all the things jason "wasn't": rich and smart and rational and he doesn't put who batman is into question. batman and robin are partners, and jason is a grave and a cautionary tale, and (crucially here) never right.

the joker kills thousands and it doesn't matter because they were written to be killed.

batman beats up thousands and it doesn't matter because they were written to be criminals.

and then jason comes back, and nothing has changed. there is a batman and a (shiny! rich!) robin and the joker kills thousands. (because it sells)

and jason is angry - he has been left unavenged - his death has meant nothing, just as willis' had, just as catherine's had, just as gloria's had, just as -

thousands. ten of thousands. hundreds of thousands. written to be killed.

but one of them gets to come back.

and he is angry - not only at the joker, but at bruce (the narrative) - because why is the joker still alive (when thousands-)

here is the thing - jason todd is right. not because the death penalty is good, not because criminals deserve to die, not because of everything he says -

but because of what he calls into question. why is the joker alive?

because he sells books.

and dc has written a masterful character, through no fault of their own, because jason knows what is wrong, and he knows who is at fault - batman. (the narrative)

so the argument that bruce can't kill because he's not judge jury and executioner; the argument that jason is a cop or that jason is insane or that jason is in the wrong here; they hold no weight.

batman can't kill the joker because the joker sells comic books.

and jason can't kill the joker because the joker sells comic books.

so he will beg and plead and grovel - he will betray everything that is himself, he will forsake his family and his city and kill himself - just so that bruce (the narrative) will let the joker die.

he was condemned to death by an audience, and after he came back he has spent his whole life looking us in the eyes and screaming, asking, pleading; why is the joker still alive?

why are thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands (the number doesn't matter, see, because they're just a number. not people. not real.) why are we expendable for his story? why did i have to die just for nothing to change?

and the answer is money. and the answer is the batman can never be wrong. and the answer is shitty writing. and the answer is -

nothing jason can ever change.

which is the worst of it all. he is a victim with no power, and no one else in the world can see it. he is raging and crying and screaming at his father and his writers and you - and it doesn't matter. jason doesn't matter. and he knows it.

[dearlenore]

AN ‘I FEEL’ STATEMENT. / S.REID / SUMMARY - Spencer and you interrogate a suspect

PAIRING: bau!reader x spencer reid / w/c: 1.7K / ???

a/n: guess who this is based on and win a cookie

Spencer didn’t even look up when you barged into the motel room.

“Don’t say it,” he said, flipping a page in the case file.

You froze in the doorway, still halfway through pulling off your FBI jacket. “Say what?”

“That the crime scene smelled like expired deli meat and failure.”

You made a face. “Okay, rude. That’s classic FBI fieldwork ambiance.”

He looked up and smirked. “You’re predictable.”

You tossed your jacket on the chair and flopped onto the bed beside him. “You like me because I’m predictable.”

“I love you in spite of it.”

You stuck your tongue out and stole the file from his hands. “Alright, Dr. Sass, what do we know?”

“Third victim, male, 30s, found in an alley behind a gas station that sells ‘hot dogs’ that may or may not be actual meat,” Spencer replied with a snarky tone , leaning back against the headboard. “Ligature marks, same positioning as the first two. Garcia’s running facial rec now.”

You flipped through the photos. “This guy looks like my ex.”

Spencer tilted his head. “Which one? Also…You dated a guy with a neck tattoo that says Loyalty Over Everything?”

“He had a motorcycle and a soft spot for cats. It was a phase…. And the tattoo said ‘I’m a dick’ in Chinese.”

“I sincerely hope your standards have risen.”

You gave him a smug look. “Please. I’m dating a literal genius with three PhDs. I upgraded.”

He hummed. “Four soon.”

“Whatever,” you said, nudging his arm. “You’re basically the FBI’s version of a trophy husband.”

He blinked. “Are you saying I’m your trophy husband?”

“Yeah. Except instead of a yacht I got… trauma and access to crime scenes. I guess?”

Spencer rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Romantic.”

You snickered. “That’s what they all say.”

For a while, you worked in comfortable silence, both reading over the files. The motel TV buzzed in the background, playing a rerun of some bad soap opera where the acting was worse than your last polygraph subject.

“So,” you said eventually, “you think this guy’s trying to make a point? The symmetry, the posing, the weird ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ energy of it all?”

Spencer looked thoughtful. “He’s definitely performing. But it’s subtle. Less drama, more… statement.”

“Like a TED Talk, but make it murder.”

“Exactly.”

You laughed. “I fucking hate Ted talks, people who talk for hours like that are so annoying.”

He glanced sideways at you. “Speak for yourself. I’m adorable.”

“You’re adorable in a ‘my girlfriend wants to kick my ass daily’ kind of way.”

“To be fair, you want to kick everyone’s ass. Some more sensually than others.”

“HEY! Me and Emily had a deal. Have you seen— actually don’t answer that I’d have to kill you.”

“I find you so oddly attractive.” He said, looking a bit perplexed by his own taste.

You bumped his shoulder gently. “You always say that like you’re surprised.”

