#beyond I guess wanting to see who might be interested?

[igorluvr]

'MAY YOU NEVER FORGET ME

PAIRING: choi su-bong (thanos) x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: depression had always been a huge issue for you, covering it up with empty joy. so what would happen if you found someone just like you, who was willing to change for your sake?

WARNINGS: heavy angst, mature themes, mental health issues, implied self harm, depression, panic attacks, insecurities, guns, negative self talk, suicidal thoughts/actions!!!!!!, main character death

AUTHORS NOTE: spoiled y’all with tm fluff, gotta remind u shit ain’t sweet round here.

words: [25k]

YOU were never truly "okay". Even though you always claimed to be, faking a smile when on the inside your whole world felt like it was collapsing. The last thing you wanted was for people to worry about you. Because if they did, they might discover the tangled mess of emotions you kept hidden away. Instead, you committed to putting on a face of bravery, drowning your pain in corny jokes and soulless smiles. While your heart still ached with that same emptiness you'd been feeling for years on end, doing this was easier than trying to explain the darkness that lurked beneath your surface.

You dreaded that one day, your facade would crack and everything would come tumbling down, revealing the emotions you tried so hard to protect everyone from. So, you continued to mask your emotions and if you let your act slip, you’d brush it off and tell them you were just tired. Every lie felt like it was putting more weight on your shoulders, but it was weight you were used to carrying.

Deep down you longed for someone to notice that you weren’t okay, to see beyond the smile and recognize the pain. But you knew that you made it almost impossible for someone to notice that anything was wrong.

Or so you thought, until you stumbled across the explosive personality of a man by the name of Thanos. Honestly, you were jealous of how well he carried himself. He seemed to be one of the only people here that was carefree, even if he is pumped with drugs. Looking at him in awe, you wondered how he did it, staying okay in a place like this.

Even though your mind was hyper focused on the eccentric man, you were completely unaware of how you stood out to him almost immediately. It wasn’t because you were annoying and obnoxious like everyone else here, it was because you two were the same.

You had some major personality differences, as you were more on the quiet and bubbly side. But Thanos used to be just like you. So the smile fading when all eyes were off of you, random mood swings, nonstop jokes, constantly tugging your sleeves down the second they rolled up, tears swelling in your eyes when nobody was around. He noticed.

He never got better, though. Just found ways of dealing with it. Using drugs and music as outlets of his depression. Thanos could tell you didn’t have anything like that, just letting all the pain seep in and build up inside of you. He wanted to help you before it got too much, how it almost did for him.

As he approached you, a confused look formed on your face. You’d never said anything to him or saw him look your way, so why was he suddenly trying to talk to you?

“What’s got you in here, babydoll?” he pondered “you look too sweet to be in any debt.”

At first, the sudden interest in your background confused you. You stared blankly for a couple seconds before remembering that you knew nobody else here, so what was the harm in opening up to this complete stranger?

“Student loan debt. Guess that’s what I get for going to an ivy league with barely any money” You laugh. Even though this was sort of a sensitive topic for you, having got into your dream school still having things going wrong, you tried to laugh about it.

Thanos could tell though. He saw the way your smile faltered a bit, how you lost the shine in your eyes. “I like you, stay close to me okay?” He said, eyes focused on you with nothing but pure intentions.

Why did he choose you of all people? There wasn’t anything interesting about your appearance, or how you acted. In that moment, as Thanos leaned back against the wall and settled in beside you, something shifted inside of you.

It was like the burden that weighed you down for so long was briefly lifted to reveal a sliver of vulnerability you kept buried for years. Maybe this strange man, with his wild presence, could see something you had long hid within yourself; a yearning for connection, a wish for someone to see and understand your struggles.

Thanos had broken through the toughness of your spirit, offering warmth and an unexpected sense of safety. Yet, the fear of being vulnerable with anyone haunted over you like a storm cloud, ready to unleash the emotions and secrets you had kept buried.

“Okay then,” Thanos said, breaking the heavy silence, “What’s the full story? It can’t just be student loans and bad choices. You look like you're carrying a world on those shoulders. But hey, I’m no therapist, just an expert in not fitting in.” His laughter was contagious and the sincerity of his tone made you wonder about the details of his own struggles.

Still, despite how much you wanted to reach out, start crying and finally release the burden you'd been carrying so long, you clung to the familiar comfort of masking how you felt, shooting him a quick smile that fell just short of genuine. It was easier to laugh it off than to reveal the chaos waiting inside.

But Thanos wasn’t easily fooled. He leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and sympathy. “You know, I used to think if i pushed everything down and ignored it, nobody else would notice my problems, too.” he said with a hint of vulnerability, “So I can see right through your little act sweetheart.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at the nickname but found the corner of your mouth lifting in a slight smile. Maybe it was the way his sincerity cut through your heart, or how his presence somehow felt comforting, like a thick warm blanket swallowing your body on a chilly day.

Thanos noticed your slight grin and raised an eyebrow, his own growing wider. “See? That’s the smile I like to see, we’re making progress here.” He nudged your shoulder lightly with his large ringed hand. “Come on I won’t bite, open up a little bit. Tell me about yourself like... what do like doing in your free time?”

You chuckled softly, caught off guard by his eagerness. “Um… I guess I like listening to music?” Music was one of the ways you ignored everything. As soon as you put your headphones in, it seemed like the world turned to a blur and your thoughts finally silence.

Thanos nodded, leaning back slightly, as if giving you the space to breathe yet still holding you in his gaze. “Music, huh? I get you. There’s something powerful about it. Like… a way we can hear what our voices can’t always express” he observed, seeming more immersed.

You could feel the walls you had carefully built around your emotions start to break, the cracks appearing as you considered sharing more. “Yeah, it’s like an escape” you admitted, voice softening “When everything else gets too loud, it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

He smiled gently, and you could tell he understood the depth of your words. “I get that,” he spoke gently, “It feels good to be able to… find the rhythm in chaos.” His eyes glazed over for a split second, lost in thought, before focusing back on you. “I used to write. Rhymes and lyrics, they were a way to process everything. Like my own therapy session, but with a beat.”

The way he spoke so passionately about making rhymes piqued your curiosity. You didn't take him as the creative type, definitely not poems or lyrics, but there was something about the way he mentioned it that made you want to know more. “You wrote music?” you asked, your tone neutral, but your interest piqued.

Thanos chuckled, low, and rumbling. “Still do, from time to time. Used to be big doing it but that got cut off pretty fast. Tried to let it go but… it's a part of me.” He leaned forward, his eyes taking on an intense glare. “There's something about putting words to a beat that just clicks. Like everything finally makes sense, y'know?”

You found yourself drawn into his passion, the way he spoke about music, it was infectious. And before you knew it, you were smiling again. Feeling a sense of connection with this stranger that you couldn't quite put your finger on.

You leaned in, curiosity taking control of you. “What do you mean it got cut off?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. There was something about how his voice sounded when he said it, as if it were hit with an ache of longing and nostalgia, that made you want to know more.

Thanos’ gaze drifted off, his eyes clouding over like he was remembering something stowed deep into his mind. “I was in a competition, a rap contest” he began, his voice low and cautious. “I made it to the finale, but I fucked up. Forgot my lyrics on live TV.” He chuckled, a dry, humorless sound that sent a wave of sympathy through you. “It was a pretty public embarrassment. After that, I just… lost my drive, I guess. Didn’t feel like I could face the music scene again.”

You tilt your head, your eyes brimming with compassion as imagine how bad Thanos must've felt. “I get why you’d feel that way,” you said gently, trying to offer some advice, “But if music clearly still means a lot to you, why did you stop doing it completely?” you asked with your eyes locked on his, searching for answers in his gaze.

Thanos’ gaze snapped back to yours, like a fire igniting within them. “It’s hard to explain,” he said with a hint of roughness in his voice, “When you're up on that stage, with all those people watching you, and you mess up… it feels like you’re failing in front of the whole world. And for me, it wasn’t just about the music. It was about the persona, the image. When I messed up, it felt like I was losing myself too.” He paused, taking a breath to calm his nerves down. “But even after all this time, I still find myself writing. Like my brain's hardwired to respond to music.”

You felt a connection deepening between you, an understanding that passed the surface-level. “So, do you think you’ll ever perform again?”

Thanos hesitated, his eyes washing over with uncertainty. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice defeated. “Part of me misses it. The thrill of the stage, the energy of the crowd, it was amazing. But I'm also just scared. That failure keeps haunting over me, I don't wanna feel like that again.”

His honesty struck a chord within you. You could see the struggle all on his face, and it made you wish you could help him find that spark again. “It sounds like you're still searching for closure. Maybe you need to reconnect with it,” you suggested tentatively, hoping to encourage him. “Music doesn’t have to be about the fame or the competition. It can just be… for you.”

His eyes twinkled with hope, looking up at you with admiration. "Thank you, seriously," he spoke up, "Never had anyone look out for me like that." Suddenly he grabbed your hand and pulled you closer, his grip warm and reassuring.

From that moment on, you knew you'd made a friend for life. You went everywhere together, always grouping up during games and making sure each other were safe. The two of you were truly inseparable. That was, until the morning of the final game.

There were only 40 contestants left. Having lost many people close to you, shivers ran down your spine as you thought what the last mission would be. Almost every night, you had panic attacks and could barely sleep. After the 2nd game, you and Thanos moved your beds by each other in hopes of it helping the both of you calm down. Tonight, was one of the worst nights for you.

You laid in the dim scenery of the sleeping quarters, blue and red lights bouncing off of the bed frames. Your heart pounded like a drum with each beat echoing your unspoken fears. The weight of uncertainty felt as if it were crushing you, a terrible foreshadowing of the next game looming over your head.

Shadows deepened around you, contorting into horrifying shapes that mirrored the anxieties pounding at your mind. Your breaths came in quick gasps, each one capturing less air than the last. The suffocating fear of what was to come spun out of control.

You tried all the methods that helped in the past, but you couldn't focus on anything. Sweat drenched your body as the oxygen in the room seemed as it were running away from you. In your mind, all you could see were those bodies. All the blood and screams. Only one thought could form in your mind 'what if that were me?'

Beside you, Thanos stirred around, feeling the tension radiating from your body. He turned to face you, eyes flickering open, immediately aware that something was wrong. “Hey,” he murmured softly yet urgently, “what’s going on?”

You had felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you whispered, “I can’t… I can’t do this. I’m so scared, Thanos. What if something happens? What if I—what if you.. die?” The words stuttered out in a rush, drenched with panic, the thought of losing him cutting through your heart like a knife.

Thanos’ expression shifted from sleepy to one of deep concern as he moved closer, his presence a calming force against the storm inside you. He gently took your hands inside his, relaxed and cautiously, and held them tightly. “Listen to me,” he said, voice low and soothing, “You’re not alone in this. I promise I’m going to do everything I can to keep us safe, both of us.”

Your breath hitched, but his gaze stayed on yours. “Remember what we talked about? We’ve been through so much together already. We can get through this too. No game is going to take me from you, not now, not ever.”

His words had felt like a lifeline, restoring you back to the world as you clung to them. You searched his eyes, your heart aching at the truth of what was unspoken between you. “But w-what if I lose you?” you choked out, vulnerable and exposed.

“I’ll fight like hell to make sure that doesn’t happen” he replied, “We’re in this together. I’m not just fighting for myself, I’m fighting for you, for us.” He leaned in closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. “I won’t let anything break us apart. I… I love you.”

His words floated in the air, a fragile yet meaningful phrase that cut through the thick tension of the moment. Your heart stuttered in your chest, caught off guard by the intensity and sincerity in Thanos’ voice.

You swore off of telling anybody that for a long time. But still, you couldn't help but feel the warmth radiating between you, a spark of connection glowing in the darkness. A wave of emotions crashed over you, joy and confusion mixing in a twister of emotions.

For a split second, all of your worries vanished. What laid ahead, the uncertainty of the games, the horrifying fear of loss. All of it faded away with just his 3 words. You swallowed hard, the weight of your anxiety lifting just enough to let something else in; love.

“Thanos…” you said softly, voice trembling as you searched his gaze. The reality of what he said sank in, wrapping around your heart like a warm embrace. You took a breath, steadying your breath, and met his unwavering expression with your own. “I love you too,” you whispered, the words flowing from your heart as if they had always been there, waiting for the right moment to break free.

As soon as you had said it, a wave of relief washed over you. You could see the way his eyes lit up, reflecting authenticity and openness. In that moment, as he pulled you closer, the world outside felt a little less overwhelming. “Us against the world” he muttered into your neck, sealing the bond between you two.

In the safety of his embrace, you lifted your face, letting your forehead rest against his as the tension began to disperse. “No matter what happens, I'm gonna fight for us” you said, your voice steadier now, strengthened by the love that filled the space between you.

His smile widened, showing the strength of his determination in his eyes. “You’re my everything. I won’t let these stupid games take that away from us” he reassured, brushing his thumb along your cheek.

As you sat there, taking in his presence, you felt like it was the perfect time to ask him something that had been on your mind the last week or so. "Thanos," you spoke up, causing his eyes to meet yours again, "what made you come up to me that day?"

His gaze softened a bit, looking down as to avoid eye contact with you. "Well, to be honest, I'm just like you." He admitted. Your eyebrows furrowed, confused as to what he was referring to.

"Y'know, I noticed it as soon as I saw you. I could tell you weren't okay up there, and this place isn't somewhere to be in that state" Oh. You thought you did a good job at hiding it, were you really letting your mask slip that much?

As soon as your mind started racing, Thanos placed his hands on your shoulders. "Hey, its okay. You didn't make it obvious or nothin'. I just didn't want you to get in a bad headspace and not give it your all. I could tell you're strong." He said, eyes flicking down to your wrists.

Quickly, you jerk your arms back. Shit, did they show? You looked back up at Thanos with tears in your eyes, terrified of what he'd think of you now that he saw who you really are. Weak and pathetic

"No no, Its okay. They're beautiful. Shows that you never give up, no matter what." Thanos comforted, face turning pale near the last part. "I'm jealous."

The tears started falling as you took in his words of validation. After years of trying to hide the scars, you finally felt like they were a declaration of your strength rather than a source of shame.

"I've never told anyone this, but now seems like the right time, yea?" He started, causing you to put your full attention on him "You saw my video, right? Of me playing ddakji?"

You chuckled for a bit, "Yea, it was pretty hard to miss"

"Right," he laughed, with a hint of pain. "Before that recruiter found me, I was on a bridge. I felt like I was at the end of my story, ready to let go. Nothing mattered anymore. I lost everything that made me happy. My job, my money, my sense of purpose. I thought I had tried everything else, and there was no other way out."

He took a deep breath, his gaze drifting out toward the blank room. “But then he came out of nowhere, with that stupid fancy suit. He asked if i wanted to play ddakji. Said if I won, he'd give me 100,000 won. It wasn't a lot but its better than nothing right?"

His eyes met yours, a flicker of resistance igniting within them. “I thought, what’s the worst that could happen? If I lost, I’d still be back where I started. But if I won… maybe there was hope after all.”

He ran a hand through his wild purple hair, a mix of relief and regret washing over him. “I never thought calling that number would lead me here, to this moment. It’s crazy how a simple choice can change everything. Y'know, it’s in our darkest moments that we find the light. I’m still scared, but I’m fighting now. For myself, and for those who can’t fight anymore.”

"But I saw you still had that fight in you, you just needed a push. And I wanted to be that for you" Thanos sighed.

Even more tears ran down your face but this time, the same went for him. You never thought that someone would actually take this much effort, especially in a situation like this, to look out for you. You didn't think you mattered that much to anyone.

The two of you laid down in your now shared bed, holding each other tight as to not lose one another, and slowly drifted into sleep.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

As the lights slammed on and intercom went off, you felt a familiar void in your stomach. As if on cue, Thanos rubbed your hand gently, bringing you immediate comfort. "Im right here, baby. N' Im not goin anywhere." A slight warmth rushed to your face as his words replayed in your head, maybe everything was gonna be okay after all.

You waited for what seemed like hours for them to bring food out, but it never came. It seemed as if you were getting less and less food as time went on. Was this on purpose to make everyone weaker? You didn't know, but it was definitely taking a toll on you.

Both of you stayed within an arms length of eachother the whole time. Even until they announced everyone to line up to enter the final game.

Thanos walked directly infront of you, holding your hand as you made your way through the stairs splattered with an arrangement of colors. The first time you walked though them, it seemed so colorful and full of life. Now, it just seemed dull.

As you walked into the near pitch-black room with red led lights tracing the walls, you felt your heart drop. Something wasn't right. Your stomach turned in a terrifying way as you held onto Thanos, scared of what's to come.

He's learned your behavior and what your actions mean, causing him to pull you closer. Thanos was aware of how easy you get anxious, and how bad it can get. And he felt as if was his job to protect you from all your worries.

Unbeknownst to you, though, Thanos felt the exact same way. He didn't know exactly what it was, but something about this particular game felt uneasy. In an attempt to stay strong for you, he cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Don't let go of me okay? Its dark as shit in here I can barely see" He laughed, trying his best to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Your palms got sweatier by the second as the both of you walked deeper into the room, occasionally bumping into people. Eventually, you heard the instructions come on the speaker.

"Please, split into 4 equal groups based off of your previous votes. Two "X" groups of 10, Two "O" groups of 10. You have 5 minutes" Immediately after, the red lights started blaring, just how they did during the mingle game. Your heart stopped as you heard that. Thanos hadn't gotten a chance to change his vote, were the two of you going to be separated during the final game?

“No!” you cried out, the word bursting from your lips like a desperate plea, hoping something, anything will change. “Thanos, we can't—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his eyes wide with fear, reflecting the same mix of urgency and determination as your own. “We got to find our groups before it’s too late.”

Why? Why was this happening now? Your mind raced as panic set in. The room felt stifling, the air thick with dread and uncertainty. You could feel the tension radiating off the players around you, their whispers and shuffling feet blending into a chaotic symphony of anxiety.

The chilling announcement echoed in your ears “4 minutes remain”

You could feel the pull of the frenzied crowd, the inevitable separation haunting you like a distant nightmare. You pushed through the horde, each step heavier than the last, your heart racing as you caught a glimpse of something, a cluster of players forming with that familiar 'X' patch on their chests.

“Thanos, look!” you shouted, your eyes locking onto the group that was gathered before you. “That’s my group!”

“Go, I’ll find mines.” Thanos urged, his grip on your hand loosening even though his eyes fought against losing you. “Just remember what we talked about. Keep pushing even if it seems impossible. Ill be waiting for you when we get out.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you began to pull away from him. “I can’t believe this is happening...” you whispered to yourself as the despair finally settled in.

With a final hug, his warmth wrapping around you like a comforting blanket, your hands slipped apart. The distance between you suddenly felt colossal, the amount of space between the both of you increasing with each passing player. Thanos was officially lost to the shadows.

Your heart pounded alarmingly in your chest as you joined the half of your “X” group, forcing yourself to focus despite the panic. You scanned the players, assessing the strength of the new faces around you. Were they reliable? Would they betray you?

A few familiar players joined the formation alongside you, Dae-ho and Jun-hee murmuring quiet reassurances to one another. “We can do this,” The taller man said, eyes darting around the group as the tension thickened.

But as more players continued to merge into smaller clusters, the reality set in, you had to push forward alone, even if your lover felt impossibly distant.

Just as you were being further swept into a crowd of new allies, the loudspeaker croaked out another instruction yet again. “Participants, please stick closely with your chosen group. As you do this, make your way towards the door ahead.”

You took a deep breath, shaky with uncertainty. The door ahead shone like a gateway to the unknown. The murmurs of strategizing and encouragement filled the air, a strange mix of comfort and anxiety filled your body as you tried to tune out everything around you.