Spencer gave you a soft look, the kind he saved for when the world got too heavy. “I’m not. You’re annoying and incredible.”

You grinned. “Aw. You’re such a sap when we’re surrounded by homicide photos. You should be more mindful of the dead,”

“Don’t ruin it.”

He leaned in to kiss you, brief and warm. Then he stole the case file back like the nerd he was.

“Fine,” you said, standing up and stretching. “I’ll go see if Morgan found anything useful, or if he’s just flirting with the local deputy again.”

“Tell him if she has a cowboy hat, he has my blessing.”

You grabbed your jacket, pausing at the door. “If I get shot, tell the team I died being hotter than all of them.”

Spencer looked up with a totally deadpan expression and whistled. “That goes without saying.”

You blew him a kiss and shut the door behind you, already drafting what you’d say to Morgan when you saw him.

Eventually , you’d caught the guy.

The suspect sat cuffed to the table, arms crossed, expression somewhere between cocky and confused. He’d asked for a lawyer three times. The team knew it. So did you. But now he was suddenly cooperative—and you had a feeling that had less to do with his conscience and more to do with the fact that Morgan had promised he’d be “dealing with Dr. Reid next.”

What he didn’t know?

He was getting both of you.

You stepped into the interrogation room, Spencer behind you, both of you in sync like you were about to perform a synchronized FBI ballet—but with more psychological warfare.

Outside the one-way glass, Morgan muttered, “This’ll be interesting.”

Inside the room, you dropped into the chair across from the suspect and offered a sugary smile.

“Hi, Marcus. Love the scowl. Very tough guy who definitely has never cried in a 90s Honda civic. Or was it a Toyota?”

Spencer sat beside you, calm and collected, opening the file in front of him like he was about to politely destroy a man’s entire worldview.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “So they sent the nerd and the girlfriend?”

You smiled wider. “Aw. You think I’m just the girlfriend. That’s cute.”

Spencer didn’t look up. “Statistically, assuming a woman is less competent in a professional setting increases the likelihood of public humiliation by seventy-three percent. But don’t worry, we’ll keep it between us.”

“For real? You just know that?” The suspect hissed.

“No asshole, I made it up…” Spencer mumbled, still looking at the file and reading it closely.

You slid the photo across the table—victim number two. “Let’s talk about this guy. You were seen outside his apartment the night he was killed. Coincidence, or did ya get the first time murder jitters?”

“I didn’t kill anyone.”

Spencer’s voice was deceptively light. “We didn’t say you did. You said that. Interesting.”

You leaned in, resting your chin on your hand. “Also interesting? That your fingerprints were on the door handle, and the doormat has your boot tread on it. You’re either involved or you’re just deeply nosy.”

Marcus shrugged. “Maybe I was there. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, honey,” you said, voice syrupy-sweet. “People like you never do things for no reason. You can’t even microwave instant soup without making it about your masculinity.”

Spencer coughed like he was covering a laugh.

“Also if you’re microwaving soup shame on you. Put it in a damn pot on the stove like the rest of us.” You groaned, knowing damn well you did it yesterday.

“Look,” Marcus said, sitting up straighter. “I don’t have to say anything to you.”

You looked around the room , faux confusion on your face. He literally asked for you?

Spencer tapped the table twice. “Totally fair. You’re exercising your rights. But just to clarify, you’re not denying you were there. So if we subpoena your phone, we’re not going to be shocked by GPS data, right?”

You leaned toward Spencer and whispered loudly, “Is this the part where we pretend we don’t already have that?”

He nodded seriously. “Yes, for dramatic effect.”

Marcus shifted. “You’re bluffing.”

“Buddy,” you said, leaning back. “The FBI does two things really well: crush dreams and ruin lives. And my boyfriend here’s got a PhD in both.”

Spencer added, “Technically only one, but I did minor in destroying egos.”

“Oh for real? That’s fine I have a masters in being better than most people and humbling men. I think that’ll suffice.” You replied.

Outside the glass, JJ blinked. “Are they… flirting? In the middle of an interrogation?”

Hotch muttered, “I think it’s working?”

Back inside, the suspect was starting to sweat, his earlier confidence deflating like a balloon at a sad birthday party.

You pulled out another photo—this time of Marcus’s ex, who had filed a restraining order last year. You dropped it gently on the table.

Spencer’s voice was quiet. “She’s scared of you.”

“And she was like 16.”

Marcus looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor as Spencer flipped to the next page in the file.

“Her name was Emily,” he said calmly, tapping the paper. “She filed for a restraining order at sixteen. Updated it again when she turned seventeen.”

Marcus scoffed. “She was—she acted older than she was.”

You blinked. Spencer’s jaw twitched.

“Oh wow,” you said, leaning forward. “Do you have an I feel statement about that?”

Spencer didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, like—‘I feel like I want to date children’?”

You nodded thoughtfully. “That’s the vibe I’m getting too. Really leaning into the predator energy.”

“I’m not a predator,” Marcus snapped, defensive now, angry. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Spencer arched a brow. “We literally read your search history.”