Dae-ho nudged you gently, his voice steadying. “Stay focused. We’ll work together and beat this, okay?”

You nodded, trying to quell the rising tide of anxiety overwhelming you. “Yeah” You muttered, hearing your heartbeat in your ears, a persistent reminder of the stakes. As each group stepped closer to the door, the pink soldier with a bold circle on it's mask stopped everyone.

"Which group will be going first?" The soldier spoke, in a slightly distorted voice.

After a couple seconds of quiet mutters between every team, the leader of the other X group, the man from the previous games, spoke up.

"We'll go. This might be similar to a game I've done" He announced. Your group swiftly moved out of the way to allow his team to go. One by one, they walked through the door. As soon as the final member made their way through, the mechanical door forced shut, cutting off any view of the inside.

Waiting felt like an eternity. The tension in the air grew thicker as each team member shifted nervously. You could sense the anxiety growing in them. Whispers arose among your group, forming predictions on what may be beyond that door, but none could compare to the despair of reality.

About 10 minutes after the first group entered, they began calling for the next one. As your team was next in line, the guard signaled you all to go inside the door. Your heart dropped as you gave Thanos a final look back, tears in your eyes as you dread what's to come.

The scene infront of you was immersive. The room was bright, like a carnival. There were big glowing lights everywhere. As you stepped through the door, a chilling rush of air slapped against your face, carrying with it an overwhelming sense of dread. Before you knew it, the line of people suddenly stopped, causing you to faceplant into the person before you.

"Wait!" Someone yelled, "We're on a platform.."

As you peaked around the group, you saw how high up you were. There were horizontal poles coming from the ceiling, resembling something that you knew all too well.

"Welcome players. Allow me to introduce you to the sixth and final game: Monkey Bars. The rules are simple. Every member of your team must traverse a series of monkey bars before the timer hits zero. But beware, missing a bar and falling will result in immediate elimination."

As murmurs of fear rippled through the group, you took a deep breath to steady yourself. Even though Thanos had been drawn away, you couldn’t afford to lose. You needed to use all of your strength to complete this game while holding onto hope that you would see him again.

But deep in your gut, you feared that fate had other plans.

You glanced down, your heart racing as you tried to make sense of the distance to the ground. It felt like a dizzying drop, one wrong move could mean the end of everything you fought so hard for. Your teammates exchanged worried glances, each of them struggling with their own fears and doubts.

You could hear the faint beeping in the background, the sound growing louder with each passing second. The adrenaline rushed through your veins as you clenched your fists, surveying the area once more so you fully understand what you're getting yourself into.

As the countdown hit zero, the timer's blaring sound echoed through the venue like a gunshot, triggering a surge of chaos. One by one, players launched themselves onto the first bar, swinging forward with determination. They attempted to coordinate their movements, using a tactic similar to the one in the 6-legged race.

With the rhythm of jumping every two counts guiding them, you carefully watched as some moved gracefully while others struggled and faltered, their cries of panic bouncing off the walls. The sight of watching your peers slowly fall to their death put a sick feeling in your stomach, the mushy 'splat!' as they hit the floor making you want to throw up.

Before you knew it, it was your turn. The immense pit of fear in your stomach twisted tighter as you leapt forward, grasping the first bar with both hands. The initial swing was thrilling yet terrifying, anxiety clawing at you with the fear of falling. You forced yourself to stay focused. Inch by inch, you moved, feeling the strain in your muscles as you reached for the next bar.

“Come on, keep going!” someone shouted from behind you, their encouragement pushing you forward. Each bar you grabbed felt like a small victory, but you knew you still had much more to go, taking tiny glimpses at the amount of bars left. You could hear gasps from teammates behind you after slipping off a bar, causing them to fall and add to the pile of gruesome bodies gathering below you.

Seeing all those bodies at the bottom caused your overthinking to kick in at the absolute wrong time. What if you fell? What if you died? Desperation clawed at you as you reached the halfway point. The metal bars were slick with sweat and your palms felt numb, grip faltering. But the thought of Thanos pushed you onward, a reminder of everything you had to lose—and everything you were fighting for.

From then on, with every swing, hope swelled within you. This could be the moment that changed everything. That fleeting memory of Thanos pushed you further than you ever thought. You remembered his words "Keep pushing even if it seems impossible." and it fueled you like never before. Your heart raced, a mix of determination and dread flooding through you.

Taking a deep breath, you used every ounce of determination in you and pushed forward once more. With one final pull, you swung to the last bar, the end platform finally coming into view.

As you landed safely, a rush of euphoria washed over you. You’d made it! The cheers from your team resonated around you, but there was no time for celebration just yet. You turned back to the others, knowing that many were still grappling with their own struggles.

“Keep going!” you shouted, your voice hoarse but filled with fervor. “You can do this!”

With your encouragement, you watched as your teammates found the strength to push themselves forward, unified in the fight for survival in this relentless game. Hope flickered within you, a feeling you wished would carry all of you to victory.

As your team finished the challenge, you felt your nerves calm down. There were some that didn't make it, but the majority did and you were happy for that. The timer still had a minute and 20 seconds left, everyone spent their time talking and calming down. One thing that confused you, though, was that the other half of the 'X' group was still there from when they finished. If they completed the game, shouldn't they be able to go back to their own room?

Just as the thought started to worry you, the buzzer rang through the room, signaling that your remaining time was now up. You expected to be taken to the sleeping quarters, but there were no guards, not even a door on the side you stood on.

The first half of the 'O' group walked through the entrance, and your heart exploded as you saw a face you grew to love. It was Thanos. You could see a familiar intensity etched across his brow. He was in his element, ready to confront the challenge ahead.

The second you locked eyes, his face glowed in admiration. Time seemed to freeze as the noise around you faded, leaving only the two of you in that moment.

Your exchanged gazes were cut off by the blaring buzzer, signaling the start of his team’s round. He straightened his posture, expression changing swiftly from admiration to fierce determination. With a quick glance back at you, he locked eyes one last time. A silent promise passed between you, he would give his absolute all.

Soon enough, the familiar purple head of hair caught your attention. He was about to start. It felt like you were the one on the bars as you watched him make his way across. As he took a deep breath and launched himself into the challenge, it was like the ground beneath you shifted. You were completely focused, holding your breath with each swing he took.

Every struggle and grunt made you flinch. Watching the players make their way across the stage, you tried to distract yourself from the fact that your boyfriend was right behind them, fighting for his life.

Even though he seemed to be making it across fairly okay your heart still beat profusely. At some point, you decide to turn away altogether, saving yourself from the pain of watching. While you sat there with your eyes glued closed, trying to shield yourself from the people before you, you feel a tap on your shoulder.

Slowly, you pull your head up, not wanting to face reality. But the person you were stressing so much over was standing right infront of you. Thanos stood there, a mix of adoration and relief flooding his face.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, proving how much the previous game had tired him. You could see faint layer of sweat glistening against the harsh lights above, but none of that really mattered. What mattered was the warmth in his eyes as he leaned in closer, hugging you tightly as to calm himself down.

“You okay?” His voice was soft yet urgent, a contrast to the loudness of the everything around you. With this, you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I was watching, It was..”

“I know,” he interrupted gently, a soft smile creeping onto his lips. “But I’m here now.”

Your heart swelled, despite the noise and yells from the crowds around you. It was such a relief to see him unharmed, standing tall and ready for anything. The moment slowed as you both just stared at each other, words slipping away.

Unfortunately, your moment got cut off, like always, by the instrusive 10 minute timer going off. While the next group made their way in, the two of you just laid there, taking in each others presence before the games ended, for good.

It felt like you were floating, like nothing around you mattered and the two of you were the only people on earth. As you drifted deeper into this peaceful haven you knew that nothing could ever break the bond that you shared with Thanos, a bond that was forged in tough times and deep emotions.

But as they say, there's always a calm before the storm.

The final team completed the challenge before you knew it, and the whole room erupted with cheers. We were finally able to go home. This whole time, all the tears and fighting was worth it. Thanos kissed you passionately as to celebrate the win, or what seemed like a win.

All of the applause were cut short by that nerve-wracking intercom coming back on. "Dear contestants, congratulations on completing the first part of the game! 24 players now remain."

Your heart stopped as you heard those words. First part..? Didn't we finish the games? You looked up at Thanos in disbelief, hoping to get some type of comfort. Instead, you were met with a face of pure terror.

All the color was drained from his cheeks as his mouth hung open out of shock, he looked like he'd just seen a ghost. Panic surged through you, overpowering the joy of victory. You exchanged glances with the others in the room, confusion and dread painting their faces, mirroring your own fears.

The intercom continued, its voice cold and mechanical. “The rules for Phase 2 are the same as Phase 1: There is a time limit of 25 minutes for all remaining players to return to the opposite side of the room. Please proceed with caution.”

25 minutes? That isn't nearly enough time to get everyone across. Your uneasiness grew as players started to shuffle around in worry, adding onto your anxiety of already being high up. The timer blared through the room, signaling the start of phase 2.

Player 456 took initiative and stepped infront of everyone, coming up with a plan. "Everyone, follow my lead. A person will join in every 3 bars, be careful and don't panic. It will slow you down and cause everyone to mess up."

Soon after his speech, he took a leap onto the bar, causing the countdown to begin. Everyone followed his orders, joining in every 3 bars. It was all going smoothly up until it was nearing your turn.

You watched as the team excelled, most pushing though the dismay and making it to the end. Others weren't as lucky, losing their grip and falling to their deaths.

Thanos insisted on going after you, claiming it would help him stay focused and remember what he’s fighting for. You agreed quickly, finding his words endearing, completely oblivious to the true reason for his actions.

Unbeknownst to you, Thanos had gotten an arm injury in one of the previous games, which progressively worsened. He didn’t tell you because he didn’t want you to worry any more, but he could feel himself losing strength. Especially with this final game being physical, Thanos knew this was his last chance to be with you.

Instead of telling you his true feelings, that he was sure this would be his last time seeing you, he decided to protect your heart for now. After all, isn’t that what he approached you to do?

As the person before you made their way onto the bars, Thanos pulled you in for a tight, unknowingly final hug. You weren’t sure why he did this, or why it felt so much more different, but you appreciated it.

“Please, try your hardest okay? Don’t give up no matter what.” He muttered, face stuffed in the crook of your neck. Before waiting for a response, he gently grasped your face with both hands and pressed his lips against yours in a long, passionate kiss that left you breathless.

His mouth moved with a desperate urgency, as if savoring every second you had left together. The kiss was like a goodbye, a promise of forever that lingered even as it came to an end.

You jumped on the bar, full of life. All your strength kicked in at this moment as you used Thanos’ words to power you through. The muscles in your arms burned as you worked through the challenge, but his presence fueled your determination. You couldn’t let him down. Not now.

The crowd roared around you, their cheers blending into a rhythmic chant that kept pace with your heartbeat. Looking back at Thanos, you saw his face pale with anxiety. You wanted to assure him that everything would be alright, but you were too focused on pushing past your limits.

As the minutes ticked by and the final bar loomed ahead, you felt doubt creep in—what if you weren’t strong enough? What if all the fighting, all the trouble from the last games led to this moment and you were about to fail?

You took a final look back, wanting to see Thanos' face in hopes of it pushing you through the last half of the course, but instead get met with a face of sheer terror. Thanos' face was full of raw desperation, his eyes wide and glistening with an unsettling mix of fear and disbelief.

The usually relaxed lines of his jaw tightened, showing a weakness that sharply contrasted with his earlier mood. Unbeknownst to you, this was the moment he finally understood the weight of his looming defeat. He knew the end had come, but why did it have to be with you right in front of him?

Thanos' arms buckled as he attempted to push through, to use all his remaining energy to make it to the end. Each swing grew heavier as the bars beneath his hands grew slick with sweat. His heart raced, not just from the pressure but from the dread settling in his gut. A shadow of hopelessness flickered through his mind.

“This can’t be it,” he thought, clenching his jaw as he struggled to swing himself forward. Not like this. Not now. His gaze flickered to you, hanging off the bar 3 ahead of him, eyes wide with concern and shimmering with tears.

Memories of your laughter echoed through his mind, light and warm against the harsh reality of these games. He remembered those nights spent talking about dreams and futures, the plans you constructed together so effortlessly. All the times you had smiled at him, with that light in your eyes that made his heart swell, igniting a fire deep within him that he didn’t know he had left.

But now, did it even matter? The cruel thought twisted in his chest like a knife. He fought through so much, lost everything, only to get this close to the one thing he wanted most; true, undeniable love. And now it felt like sand slipping through his fingers, the more he struggled, the more he was losing.

As he swung on the next bar, his grip faltered for just a moment, and unlike every other time before, he felt fragility creep into his bones. The voice within him began to scream, demanding him to give up, that it was all over. Why keep fighting when the odds felt impossible?

But he had to move, for you. He gritted his teeth, forcing his body forward, fatigue clinging to him like a leech. With every swing, he felt a crack in his pride, a familiar emptiness growing in him as his thoughts flooded with anxieties.

He remembered the warmth of your hands in his, the gentle touch that made every battle feel worth it. Each moment spent with you had become a lifeline in this place, a source of hope he never thought he would have again.

As he took another swing, desperation fueled him, but quickly it faded. His muscles trembled, stabs of pain shooting through him. A vision of you, radiant and pure, tugged at his heart, and a sob caught in his throat. This was truly the end for him.

You tried not to turn back, hearing how much Thanos was struggling. You didn't want to see him like that. As the fight to the end continued you only had one thing on your mind; how happy the two of you would be after all this.

As you moved forward, a raspy voice came from behind you. "No…" Thanos murmured. Overcome by curiosity, you glanced back slightly. What you saw brought tears to your eyes.

You saw Thanos clutching the bar tightly with raw desperation, the last ounce of strength draining from him. He locked eyes with you, wanting nothing more but to keep going for you, his girl. But before he could think further, his body betrayed him. His fingertips slipped, a sudden loss of control, and time felt like it stretched endlessly.

Every memory, every smile, every hopeful dream flickered through your mind. The plans you had made, the laughter you shared, the quiet moments when everything else faded away and it was just the two of you.

But now, with horror pinching at your heart, you watched him fall. In that split second before he vanished from your sight, you saw the mix of fear and regret cross his face. It was a sight you would never forget, a moment where everything he had fought for clashed with the dreaded reality of loss.

As he disappeared from view, you felt your heart shatter into a thousand pieces. The warmth of your shared moments was replaced by an empty void, every hope for a future together gone in an instant. The world around you moved on, but you were frozen, trying to grasp the reality of what just happened.

You watched as Thanos, your first true love, fell to the ground becoming nothing more than another body added to the pile below. You faltered, unable to tear your gaze from the spot where he had been.

And in those final moments, as he hit the ground, with a pain that felt both devastating and liberating, he saw your face flash before him, etched forever in the depths of his heart. A love that would transcend even death. For a heartbeat more, he hoped that you would find your way through this cruel world, even if he could not be there to protect you.

A suffocating silence enveloped you, an immense contrast to the chaos that had erupted just moments before. The fight within you dispersed, replaced by a crushing sense of helplessness. Your only reason to keep going had just faded. You sloppily pushed your way to the end, fighting the urge to simply give up.

Finishing the challenge didn't excite you anymore. As you heard the announcement stating the end of the games, all you could think about was how you just lost the only person worth fighting for.

You could've did something, anything. Why him? Why couldn't it be you? The whole experience was bittersweet. As the screen displayed the amounts of money everyone would receive, there was no sense of happiness within you. Just a hole in your heart, one only Thanos could fill.

But now he's gone and you feel worse than ever. You didn't care about the money anymore. Sure, you were no longer in debt, but it wasn't worth losing your best friend. The money felt like an insult, a shallow victory overshadowed by the emptiness left in his death.

The days drag on. Every morning, you wake up hoping things will feel different, but the same sadness greets you like an unwanted shadow. You feel lost in a world that keeps moving forward while you’re frozen in the moment where you lost it all.

Eventually, the sadness becomes overwhelming, and you find yourself spiraling back into darker thoughts. Feelings of hopelessness creep in, and it’s hard to escape them. You start to think that maybe it would be easier if you just didn’t have to feel anything at all. That maybe not being here would take away the pain for good, and you catch yourself wondering if anyone would truly miss you.

Those thoughts frighten you, but they also exist in the quiet moments when everything else feels unbearable. In the times where there nothing to focus on but your thoughts and trauma, you wonder if it's worth it.

Nobody would care. Family hasn't called in months, friends cut you off. You were an embarrassment to be around. The thoughts kicked in harder, and you started to think of plans. Time, place, and opportunity; those were the 3 key things you needed to consider if you went trough with it.

But as you sit there, a small flicker of doubt creeps in. You remember how you used to laugh, how you once loved to share stories and connect with others. Remembering these times, your heart aches at how you took it for granted.

You would give anything to go back to those days. When you didn't have to worry about debt, being able to go out with friends everyday. Now the world seemed gray and lifeless. You felt like a ghost, simply floating through the stages of life, not truly taking in anything.

A week passes since you've been out the house, and you still haven't left your bed. The sheets cling to you like a magnet, but they suffocate you too. You haven’t showered in days, the thought of standing beneath the water feeling like an unruly task. Instead, you find comfort in the bundle of your blankets, where you can hide from the world and the relentless demands of life.

Your body feels sluggish as hunger pangs occasionally reminding you of your needs, but preparing food or even grabbing a snack seems overwhelming. It’s easier to ignore it, to push it aside and focus on trying to silence the chaos in your mind. You scroll endlessly through your phone, searching for distractions, but nothing holds your attention. You feel disconnected, like there's a glass wall between you and everything else.

Another week passes, the same exhausting loop continuing. Everything was genuinely draining, and you were tired of it. Breathing felt like a chore, and you could barely find the strength to get on your phone. So, you decided that it was time. Time for all your thoughts to silence and pain to finally stop.

You remembered the gun you kept in your bedside drawer, for "safety" reasons. It was never put to use, so maybe now was the time. Picking it up, you made sure it was fully loaded. You didn't want to regret this, not after everything that's happened.

Being your first time out the house in weeks, you drove to a faraway forest, making sure it was in a desolate place nobody would even think of visiting. The drive was about 2 hours long, causing it to be pitch black upon arrival. There hadn't been any cars for the past 45 minutes of driving, just how you wanted.

As you picked up your phone for the first time in almost a week, you noticed that there were hardly any notifications. It became clear that they really didn’t care. Looking up slightly, you noticed the time "11:38". Time, place, and opportunity.

All you could think about was Thanos. You'd promised him not to give up, but you had to. You thought back to his previous words, "it’s in our darkest moments that we find the light." Hearing his words repeat in your head made you realize, he was your light.

He'd came out of nowhere, sweet-talking you and washing all your worries away. For that week you'd known eachother, you were the happiest you'd been in a while. There wasn't a single time you considered doing something awful to yourself.

But now that he's gone, it seemed like you were in worse shape than before. You were bad, but not enough to be standing in the middle of the woods with nothing but your phone and a gun.

You shivered as the cool air from the wind hit your face. The dark, silent setting brought you uneasiness. You were finally alone. Raising the firearm to your head, your mind started racing. Was this really it? Is this how it ends?

The weight of the gun brought fatigue to your weak arm, being severely malnourished and exhausted. You felt horrible to break Thanos' promise, not being able to keep pushing anymore. The guilt hit you like a bus.

Suddenly, all your emotion intensified by a hundred. You felt a mix of anger and depression swirl though your body as you gripped the gun tighter. Every negative feeling abruptly switched onto you, leaving you with nothing but self-loathing.

Without thinking, you pulled the trigger. You felt a flash of agonizing pain as the thick bullet pierced through your skull. All of your pain was swiftly replaced with absolute serenity, as if the chaos of your life had finally unraveled.