You added, “And the restraining order. And the texts. And your very creative Reddit username.”

“Subtle wasn’t your strong suit,” Spencer muttered.

You leaned back in your chair, folding your arms. “So here’s what we do know about you, Marcus: you’re insecure, violent when women say no, and very interested in people who are still in Algebra II. That about cover it?”

He opened his mouth—then shut it again.

“That’s what I thought,” you said sweetly, before glancing over at Spencer with a grin. “See? We’re so good at this.”

He smiled back. “Terrifyingly good.”

“You think this is funny?” Marcus snapped, finally rattled. “This little good cop, bad cop thing?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Good cop? You sweet summer child.”

“We’re not good cop, bad cop,” Spencer added helpfully. “We’re bad cop, worse cop.”

“I’m worse,” you chimed in. “Obviously.”

Spencer nodded. “That tracks.”

Marcus was silent, jaw tense.

You leaned in again, tone shifting. “Look. You talk to us, you get some control back. You don’t, and we throw this entire file at the prosecutor and let them tear you apart. Your call.”

Spencer added, “Statistically, cooperating suspects receive lighter sentences. Not that you seem like a man who cares about consequences, given your stunning history of rage texting and unpaid parking tickets… and dating children.”

You smiled. “Seriously, ten tickets? What are you, allergic to parallel parking?”

Marcus stared at the table, finally cracking.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” he muttered.

You and Spencer exchanged a glance.

“Okay,” you said, sitting back. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

[duvetchico]

can i request for a jealous karina?😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️

i hate them. not you.

summary jimin gets jealous over you talking to a backup dancer and starts acting like a dramatic little kid

genre fluff / crack / jealous!jimin /established relationship,

pairing yu jimin x fem!reader

masterlist.

you were talking to some backup dancer. some backup dancer. that was already crime enough in jimin’s book.

you didn’t think anything of it—just a casual convo between schedules. he asked if you liked the lunch catering and you, being a decent human being, said “yeah it was pretty good, actually.” that was all. that was it.

and yet from the other side of the room, karina—aespa’s karina, your girlfriend, your lovely, gorgeous, currently pouty of a girlfriend—was watching like she was about to kill you, him, and the rice cooker in one breath.

you came back over to where she was sitting, legs crossed, phone in hand but clearly not paying attention to whatever the screen was showing. “you good?”

“i’m great,” she replied. oh that tone. that tone.

you squint at her. “you mad?”

“no. i’m chilling. actually. never better. in fact, i think i’m the definition of inner peace right now.”

“…you’re mad.”

“i’m not mad, i’m just saying. interesting how you never talk that long to me about catering.”

you blink. “what—babe, i literally asked you if you wanted my last spring roll this morning.”

“yeah. and you ate it anyway.”

“YOU SAID YOU DIDN’T WANT IT.”

“yeah but it’s the principle, y/n!”

you stare. she stares harder.

-

later that day, she’s still being passive-aggressive. she pretends she doesn’t know where your water bottle is. she sends you memes with captions like “when ur girl flirts with another man in front of u 😍💔” and says she “found them randomly.” she tells you she’s busy when you ask her to help curl the ends of your hair—only to be found exactly 2 minutes later curled up on the couch watching tiktoks with ningning.

“bro. are you for real right now,” you ask her.

“i’m literally always real,” she says without looking up.

-

but the peak, the absolute peak, is when she tries to flirt back with the same guy out of revenge.

it’s a disaster.

he compliments her outfit. she looks him dead in the eye and says, “thanks. it has pockets.”

silence.

you choke on your water from behind the camera.

-

later, when you’re finally back at the dorm, you corner her in the kitchen while she’s pretending to make tea.

“baby.”

“hm.”

“are you mad at me for real or are you just being a bitch for the aesthetic.”

she slams the tea packet down dramatically. “you flirted with him.”

“he said the kimchi stew was mid and i said ‘nah i liked it’—how is that flirting?!”

“you laughed.”

“because he made a joke!”

“you don’t laugh that hard at my jokes!”

“BECAUSE YOUR JOKES AREN’T FUNNY.”

silence.

you both freeze.

jimin blinks. slowly.

you take that back immediately. “wait—WAIT—I MEANT LIKE—YOU’RE FUNNY—IN A WAY—IN A WEIRD LITTLE WAY—I MEANT YOUR JOKES AREN’T FUNNY BUT LIKE THAT’S WHAT MAKES THEM FUNNY—”

she crosses her arms. “so i’m a joke.”

“no—”

“you think i’m a joke.”

“NO BABY—”

“a whole clown.”

“JIMIN.”

you sprint across the kitchen and grab her face gently. “listen. you’re so sexy when you’re mad but i cannot have you looking this sad over kimchi stew man. i am so far gone for you it’s not even funny. like i let you finish my fries yesterday without complaining. my fries, jimin.”

she narrows her eyes, but a smile is threatening to break out. “you did call me unfunny.”

“ok but you literally said ‘i’m cold’ yesterday and i said ‘hi cold i’m y/n’ and you left the room.”

she groans. “because that joke SUCKED.”

“AND YET I’M STILL THE BAD GUY!”

you’re both laughing now, leaning forehead to forehead as she finally lets you pull her in for a hug.

“you know i only care cause i like you, right?” she mumbles, arms tucked around your waist.

“like me?” you tease. “wow. scandalous.”

“shut up.”

“you like me? omg—”

“y/n.”

“i should tell that backup dancer—he’ll be devastated.”

she pinches your waist but doesn’t let go. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“you’re lucky i’m still giving you the other half of my banana milk.”

“…can we split fries again tomorrow?”

“you’re mine again now?”

“i was always yours,” she says, soft this time, cheek resting on your shoulder.

you feel your stomach do five flips and a somersault.

you’re never eating kimchi stew with anyone else again.

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

THE HISTORY BOOK ON THE SHELF. ( HOTD x Reader )

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: King Aegon ii Targaryen x Targaryen! Little Sister! Reader prompt: When the small council plans to marry off once again, you turn to your older brother for help. word count: 1, 000+ words

You were the youngest and third daughter of Alicent and Viserys. A few months younger than Helaena and Aegon's little shadow in your childhood. Your older brother at first hated it, the way you cling onto him and gawk at him with an innocent awe.

It was your ninth name day, your Father had not paid much attention to it, but your Mother had ordered a celebration for it. You had trailed after him, babbling about nonsense as he tried to lose you. It was at dinner that night that everything had boiled over. Instead of receiving gifts, you had taken to giving everyone a gift.

He had not expected anything. He hadn't been the most kind to you. But was surprised when you had gifted him an embroidered cloth with Sunfyre on it. It was not the best and some threads were loose, but you proudly had told him you learned embroidery for him. Seeing those big doe eyes of yours his opinion changed. He adored you. You were the only one in the family that did not care about his worsening reputation. You just...adored your big brother, flaws and all.

It was why it killed him on your eleventh name day you were shipped off to the Reach, married off to a Lord as old as your Grandsire. He was haunted by your wails, of the way you clung onto Helaena and Aemond, the two of them wailing as Ser Cole carried you off to the carriage.

His young sister, the only one in the family who truly cared, was sold off like a piece of cattle. Not even your cold Grandsire was able to protest the marriage as politically it was a good match and good enough reasoning for the small council to approve it. 

As years ticked by, you gave birth to two children, a stillborn daughter and a healthy son. Your husband kept you away in the Reach, so no one in your family had seen you since you were twelve and given birth to your only surviving son.

He remembered the look in your eyes, so void and almost dead. Of how you tried to stay positive. Saying, "Tis' not so bad. He mostly ignores me, except when he wishes to bed me. But even then tis' not so bad, he finishes quickly."

When he became King, he swiftly ordered you to return home, regardless of your husband's wishes. No one would take his baby sister away from him. Not whilst he was still alive and had the crown placed upon his head.

Watching you bounce your son on your lap, he attempts to pay some attention to the small council, but his eyes keep straying back to you. It was odd to think that you were now a Mother and all grown up. Snapping out of his little daze, he glances back at the small council, each member arguing intently. Furrowing his brows in confusion, Ser Criston slides a piece of parchment in front of him, an uncomfortable look on his face. Raising a brow at what he had just returned to, he glances at the parchment, reading the words quickly. 

Your cunt of a husband was dead, finally croaked in his sleep. There was no reason for you to go back to the Reach. You could stay here in King’s Landing once more. Softly smiling at the good news, he goes to speak up when Lord Lannister stands up from his chair, slamming his hands down on the table. His face red from anger, his eyes wild like an untamable beast, and voice booming loud enough that it would make a dragon’s roar put to shame.

“To speak of the Princess in such a manner is dishonorable, I will see to it personally that your tongue is removed, Lord Wydle.” 

“The girl is of age, she has proven she can bear heirs, healthy heirs. To not give her hand to another Lord would be foolish.” 

“We need allies, the common folk are starving and soon the coin will run out. Surely as Master of Coin you can see reason, Lord Lannister.”

“Your grace, please, listen to reason we should⎯”

It takes a moment to realize what they had been discussing so intently. Then it clicks, they were speaking of having you remarry. 

"What?" He whispers, his voice shaky and full of disbelief.

"No, Aegon, please don't make me do this again. Please." You whisper, tears building up in your eyes.

"It would be best to have your sister marry someone⎯"

"Think of the war, your grace⎯"

Seeing the tears building up in your eyes, it reminded him of all those years ago when you were whisked away to the Reach. Struggling to speak up and dismiss their suggestions, you kneel in front of his chair, gripping onto breeches as you beg and plead for clemency to their plans. Your son starts to wail on the other side of his chair, making motions with his hands to be picked up. 

Feeling his heart break a little at the sight, he shifts his gaze from you then your wailing son then back to the small council. Everything is hectic and he doesn’t know who or what to focus his attention on. Does he console you? Does he tend to your wailing son? Does he handle the small council? Struggling to find his voice, he just stays frozen in his chair. 