As your awareness faded away, all you could think about was Thanos. How he held you when you started panicking, understood your body language, and connected with you like no one else did.

You'd reunite with him for good this time.

[badpanduhmemes]

So the fourth movie, re-invigorated my creative juices, and I am actively writing KFP fanfiction again. I'm not sure if anyone would be interested in it, but I'm doing it. I posted a few drabbles here in the past, but these are going to be much longer multi-chapter fics when all is said and done.

[luveline]

I NEEEEEED MORE STRIPPER!READER X SPENCER

fem, 1.2k

You and Spencer aren't dating, but he thinks you might be in the before. 

"You're home!" you say, clambering at the door to slip out of your shoes. You throw yourself at him as soon as you're close enough, the salted caramel and sandalwood of your new perfume washing over him. "You're here! I missed you." 

Spencer tries not to blush. He wishes you weren't so close —his hair is lank from two days unwashed, his five o'clock shadow obvious and embarrassing. If you notice anything unappealing about him you don't give the slightest inclination, your arms crossing over his back as you drive your face into his neck. 

"I can't believe how much I missed you, Dr. Reid," you say warmly. 

"I missed you too." Morgan would laugh at him for being this earnest, maybe comment on his lack of charisma, but Spencer doesn't know how else to show that he's interested beyond sincerity. 

You step back but work your hands up his neck and into his hair, raking it away from his cheeks. "That's better. I can see you better now." 

Spencer thought he remembered only horrible things from being a teenager, but he remembers this feeling, sweaty-palmed, heart-racing want. You tilt his head gently one way and then the other like you're following the motion of a wave, fingertips scratching in his hair, the sensation stirring the very pit of his stomach. No trace of tiredness remains on your face, only spritely joy to see him. 

"That feels nice," he confesses. He's not weird about it, more friendly. 

Your aswering grin tells him he nailed the casualness he was aiming for. 

"You've been working hard," you say, tucking his hair behind his ears and dusting down his shoulders, "I can tell. You look tired." 

"You don't. Short shift?" 

"Is it weird that bad weather genuinely keeps people home? I guess they prefer their wives when it's cold." 

"No, really? Who could ever pick the woman they married over you and those silver shorts?" he teases, peeling out of his sweater.

The shirt underneath is rumpled, but he doesn't care about that. Anything to be seen between you has been seen. Spencer has, unquestionably, seen you half naked. You've seen him in his boxers, so you're just about square. "Idiots, all of them." 

You're staying with him again while a security company fits your apartment with the appropriate trappings. Or, that was the initial reason. Spencer went with you to assess after it was done, discovering black mould in the corner of your bedroom and spreading its evil way across the bathroom ceiling. 

What is that? he asked, knowing what it was, hoping you'd at least pretend to be concerned. 

That's fifty bucks off a month, Spence. Don't look so horrified. 

"I missed you," you say for the third time in as many minutes. "And I hoped you'd be home, so I brought Chinese food for two."

You and Spencer change into pyjamas, and it's cliche but whatever, you look beautiful undone —he's not stupid enough to lie to himself about how he feels when you're wearing your little outfits, but he prefers this side of you a thousand times over because you like it better. You wear your prized baseball tee, white with blue sleeves, and a pair of sweatpants pushed up high on one leg while you ice your sore knee. He sits cross legged opposite, jabbing his chopsticks into one of your crispy spring rolls just to watch you gasp. 

"Can I ask you something too personal?" 

You rub down the length of your naked calf, sighing as some of the tension releases. You're more bruise than girl lately, splodges of tender skin patterning the inside. "What don't you know about me, at this point?" you ask. 

Like it's a good thing. Like you're glad for it. 

"Are you making enough money?" he asks. 

You steal back your spring roll, answering him through rice paper and greens, "Kind of. Not tonight, but enough for dinner. I'll be okay." 

"Did you think about it?" 

You shovel through your waxy box of rice, shrugging. "I thought about it, but… it's not realistic. What office would take me? What drug store?" 

"I could loan you the money while you apprentice, and get some experience, you could go back to school–" He says it all in a rush and you still knock him down. 

"It's real sweet of you, Spence, it is, but I couldn't let you do that. That makes me your charity case, and not your friend." 

"What else do you do for the people you care about?" he asks. Let them stay at a job they don't like, even if they're good at it, one that puts them statistically at higher risk for femicide or assault? 

"I wouldn't need a loan, Spencer, I'd need more than you have," you say gently. "I'd have to start my life from scratch. How would I pay rent? You couldn't afford to keep us both." 

"You could stay with me again." 

You shake your head. "You're the best friend I've ever had, which is why I'm saying no." 

He doesn't get what you mean, but you finish your dinner and help him clean up. He more than trusts you to stay here alone while he's on a case, you've honestly left it in better condition than you found it, and he insists you sleep in his bed again while you're here. 

"Don't be silly," you say, throwing a sheet out over the couch. "This is your place. You need to sleep in your own bed." 

The disaster is that it smells like you. Spencer says goodnight to you reluctantly and leaves you on the couch with every throw blanket he owns, climbing into his own bed and pulling the comforter up to his nose. He imagines you here at night, your body wash still clinging to your skin from a late night shower, your hand tucked under his pillow. There are so many things he'd like to give you, if you'd just let him. 

He spends a quiet thirty minutes like that, missing the warmth of your skin and your casual touching, wishing he could offer you the fresh start you desire, even if it meant he wasn't involved. 

The couch springs creak as you toss and turn, the sound finding it's way down the short hall from the living room slash kitchen to his bedroom. Hesitant, Spencer shifts in bed, hitting that one coil in his mattress just right, the twang resounding.  

You appear in his doorway with your borrowed pillows crushed to your chest not long after that. You don't need to ask, Spencer doesn't need to answer. He can't give you everything that you want, but he can give you a quiet, comfortable night next to someone who loves you. 

Ever well-tempered, you slip into the sheets beside him and curl up toward him, your fingertips brushing his side. You don't look at him in the dark, but you mumble sleepily, fingers twitching, "Night, Spence." 

You're out like a light. 

[areyouwho-ithinkyouare]

people who haven’t played baldur’s gate 3 in it’s early access but who PLAN to buy it at release i really cannot express how much more interesting the story is (at least in the 1st act that we’ve had in EA) if you play a non-good character. You don’t have to be fully evil but there is so much extra content you dont see if you just go in,kill the villains, save the good guys.

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

Can you do headcanons for a young child reader who constantly follows jax around, loves physical affection, and thinks jax is their 'dad'?

(Obviously this request is plantonic, not romantic!)

I think I might've went a little overboard with this one! Way longer than most of my posts but I guess that isn't really a bad thing ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Jax unwillingly becomeing a parent

★ His first and only question was how the hell did a four year old get in this situation. The headset should have been way out of reach for you. Questions that will never be answered, I guess.

★ After making you cry the first time he spoke to you he tried to steer clear of you. That worked out horribly because you seemed to want to always be near him. Much to everyone's confusion.

★ "oh my! Looks like the little one has taken an interest in you!" Was Cain's response to seeing you huddled up near Jax. At some point he gets a child harness to keep you in his line of sight. It's just easier this way.

★ By the way he didn't mean to make you cry, he just didn't know how young you were and said something he would've said to an adult. Kids cry easily, what are you gonna do?

★ Jax stole a few pillows from Kinger for you to sleep with. Yes, you don't technically need to sleep but he's not going to tell you that. Nap time is one of the only times he can get a moment to himself.

★ He gets beyond pissed when you get woken up during nap time. To the point where he's barely keeping it together and wants to beat whoever woke you up with a chair leg.

★ If you want to be picked up, then he's picking you up. It doesn't matter if he's talking to somebody or doing something. You'll get picked up while he's doing something and without missing a beat he'll continue like nothing happened.

★ Instead of giving you the usual Jax treatment, he just tells you the most outlandish lies while trying to convince you that they are true. Sometimes he tells you something that sounds so true you don't question his bullshit.

There's a list of things he's told you!

If you push down on Ragatha's nose it will make a honking noise.

There's a secret room hidden in a closet filled with veggies for people who are allergic to meat.

Birds aren't real.

When he was your age, he was a year older. (It took you a moment to figure that one out)

Caine is the tooth fairy.

★ Jax isn't known for his empathy, but he does feel conflicted when you talk about small details from your life before meeting him. What color your house was, the lullabies your mother sang and the books you used to be read. It all makes him think.

★ You're family might be looking for you, not knowing where you are and that you're trapped. Do you even realize this? They probably think you're dead, that something terrible happened to you. Those thoughts make his stomach sink.

★ If he cares about you this much he can only imagine the grief your family feels. You will forever be a blissfully ignorant child not knowing the truth of what's really going on.

[lazycats-stuff]

Hiiii! I was wondering if u could so a batfam x deaf male reader? Where everyone in the family knows sign language and all that. But during one of Bruce's galas the reader gets kidnapped and no one's knows until Damian notices that his younger brothers not there anymore? U can decide how u wanna finish it and its completely if Ur not comfortable writing it. Also I love Ur writing 😙

Oh hell yeah. Thank you for loving my questionable writing though.

Summary: (Y/N) is deaf. That doesn't help him when he gets kidnapped.

Warnings: kidnapping, protective family, fluff I guess...

Bruce was protective of all of his children. But he was more protective of (Y/N), his youngest child. Why? The reason is very simple. (Y/N) has been deaf since birth and that made Bruce beyond protective. (Y/N)'s brothers were no better than Bruce. Of course, they knew that deaf people could function normally in society. They knew that very well.

However, problem lies in two points.

First one being that they live in Gotham City. Crime is rampant, criminals are absolutely everywhere and the fact is that you get mugged at any point during the day or night. Although most of criminal life in Gotham operates during the night, no one wants to take any chances.

And even though (Y/N) doesn't go on patrol, Bruce still worried about his youngest son. Always has and always been.

The four birds shared the same sentiment. Everyone made sure to learn sign language and how to live with a deaf person. Rules were determined, such as, if entering (Y/N)'s room, just push your hand in and then flicker the lights on and off to signalize that you are entering. Don't approach (Y/N) from behind because he would often get spooked.

(Y/N)'s own words.

The second problem lies in the last name Wayne. Bruce Wayne is a well known businessman in the world. And the world of business is like a sea full of sharks. Bruce knew that very well. One drop of blood and they would be out for you and your weaknesses. And one of those is your public image.

Bruce was a proud father, attending anything that his children might have. Anything there is. He wants to be there for his kids, sue him. He would never allow work to take him away from his children. And the way he presents himself in the public is the way he is. More often than not, he hates how many people can be ignorant about deafness.

Sure, some may be genuinely curious about it and the questions come from a genuine place of interest. Unfortunately, such people are far few in between. Bruce can sniff them out rather quickly. More often then not, they often look condescending. Which is a rather judgmental way of looking at people, yes, but it's obvious.

Whenever they had a gall, one of the boys would be with (Y/N) to translate. And despite the fact that (Y/N) can read lips, he's not a fan of that. If someone turns their head and he can't see their lips, it gets more complicated.

Even now, as they are at the gala full of people, (Y/N) stuck close to his brothers, needing a translator. Bruce and others often rotated, to make sure that (Y/N) knows what's going on and that he's in the loop. (Y/N) was happy with that he wasn't out of the loop. It's not a good feeling to be out of the loop. Hearing or not.

He signed to Jason that he was going to go to the bathroom, who nodded, sipping his drink.

Jason signed back. " Sure, go ahead. I'll be moving around so don't expect to find me here. "

(Y/N) nodded and started walking to the bathroom. Jason glanced at him for the last time before moving to the table with food, ready for a snack. He was hungry and the catering at galas is just great since rich people pay for it. AKA Bruce Wayne pays for it and he also loves good food.

As Jason went to the food table, (Y/N) was on his way to the bathroom. He was about to enter when someone grabbed him from behind, putting a cloth over his mouth. (Y/N) panicked and tried to remember the self defense that he was taught. He tried to break free from the person, but the smell of the cloth made him go out cold.

Something was off. Damian glanced around the room, trying to spot what that something could have been bothering him so much. His eyes moved around the room, trained to find anything out of the normal. Then it hit him.

Where is (Y/N)?

Damian moved around the room discreetly, trying to figure out where he went. He talked to Jason about it and Jason told him about (Y/N) going to the bathroom. But that was far too long ago... Damian now became more suspicious and worried. He was on edge. He could feel himself getting more and more restless, his mind screaming at him that something is wrong.

He quickly walked over to his family as they all took a chance to breathe on the balcony. Damian made sure that they had some sort of privacy.

" Are you alright Damian? " Bruce asked, glancing over Damian. He could feel that something is wrong with Damian.

" I'm not alright father. I can't seem to find (Y/N) anywhere. " He crossed his arms as he leaned on the railing of the balcony. Everyone tensed up at that.

" Hold on, he went to the bathroom the last time I talked to him, " Jason declared and Damian nodded.

" But it's been far too long though, " Damian countered the point.

" Did he come to anyone, at all? " Bruce asked and everyone shook their heads.

" Okay, maybe he went to his room, " Tim said, trying to provide a logical explanation. " But he would have told one of us where he would go. He would find one of us and he would tell us... " Tim muttered, now worried himself.

" Should we check the security cameras? " Dick asked, worried, but trying not to show it.

" I'll check the cameras near the bathroom. " Bruce took his phone out of his pocket and going into his security feed.

Jason remained silent, feeling guilty that he didn't notice sooner. Bruce noticed and put his hand on his shoulder. " Do not blame yourself Jason. Please. You couldn't have known. This is our home and none of us should be on guard in our own home, " Bruce murmured and Jason sighed.

Bruce brought Jason into a hug. " (Y/N)'s going to be fine. We are going to find him quickly. "

Dick and Tim furrowed their brows. " What do you mean? " Dick asked.

" You 4 have to swear to me that you won't tell (Y/N), " Bruce stepped away from Jason and everyone muttered that they won't tell.

" I put a tracker on his suit. It's a small one, " Bruce admitted and everyone was shocked by it. They knew that their suits that they wear for their vigilante activities have trackers on them, but a normal suit, for galas and other events...

" It's only when we are at galas and such. There's no tracker on him 24/7, " Bruce elaborated before his sons could accuse him of something.

" Well, we can't tell (Y/N). But lets go get (Y/N) please, " Tim said and everyone nodded.

" I'll have Alfred make something up and we'll make a story so it doesn't seem suspicious about why we didn't know (Y/N) was taken. "

And that's what happened. They concocted a story about it and once Batman dropped him off at GCPD, Bruce came in as a worried father. Media had a field day with the story, a father and son reuniting after a such traumatic event. Bruce couldn't care less about them, his sons are his priority. Screw the media.

Understandably, (Y/N) was shaken up by the entire ordeal. Anyone would be shaken up after being kidnapped in their own home, but with (Y/N) being deaf, he couldn't hear anyone walking up to him. Not to mention, they put a bag over his head. Being in the dark, not being able to hear...

It tugged at Bruce's heartstrings. The other 4 weren't immune either. Damian, the normally stoic one, was affected by that aspect. Even he saw how scary it was. Not being able to see due to the bag over your head and not being able to hear because you are deaf sounds like hell. Damian saw it as a form of torture. And in a way it is. Sensory depravation. Only being able to feel with your touch or feel vibrations, but still...

Damian still shuddered as he tried to envision it.

The other 3 shared the very same sentiment.

And even now, as (Y/N) was with them, on the couch, bundled up in blankets, sipping some herbal tea that Alfred made to calm him down. Both Bruce and Alfred were trying to calm him down too. Bruce was going to find a therapist for (Y/N), that much is sure. It would have to be someone who can sign though...

Well, he'll make sure to find one. For now, he'll focus on making sure that (Y/N) is calm enough to try and sleep. Buce knew that adrenaline was still pumping, but that it will stop soon and (Y/N) would essentially crash.

Everyone sat around (Y/N), trying to calm him and make him feel safe again. Bruce and Tim were going to see how in God's name they managed to get into the manor. This place is more safer than Pentagon, designed to keep any intruder out. And he was going to find out why they wanted to kidnap him.

The best bet was probably money, but then again, you never know. And Bruce was going to make sure that he knew why. You have to nip the problem in the bud.

[higuchisora]

Seeing as they clearly didn't know what the hell to do with Jinx/the political repercussions of her bombing the council in season 2, I'd like to explore the possibilities of how Zaun would've reacted to this that would've made way more sense than what we saw.

1. Jinx becomes an extremely controversial figure.

Few are neutral to her. This would be largely because, outside of knowing she blew up the council, no one actually knows WHY. What were her motives? Were they politically charged? Was she trying to start a war? What exactly was her goal? It was never really stated that she was infamous prior to this, but I recall in season 1 act 2 that when Vi went looking for her, people knew OF Jinx, and that she worked for Silco, but weren't really aware of any further details. So those that are aware of her connection to Silco- who objectively did make many of their lives worse with Shimmer- wouldn't be happy. They'd be scared of what will come next.

Those who don't know/don't care might fill in the blanks with their own guesses, maybe that she's some kind of activist- which would split them further into the subgroups of "Oh fuck the enforcers are gonna kill us and it's her fault" and "Finally, a war!" The second of which I'd argue would actually be a very small group. I could imagine the Jinxers being seen by the rest of Zaun as crazy radicals who don't know what they're getting themselves into/are gonna drag the rest of Zaun into danger. I think it would cause a LOT of infighting. Like a civil war inside another civil war.

How Jinx would handle this would be.... interesting. Especially if the Jinxers start making moves on their own. She never really shows much interest in activism- she works for Silco because he's her new dad, and while she doesn't seem to DISAGREE with his opinions, it doesn't seem she's all that invested in actually working to make it happen beyond just wanting to help her dad. His death seemed to take her interest with it.

Now, they could either lean into this, and make people question her motives/actions because of her clear disinterest, maybe increasing some of the controversy around her (no follow through on her action, letting Zaunites suffer the consequences, etc.), or they could make her actually take a genuine personal interest in it. But that, I think, would take a bigger arc that might be more work for arguably less payoff when considering you'd probably have to change a great deal of her character to do it, especially when you could probably achieve similar plot points/outcomes even without her intentionally becoming a political figurehead.

2. Zaun becomes fractured politically/other "symbols" of Zaun

This can be in tandem with idea 1, actually, but can still be it's own idea. Basically, after the fall of the council, and Silco's death, Zaunites are terrified. They've been run so far by Vander, Silco, and then some vague council-like oligarchy of Chem-Barons, who could be interpreted as functioning like very large gangs. The Chem-Barons have always been around, but with Silco's sudden death (and no one who was primed/expecting to replace him), this leaves a massive power vacuum that the Chem-Barons and smaller gangs are scrambling to come out on top of.

The fear of the unknown and the extreme instability would lead to people desperately throwing their lot in with whoever they think would be a better/less dangerous leader, and by extension, political symbol. Season 2 shows a bunch of new people joining the Firelights. In that case, I can imagine that before long, several new potential leaders surface, even if they didn't expect it. Namely, Ekko, Jinx, and Sevika.

Ekko because as I said, people were apparently coming to his base in droves. They don't tell us Jack shit about the Firelights besides the fact that A) Ekko leads them B) they don't fuck with Silco OR Piltover C) Piltover thinks they're terrorists and D) they look rad as fuck. That being said, considering Ekko's Everything, I think we can all gather a general picture of what the Firelights are about. Plus his cool tree would be a great symbol (@srslylini for the idea) of growth, healing, etc.