“Please, please, do not make me do this again, Aegon.” You beg, “I did what was asked of me before. Please do not ask this of me again.”

“We need allies, your grace. The Princess is still desired by many men, men who will look past her past marriage and son. Think of the kingdom⎯”

“Send treaties, then!”

“Please, Aegon. I ask as your sister, not a member of the Court. Please do not make me do this again. I do not wish to marry again. Please do not send me away again.” You beg, your voice cracking. 

Watching as the tears begin to fall from your eyes, he clenches his jaw tightly, anger boiling up at the sight of you. His precious little sister, the one person in all of the Realm that he truly cared for, was crying by his small council's hand. Slamming his hands down hard on the table, the room goes deadly silent, minus the soft sniffles of you and your son. 

“There will be no marrying off my sister! If you wish for such alliances as much as you claim, do offer your daughters instead, for I will not be doing the same to my sister nor my daughter.” 

“Your grace, if you would just⎯”

“I am King, no?” He snaps back, “There will be no questioning of my decision. The matter is settled.”

----

@fragileheartbeats

@danytar

@nightvers

[butyoudidthis4what]

Congratulations on the 1k milestone!!! Could you write something with a female reader and Abbot where he’s says "Let's get you in the shower and we'll take it from there." to her? 💜

Hi friend, thank you so much for sending this in! I hope you enjoy this little drabble and thank you so much for your support!! ♥️

Tepid

Jack Abbot x F!Reader

1.5k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: None, really. General cold/flu discussion. The slightest bit of angst if you squint in the form of Jack being worried about you for thirty seconds. Fluff.

Summary: Jack arrives home from work to you sick in bed.

AN: Fluffy sick fic! That's about it, really! I hope it's okay!

Even wrapped in the cocoon of blankets you’ve brought to bed with you, you’re still shivering. And miserable. Very, very miserable. 

“Honey?” Jack’s caught off guard when your purse is still on the console table just inside the door. It makes his pulse rise just a little. He hates it, but he always goes to the worst case scenario, it’s what he’s trained for. He knows you must’ve overslept or fell back asleep on accident, but his brain runs through every possibility of you being injured or dead somewhere in the apartment you share.

He walks back to your bedroom and is glad to see you’re in bed. You look so fucking adorable wrapped in all the blankets you’ve brought in, but he knows it means you must be sick and that hurts his heart. He doesn��t want to disturb you but he does want to know what’s wrong, if you’ve taken meds, how long you’ve been like this. Why you didn’t call him the second you weren’t feeling well. 

“Jackie?” Your small and raw voice resolves his conflict for him. You don’t open your eyes yet.

“Hi sweet girl, what’s going on?” He sits on the edge of the bed next to you and puts the back of his hand to your forehead. “Definitely have yourself a pretty good fever.”

“You should go,” you whisper. He’s not sure if it’s really a whisper or just as loud as you have the strength to speak right now. “You shouldn’t be close to me, you’ll catch it.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he murmurs. “You taken anything?” 

“No, I just woke up enough to tell work, pee and get more blankets.” You finally blink open your eyes to look at him. “You need to sleep and I got the sheets all gross with my sweating before I got cold. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care, don’t apologize. You’re sick, you can’t help it. And sweat doesn’t bother me. Especially not yours.” He runs his hand up and down your side, though he’s not sure you can feel it under all the blankets. But it soothes him just as much so he continues. “Feel like a bad cold? For how long?”

“I guess, yeah. My throat is killing me. I can feel congestion coming in and some settling in my lungs. Nauseous too.” You cough a little to clear your throat, wincing at the jolt of pain it causes. “Went to sleep with a vaguely sore throat. Didn’t think much of it. Woke up at my alarm and was like this but I was so hot and sweaty the sheets were almost soaked, I swear. My whole body hurts, it feels like I’ve been hit by a semi.” 

“I’m sorry, Baby, I wish I could take it on for you or kiss it away.” Jack leans down and presses a couple of kisses to your forehead and one to the tip of your nose and both of your cheeks. He smiles brightly when the kisses pull a smile from you, even if it’s smaller than usual. It reaches your eyes. “You could’ve called. You know that, right? I would’ve left,” he murmurs. He’s not chastising or chiding you, just reminding you. 

You nod, roll a little so you’re not quite on your back but not totally on your side. “I know.” 

“Good.” Jack kisses your forehead again. “I’m going to get you some meds, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, eyes fluttering closed again. 

Jack walks into the bathroom and looks through the medicine cabinet. You sound a bit more flu-like than cold. He could ask Robby to drop by a test. Maybe an IV if he can’t get you to drink enough fluids. It’s almost certainly viral so it’s not really a matter of treatment but of controlling symptoms. He decides on some meds, makes sure there’s a pain reliever and fever reducer in there somewhere. He also grabs the thermometer. He wants to know exactly how hot you are. 

He goes and grabs you some water before heading back into the bedroom. “Alright sweet girl, can you sit up for me?” He takes his place on the edge of the bed next to you again. You whine at the request as you open your eyes. “Please?” Jack gives you a little pout. 

You let out a halfhearted sigh and let Jack help you as you force yourself up and your blankets open enough for you to get your arms and hands out. You hold your hand out for him. 

“Thank you for sitting up. Under your tongue,” he instructs softly as he puts a single pill in your hand. “Zofran. For the nausea.” You do as he asks and once it’s dissolved he hands you the other pills and you swallow them. 

“Thank you.” You give him an exhausted smile. 

“You’re welcome.” The smile Jack gives you in return is a little sad. You know he hates seeing you sick, just like you hate seeing him sick. “I’m going to get your temperature really quick, okay?” You nod and Jack takes it, gives a kind of noncommittal frown at it. “102.5. Too hot, but not get you to the ED hot. And we need to keep it that way. So I think we should get you a shower and I’ll change the sheets okay?”

You groan. “I don’t want to shower. I don’t want to leave the bed. And I’m cold, Jackie. I don’t want a cold shower.”

“I know, Baby, I know.” He grabs one of your hands and brings it to his lips, presses a few kisses to it. “It won’t be a cold shower. But it won’t be hot, either. We need to keep it tepid.” 

“I’ll be fine,” you whine a little. Showering sounds exhausting. Getting out of your blankets sounds freezing. Making Jack do work and change the sheets sounds unfair. “Just give me a minute or so and I can change these sheets for you and then go in the guest room so I don’t get you and your sheets gross.”

“Yeah, because I’m ever going to let that happen.” He gives you a knowing look with a soft smile so you know he’s not mad or upset or anything. “Showering will help. Feeling cleaner will make you feel at least a little better.”

You shrug. Your brain isn’t firing on all cylinders and you feel too tired to keep yourself upright for any extended period of time. “Well, I don’t think I can stand.”

Jack blinks at you for a few seconds to see if it registers. It doesn’t.

“Well, it’s a good job there’s a bench in there.” He gives you a little smirk and winks at you. You cringe and grimace a little for a second. How could you forget that? It’s just become so normal you don’t even notice it.  

“Don’t smirk and wink at me you cruel man.” You pout overdramatically at him. 

“Cruel?” he laughs. “How am I being cruel taking care of you?”

“You know how hot you look winking and smirking and doing the two together. Teasing your poor sick woman.” Before you can say anything else you start coughing and are quick to bring your blankets up to cover your face. It hurts. All of it. The sudden movement of your arms, your throat, your chest muscles.

“It’s okay,” Jack soothes you, slips his arm behind you to help hold you up and rub your back. Eventually you’re able to catch your breath again. “I’ll make it up to you once you’re feeling better, I promise.” 

“Yeah, if I haven’t passed my misery on to you,” you huff a little, a decision you regret immediately when the fire that is your throat flares again.

“I think I’ll be just fine. I come into contact with this type of thing almost daily.” He leans in and kisses your forehead again. He’ll stay away from your lips, in part because he knows you’ll just push him away if he even tries to keep him from getting sick. “And if I do get sick then I get sick.”

“Well if you do then I’m taking care of you and I don’t want any pushback.” You give him the sternest look you can muster which is clearly not very stern judging by the way he bites his lip to hold back a laugh at how adorable you are. 

“Okay, Baby.” Jack stands up, holds his hands out for you. “I’m going to help you to the shower and then once I’m done changing the sheets I’ll help you shower and get clean, okay?” 

You don’t move. “I’ll just make the next set gross. There’s no point.”

“You might not. Not if we can get your temperature under control here a little.” Jack nods in encouragement. “And it’ll be nice to feel clean after sweating that much.”

“But what if I do just get them all sweaty again? It’s not fair to you.” You start to worry your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Then I’ll change them again.” He shakes his head as you go to argue further. “Hey, let’s get you in the shower and we’ll take it from there, okay?” 

I hope it was alright and you enjoyed! Thank you for reading and your support and your interactions mean the world to me! ♥️

Want more Jack? Check out my masterlist here.

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[wtfaniii]

Saw this somewhere (can't remember where) and I'm DESPERATE to see your take on this. So Inho watches over the games bla bla bla but then suddenly he sees a familiar face of a girl he hooked up with once and so he convinces himself he's joining just for Gi-hun but in reality he wants to meet her again because he was lole dead set on making her wife number two after that night. Then theres this one time where they're eating together and she gives Jun-hee her food and denying she's hungry but then Young-il gives her his. Just ackkkkk praying you'll notice this one😓😓

Sorry for the delay but here is your order 😸

Old Love

Summary: You and In-ho had a fleeting but intense teenage romance, due to fate you separated and once again he had you in front of him making him awaken feelings buried deep in his heart.

Warning: some drama and just some Disney-style cheesiness LOL

Hwang In-ho (Young-il) x fem reader

—I promise to love you more than yesterday and less than tomorrow.

—You're too cheesy, ¿you know? —You said amused but blushing as In-ho scattered kisses all over your face.