Sevika, because those that knew her as Silco's second might be hoping for some kind of stability with her. Even if they didn't like Silco, it's better the enemy you know and all that jazz. They'd feel safer with someone who at least seems to know what they're doing, even if Sevika herself has no interest in becoming a leader. I think some would just naturally gravitate towards who they see as "second in line". This could also be in connection to Jinx, as she could possibly been seen as someone who could "rein" Jinx in (again, most people don't actually KNOW Jinx, they just know OF her and that she worked for Silco and was volatile. Think how Finn referred to her as Silco's "attack dog").

Speaking of Jinx, she'd probably be treated similarly to idea 1. Extremely polarizing. Her followers would be seen as crazy, like she is. They'd be seen as warmongers and/or people who have no idea what they're getting themselves into. They'd basically be seen as the stereotypical "young rebels". The average Zaunite would see the average Jinxer as a young, angry, maybe idealistic radical who doesn't understand the cost of war. I'd argue that, again, they'd probably be the smallest and most controversial group just because most people don't necessarily WANT a war, even if they're willing to fight for it. And the suddenness of the bombing would've scared even some of the rebels who DO want war, because they weren't prepared. It wasn't a PLANNED attack, so both Zaun AND Piltover are basically caught with their pants down, which would also bring some ire from the other Zaunites.

There's another option for a faction I'd like to explore, also thanks to srslylini (thank you icon), but it takes a bit of setting up.

In a hypothetical situation in which Vi did NOT become an enforcer, I think it would happen like this: Vi hangs around in Piltover at first out of guilt/feeling like she has nowhere else to go. She's still not on board with being an enforcer, but she attends the memorial out of a sense of obligation. Her and Caitlyn have a falling out over Caitlyn calling Zaunites "animals", and here is where she storms off and goes back to Zaun, with the final words to Caitlyn that "You Pilties are all the fucking same" (or something to that effect). She's still feeling lost, and so maybe this is where she stumbles around, having maybe a similar pitfighting arc (just not as distraught, more like she's broke and angry and has to pay rent somehow so she might as well get paid to punch someone's face in). Because she's not in a massive spiral, there's unfortunately no emo arc (sad), but the bright side of this is that she's recognizable. I don't think she's FAMOUS, per say, but Babette and Ekko recognized her right off the bat in season 1 (yes you can say Ekko was really close to her, but Babette? C'mon), and considering she was older than Powder when she went off to prison, I don't think it's a stretch to assume her face was a little better-known than her sister's (especially considering she was already going on jobs, and in act 1 she gets into a fight with Deckard who I'm pretty sure knew her name, but not Powder's).

This is to say, I think a lot of the "old heads" knew who she was, especially those who liked Vander. It helps that she tattooed her name on her face LMAO. So I'd imagine she'd show up in the ring, no hair dye no makeup, and eventually after consistently knocking her opponents around and winning every time, she'd become a bit locally famous again- to the point that those same "old heads" who remember her make the connection and come looking. Maybe rumors start swirling, especially once they learn she was gone because she'd been in prison- not unheard of, and probably the first conclusion they drew when they realized she wasn't dead.

So eventually Vander's old followers/younger people who idolized him from their childhood start seeking her out. Sensationalizing her. Asking her what she's planning on doing. Is she taking back the Lanes? Will she get those Chem-Barons under control? What about Jinx? Could she hunt her down, rein her in? Hell, maybe even put her to use? Will you give us our relative safety, our security back?

And Vi, who just wanted to knock some heads around and maybe take a nap in her apartment and cry, is suddenly faced with being "Vander 2.0" and Jinx is the new "Silco 2.0" and all the weight of expectations and legacy and history and literal war and politics are being shoved in her face. She, like Jinx, is now faced with becoming a figurehead when she never wanted to be, which could lead into option 3:

3. A joint approach to Zaun

This would primarily be driven by Sevika even if she wasn't one of the possible leaders, because SOMEONE has to be the responsible adult here and it's certainly not any of these traumatized losers (affectionate). She'd be the glue to keep it all together, the reluctant team mom who WILL make this work because she WILL have Zaun even if she has to die to get it.

This could work with either Jinx and Vi, or Jinx, Vi, and Ekko (I genuinely can't imagine season 2 act 1 Ekko willingly teaming up with season 2 act 1 Jinx AND Sevika without some kind of buffer). Basically, once the other "leader candidates"/political symbols have been established, Sevika would round them up with the intention to use their influence to unite Zaun against Piltover. This would take a LOT of arguing, but ultimately I think she'd be able to get them to shut up and hear her out for a moment. Regardless of how different their beliefs are about what the "ideal Zaun" looks like, they can all agree that Piltover isn't in any of those pictures. She could convince them to set aside their own squabbling for the time being, for the greater good: aka, the independence of Zaun.

At the very least, I think she'd be able to get them to agree that Piltover coming down and hurting Zaunites in revenge shouldn't be ignored, and that they're currently a bigger threat than their fellow Zaunite. So eventually they'd reach some kind of truce: behave like a united front against Piltover, push them out of Zaun, stabilize Zaun, and then worry about tearing each other apart later. And because all of these characters- ALL of them- have shown (prior to season 2) anti-Piltover sentiments, they'd at least be able to agree that enforcers shouldn't be allowed to beat down on their people (especially in this version where Vi has better, more consistent writing lmao).

Of course, Rome wasn't built in a day, so maybe they don't reach a total agreement immediately- maybe they just agree to a ceasefire at first, but still refuse to work together. But once Caitlyn becomes a dictator? Once enforcers start gassing the streets, rounding people up, implementing martial law?

That's when the gloves would come off.

I'd imagine this could also be part of how Vi and Jinx slowly start to repair their relationship. They've got bigger fish to fry, but also, this time their enemy is connected to their own personal conflict with each other. Jinx might ask, "what happened to your enforcer girl? What happened to being a Piltie lapdog?" And Vi would essentially, in perhaps more emotionally constipated words, explain that it wasn't really about Caitlyn, it was about being needed. It was about trying to find Jinx, about trying to stop Silco, about trying to "fix" things, only realize that she couldn't. It was about trying to make things better, but that she realized the person she was trying to do that with didn't actually care. That all she wanted was to make sense of the destruction of her old life, and find meaning in a new one. And I think Jinx, too, in her own emotional constipation, would resonate with that, would understand that. It wouldn't fix things between them, but I think it'd be a start.

It could also help their relationship with Ekko. Since Vi isn't an enforcer this time, and season 1 (the One True Season) showed their sibling relationship, I think her and Ekko's bonding would be more like "reconnecting with an old friend", whereas Jinx and Ekko would have a lot of work to do, too. There'd probably be a bit of a cold war between them for a while, once Ekko agrees to help, because he knows actually talking to her would piss him off. But eventually, through Sevika's manhandling of these three, and being forced to make nice with reluctant-figurehead-Jinx, they'd connect again.

Perhaps part of a plan is for them to develop new technology for Zaun. Whether that's weapons against Piltover (unlikely on Ekko's part I think), or just safety gear/ safer city infrastructure ideas for the betterment of their people, I think eventually they'd figure themselves out, too. He'd see the Powder in her, the part he saw on that bridge, and maybe it would give him the ability to try and understand Jinx. And Jinx would realize that maybe these people in her life DO love her, DO care about her, more than just for what she used to be but for who she is now. And somewhere along the way, they'd be friends again (or they can date IDK or care man I just want them to stop trying to kill each other).

Whatever happens next is so wide in possibility that I can't possibly cover it here so this is where it ends, lol.

[therandomfandomme]

We're all going feral over the whole "Mercy? Mercy?" which is so valid of us, but the way mercy comes back as a theme in this final saga is really interesting to me, because before this, Odysseus is asked for mercy, for forgiveness:

"Old king, our leader is dead

You've destroyed the serpent's head

Now the rest of us are no longer a threat

Old king, forgive us instead

So that no more blood is shed

Let's have open arms instead"

"No"

He has become Poseidon, the one that first forced him into believing that mercy isn't something he can afford ("Look what you turned me into"), which is made doubly poignant with Eurymachus echoing the open arms of Polites ("Greet the world with open arms"). Now I'm not saying he should have forgiven the suitors for what they were planning on doing, however, this interaction directly informs this one later:

"Throw down those weapons

And I ensure you'll be spared"

"After seeing what the king will do to us

We wouldn't dare"

Because Odysseus doesn't show mercy to Eurymachus, Melanthius doesn't want to take the risk when Telemachus extends mercy to them, which then leads to the starting interaction.

When extending mercy and creating a kinder world is discussed again, it's by Athena. She is the original god, who pushed him towards a lack of mercy, who found that a warrior of the mind is one that showed not mercy and Odysseus believed her during the war, even threw a baby of a roof about it, and it wasn't until after that he rebelled her teachings only to be forced into it by other gods (Poseidon and Zeus most specifically). To which this is said:

"If that world exists, it's far away from here

It's one I'll have to miss, for it's far beyond my years

You might live forever, so you can make it be

But I've got one endeavor, there's a girl I have to see"

"Very well"

"Father, she's waiting for you"

I especially want to highlight that Odysseus says it is beyond his years. He has become that monster and he can't undo that in the years he still has. If this is to happen, then it must be the future generations that Athena has to influence to make that world. Having her reply to that getting interrupted by Telemachus is very purposeful to me. Because he does still extend mercy, he is the new warrior she trained and she trained him differently because her belief changed.

But I also think having her show Odysseus her face with the lightning scar as she agrees is very telling. When she pushed Odysseus to be ruthless she had not been on the other end of no mercy, which is what makes Odysseus turn against her ("Unlikе you, every time someone dies I'm left to deal with the strain"). She now has been on the other side of it by the hands of someone Odysseus also faced and they were both shown the same lack of mercy. For Odysseus that was his final turning point where he chose no mercy, while Athena did chose mercy.

And in the end, she did get some mercy from Zeus in response from it. Zeus also learned from her, from the lesson Odysseus taught her, which was taught to him by Polites. And that mercy gets paid forward allowing Odysseus to get home (yes, I'm emotional about Polites helping Odysseus get home in the end). Almost every time mercy is shown, his journey progresses (Lotus eaters, Aeolous, Circe, Zeus).

Athena has been through not receiving mercy, but she still believes, is still working towards that future. And while she accepts Odysseus words about him being beyond such a world, she doesn't agree with him. Her reply feels more like accepting a dismissal rather than an agreement. And Telemachus shows up as a reminder that she is more correct than Odysseus in this, and he leads them into Penelope.

God, I love Penelope. With her, Odysseus tells someone yet again that he has changed ("I am not your kind and gentle husband") and that he would understand if she did not love him anymore. And then we get this banger:

"Only my husband knew that

So I guess that makes him you"

Penelope shows him mercy in this. She has asked him what he has done and she is given the option to not want him anymore after hearing about the monster he's turned into, but she doesn't. She forgives him. He asks for forgiveness and she grants it. That is mercy.

Not only that, but she also affirms that he is still him. The usage of husband here is important to me, because he says he's not her husband, who was gentle and kind, and she tells him that he is. He believes him beyond that world where people are empathetic and kind, but the roots of that world he created in Ithaca and with Athena allow him to come home. He isn't a monster beyond redemption, he is also a part of that kinder world, regardless of what he has done.

And then you have the music echo the Just a Man melody when Odysseus sings:

"I'm just a man who's trying to go home

Even after all the years away from what I’ve known

I'm just a man who's fighting for his life

Deep down I would trade the world to see my son and wife

I'm just a man"

He is brought back to who he was when he was still just a man, before he became a monster. He did trade the world to see his son and wife and that makes him just a man.

The whole musical asks the question when a man becomes a monster and I think while it is never explicitly answered, that the answer is: when he isn't shown mercy. And that by showing someone mercy, you can reverse that. That it isn't permanent. I really love the moral question of mercy vs. ruthlessness in that Epic has, so it was really interesting to see how it came back in the end :D

[rafecamerons-national-anthem]

𝐻𝐸𝒜𝒟𝒞𝒜𝒩𝒪𝒩-𝒩𝐼𝒞𝐻𝒪𝐿𝒜𝒮 𝒜𝐿𝐸𝒳𝒜𝒩𝒟𝐸𝑅 𝒞𝐻𝒜𝒱𝐸𝒵 𝒜𝒮 𝒜 𝐵𝒪𝒴𝐹𝑅𝐼𝐸𝒩𝒟

Boyfriend!Nicholas seems to value genuine connections and would likely be the kind of boyfriend who truly listens. He’d remember the small things, your favorite coffee order, a random story you told, or a passing comment about something you love. Whether you’re having a tough day or celebrating a big achievement, he'd be right there with you, offering his full attention.

Boyfriend!Nicholas seems like he enjoys trying new things and living in the moment. He’d want to plan spontaneous weekend getaways or try out new activities together, from hiking to going to concerts. He’d probably be open to exploring both your interests and his, making life feel exciting and unpredictable.

While he may come across as laid back in real life, I imagine Boyfriend!Nicholas as a boyfriend would have a romantic side. He’d surprise you with handwritten notes, flowers "just because," or plan cozy nights where you can binge watch your favorite shows together. The little gestures would mean a lot to him.

Despite his growing fame, he seems pretty grounded and humble. In a relationship, he’d value honesty and clear communication. Boyfriend!Nicholas wouldn’t play games or leave you guessing how he feels; instead, he’d be direct but kind, always working to build a strong foundation of trust.

Boyfriend!Nicholas would be the type of boyfriend who encourages you to chase your dreams and passions. Whether it's supporting your career goals, a personal project, or a hobby, he’d be your biggest cheerleader, helping you stay motivated and believing in you when you doubt yourself.

Boyfriend!Nicholas strikes me as someone who balances being serious and having fun. There would be deep, late night conversations about life and what you both want out of it, but there would also be moments where he just makes you laugh, doing silly impressions or cracking inside jokes.

While not overbearing, Boyfriend!Nicholas would be protective of you in a thoughtful way. He’d be the kind of boyfriend who makes sure you feel safe and respected, standing up for you if needed but never smothering you.

Beyond emotional support, Boyfriend!Nicholas would value meaningful conversations. He’d enjoy discussing books, films, and philosophies that provoke deep thought. He’d ask about your perspectives on things, showing genuine interest in how you see the world. Whether it's debating a plot twist in a show or discussing current events, your intellectual bond would be just as strong as your emotional one.

Boyfriend!Nicholas would definitely have a playful side, teasing you in a lighthearted, affectionate way. He’d make silly bets or jokingly challenge you to random games, like seeing who can cook the best meal or who’s better at a particular sport. He’d probably have a mischievous smile when he’s trying to get you to laugh, making the relationship feel lively and fun.

Boyfriend!Nicholas seems like someone who deeply values family. He’d be the kind of boyfriend who’s excited for you to meet his family and would take an active interest in getting to know yours. He'd likely enjoy spending time at family gatherings and might even get involved in family traditions, showing respect for what’s important to you.

Boyfriend!Nicholas might express his love through acts of service. Whether it’s picking up your favorite snacks after a long day, helping with something you're stressed about, or offering to take care of a task you’ve been dreading, he’d find small ways to make your life easier. His kindness would often show up in practical ways.

Because Boyfriend!Nicholas is artistic and has a background in acting, he’d probably enjoy adding a creative flair to the relationship. Maybe he’d write you a poem, record a cute video message when you’re apart, or plan a surprise date that’s inspired by a favorite movie or shared memory. His creativity would keep the relationship exciting and unpredictable.

Boyfriend!Nicholas would be the kind of boyfriend who fully supports your independence. He’d encourage you to take time for yourself and pursue your own interests and friendships outside of the relationship. He’d understand the importance of maintaining individuality while also building something strong together, never wanting to make you feel smothered or confined.

Boyfriend!Nicholas would likely approach conflict with a calm and patient demeanor. If you ever argued, he’d want to talk things through thoughtfully rather than reacting impulsively. He’d make sure that both sides are heard and understood, always striving for a resolution that makes you both feel good about the relationship.

Being someone who seems focused on self care, he’d probably be a positive influence when it comes to living a healthy lifestyle. Boyfriend!Nicholas wouldn’t push it on you but might encourage activities like working out together, eating well, or practicing mindfulness. He’d want you to feel good, physically and mentally, and would be there to support you in that journey.

Though Boyfriend!Nicholas might have a bit of an adventurous streak, suggesting hikes, spontaneous road trips, or trying out new experiences, he’d also have a soft, homebody side. He’d enjoy the balance of adventure and quiet nights in, where you could unwind together with a good movie or book, showing that he doesn’t always need excitement to feel connected.

Boyfriend!Nicholas would likely be someone who fully respects and supports your ambitions. He’d understand if you have busy schedules or demanding projects, and he’d never want to hold you back. In fact, he’d be there to remind you of your strengths when you feel uncertain and would always celebrate your achievements as if they were his own.

[misstycloud]

Platonic. Fae father

Fae father! Who loves you more than anything. He’d trade his immortality and beauty a million times if it meant saving you. It’s worth nothing if he can’t be with you.

Fae father! Who originally wasn’t very interested in you but simply didn’t have the heart to throw you to the wolves like he would if it’d been any other baby- you were his, after all. But as time passed, he found himself more enamoured with you for every second you spent together. Before he knew it, you were an irreplaceable part of his life. He can’t imagine how he managed to live for centuries without you.

Fae father! Who is very protective and while he knows you’re safer inside his territory than you’d ever be anywhere else, there’s still a possibility something could happen you you. He can’t have that happen! What if you accidentally trip on a root and scrape your knee? Sure he can heal you with his magic, but he’d rather spare you the unnecessary pain and tears.

Fae father! Is scared that you’ll leave him eventually. This is especially regarding when you’ll have grown up. He never hid your half-human side(you were bound to find out anyway, considering you didn’t have magic in the same sense as him, and your ears were slightly rounded unlike his purely pointed ones), but he’s beginning to think it was a mistake. His attempt at good parenting could backfire and you would become naturally curious as you got older. Then you would request to leave the safety and familiarity of the forest you grew up in, to go adventure beyond it and come into contact with your human side.

Fae father! Who thought about how horrible that would be. He knew the cruelty of humans. They were greedy beyond imagination and an ugly stain on the world; truly a mistake of creation. He thought about what they could potentially do to you, a wonderful, kind yet naive child. His child. You were part fae and that was obvious- if he had to be honest, he had always been happy you appeared more fae than human, it made him feel more connected to you- the price that you would go for on a market was immense. Fae father nearly faints at what kind of filth could be wanting to get their hands on you.

Fae father! Who wove to protect you at all costs- even lying and misleading you. The only way he saw to do that is to keep you in the forest; your childhood home and his domain.

“Father, what’s beyond the forest? Are there really human towns? The animals tell me they are bustling with life- and there’s so many strange and new things!” You asked your father. You two were in your favourite meadow, you sat up in the lush grass, making a flower crown.

Your father had laid down a while ago and was content with the relaxation the summer weather brought. However, the moment you began talking about humans and your curiosity for the outside world, his eyes snapped open and he, too, sat up.

He gave you a soft smile, “The animals told you that?”

You nodded vigorously. He reminded himself to warn the animals to not tell you about such things, afterwards. If he had to guess, it was most likely that damn squirrel friend of yours that didn’t know when to shut up.

“Well, dear-“ he said, finding the way you were hooked on every word incredibly endearing, “yes, there there are human settlements outside these woods. But I do not want you going anywhere near them, you hear? It’s simply not safe for you.” Your father ended the sentence with booping you on the nose.

“What? What do you mean?” You exclaimed.

He chuckled, “I am older- I have many tricks to defend myself with; you do not.”

Pouting, you crossed your arms and said in defiance, “Why would you have to defend yourself? You’re not fighting, are you?”

You father ran his hand through his long locks with a sigh. “Dear, I am afraid that might not be the case.” You looked at him in confusion. “You see, we- as in magical kind- have not been on good terms with mannkind for centuries- maybe even ever.”