—I know, and that's how you love me —He responded by taking your face to bring you closer to his lips and kiss you intensely.

He kissed you so hard that he pushed you back and the two of fell on backs onto the grass, your school uniforms were covered in dirt and the judging glances of some adults were present but you didn't care, when you were together the rest around you didn't exist.

—I have to go home or dad will kill me —You said with a laugh as you stood up and shook your skirt.

Your father wasn't the best man in the world, he was an alcoholic and usually spent all his money on that but your innocent and trusting heart still appreciated him, that was something that In-ho hated and loved at the same time, your heart was always more influenced than your brain so you refused to see the evil in some people.

So he spoke without thinking.

—You should stay with me tonight, mom will make samgyeopsal for dinner.

He didn't want you to go back home, at this time of the evening your father was already very drunk and you would be burdened with some chores, he hoped that tonight would be different for you.

You smiled and even though you knew it wouldn't be the best decision, you agreed to go with him to his house.

[...]

His eyes stopped on the screen and the glass of liquor stayed centimeters from his lips when he saw your face among those players.

It was impossible.

It had been thirty-seven years since he last saw you and yet there you were, with your hair disheveled, an anguished look and blood splattered on your face but to him you were still as beautiful as before.

He got up from his couch and left his room to go to the control center, he didn't want you to get shot for moving, he didn't want you to die now that he had seen your face again after so many years.

But maybe seeing you through a screen trying to survive would be torture, and him chances of protecting you would be limited.

Then he thought...

He also had to keep an eye on Gi-hun, he had to analyze every movement and thought of his enemy and the best way to do it was to infiltrate those games, to be one more among those people.

If he participated, he could protect you better and keep an eye on Gi-hun, two birds with one stone, but there was a slight problem, you knew him, that would put his identity at risk with the others, that would be a crime.

But it would also be a crime to let you die in there.

Of course, neglecting Gi-hun would also be very bad.

After a few seconds of thinking about this plan he finally made a decision, left his second in command, put on the green uniform with the number 001 and entered that arena when everyone was returning to the huge room.

He first observed you from a short distance, seeing you team up with Gi-hun and Player 390, you were sociable, just as he remembered, you were always very kind to others that's why you had friends everywhere.

But if you had as many friends as he thought, ¿how did you end up here?

After the vote In-ho approached you, when you saw him you didn't recognize right away, something that made it easier for him for lie about his name but after a few minutes sitting next to you while Jung-bae and Dae-ho talked about the navy excitedly he heard a soft squeal from you, seeing you he saw your surprised expression.

It took you a while to recognize him, he had changed a little after so many years, he was now more handsome but his eyes were the same, his gaze and attention to what surrounded him was still there.

—In-ho... —You murmured, still unable to believe it.

Luckily for him, he was the only one who heard your words, he made a sign to you to move away from the group so he could talk to you.

When him hand touched yours it was like feeling an electric current run through your body, your skin prickled and your breath caught in the throat.

[...]

—¿Are you sure? If you want me to stop, just tell me.

You smiled and kissed him cheek, it was nighttime, In-ho had sneaked into your bedroom through your window and now the two of were under the sheets trying to take a big step in the relationship.

—I'm sure, I want to do it... —You murmured, leaving another short kiss on him lips.

He was on top of you wearing only underwear and just as nervous as you, for both of it was the first time and you had no idea what were going to do but he would try to make it special and unforgettable, he wanted to make you feel loved and adored and that's what he was going to do.

Everything was going great in the relationship, went to school together, came home together, sometimes you went with him to his house to spend time with his family and at night he came into your room to love you body and soul.

[...]

—¿Why did you lie about your name? —You asked once if the two of were separated from the others

—It's hard to explain ¿but what are you doing here? I thought you lived in Canada.

He was full of questions and memories that overwhelmed him, as well as those butterflies in his stomach that he felt when was with you just like before.

You twisted lips as remembered that, you moved to Canada on a scholarship but due to your breakup with In-ho you were emotionally vulnerable, you got involved with people who didn't contribute to your life and they led you to the places are you now.

In-ho noticed your silence and knew that things hadn't worked out well for you since the last time you saw each other.

He just hugged you and you immediately responded. It was like a dream to be in him arms again, to smell him scent and feel him warmth.

—I didn't think I'd see you again... —You told him sincerely, your heart still belonged to him since you were sixteen.

—I'm not going to let you go this time...

It was a promise, he wasn't willing to let you go again like years ago, this time he would make sure to stay with you no matter the obstacles.

During his stay there he stayed close at all times, watching as you tried to be nice to the other players and managed to ally yourself with other sides, including one that included a pregnant woman named Jun-hee.

You were quite compassionate and kind despite the circumstances, you were still the same or so you seemed but he knew you well enough to lean towards the second option.

He didn't know what you had been through in that foreign country, In-ho just wanted to heal your wounds, take care of you and provide for you as he once promised in his teenage years.

—Take my food —You said to Jun-hee taking her hand to make her hold the small can —You need it more than I do.

Embarrassed and grateful Jun-hee took the food and smiled at you, when you returned with the rest In-ho handed you his food.