You were silent, pondering over what this meant as your protector watched. Had it not been a serious subject, he would have thought about how cute you look whenever you are thoroughly grumbling over something. He took it upon himself to expand his reasonings while combing through your hair.

“We are rare, beautiful, immortal and have powers they could only dream of.” To prove his point, your father held out a seed in the palm of his hand. He closed it for a second and a green light flashed. Opening his palm again, the little seed quickly grew into a wonderful, fully grown flower in a matter of moments. “See, if they had the means to do this, then a new war would break loose every day. They are greedy and selfish and struggle because of it, while we live away from such mundane troubles.”

“But what about all those amazing things they have invented? I hear they sing and dance just like us. They have families too, just like us. They can’t all be bad!” You protested. If all those things your friends had told you were true, then you needed to know and find a way to see them for yourself.

Your father sighed once more. He appeared to be doing that a lot during your conversation. He grabbed a hold of your hand and squeezed it tight. “I understand your curiosity regarding humans- trust me, I do. I was young once upon a time, as well. You believe that I did not sneak away to peek at the towns myself?”

“You have gone there yourself?”

He nodded to confirm your question. “However, they are far from what your little friends have been tricking you into believing. They are not fun and do not sing nor dance. Like I said, they are selfish and horrible, you best stay away from them.”

“But-“ you tried.

He cut you off immediately. “-No ‘buts’. You stay away from the town, alright? Simply stay here where you’re safe. I won’t tolerate any violation of the rules when it comes to this.” He took notice of your gloomy expression and added, “It’s for your safety, nothing else. Oh, sweetie, I do wish the world was different. However, this is a truth we must face. You do understand, correct?”

Seeing your worrying father’s serious demeanor as he urged you for an answer, you looked down before saying, “Yes, Father. I won’t go into human towns. I’ll stay out of trouble.”

He sighed in relief. “Good child. Remember, I am only looking after you. I’m your father, I know what’s best for you.

[the-clock-of-the-time-dragon]

Musings on how magic works in the Wicked musical/film(s):

So I've actually never really heard anyone explore in-depth how the powers work in Wicked, because I guess they're both simple AND mysterious enough that most people regard them as self-explanatory. But I think there's actually a lot of interesting things we might learn about the characters and world through observing how and when magic happens in Oz.

So with the Grimmerie, it seems to work by reading people's hearts and granting them an approximation of what they ask for. I've pointed out before how it's kind of a mirror version of what the Wizard does: people come asking for their "heart's desire", and both the Wizard and the Grimmerie want to grant that desire and make people happy. But whereas the Wizard must do this with charlatanry (and in the end, people always end up having to either go and get what they came for themselves, elsewhere, or they already had it all along), the Grimmerie can actually twist reality to give people some version of what they wanted (and didn't already have): but it always comes with some fucked up cost that makes them regret it. It plays into the overarching theme of "what is happiness? Is it getting your heart's desire? What will you give up to get it? Is it worth it?", etc. I think it could even be inferred that every character who ever comes into contact with the book — directly or indirectly — is in a way "cursed" to never obtain true happiness, only a mockery of what they'd imagined happiness to be. This extends to the Wizard, Glinda, Morrible, Elphaba, Nessa, and even Chistery. And the grander the desire, the graver the cost for getting it — Chistery is able to get away with physical pain for his dream of flying, but the human characters all have their dreams come true only in ways they are never able to actually enjoy. I think the reason Elphaba is the only one able to not only read the book but get away with using it repeatedly, is due to her own innate power.

Elphaba's power is very different from that of the Grimmerie. She seems to have the ability to just flat-out REJECT ACCEPTED REALITY. She defies the law of gravity; even TIME (essentially "remembering" things that have yet to happen). Every time we see her use her powers, she does so to STOP what is transpiring, or simply to say NO to what is before her. Making things fall up instead of down, recalling the future instead of the past, reading books that are illegible. It's in keeping with her overall character, being off, or backwards, or at odds with everything around her: crowds part as if repelled when she comes near; her first day of school she's already being told she's going to excel far beyond what any of the other students could ever hope to achieve. The idea of "I clash with everything" isn't just a joke about color coordination, it's quite literally how she interacts with the world, including on a metaphysical level. She distorts and repulses.

The reason she has such a different relationship to the Grimmerie than everyone else who's tried to use it, is precisely because she clashes with everything. More importantly: she rejects both the world as it is, AND the world as she wants it. She denies her own desires for the sake of what she considers more important. She knows that she can have all she ever wanted: but she can't. She won't. She chooses to go AGAINST heart's desire, REJECT happiness — to deny HERSELF. Something that, perhaps, only a child of both Oz and Kansas — of fantasy and reality — is able to do. She's so at odds with the fantasy world she's been born into, so committed to Truth — a world of objective non-fiction — that she actively says no to her own dreams, and can literally disrupt and challenge the basic laws and logics of the story that she's in. She can use the Grimmerie because she uses the same language: negation. You can't reverse the Grimmerie's spells because they ARE reversals — distortions of a twisted nature. But Elphaba can't want what she truly wants in her heart; she rejects it; it's already reversed. To the "what are you willing to give up to get what you want?" question, Elphaba is the only one in Oz who can honestly just reply "NO", and give up her heart's desire of her own accord.

Now, how Morrible's powers work seem to be a lot different from the others. Her abilities aren't derived directly from the Grimmerie (though we know she has at least studied it), and appear to be innate like Elphaba's, but they manifest very differently. But why weather?? I think it pertains to her innate nature. She's a manipulator whose temperament changes like the wind (warm with some and cold with others), capable of clouding the truth or making things clear as she pleases, and acts as if the world revolves around her like a cyclone. She has total control over her powers because her power is control. There might have been a time when her powers were more benign — she says her talent is "encouraging talent", so perhaps we could infer that her true powers are motivating/suggesting things, giving directions, and that whenever she developed into the truly wicked person she is now, that power darkened into coercion/manipulation. So she can direct a cloud to disperse, encourage a wind to blow, or persuade a crowd to become a raging tempest.

As for Glinda: the musical/film(s) kinda implies she doesn't have any powers?? At least not the innate kind that Elphaba and Morrible have. We haven't seen her use any spells (except a simple one that got cut way back in the pre-Broadway tryout run of the musical), her bubble is shown to be mechanical rather than magical, and she's obviously interested in learning sorcery but fails the only time we really see her try to use it, and she doesn't believe she can read the Grimmerie. So whatever magic Glinda possesses has to be developed, and given she has never really been encouraged to do so (whether in school or when she's Glinda the Good), she probably hasn't had much of a chance to become a real witch by the time the story wraps up (although it would be a fun inclusion if the second film shows her using a spell at some point). Also: since magic seems to be related to character's personal qualities or narrative themes, it's actually quite meaningful that Glinda (at the very least) struggles to use it — she's constantly questioning who she is, what she wants, etc., and so whether she possesses a natural power of her own or needs to develop it through training, we might infer that her magic is similarly "unsure" of what it's supposed to do.

Feel free to respond with any thoughts — I just find this aspect of the story really interesting and hopefully this all came together to at least mostly make sense, lol

[imjustdelusionalok]

yandere dc: meeting camgirl! reader <3 pt. 2

Yuppp, this is the part two of my previous post <33 but this time she'll be meeting the rest of the batboys and kon! (reminder she has met some of them even from before!!)

if you get into the 'terry mcginnis' part and is confused on who he is, watch batman beyond bc hes the new batman and its sooo good and hes underrated <3

Anywho here it isss

BIG warning: this may more or less have the same amount of clownery as the last one so prepare my sweets and also my brain is fried so some parts might not make sense but i tried😔💔 please repost to support me i spent sm timee 😭

tim drake aka 'red robin':

Also one of your most biggest and creepiest faithful fans that you've ever had in your stream!

Hes a frequent donor AND victim to your relentless charms just like jason and dick.

Has met you before you decided to even become a cam girl, as you two both go to the same school AND classes too 🥰 (he may or may have not gotten bruce to manipulate the principal or some higher up into changing classes...)

he's like a lovesick highschool student who developed a crush, but this time more extreme.

While you on the otherhand, saw a weird looking boy staring at you with the most fullest smile you've ever seen. toothy, cheshire grin, and all-- (he ran away almost IMMEDIATELY when you saw him)

(...you also chased after him when he ran 💀 he was shooked, but stops once your hand grabs his shoulder and you ask him who he was)

"You >:D i saw you looking at me, who are you >:)"

...my, he never knew you were this bold... you really need to stop being so cute or your further fueling his delusions i swear--

You shake him. "Ow- okay-- my name's Tim--"

You then smile and drag a stunned but intrigued timothy with you.

...Are you perhaps some social butterfly, darling?...

From that moment on, tim's interest in you increases and a friendship between you and him bloomed! Hes so proud of himself for making the first move even though you did it first...

(Again, dont ask how darling lives in bludhaven, but meets tim and jason whose in gotham 💀 either think of her as having teleportation powers being the reason for the frequent back-and-forths or tim being so obssessed, he moves in bludhaven just to see reader--)

When i said creepy, i said c r e e p y. Even worse than klarion, thaddeus, and even dick who i said before was on another level 😦

Tim is both sweet, nervous, and shy... or at least, is how he shows himself for you.

he must look decent for you or how else would he make you reciprocate his feelings?

He's capable of changing in a blink of an eye so anybody who isn't his beloved, dont test him, okay? <3

He sits in the back with darling in class. In the back. You heard me.

Normally he'd be in the front to be able to see and listen better, but darling is a slacker so--

He sighs, looking at his rushed and poorly written notes. He doesnt even know what the topic is anymore, and it kinda looks like hieroglyphics--

Meanwhile, you on the otherhand, was cooking instant noodles with the others... with a pot AND a stove... D: (he loves you but damn he wants to cry rlly bad on how screwed you two are--)

As for the part where he finds out about your part-time job as a cam girl, this man was seething.

No honey, not at you, but at your parents-- how could they let their beautiful daughter do this?! Do they even care?!-- oh? What was that, darling?... Your parents were gone? i guess that explains it...

proceeds to feel bad for you, and wishes to look after you. But you being you, you remain so hardheaded. Why cant you let him love you?? why cant you quit that stupid job?! >:( (hes a bit hypocritical on this one since he literally donates thus further fueling you to go on)

Sigh... nevertheless, he realizes a bit that he can't persuade someone like you for now, so he donates in your live like the good friend he is...

Yeah, 'good friend'...

In the darkness of his room, he watches with unblinking eyes the way your body moves on his screen. You look so enticing, the way a bit of pink colors your cheeks, how every moan you give were light and breathy... simply fantastic. He sighs.

"Oh baby... what am i going to do with you?... <3"

Yandere rating: 100% on money, 38% for nuisance, 70% for humor (80% as red robin)

⋆˚✿˖°

conner kent aka 'superboy':

Ah yes, another top donor and one of your most perverted watchers out there.

Cocky, rebellious, womanizing... doll, you're just another girl for him to use in order to piss off tim since he loves pushing that man's patience so much.

Has probably met you through him too, as this man follows his best friend that has been, in his eyes, acting a bit too strange lately.

And he now knows why. You.

thinks you're absolutely adorable. the way you act out of impulse to the way you speak so brazenly to him, intrigues the kryptonian so much.

Hm, your going to be so much fun to play with <3

But unfortunately, the boy of steel did not know who he was up against.

"...Doll, what did you just say?--" it was 8 at night and he was in his best attire holding a bouquet of flowers. Not just your average red roses, but a well-thought out blend of daffodils, carnations, and tulips. just for you.

But right now, you're breaking his heart.

"Yeah Kon, i love you but no. i'm not dating you. Sorry."

...you don't have the right to say you love him.

"a-and why can't we date?--" he was so confused, these months spent trying to court you, all wasted.

"erm... im not interested, kon. yeah you're hot and you support me and all, but im gonna be honest with you... you're not my type. and plus..."

he feels his heart break even more when you continue.

"...I'm interested in someone. I've known them for so long Kon, and i would hurt them if i get with you."

...

"...sorry." you run away.

things with kon has never felt the same since. he no longer visits tim just to see you, only him. he ignores you too, not even a single glance being spared. but you swear you could feel cold blue eyes watching your figure sometimes...

...and then that happens. you see a message notification from him. conner.

'im sorry if i made things awkward between us. forgive me, doll? :('

your thumb hovered whether or not to answer. you made your decision.

'kay. wanna play dti? :3'

he's so glad you cant see him right now... crying pure tears of joy, and complete relief that you took the bait.

'okay :)'

just because he got rejected by you once that doesnt mean he's immediately gonna back down <33 and about that boy you like, who was it? can't you tell him and he'll give a quick visit to the very lucky guy...

Yandere rating: 100% on money, 49% for nuisance, 80% for humor (95% as superboy)

ᯓᡣ𐭩

damian wayne aka 'robin':

...knows the guy that you like.

he's genuinely angry at you, but mostly at your taste.

seriously, him? why not him instead...

frequently donates money and is also very dedicated in line.

(to save you trouble, most of the batfam is a big fan to you and are often your biggest donors. they wish to stop you from pursuing such a... scandalous, line of work but cant help but further support you the more they give money and get addicted to the content you make 😞💔)

discovered you on accident when a certain someone, *cough* tim, *cough* left their computer on without closing the tabs.

you cannot simply imagine the sheer shock that painted his face during that time, seeing someone, you, getting it on with another guy that seems all too familiar.

...and he cant help but get angry. (you'll all understand soon enough why he and kon hates reader's man and possible bf sm 😭)

meeting you face to face... thats a whole situation. tim immediately regrets bringing damian to see you because this man already went off on how much of a 'hoe', you are.

you can take a lot of things, but this boy rubs you off wrong.

"seriously, drake? your new friend is a prostitute? you drew the line making friends with that kryptonian clone, but this takes the cak--"

*slap.*

...that hurts. damian's hand slowly makes its way up to his cheek, where the red was starting to spring.

he looks at you like you were mad. you are, thanks to him. "...you... you little---"

he was held back by an angry but calmer kon despite being also insulted, whilst tim holds you comfortably.

"hey don't listen to damian over there, alright? :( he's just a bit--"

"I'm speaking facts here!-- hmpfh!" a hand covers his mouth.

"seriously tim, does he ever shut his mouth?" kon says.

he huffs. "no. and that's why i was considering bringing duct tape earlier, Kon."

...okay, maybe his first impression forever got him labelled as a bitch in your eyes, but damian tries to make it up to you in any way he can since he actually finds you decent after getting to know you. (think of those asian parents that after scolding you till you cry, they give you food but instead money in damian's version)

"...ahem."

no response.

"...AHEM."

you finally look up at him, and a bag was thrown straight at your face. "you stupid ass-- wait a minute." you look inside the bag and it was filled with... money.

you look up at damian, only to see his figure quickly dashing off and hide behind a wall where he would secretly try and take a peek for your reaction. you smile and give a thumbs up.

"...you aren't that bad, but try shutting your mouth most of the time, okay? :3 <3"

...the green in his eyes glinted... and he scoffs. typical damian wayne.

"...sure, prozzy-- HEY STOP CRYING--"

fierce but protective. rude but caring. that is what damian is towards you.

and that is how he'll always be as long as that man is around...

"i'll be with you. and i shall do everything in my power to ensure you do not end up with him!--" too late.

Yandere rating: 100% on money, 25% for nuisance, 78% for humor (89% as robin)

ִֶָ࣪☾.𔘓

terry mcginnis aka 'batman beyond':

...is the man that kon, damian, and the others have beef with.

how he's part of the main timeline in this is that all of the events before batman beyond happens earlier. (i also tweaked a few things in canon here so dont mind me)

terry's dad died before the entire 'Powers' situation, leading to Terry living with his mom earlier.

...terry also suffers from something.

at a young age, terry cannot feel any sort of emotions. remorse, empathy, such things were removed from him. he could only feel empty, comparable to having a large gaping hole inside his chest instead of a beating heart.

the boy ponders why he was cursed with such a thing, and why he could only feel pity and sadness. just a little.

...he thought he was unsavable. until--

his eyes lands on you, the girl who was playing on the playground's swing. (note: darling used to live in gotham as a kid)

...he gulps. pretty...

"you there, what's your name?" you asked. always the first one to make a move...

...and you sound nice.

"hm? well? :3"

...he decided to speak. "...terry. i'm terry... you?..."

you smile. "they call me (name), pretty right?" he could only nod. yes, it was very pretty...

i think everybody could guess how things go from then on.

he meets you, grows up with you, falls in love with you, and in the end lives happily with you... if only it weren't for his tendency to maim just about anyone who gets near you.

he's a dog, honey. but he's your rabid, vicious dog.

by the time he grows up, he's learned how to hide what he truly is from you, and the terry that we all come to know and love is now here.

charming, witty, humorous... terry mcginnis is nothing but an amorous boy for you... and you love it. (u match his freak sm)

in his eyes, you two are together <3 and its not even a lie you two are but you're too much in denial since you firmly believe he deserves better :( (tho thoughts like that dissapear when he and you yk ;))

absolutely hates it when you spend time with anyone, especially with his adopted siblings. dick, jason, tim, and damian? fuck no. (if you read the batman beyond comics, those two despise each other--)

...so expect those two to be at each other's necks.

and about the cam girl part, yup, this man knows. and like tim, he tries to persuade you to stop. you're a complicated person, he knows. either for money or fun, you do crazy shit like this every time... but this one's really serious.

"...look at me." you obey, eyes staring back at ocean blue ones. terry's eyes were always so pretty...

"...hehe, pretty eyed as ever, mcginnis..." and he can't help but smile slightly at your words.

"..." damn you, really. his soft spot for you is huge, and 99% of the time, you get off the hook easily.

in the end, he might have allowed you to do this... 'artist' stuff, but on one condition:

he gets to f*ck you on some parts.

you blink, cheeks starting to redden. "...what--" and just like that, your fate is sealed <3

...currently, you were on Live. the rest of your boy toys watched with envious yet very heated gazes as your pussy was getting demolished by his dick. the close up shots were so unnecessary, the way he roughly pummels into you was so--

'$10000 from GR4YS0N_68'

'GR4YS0N_68: ugh yea terry ruin that little bitches cunt'

terry grins, feeling you getting closer. the position you and him were in was perfect, babe... perfect for a pic.

his strong hand gently but firmly grabs your jaw, making you face the camera.

he whispers to you so closely."smile for the camera, sweetie."

you oblige, a broken smile on your lips. the stream abruptly ends.

no need for the public to know what you both are doing in private anymore...

Yandere rating: 100% on money, 0.0001% for nuisance, 90% for humor (100% as batman beyond)

(finally its finished 🤕 i have so many unfinished works huhu....)

(update: ill also try editing this too <3)

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Hunted | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, smut, unprotected sex (don’t do this, friends), mentions of infertility

Word Count: 5254

A/N: giving the people what they want in this chapter. lol. no one under 18 allowed beyond this point!!!! 

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

At some point in leaving Oregan behind, Dean pulled off to the side of the road in the middle of nowhere for a break. He pulled three beers out of the cooler in the trunk and leaned against the fence next to you. 

Sam turned to his brother. “So. Last night. You want to tell me what the hell you were talking about?”

You raised a brow at Dean, interested to hear his explanation. 

“What do you mean?” the older brother questioned.

“Dean, you said you were tired of the job,” you told him. “That’d be weird enough on its own. But on top of that, you said it wasn’t just because of your dad.”

“Forget it,” Dean gruffly replied.

“No, I can't. No way,” Sam argued.

“Come on man, I thought we were all goin’ to die, you can't hold that over me,” Dean shot back.

Sam straightened his posture, shoulders tensing. “No, no, no, no. You can't pull that crap with me, man. You're talking.”

“And what if I don't?”

“Then I guess I'll just have to keep asking until you do.”