—Oh no I couldn't —You said, denying flatly, you didn't want to leave him without eating.

—Please eat it or your mood won't be as nice if you have an empty stomach.

He really knew you like the back of his hand.

In-ho always put your needs above his own, he was a gentleman to you and that would never change.

Even the last time you saw him, when you said goodbye at the airport, he was more concerned about your feelings than his own pain, he showered you with nice words and promises that were never fulfilled.

He was capable of anything for you but in those years of youth he had limited possibilities.

Not currently, that's why he didn't hesitate for a second to kill the player who was with you in the room during the Mingle game, the guards wouldn't kill you, nor him but he wasn't ready to give you explanations yet, he didn't want that side of him to come out with you yet.

However, your reaction to seeing him kill was something that felt like a pressure on his chest.

[...]

It was a weekend afternoon, you and In-ho were walking around a fair eating cotton candy and popcorn while looking for a mechanical game to test.

The roller coaster and carousel were fun but now you were looking for something more interesting.

—¿What would you prefer? Let the aliens take me ¿or offer someone else in my place?

—The aliens wouldn't take you, there's nothing in your brain that they find interesting — You joked amused.

He put a hand to his chest, dramatically indignant.

—You're cruel, but maybe you're right —He said with a soft smile as he held your hand again and kissed your cheek—But I would prevent the aliens from taking you.

—¿And who would you offer in my place? —You asked curiously.

—Oh I don't know... maybe-...

—My dad.

—¡Yes! ¡Your dad! —In-ho laughed at his own response, but felt you pushing him through the crowd to the opposite side of where they were walking.

He was about to ask what going on when he saw you arguing with your father, the man looked at him angrily as he tried to push you away to get to him.

You knew that your father wouldn't allow you to have a boyfriend, he used to call you "slut" just for seeing you talking to a boy and now that he had seen you so affectionate and happy with In-ho he was more than furious.

In-ho wasn't going to run away even if you asked him to, he wasn't afraid of getting hit if that meant defending your honor and dignity, so when you saw him get up and stand between you and your father, you felt like your heart had stopped in your chest.

You did everything to separate them, In-ho was at a disadvantage compared to your father, the man was big and rough, definitely your dear boyfriend took the brunt of his fury.

After minutes that seemed like hours, the police arrived at the scene and arrested your father and In-ho was taken to the hospital with a black eye, a broken leg and a split lip.

—I'm so sorry...

In-ho's heart hurt more than his physical wounds, seeing you cry and worried about him was unbearable and he didn't want you to go through that kind of violence again.

—Run away with me —He said seriously while sitting on the edge of the bed, the two of them waiting for him mother to arrive —I have worked and I have enough money to get away from here on the next train.

You looked at him in silence, you knew he wasn't joking but you couldn't leave, you had nothing to lose but he did, he had a family that loved him, a younger brother on the way and friends at school, you weren't going to drag him with you into your world full of worries and problems.

—I love you In-ho... —You murmured, leaving a kiss on the corner of him lips —But...

—But you don't want to leave... —he deduced when didn't get a concise answer.

Loving sometimes means letting go, he made you happy but you weren't the best for him, or at least that's what you thought.

Life had been so bad to you since you were little that and believed that happiness was not for you, you were not worthy of what In-ho gave you.

After that day you started to drift apart, In-ho wouldn't drop you off at your house after school and you didn't go to him house to eat anymore, the nights became lonely and little by little your relationship was ending.

Until two weeks later they offered you a scholarship that you accepted without hesitation only to walk away permanently.

In-ho didn't know until the day of your departure only because his mother told him, he practically ran to the airport and managed to say goodbye to you.

There were no words, just silent glances and a short hug before you got on the plane.

He let you go but he didn't stop loving you

[...]

—You killed that man —You said, still unable to fully process how this man you loved so much could stain his blood so easily.

Yes, this was a win or die competition but you didn't think In-ho was capable of going to such lengths to survive, plus you had the feeling he was hiding something from you, he didn't want to tell his real name and he was lying about some things.

—Yes ¿and? It was him or us —He replied, stopping his walk back to the room with the other players to turn to look at you.

He didn't want to have to give you explanations now, just wanted you to stay with him without asking the reason why he did things.

In-ho wanted you to trust him blindly again, just as he trusted you completely.

He extended a hand towards you without taking his eyes off yours.

—Stay with me this time.

You only hesitated for a few seconds.

—¿Do you remember what I promised you when I asked you to be my girlfriend? —You nodded silently, you remembered everything perfectly, ¿how could you forget? Any man who was with you after In-ho didn't fill that void in your heart.

—I still love you, I have since saw you and that's not going to change, stay with me this time.

The intense love they had was still there, it was a small flame that only needed firewood to regain the strength it had.

You took him hand and he smiled sincerely with love, as long as you were together the rest of the world was no problem.

—This time I'm not going anywhere without you —You said quietly just so he could hear but with certainty.

"I love you more than yesterday and less than tomorrow" For him these words were real when were about you.