Dean tried to pick up his plucky attitude. “I don't know, man. I just think maybe we ought to… go to the Grand Canyon.”

“What?” you scoffed.

“Yeah, you know, all this driving back and forth across country, you know I've never been to the Grand Canyon? Or we could go to T.J. or Hollywood; see if we can bang Lindsey Lohan,” Dean smirked.

You rolled your eyes. “Dean, speak English, please.”

“I just think we should take a break from all this. Why do we gotta get stuck with all the responsibility, you know? Why can't we live life a little bit?” he asked. 

“Why are you saying all this?” Sam cut back in.

Dean took a deep breath before shaking his head and turning away.

Sam pulled his arm back. “No, no, no, no, Dean. You're my brother, all right? So whatever weight you're carrying, let me help a little bit.”

Dean’s face contorted with emotion. “I can't. I promised.”

“Who?” you asked.

“My dad,” he replied simply. 

Sam’s face drew together. “What are you talking about?”

Dean looked down at the ground. “Right before Dad died, he told me something.” He took a deep breath before looking up at Sam. “He told me something about you.”

“What?” Sam urged. “Dean, what did he tell you?”

The older brother cast his eyes to the ground. “He said that he wanted me to watch out for you, to take care of you.”

Sam seemed to relax a bit. “He told you that a million times.”

The other Winchester shook his head, growing more upset. “No, this time was different. He said that I had to save you.”

“Save me from what?”

“He just said that I had to save you, that nothing else mattered; and that if I couldn't, I'd—” he turned his head, beginning to tear up.

“You’d what, Dean?�� Sam asked gently.

He looked back up at his little brother, tears forming in his eyes. “That I'd have to kill you. He said that I might have to kill you, Sammy.”

Sam drew in a sharp breath. “Kill me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I don't know,” Dean shook his head, voice breaking.

“I mean, he must have had some kind of reason for saying it, right? Did he know the demon's plans for me? Am I supposed to go Darkside or something? What else did he say, Dean?” Sam’s head was beginning to swim; even you could tell that.

“Nothing, that's it, I swear,” Dean breathed out.

“How could you not have told me this?”

“Because it was Dad, and he begged me not to,” Dean responded simply.

Sam’s voice grew angrier. “Who cares?! Take some responsibility for yourself, Dean! You had no right to keep this from me!”

“You think I wanted this? Huh? I wish to god he'd never opened his mouth. Then I wouldn't have to walk around with this screaming in my head all day,” the older brother yelled right back.

Sam turned and took a few steps away, fuming. “We've just got to figure out what's going on, then, what the hell all this means.”

“We do?” Dean sighed. “I've been thinking about this, I think we should just lay low, y’know? At least for a while. It'd be safer. And that way I can make sure—”

The brunet spun back around. “What? That I don't turn evil? That I don't turn into some kind of killer?”

“Sam, he never said that,” you jumped in.

“Jeez, if you're not careful you will have to waste me one day, Dean,” Sam continued to mock.

Dean raged at his brother. “I never said that! Dammit, Sam, this whole thing is spinnin’ out of control. Alright? You're immune to some weirdo demon virus, and I don't even know what the hell anymore. And you're pissed at me, I get it. That's fine, I deserve it. But we lay low until we figure out our next move, okay?”

Sam grumbled, “Forget it.”

“Sam, please, man,” the older brother begged. His voice began to break again. “Hey, please. Just give me some time. Give me some time to think, okay? I'm begging you here, please. Please.”

You stared at Sam with bated breath, waiting for his reaction. To your relief, he finally nodded reluctantly.

***

A few hours away, you and the brothers settled on a motel to stop in for the night. You weren’t sure what Dean’s plans were; whether you’d be here for days, weeks, or a month. You began to quiet your mind for the evening only to be disturbed by a knock on the door. To your surprise, it was Dean.

“Hey,” you breathed out. You were suddenly acutely aware of the fact that you were only dressed in an oversized t-shirt and your underwear.

Wordlessly, Dean slipped past you into your room.

“Oh-kay,” you muttered, closing the door behind him. “What’s up?” you asked him. 

He stood awkwardly on the opposite side of the room from you. It was the first time since you’d met him that he wasn’t exuding confidence. “Dean, talk to me. What’s going on?”

He stayed silent, hesitating and running a hand through his hair. “Dammit, you make it so hard to talk to you,” he grumbled, beginning to pace.

“What?” you asked, taken aback. “You know you can tell me anything. I’d hope I’m pretty easy to talk to.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s—” He stopped his pacing. “I wanna tell you everything I just— I’m not good at this.”

You giggled. “Clearly.”

He deadpanned at you. 

“Seriously, Dean, spit it out.”

“Can I—” He took a deep breath. “Can I stay here tonight?” 

Your breath hitched, and you suddenly realized you hadn’t answered him yet. “Yeah, yeah, sure,” you said. He clicked on the lamp next to your bed while you turned off the other lights in the room. He crawled into your bed and lifted the covers up for you. You slid in next to him and settled in on your side, facing him. “How you holding up?” you asked. 

He blew out a puff of air. “How do you think?” he finally jested. 

You frowned sympathetically. “Dean, why didn’t you tell me? I get why you didn’t tell Sam, but… I could’ve helped you.”

“(Y/N),” he sighed. “You know I’m no good at the mushy crap.”

“I don’t think that’s it, though,” you replied. “I think you’ve had to keep shit together for too long. Now, opening up to someone feels foreign to you. And I’d stand to reason you’re worried about burdening me with that stuff.”

He looked away from you, and you could tell you were right.

“You are never burdening me. I like listening to you talk. I like being the person you can unload your crap on,” you admitted. “I care about you. You’re my best friend. I never want you to feel like you can’t talk to me.”

“It’s not that I feel like I can’t, I just— I don’t wanna get too close to you.”

Your heart clenched. “Why? You’re confusing me.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, I do, I— I don’t want that to be the reason I end up losing you,” he murmured.

You shook your head. “You won’t. You are not a burden.”

“(Y/N)—” Dean sighed.

“You’re not!” you protested, putting a hand on the side of his face. “Dean, you are… so important to me. Listening to you is important to me. Let me in, please.” You stroked his cheek with you thumb.

“I’m trying,” he said, reaching up to hold your wrist. He kissed the inside of your wrist gently, savoring the moment before looking back up at you. “I promise, I’m trying. I’ve never been this honest with… anyone, I don’t think.”

You huffed a short laugh. “I’m glad you can trust me. I trust you, too. And… I’m never trying to push you to talk about shit you don’t want to. But I do want you to know, no matter how dark and scary it gets, I’m here.”

Dean nudged your nose with his. You took the opportunity to kiss him gently, the kiss quickly becoming more passionate. Dean grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him, hooking your leg around his hips. He then rolled on top of you, continuing to kiss you deeply. You arched your back into him, moaning into his mouth. He ground his hardening cock into your core, and you broke the kiss suddenly.

“Wait, wait, Dean, are you sure you want this?” you asked him. 

“What?” he asked breathlessly.

“I mean, with everything going on, do you just… need to blow off some steam? Or… do you really want me?” you asked nervously.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” he urged you. 

You did.

“I want this. I want you.” 

You pulled his face back down to you as he started to grind against you again. You could feel your arousal beginning to soak through your underwear, and Dean could feel it, too. 

He smirked down at you. “That all for me?”

“Shut up,” you said, kissing him again. You broke the kiss only to take his shirt off him. He did the same to you, groaning at the sight of your exposed breasts. You moved to cover yourself, but Dean pinned your hands next to your head.

“Don’t,” he ordered. “Don’t hide from me.”

You leaned up to kiss him again, and he began to twist and pinch your nipples, causing you to moan into his mouth. 

“Dean,” you breathed out.

“I know, sweetheart,” he told you. “Fuck, I don’t have a condom. Are you—?”

You shook your head. “I can’t have kids,” you admitted. “Part of the, uh, side effects of being malnourished as a kid,” you laughed uncomfortably. You looked back up at Dean to find him gazing at you sadly.

“It’s okay, really,” you told him. You were telling the truth; you wouldn’t want to bring a child into this life anyway. “Now, are you gonna fuck me, or what?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckled. Dean pushed his boxers down with one hand and pulled your panties to the side. You moaned at the feeling of him entering you, chest heaving from the stretch. 

“Dean, Dean, slow down,” you pleaded. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned. Dean let you adjust to his size as you ran your hands over his chest and along his back, just enjoying the feeling of touching him. Feeling him kept you grounded as he pushed completely into you. 

“God, fuck, move, please,” you rushed out breathlessly.

He complied, kissing you again as he toyed with your breasts and rocked into you. You were shocked at the speed your orgasm crept up on you, and you raked your nails up Dean’s spine. “Dee, I’m gonna—”

“I know, I know, me, too—” he said, burying his face in your shoulder. His pace became more frantic and erratic before you finally felt ropes of his cum shooting into you, sending you over the edge along with him. Dean continued to rut into you and press kisses into your neck as he steadied his breathing, and you held onto his shoulders tightly. Still inside of you, he leaned back up to kiss you.

You held either side of his face with your legs wrapped around his waist as you kissed him, relishing in the feeling of your bodies connected. When he did pull out, you moaned at the loss as he tucked himself back into his boxers and adjusted your panties. He gathered up your slick on his index and middle fingers and brought them to his lips. Your breath hitched as he kept eye contact with you while he smirked and licked his fingers clean. He then put his fingers between your lips, and his jaw dropped as you sucked them with your eyes closed in contentment. You pulled Dean’s fingers out of your mouth and kissed them gently before taking his wrist and wrapping his arm around your back.

Dean chuckled and shuffled closer to you in the bed. He held you close to him and rested his forehead against yours. “If vulnerability is gonna get me sex like that, I’ll be spillin’ my guts to you non-stop,” he joked.

You shoved his shoulder playfully and feigned offense. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he said, pulling you back against his chest. Dean laid on his back, staring up and the ceiling, and had you lying on your stomach on top of his chest, arms encircling your waist. 

“Thank you,” he murmured. 

“For what?” you asked.

“Everything.”

***

You woke up wrapped by Dean’s arms the next morning. The two of you hadn’t moved much from the position you fell asleep in; Dean securing you to his chest, and your head tucked under his chin. You sighed contentedly, snuggling more into Dean. 

The air would undoubtedly shift between you following last night’s events. You’d told him before you weren’t one for hookups, and you knew he wasn’t one to stay the night with a hookup. Being like this was new for both of you. It almost nauseated you thinking about the possible repercussions of sleeping with him, as you’d never cared as much about someone as you cared about him. He was starting to consume more and more of your heart, and you allowed him willingly. 

What scared you was the possibility of being used. You weren’t a very trusting person to begin with, and trusting someone with your heart was entirely new territory for you. You feared that one day, after Dean was over his father’s passing and possibly even tired of having you around, he would be done with you. As this thought crossed your mind, you moved to get out of bed. Dean’s arms tightened around you.

“Where you goin’?” he hummed, eyes still closed.

“Dean, I gotta pee, let me go,” you said.

“Don’t think I will,” he replied, rolling on top of you.

“Dean!” you squealed. “Let me up!” 

He began to attack your neck with kisses up to your lips as you giggled and half-heartedly fought him off you. 

You pecked him on the lips and pulled your neck back into your pillow slightly to look at him. “You’re cute. I still gotta pee.”

“Argh.” He rolled off of you dramatically and laid back on his pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

When you’d done your business and brushed your teeth, you asked Dean, “What’d you tell Sam, anyway? I’m surprised he hasn’t called either of us asking where you were. Or broken down the door yet.” You sat back on the bed next to him. 

That seemed to strike a chord in him. “Yeah, now that you mention it, that is weird. I didn’t tell him I was leaving. He was knocked out when I left.”

You started to get concerned. “He should definitely be up by now, too. It’s after nine o’clock.”

You saw Dean’s breath catch in his chest with worry, and he immediately pulled on his jeans and shirt from the night before along with his shoes. He left the room as you quickly got dressed, too, brushing your hair back into a haphazard ponytail. You held your phone trying to call Sam between your shoulder and ear as you tugged on your boots. “C’mon, pick up,” you begged into the phone.

Dean returned moments later. “He’s not in the room. Dammit, Sam!”

“Hey, I’m sure he’s fine.” You weren’t. “Is the car still here?”

“Yeah. I’ve got the keys, too.”

“What the fuck,” you muttered. “Sam’s phone went to voicemail twice.”

“Shit,” Dean grumbled. “Alright, get your stuff, we’re leaving now.”

You nodded, running around your room to pack the few things you’d taken out of your bag. You beat Dean to the Impala and he sped out of the parking lot more recklessly than usual.

“Slow down, dude, we’re no good to Sam dead,” you scolded.

He didn’t respond to that. “Call Ellen, see if she’s seen him.”

“Already on it.” You pressed the phone to your ear, grateful to hear the woman respond. She told you she hadn’t seen him, but would let you know if she did. You called Bobby; got the same answer. Jo didn’t answer her phone. Sam still wasn’t answering, either.

“Just head to the Roadhouse,” you told Dean. “Ash can probably track ‘im down.”

Dean nodded wordlessly, and you could practically see his mind running a mile a minute. His shoulders were tense, brow set in a hard line, and jaw clenched. You weren’t sure how to help him at that moment, so you just sat by him silently for hours on the road. Then, Ellen called again.

“Hello?” you said. “You heard from Sam?”

“I have, but he made me promise not to tell you where he is,” she replied.

“C’mon, Ellen, please—” 

Dean took the phone from you. “Ellen? It’s Dean. Something bad could be going on here, and I swore I'd look after that kid.” A moment or so later, the tension released from his body as he breathed out, “Thanks.” He clicked the phone shut and handed it back to you. 

“Lafayette, Indiana,” was all he said for the rest of the drive.

***

When you found Sam, he was at the Blue Rose Motel in a room. You and Dean could see him through the window of his room. 

“Oh, thank god you're okay,” Dean breathed out.

Sam moved aside, allowing you and Dean to see the tiny brunette in the room with him.

“Oh, you're better than okay. Sam, you sly dog!” Dean chuckled.

“Dean, I don’t know Sam would drive six hundred miles for pussy,” you quipped. “I think something else is going on here.”

Suddenly, something caught your eye from across the road. It was Gordon on the rooftop of the building, hunched over a sniper rifle he was loading.

“Dean, look,” you rushed out. “We gotta go!”

You sprinted across the street and up the fire escape of the building just as Gordon took a shot. The window on Sam’s room shattered, and Dean jumped Gordon from behind just as he was about to take another shot.

“Gordon!” He kicked Gordon down, hard, pinning him by his collar. He hit him over and over again. “You do that to my brother, I'll kill you!”

You moved to grab the rifle from Gordon, but he smashed the butt of the rifle into your head. It was lights out after that moment.

***

When you came to, you groaned in pain at the pounding in your head. Not quite aware of what was going on yet, you tried to raise a hand to your head only to be stopped by the binds around your wrists. You jerked in your chair and realized your ankles were bound, too. 

‘Hey, sweetie,” Gordon monotoned. “Nice of you to join us.”

“You son of a bitch,” you hissed, staring up at him through your eyebrows. 

Without missing a beat, he back slapped you. “That's my momma you're talking about.”

Your head still jerked to the side from the slap, you flexed your jaw painfully. “Where’s Dean?” you asked.

As if on cue, you heard him in the next room. “(Y/N)? (Y/N)!” he called.

“Isn’t that sweet,” Gordon droned. 

“What’s your plan, here?” you questioned, ignoring his comment. “Gonna get back at us for leaving you tied up in your own mess for three days?”

“What, you think this is revenge?” His monotone almost broke as he chuckled humorlessly. “This isn't personal. I'm not a killer, sweetie. I'm a hunter. And your boyfriend’s brother is fair game.” Gordon slammed a knife from his canvas duffel bag into its sheath.

“Sam? Why?” you asked.

“Was huntin’ a demon down in Louisiana. She told me all about Sam’s visions. Apparently, a bunch of psychic freaks are supposed to help demons take over the world. And the real kick in the ass: she told me I know one of them. Our very own Sammy Winchester,” he said.

“Are you done monologuing, or…?”

He scoffed. “You keep that attitude up. I know it’s just a front. I gotta say, I’m kinda excited to see you and Dean break when Sam goes up in smoke.”

“So, what? You’re gonna use us to lure Sam here, kill him; then what about us? You don’t think we’ll hunt you down to hell and back?” you hissed.

“I do. That’s why I’m gonna kill you, too.”

You snorted. 

“Something funny?”

You shook your head. “Nah, it’s just, you think you’re so good. Do you really believe you’re gonna take us out that easy?” 

He considered for a moment. “Honestly? Yeah. There were two of y’all, and I still got the jump on you.”

You couldn’t argue with him there. “Call it a weak moment,” you grumbled.

He snickered and came up behind you, forcing a tie into your mouth. He caught a bit of your hair in the knot as he secured it around your head. “See you on the flipside, sweetheart.” Gordon left the room and shut the door behind him. 

You immediately set to work trying to loosen the ropes enough to be able to grab the knife sheathed in your sleeve. 

‘Fuck, he tied this shit well,’ you thought. You continued struggling, tears beginning to pool in your eyes. 

You heard Dean and Gordon talking in the next room, but couldn’t quite make out what was being said. You took in the dilapidated room around you filled with debris, and noticed one of the loose wooden boards was just around level with the arms of your chair. You began propelling yourself toward it by making the chair hop in the board’s direction. You paused when you heard footsteps approaching the door to your room. The door creaked open to reveal Gordon, and you stared him down angrily. 

“All good in here?” he asked you accusingly.

You couldn’t respond due to the gag tightly secured around your mouth. 

“Good. Sammy should be here soon,” he said. He loaded a mag into his rifle and turned to leave the room. You could hear Gordon pacing the floor just outside the room and decided not to move until he left. 

Unfortunately, that moment never came. The next thing you heard was a bomb going off. You screamed, muffled by the gag, and immediately began moving back toward your original goal to help you get loose. A second grenade sounded, and you began to sob. You stuck a jutting-out part of the loose board under the rope around your wrist and tugged against it, allowing you room to pull your wrist out. You dragged your hand along the splintered wood, ignoring the scratching and pricks to fully free your wrist. You quickly went to work pulling the knife out of your sleeve to free your other wrist and ankles. You burst through the door and pulled the gag over your head, yelling, “Dean!”

You heard his muffled sobs from beyond the door across from you. You hurried to him, hearing struggling from Gordon in the next room. And… Sam? You were relieved to hear his voice and began cutting Dean free of his binds. Dean ripped his gag off with his free hand and ran a hand over your hair as you finished freeing him.

You looked back up at him. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “You?” He gingerly touched the wound on your forehead from where the butt of Gordon’s rifle hit you. 

“Yeah,” you said, just as Sam walked into the room.

“I’m fine, too, guys, thanks,” he joked.

“Sam!” You ran to him and threw your arms around him. 

“Hey, (Y/N/N).”

Dean was next to hug Sam. He frantically checked his baby brother for injuries. Sam clapped a hand to Dean’s shoulder to let him know he was okay. With that, Dean wheeled around in the direction Sam had come from. “That son of a—”

Sam stopped him. “Dean. No.”

Dean shrugged his brother off him. “I let him live once. I'm not making the same mistake twice.”

“Trust me. Gordon's taken care of. Come on,” Sam jerked his head at the door, pulling Dean by his jacket.

Sam staggered down the steps of the cabin, and you caught him as he almost stumbled down the last one.

“You okay, kid?” you asked.

He nodded, grimacing. “Yeah, he got in a few good hits, though.”

You looked at him sadly.

“Trust me, (Y/N), I’m okay.”

Suddenly, a shot fired off whizzing right past your head. “Run!” you yelled, scrambling across the street to find cover in the woods. 

“You call this taken care of?” Dean grunted at his brother. 

Sam grabbed you and Dean and pulled you into the ditch next to him.

“What the hell are we doing?” Dean questioned.

“Just trust me on this, alright?”

Your breath quickened as Gordon continued to approach your hiding spot with his gun cocked. However, to your relief, cops emerged from their cars with sirens blazing, cornering Gordon.

“Drop your weapons! Get down on your knees!” one cop yelled, pointing his gun at Gordon.

You grinned at Sam as Gordon was apprehended, glaring in your direction. The cops pulled out the weapons rack in the back of Gordon’s car.

“Anonymous tip,” Sam whispered.

“You're a fine upstanding citizen, Sam,” Dean commented. 

You giggled, leaning against Sam to hug him as you continued watching Gordon’s arrest. “Only thing that would make this better would be some popcorn.”

***

You called Ellen to explain the situation to her. “Apparently, Gordon was hunting Sam,” you told her. “And he apparently had some Roadhouse connections.” You were fuming when Dean told you that, but also refused to let Dean rip into that poor woman. You decided to handle the issue yourself. 

“And you honestly think that it was me? Or Ash? Or Jo? No way,” she said.

“Well, who else knows about Sam?” you questioned accusingly. “I mean, you must have been talking to somebody.”

“Hey, you can say a lot of things about us. But we are not disloyal. And we're not stupid. We haven't breathed a word of this,” she replied sharply.

“Are you sure? I wanna trust you, but this guy almost killed us. I need to know the truth,” you told her.

“(Y/N), sweetie, this roadhouse is full of other hunters. They're all smart. They're good trackers. Each of them with their own patterns and connections. Look, hell, I could name twelve of them right now that are capable of putting this together.” She sighed. “I am sorry about what happened. But I can't control these people. Or what they choose to believe.”

“Okay,” you said finally. “Thanks, Ellen.” You hung up the phone and sat back against the passenger’s side door of the Impala as Dean continued driving. Sam had been on a phone call of his own, but apparently, he’d been sent to voicemail.

“Hey, Ava, it's Sam. Again. Um, call me when you get this, just want to make sure you got home okay. Alright. Bye.”

“Everything alright?” Dean asked his younger brother. 

“Yeah, I hope so.”

“Well, Gordon should be reaching for the soap for the next few years at least,” the older brother chuckled.

“Yeah. If they pin Scott Carey's murder on him.”

A potentially unfortunate thought crossed your mind. “And if he doesn't bust out.”

A silence settled over the car.

“Dude, you ever take off like that again—” Dean warned.

Sam snorted. “What? You’ll kill me?”

“That is so not funny,” you chimed in.

“Alright, alright. So where to next, then?” Sam asked.

Dean smirked. “One word: Amsterdam.”

“Dean!” you and Sam exclaimed.

“C’mon, guys, I hear the coffeeshops don't even serve coffee,” he snickered.

“I'm not just gonna ditch the job,” Sam protested.

“Honestly, Dean, me neither,” you said.

Dean shook his head. “Fuck the job. Fuck it. I'm sick of the job anyway. I mean, we don't get paid, we don't get thanked. The only thing we get's bad luck.”

“Well, come on, dude, you're a hunter. I mean, it's what you were meant to do,” the younger brother said.

“Ah, I wasn't meant to do anything, I don't believe in that destiny crap.”

Sam tilted his head. “You mean you don't believe in my destiny.”

“Yeah, whatever,” the older brother mumbled.

“Look, Dean, I've tried running before. I mean, I ran all the way to California and look what happened. You can't run from this. And you can't protect me,” Sam continued.

Dean looked at him significantly. “I can try.”

Sam’s puppy dog eyes stared back at him. “Thanks for that,” he said quietly. “Look, Dean, I'm gonna keep hunting. I mean, whatever is coming, I'm taking it head-on, so if you really want to watch my back, then I guess you're gonna have to stick around.”

“Bitch,” Dean grumbled.

“Jerk.”

You giggled at the brothers. “You guys are breakin’ my heart up there. You gonna hug or somethin’?”

“Shut up, (Y/N),” both brothers chided.

You laughed again.

Dean noticed Sam fiddling with his phone again. “You calling that Ava girl again? You sweet on her or something?”

“She's engaged, Dean.”

“So? What's the point in saving the world if you can't get a little nookie once in a while, huh?”

“Ew, Dean,” you grimaced.

Dean smirked lasciviously at you in the rearview mirror. You rolled your eyes, holding back a smile.

Sam hung up the phone, scowling in thought.

“What?” you asked.

He sighed. “Just a feeling. How far is it to Peoria?”

***

When you arrived— well, broke and entered— at Ava Wilson’s house, you were horrified by what you found. A man was lying face-up on the bed, clothes, sheets, and hair soaked in blood.

“Holy shit,” you breathed out.

“Hey,” Dean called from the window sill. “Sulfur. Demon's been here.”

You caught sight of something on the floor and picked it up. It was an engagement ring. You held it up to Sam.

His reply was one whispered word: “Ava.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[0nerd-at-heart0]

The Stress of a Case

Harvey Specter x Female Reader

Please Read: Hello! It's been a hot minute since I have published anything. Have been currently studying for my LSATS and have been a busy bee but after being obsessed with Suits for the past 2 years and waiting for more Harvey stories to be published I decided to create my own little storyline. What started off as a storyline in my head is now on paper. I have this idea to create a mini-story/universe: how the reader got hired, when she first met Mike, her first case with Harvey, her first date with Harvey, etc. I guess I just want to see if people are interested. It's been a while since I had written anything that wasn't an academic paper and my writing skills have changed drastically. This is one of the first the fics of the universe I am building in my head that I have written so I decided to publish this. I hope yall enjoy it, please give feedback.

Warnings: Talks about not eating (due to stress), food mention, panic attack details, fainting, Harvey being an ass, cursing I think? if I am missing anything please let me know

Word count: 5.6k

Taglist: @happy74827 @princessvader15 @hashcakes @yiiiikesmish @malfoys-demigod

I tagged those who commented under my last post I hope that's okay and if you aren't interested in being tagged let me know and I will remove you sorry.

As you entered the corridors of Pearson Hardman, they were alive with the usual buzz of legal minds at work, but this time, a distinct tension hung in the air. You didn't even get a few steps into the associates area before hearing the straining  voice of Louis Litt yelling that there was an emergency meeting. 

You scrambled behind, stuffing your mouth with the banana nut muffin you thought you would eat peacefully at your desk this morning. You knew what this meeting was about, everyone knew. The case against Amir Jackson, the firm's ex-lawyer turned adversary, had everyone on edge. 

The briefing room was filled with hushed whispers as everyone settled in, and even the confident strides of Harvey Specter and Louis Litt carried a subtle weight.

Harvey, impeccably dressed as always, stood at the head of the conference table, his piercing gaze flickering between Jessica Pearson and the gathered associates, and maybe it was your imagination but it might have lingered a little longer on you. Snapped out of your imagination when he spoke, "Listen up, people. This case is different. Amir Jackson knows us inside out, and he won't hesitate to use that knowledge against us. He's playing dirty, and we need to be ready for anything."

You never got to meet Amir Jackson, but oh the stories. The firm had no problem doing what they needed to do to be successful, but there was a line they never dared cross and Amir crossed it. 

Jessica leaned forward, her hands planted firmly on the table. "Amir's betrayal when he left this firm was bad enough. Now, he's trying to take a piece of us with him. We can't let that happen."

Louis chimed in. "I've seen my fair share of dirty plays, but this guy is in a league of his own. We need to be one step ahead, or he'll bury us."

The gravity of the situation was sinking  in, associates exchanged knowing glances. They understood the magnitude of the challenge ahead. Amir Jackson wasn't just a legal opponent; he was a former comrade who knew their strengths and weaknesses intimately. The fact that there was a meeting needing to be held just told how much this case was about to get tricky. Usually the inner circle dealt with these cases: Harvey, Louis, Jessica, Mike and maybe sometimes Rachel. 

Your role as the go-to person for legal paperwork kept you in the thick of it. While Harvey Specter had his famed right-hand man in Mike Ross, he knew he could rely on you for drafting contracts with a precision that went beyond mere proficiency.

You might not have been Harvey's drinking buddy or his confidant like Mike, but there was a unique dynamic between you both. It was a quiet understanding that transcended the formalities of the workplace. You  knew you would never be his protege, and that was perfectly fine with you. What you brought to the table was a specialized skill set that complemented Harvey's legal prowess, if you do say so yourself. 

His voice thundered through the briefing room as he adjusted his cuffs, “I am building a specific legal team to help bring down Amir Jackson”. 

Of coure Harvey was going to pick Mike Ross, Mike was worth more than 8 associates. How much more help does he need? Who else could he need? Harvey's eyes scanned the room filled with associates. His gaze settled on you, and he flashed a sly grin. "You, Y/N. You're on my team for this one.” 

Harvey and you had worked together various times. He always knew he could count on you for legal paperwork. As much as he depended on Mike Ross, there was one thing you were that Mike wasn’t and that was that you had a talent when it came to drafting contracts. But I believe that there was some respect, one might even say in a blossoming friendship between you and him. You got a spark of it when he teasingly picked you out of the bunch of associates to be part of his team for his takedown of Amir Jackson. 

“You know, Y/N, if paperwork were an Olympic sport, you'd be a gold medalist," Harvey remarked with a wry grin, “And I expect you to bring the gold home for Pearson Hardman”

“I won’t let you down Sir”, you gave a weak smile as all eyes were on you.

 You hated the attention, yet you couldn’t help the small heat you felt on our cheeks as Harvey stared at you. Drawn to playing with the bracelet you wore as you slightly cringed at yourself for the words that came out of your mouth. Sir? Really. Stupid, you thought. 

Harvey moved past it and called out the name of 2 more associates and asked if anyone else wanted in on the case had to draw up a proposal. He only wanted the best of the best and trust him, he would get the best of the best. 

You made your way to Harvey’s office as the meeting was dismissed. And you reminisce on the first time Harvey complimented on your legal work. 

“ Are you a sorcerer”, Harvey asked as he made his way to your cubicle. It was late one night and you were stuck on an email. You had this need to overachieve and be perfect and it showed in everything you did. But if you were being honest it was exhausting. 

You glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "Well, Harvey, someone has to make sure the i's are dotted and the t's are crossed. Can't let you walk into a negotiation with a misplaced comma, now can we?"

You don’t know what has gotten into you. Maybe it's the lack of sleep or the fact that you had 4 coffees. But the confidence was there and to your surprise, Harvey chuckled. 

You swear you saw a twinkle in his eye as he responded, "You're practically the Mozart of legal documents. I half expect those contracts to start singing a symphony when I open them."

You smirked, setting aside the email you were currently writing, swiveling your chair to face him,  "If you want a soundtrack to your legal victories, Harvey, I'm sure I can find a way to make that happen."

He tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Now that's the kind of innovation I like to see. Who needs background music at a negotiation? Just cue in Y/N legal masterpiece."

You couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the idea. "I'll be sure to add it to the list of services I provide, Harvey. Background music, legal counsel, and a dash of flair."

Harvey straightened up, his signature confidence in full force. "Flair is your middle name, isn't it? The 'Legal Maestro with a Touch of Flair.' Has a nice ring to it."

You rolled your eyes, feigning exasperation. "I'll have to update my business cards. But let's be honest, Harvey, you appreciate the flair. It's what sets my paperwork apart from the rest."

Harvey smirked, leaning in. "You're not wrong. But don't let it get to your head. I can't have you drafting contracts with a crown on, declaring yourself the Queen of Legal Documents." He turned to leave right after and you could have sworn you were asleep and that any moment now you would wake up from this dream.

You yelled out, “Don't worry, Harvey. I'll keep the royal proclamations to a minimum. Wouldn't want to overshadow your crown as the King of Closing Deals." And you could have sworn he let out a hearty laugh from down the hall. 

“Y/N, nice of you to join us”, Harvey said. Jessica and Mike were already in the room as the other associates were already screaming. They had been given their assignments and were off to work. 

“What can I do”, you spoke above a whisper, feeling small as the eyes were all on you. Jessica knew your history, she knew you struggled to be the shark of a lawyer you could be. But she hired you anyway, your interview with her wasn't the best. But she saw something in you, something that reminded her of herself when she was starting off. She was gonna build and mold you to a shark. But for now she let you be. A shark wasn’t born overnight. 

“ I need one of your flawless contracts for Amir. I need no loopholes. Nothing he can use against us”, Harvey spoke in a harsher tone then he meant. 

All you could do was nod your head and swiftly leave the room to do the research needed.  Leaving Mike, Harvey and Jessica to chatter. As you walked down the corridor you saw Louis making his way to Harvey’s office with Rachel in tow. All hands on deck indeed, you thought to yourself. 

The first night working on that draft through the dim glow of the late-night office lights illuminated your determined face. The rhythmic tapping of the keyboard was accompanied by the occasional crunch of Hot Cheetos. 

Proud of  your work, you compiled the neatly typed pages and confidently walked over to Harvey Specter's desk. As  you  placed the document in the designated spot, you felt relief wash over you. It’s currently 2:00 am, no one is here but you but you really wanted to prove your worth. 

With only 5 hours asleep, the next day, you walked into the office, a little pep in your step. You made yourself some crappy coffee. And were about to head into the bullpen. 

Harvey, engrossed in his own work the minute he stepped into the office, took a moment to glance at the papers. His stern expression, usually unreadable, twisted into a scowl as he noticed a small Hot Cheeto stain near the corner of the document. And called you down to his office. Your pep was gone once you heard his tone of voice as he called your name. Turning on your heel you headed towards his office. Donna was expecting you and let you by. One foot through the door is as far as you got before Harvey had something to say. 

"Do you see this?" Harvey's voice was sharp pointing at the small stain.

Panicking slightly, you stammered, "I'm sorry, Harvey. I must have missed that." It was an easy fix, just print another copy, you thought to yourself making a mental note.

Harvey's gaze shifted from the stain to the content of the contract. He began circling errors with a red pen, his frustration apparent. "And these mistakes? This is what you place on my desk and yet it isn't up to my expectations”.

As he pointed out the errors, your pride in their work crumbled. The Hot Cheeto stain seemed to just make Harvey go on a power trip.. Each correction felt like a blow,"I expect better from you," Harvey remarked, his tone cold and unforgiving.

You nodded, unable to muster a response. Maybe the growing friendship you thought of was truly in your head.  As Harvey returned to his own work,  you retreated to their desk, determined to rectify the mistakes. 

You admit your first draft wasn't the best. And you shouldn't have eaten near the paperwork. You were currently starving as you finished up the last paragraph. It’s been 6 hours since Harvey scolded you but  this draft was perfect. And after you turned it in you were going to treat yourself  to a nice dinner. Probably the Mexican place down the road. You were zoned in for the past 6 hours. This was the only case you were working on and it needs all your attention. But your attention was quickly zoned into the associate that was stumbling through the door. 

Mike comes waltzing in, barely having any balance.  You and Mike haven't really talked much. But he didn't look well. 

“ Hey, Mike. You okay?" you asked, concerned in your voice. 

Mike attempted a nonchalant smile, but the wavering balance gave away his inebriated state. "Yeah, just...you know, a little tired."

Observing Mike closely, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story. "Are you sure about that?"

Mike hesitated before confessing, "Okay, fine. Maybe a bit more than tired. Harvey and I went to meet someone about the Amir Jackson case, and things got a bit...out of hand with the drinks"

Your  concern shifted to a mix of annoyance and frustration. While you had been tirelessly working on the second version of the contract, Harvey and Mike were out getting drunk. "Seriously, Mike? We have a case to win, and you two are out here partying?"

Mike scratched his head, a sheepish grin on his face. "We thought it was a good idea at the time. Maybe it was a bit impulsive."

Determined to express their frustration,  you headed towards Harvey's office, the door slightly opened,. Knocking lightly, you  entered and handed Harvey the second draft of the contract. The faster you gave it to him the faster you could leave. 

"Here's the updated version, Harvey," you said, trying to mask your  annoyance. After all, he is still the boss.

You sped walked out of there and back to your cubicle. Mike was there still, with his head on his desk. 

“Go ask Donna for some pain killers, you still have a long night ahead of you”, you told him. 

Mike just nodded and stumbled as he stood up to go to Donna. You were packing your bags, ready to call it an early night. When your computer dinged.  You sat down to respond to an email quickly when you felt the tension of the bullpen change drastically.

“What is this, Y/N ?" Harvey's tone was sharp, his blue eyes piercing into mine.

You frowned, confused by the unexpected hostility. "It's the contract you asked for, Harvey. I double-checked everything, and it's all in order."

He scoffed, he took out a red marker from his pocket and started circling stuff with his red marker again, "This is subpar, even for an associate. I don't have time for amateur hour."

You  felt a knot tighten in your stomach, a mix of frustration and disbelief. "Harvey, I don't understand. I followed the protocol, and the contract is flawless. What's the issue?"

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, cutting tone. "Flawless? If this is your definition of flawless, we're in trouble. I need precision, not this half-baked attempt at legal work."

The comments were like a punch to the gut. Harvey's relentless standards were known, but this seemed different. You couldn't fathom what had triggered such a harsh reaction. Was he too tipsy?  Doubt crept into your  mind, questioning your abilities despite knowing that the document was, by all standards, impeccable.

As you scrambled to gather my thoughts, Harvey continued. "If you can't handle the basics, I don't know why I bother keeping you around. Maybe it's time for a reality check, Y/N."

His words hung in the air, a heavy weight on my shoulders. The bullpen fell silent, and your colleagues exchanged uneasy glances. You knew how people judged women for being emotional in the workplace but you could not help the tears welling in your eyes. 

Harvey turned on his heel and walked away without a second glance, leaving you with a sinking feeling of inadequacy. You stared at the perfectly crafted document, now dismissed and devalued by Harvey's cutting words. It was a moment of doubt, a crack in the confidence you had built in your work. Goodbye nice dinner, you thought to yourself as we sat at your cubicle, back to square one. 

It's been about a week since Harvey yelled at you. You couldn't sleep, you couldn't eat. Doubt was eating you. You were always proud of your writing skills, that was what you were known for. This is what got you hired at Pearson Hardman. What if you weren't good enough for this job anymore? Did you speak? Your mind was racing and you were lucky enough to talk yourself down. You were currently working on your fifth version of this contract. Every draft before that had him taking out his red marker. A part of you could have sworn he was just circling things at random, but who are you to question the great Harvey Specter. It was 2:00 pm and you thought maybe you deserve a snack so you headed to the breakroom. Who do you happen to run into Mike Ross? He had no faults but just happened to be the unwitting recipient of your  frustration.

You stormed up to Mike barely containing the anger that had been building for weeks. "Mike, we need to talk," I blurted out, not bothering to hide the frustration in my voice.

Mike looked up from his sandwich, surprised by the intensity of my tone. "Sure, Y/N, what's going on?"

You took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. "It's just... Do you ever feel like you're stuck in someone's shadow? Like no matter how hard you work, you're always one step behind?"

Mike furrowed his brow, sensing the gravity of my emotions. "What happened? Is it Harvey?"

You nodded, my frustration bubbling over. "It's always Harvey. He treats you like a partner, his drinking buddy, his go-to guy for everything. Meanwhile, I'm drowning in his shadow, drowning in rewrites and unreasonable expectations."

Mike leaned back, a sympathetic expression on his face. "I get it. Harvey has his moments. But you're great at what you do. Maybe he just doesn't see it."

"That's the problem, Mike. He doesn't see it. I'm just the person who writes and rewrites, constantly trying to meet his impossible standards. Did you know I can't even eat at my desk because once there was a Hot Cheeto stain on one of the drafts, and he lost it?"

Mike's eyes widened, realizing the extent of my frustration. "That's harsh, Y/N. Look, I know I have a different dynamic with Harvey, but it doesn't mean he values you any less. Maybe you should talk to him about how you're feeling."

"It's not that easy, Mike. I'm tired of being the one in the background. I can't handle the pressure anymore." you confessed, your voice laced with a mix of anger and vulnerability.

Mike sighed, understanding the weight of your words. "I can't fix everything, but I can listen. And I am truly sorry"

“NO, NO, no  I am sorry Mike, I am not mad at you or at Harvey. I guess I am mad at myself. I am just going back to work on my fifth version of this document”, you said as you felt the hunger take over. But you pushed through. You had to push through.

As you walked out of the break room,  Mike became an unexpected ally. He went to his binder Harvey put together and looked for the fourth version of the contract knowing Harvey had put it all in the file to look over. The document was perfect, no one could have done it better. 

Mike took in your look when you came bargaining in here. You looked awful. And what it was barely a week working on the case. Mike had heard about Harvey yelling in the bullpen but it had caused you so much disarray that Mike knew Harvey took it too far. He knew you and he didn't talk as much but Rachel adored you and he had to do the right thing and get Harvey to apologize.

Donna saw Mike striding towards Harvey’s office and knew what was coming. Donna knew Harvey was wound tight. That this case was getting the best of him and taking it out on the lovely Y/N but lord forbid she say anything. The last time she tried she nearly got her head chewed off too and Harvey right now needs to know he isn't alone in this case. 

"Harvey, you're being too hard on Y/N. The contract she wrote was perfect, and every draft since then has only improved upon perfection. You can't keep circling random stuff just to make her rewrite it," Mike asserted, his tone firm as he entered Harvey’s office. The fourth version of your contract in his hand. 

Harvey shot him a sharp glance. "I demand the best, and if she can't deliver, then maybe she's not cut out for this."

Mike shook his head. "It's not about delivering, Harvey. It's about you being stressed out over the case and taking it out on her. She's doing her best, and you need to acknowledge that."

Before Harvey could respond, Donna chimed in. "Mike's right, Harvey. I've seen the way you've been treating Y/N, and it's not fair. You've always had a soft spot for her, even if you won't admit it.”

Harvey raised an eyebrow. "A soft spot? Donna, you're reading too much into it."

Donna crossed her arms, "Harvey. I am Donna and I know everything. I also see everything. Harvey. Remember the time she was sick, and you made sure she had everything she needed? Or how you personally chose her for the team during the Jackson case? You compliment her skills and skip past everyone else you named for your team. You've got a soft spot for her, whether you admit it or not”

Mike nodded in agreement. "You can't deny it, Harvey. There's something about her that you can't ignore. Maybe it's time to acknowledge it and cut her some slack."

Harvey sighed, he didn't appreciate Mike and Donna ganging up on him but the fact that they were meant they maybe had a point, "Fine. Maybe I've been too hard on her. But she needs to know that mediocrity isn't acceptable."

Donna shook her head. "Harvey, there's a difference between pushing for excellence and being unnecessarily harsh. You owe Y/N an apology."

Reluctantly, Harvey nodded. "Alright. I'll talk to her. But this doesn't mean I'm going soft."

Donna smirked. "We wouldn't want that, Harvey."

Harvey made his way to find you. While Donna and Mike exchanged a knowing look. He made his way down to Rachels office, knowing that's where he will find you at these hours. He was taking the elevator and he thought about the last time both of you were in the elevator. It was the day the Amir Jackson case got handed for the first time. Harvey was on his way to meet with Amir for the first time in a long time to talk over the case, get under his skin.

The elevator doors closed, enclosing Harvey Specter and Y/N in a small, confined space. The tension from the  Jackson case was already weighing heavily on Harvey, evident by the way he impatiently tugged at his perfectly knotted tie.

"Harvey, relax. You're going to strangle yourself with that tie if you keep pulling on it," you quipped. You realized the stress coming off him and the words just flew out of your mouth before you could think.

Harvey shot them a sidelong glance, his usual stoicism momentarily replaced by a flicker of amusement. "Maybe I'd be better off without it."

A small, unexpected laugh escaped Harvey's lips, surprising both him and Y/N. It was a rare sight to witness Harvey Specter, the embodiment of seriousness, letting his guard down even for a moment. Specifically with you. 

" This isn't your first time easing the tension, I see the way you calm Rachel down when she gets in over her head. You always find a way to lighten the mood. What's your secret?" Harvey teased, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You shrugged, a smile forming as you too let down your guard "Maybe it's just my superpower. The ability to make even the mighty Rachel and even the mysterious Harvey Specter crack a smile."

Harvey's expression shifted back to his usual cool exterior, but a subtle warmth lingered in his eyes. "Careful, now you might start thinking you're irreplaceable."

As the elevator continued its ascent, the banter between you quieted down and Harvey and you started to go back to normal. Back to the quietness and coldness.

But before the elevator opened to the floor, Harvey sneaked in, “Well, don't let it get to your head. You're not the comedian Pearson Specter, just the document wizard.", his smile lingered a little before the face of the closer returned to its hard exterior. 

If you were there longer than Rachel or she was busy running around the office she allowed you to work in her small office room. It was currently 4:00 pm but Louis had yelled at all the associates and dismissed them for the day for being useless. Only those working on the Amir case were still here, plus Donna and Rachel. Rachel was off trying to get the emails of old associates of Amir. You thought that Mike probably went off with her after your little breakdown to him. You knew Harvey was in the office and that you were typing on your keyboard like there was no tomorrow. You  meticulously worked on the revised legal document, determined to prove to Harvey Specter that you could meet his standards and trying to prove yourself that you could melt your own standards. The door swung open abruptly, and you hooked up to see Harvey's stern expression.

"Y/N, we need to talk," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle, yet you couldn't shake the feeling that another reprimand was imminent.

Your pulse quickened, and your breath caught in your throat. The anxiety that had been simmering since Harvey's earlier criticism surged to the surface. You felt a tightness in my chest, your hands trembling as you tried to compose myself.

Harvey noticed your distress, as his expression softened, and he took a step closer. "Hey, relax. I just wanted to talk about earlier. I think I may have been too harsh."

The words barely registered as your panic escalated. Your mind raced, and suddenly, you found it difficult to breathe. The walls of the office seemed to close in on you. Before you could respond, the edges of your vision blurred, and a wave of dizziness overcame you as you sat at the desk, gripping on to the edge for support. 

Harvey's concern deepened as he watched you struggle. "Hey hey hey, whoa, take it easy. You are okay, everything is okay”

But you couldn't catch your breath, and panic tightened its grip. Your hands shook uncontrollably, and you gasped for air. In the midst of the chaos, Harvey acted swiftly. He made his way around the desk kneeling down to be at eye level with you. 

"Deep breaths, Y/N. In and out," Harvey instructed, his voice a soothing anchor in the storm of panic.

As you continued to struggle, Harvey, without hesitation, he took your  hand and placed it over his heart. "Feel my heartbeat? Match your breaths to it. In, and out” 

His heartbeat served as a rhythmic guide, and slowly, your breaths synchronized with its steady cadence. The panic began to subside, replaced by a sense of calm that washed over you.  As the storm within you  quieted, exhaustion set in, and the world around you blurred into darkness.

Harvey caught you as you passed out. Guilt swept over him because he knew he was the cause of this. He can’t remember the last time he saw you smile, the last time you ate, the last time you lit up a room. You were giving your all in this case and by doing so you were giving away parts of yourself too. He moved you onto Rachels couch so you could lay down properly. He knew you passed out because of panic and the lack of eating, he noticed these things about you. He noticed a lot about you actually, damn it Donna, he thought.

 He took his pocket square and wet it with your water bottle. He adjusted himself to the couch, moving so that your head was on his lap as he placed the cool rag on your forehead. 

The aftermath of the panic attack had left both of you in a vulnerable state. Yet Harvey couldn't deny the flutter in his chest as he gazed down at you. Was it concern for your well-being, or was it the proximity that had him on edge? He shook off the thought, focusing on steadying his own heartbeat.

In the midst of the stillness, the door creaked open, and right on cue Mike Ross cautiously entered. He took in the scene, the concern etched across his face.

"What happened?" Mike asked, his eyes shifting between Harvey and your unconscious state, ready to fight Harvey if he did you any physical harm.

Harvey, in his usual commanding tone, snapped, "Go to the Mexican restaurant two blocks down and get two number 5's."

Mike, taken aback, stammered, "But—"

"Just do it," Harvey insisted, his gaze never leaving you. 

Mike quickly exited, leaving Harvey alone with his unconscious colleague. He had so many questions but Harvey’s tone told him everything he needed to know.  Minutes later, the door swung open again, revealing Mike with bags of Mexican takeout in hand.

"Here," Mike said, handing the bags to Harvey. "I'll take off early for the night. Rachel and I were thinking about grabbing dinner. You got this, right?" A little weary to leave you, feeling like he should tell Rachel, Donna or even Jessica. But the look in Harvey’s eye told him he had nothing to worry about. 

Harvey nodded, a silent acknowledgment of Mike's understanding. As Mike left, Harvey couldn't help but feel a mix of gratitude and guilt. He knew you hadn't been eating well, and by the looks of your under eye bags you also hadn't been sleeping and the panic attack had been triggered by the stress of the Jackson case, a burden he bore on both their shoulders.

As you began to stir, Harvey glanced down at the bags of Mexican food. The aroma filled the room, and he hoped the gesture would, in some small way, make up for the turmoil he inadvertently caused.

"You're awake," Harvey remarked as you slowly opened their eyes.

You ignored everything around you as you slowly sat up with the help of Harvey. A blush rushing on your face realizing how close you were to Harvey. But all that faded when you saw the food, "How did you know this is my favorite?"

“That’s the first thing you ask?’Harvey raised an eyebrow. 

Your body slowly turned to face him.The headache and body sores had you wincing in pain. Harvey’s eyes held much guilt and sadness in them even as he tried to suppress them and act strong in front of you. This was about you and not about what he was feeling. 

“I am a simple girl. I get easily distracted by food”, you let out a small laugh even though you are exhausted, “Now answer my question”

Harvey hesitated, the words lingering on the tip of his tongue, he wanted to say that it's because he knew you. But Instead of admitting the depth of his knowledge about you, he chose a simpler response. "Who doesn't love Mexican food?" 

You hummed as he moved the desk closer to you so you wouldn't have to get up from the couch. The food was spread out and he took a seat next to you. A silence took over the room as you both began to eat. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken tension, the events of the panic attack still lingering in the air.

Harvey cleared his throat, breaking the uneasy silence. "Look, Y/N, I wanted to apologize for the unnecessary pressure I put on you. It was out of line, and I shouldn't have let it escalate to the point of causing a panic attack."

You glanced up from your plate, a mixture of exhaustion and forgiveness in your eyes. "Harvey, it's not entirely your fault. The case is stressful, and I should have handled it better."

Harvey's expression softened at your words. "That doesn't excuse my behavior. I should have been more considerate. I don't want you to feel like you have to carry the weight of the case alone."

You sighed, pushing the food around on their plate. "Harvey, I forgive you, but on one condition."

Harvey raised an eyebrow, silently urging you to continue.

" I can't keep being treated like an outsider, I know I only got hired because of my writing skills but I want to do more, be more. I want to be more than just the person who drafts contracts. I know I can be a kick ass lawyer if given the chance."

Harvey took a moment to absorb your words. The realization of the impact of his actions sank in, and he nodded. "You're right”

“Did those words really just come out of your mouth”, your eye grew wide as a smile danced on your lips’’

“Just, can you just shush for a moment”, he said as he placed his  fork down. 

“ Jessca told me when you were hired that you were born to be a shark. I guess I got so caught up in your skills that I haven't really even given you the chance to dominate the courtroom.  I shouldn't have overlooked that."

You saw something in his eyes you had never seen before. Was it hope?

You both continued to eat in subdued silence, the tension in the room shifted. The unspoken feelings between both of you simmered beneath the surface. This was forever changing the dynamic of your professional relationship. 

So where do you all go after this? The case of Amir Jackson isn't over, there is much more left for you both to do. This isn't the end. This is only the beginning, leaving both Harvey and you to navigate whatever comes next.

[hotvintagepoll]

hotvintagepoll Hot Men Tournament rundown thoughts

I promised a final recap post and here it is! I'll try to cover the questions I saw the most as we closed out the bracket, reveal my ✨secret faves✨, and talk about the biggest surprises and turnarounds I saw in the brackets.

Yes, this will get silly.

ROUND 1

As I've mentioned before, I worked off submissions for who to include in the bracket, so if your fave was missing—that's why. I used submitted pics when I could, but many submissions didn't have one, so I tried to find decent ones in the couple of days I had to prep the first round (I didn't always succeed). By decent, I mean pics where 1) I could see the hot man's face, so not too much moody lighting, and 2) hopefully conveyed something about his vibe, even if it was a funny thing (yes, I showed Howard Keel in full Shakespeare get-up—I'm not beyond putting up a pic because I think it's funny). I didn't know all of these hotties going in, so some I had to guess with, but when I could I tried to pick shots that had a touch of the humor, class, or genre of the hot man.

For Round 1 and Round 2, I grouped the hotties by each decade, so only '60s actors ran against '60s actors, '50s against '50s, etc. Male beauty standards shifted pretty dramatically over the sixty years this tournament covers, and I didn't think it was fair to pit dramatically different styles of beauty against each other immediately.

I pitted hot men against each other based on opposing energies—hot vs cold, elegant vs rough, comedy vs drama, etc.. I wanted the polls to be interesting and I've never liked brackets where everyone is clearly in different "lanes" until the finals! I also wanted to make polls where I couldn't tell which way they would swing, so by setting matchups that felt opposite but equal, I got to be surprised by the bracket results too.

The only reason we had any three-way matchups is because the amount of men submitted didn't round to a nice bracket number. I don't like them generally and find them really hard to balance.

Secret faves from Round 1—I am a James Coburn girlie and knew he would die immediately, so that was not a shock but a bummer. I similarly knew Robert Preston is only magical to people who have seen him do His Little Dance Routines in That One Iowa Musical, but it would have been nice for him to last longer.

Surprises—Jeremy Brett was a last-minute add and I didn't think he really had a shot, so I put him in as a third wheel on the Sean Connery/Dean Martin matchup. Little did I count on the Granada girlies. (Always count on the Granada girlies.) The Elvis/Peter Falk poll was the first one to gain any momentum—Elvis was winning for the first 24 hours but then, my god, did Peter fight back. I didn't expect the Tab/Toshiro poll to make that bad a mincemeat out of Tab—people have different tastes, and I thought the people who like blonde sunny All American white boys might turn out for The Blonde Sunny All American White Boy. Sorry, Tab. I hope you've peeled yourself off the sidewalk by now. And, of course, I was SHOCKED and APPALLED that James Cagney would be obliterated by, of all people, Mr. Bing Crosby.

SHADOW BRACKET

The fervor of the Harold Lloyd and Fredric March people inspired the shadow bracket, and I couldn't be happier at the way it's gone. You were right, the original photos I had for them did suck. Cunty Harold Lloyd in his little life guard uniform was a revelation.

ROUND 2

For Round 2 I'd gotten a better sense of who was doing well and who was not, so a little of that came into play, but I mostly paired on vibes again. (I genuinely think this is a good way to make a fun, challenging bracket.)

Secret faves—Noooo not hot dilf Dick Van Dyke don't take my hot inventor dilf away uwu!!! (He was up against Marlon Brando. I would have been shocked if he'd won but for a minute there, a glorious second, it was possible.) I am also a big old softie for David Niven's particular brand of repression to the point of volcanic rupture, but he is one of many hotties who does not look good without moving and speaking so I figured he would be going.

So much beef—hey! hey you. I ran a poll asking if we are horny for dancers. Yes, was the resounding poll response. Where, then, did all the fucking dancers go? This round we lost Donald O'Connor, Fred Astaire, Harold Nicholas; Sammy Davis Jr., Danny Kaye, Frank Sinatra, and Bing Crosby all sneak into this category as well, by token of having been in the kind of big MGM bang-a-pan-and-put-on-a-show beloved bedlams we all watch at Christmastime. Round 2 voters HATED musical matchups. Except for one.

The one—SOUND OF MUSIC, the voters said, WE LOVE SOUND OF MUSIC. we will KILL the man responsible for salad dressing because of the SOUND OF MUSIC. every other dance man can die but THIS man dances a FOLK DANCE with JULIE ANDREWS in a GARDEN. I did not go into this poll with strong opinions about Christopher Plummer or Paul Newman but my god did I leave having heard all of them.

Surprises—James Edwards/Anthony Perkins matchup was a nail biter! Conrad vs Oscar kept me up at nights. Surprised to see Basil Rathbone survive against Sabu Dastagir—both very fetching, but Sabu had some top-tier propaganda. Cesar Romero put up a surprisingly stiff fight against Cary Grant (an omen for things to come).

Oh horrors—horror heroes surprisingly fell all over the place. I was sure either Bela Lugosi or Turhan Bey would sweep their three-way matchup, but Michael Redgrave of all people carried through; Boris Karloff went down against Johnny Weismuller (while holding hands with fellow fallen hottie Fred Astaire), but at least we got his guacamole recipe before he went. Delighted to see that the Venn diagram of the coalitions who support horror hero Vincent Price and funny lil guy Donald O'Connor is a circle.

Secret faves pt 2—oh yeah, I fucking love Danny Kaye and Donald O'Connor. RIP funny lil kings.

ROUND 3

For some reason this was the hardest one to make matchups for. Oh no, all the men are hot.

Secret faves—Michael Redgrave i love you SO much you're SUCH an idiot, how did you make it as far as round 3. I want you to sweep the whole thing but you should NOT be surviving this. I love you, here's a kiss, go home.

Surprises—Marlon Brando is gone! Errol Flynn is gone! Christopher Plummer exhausted himself beating the organic oreos man to death and goes out with a whimper. Beginning to actually see the roots of #mifunesweep as Tyrone Power, a hot man very different from Burt Lancaster, who was in turn very different from Tab Hunter, also gets swept under the wheels of the unbeatable toshirobus. Conrad Veidt finds that no amount of purring svelte eccentricity compares to the people who will fuck a young Lt. Columbo.

SHADOW BRACKET 2

Cannot believe it but Veidt loses this one too. Perkins sweeps and becomes Prince of the Shadow Realm!

ROUND 4

At this point I've set a formal bracket that I'm following.

Secret faves—this isn't secret anymore, but losing Jimmy Stewart hurt.

Surprises—The Gene Kelly/Jeremy Brett matchup was the diciest one all round, moving back and forth between the two by sometimes .01%. Far more surprising, however, was Cary Grant getting eliminated before the quarterfinals. Grant has never been my type, but he is famous for being THE type, so while the writing had been on the wall the whole tournament—how on earth did Michael Redgrave even get 36% in his matchup?!—seeing Grant go down was a SHOCKER. Other fallen hotties included Gregory Peck, James Dean, Harry Belafonte, and Sessue Hayakawa. Peter Falk finally met his match in Omar Sharif.

QUARTERFINALS

Secret faves—I don't know if it counts as a secret fave, tbh, as my horses in the race really went out with Stewart, but I do have a soft spot here worth mentioning. Here's my childhood dog, Keaton.

The resemblance is truly striking, and yes, he was short, fast, and not prone to smiling.

Surprises—I couldn't predict how any of these matchups would go down, but I was most interested in Keaton vs Sharif, as they are both SO hot in SUCH different ways.

SEMIFINALS:

This was such a good batch of semifinalist contestants. By this point I think we could all tell Mifune was unstoppable (though I thought Sharif might give him a run for his money), but I really didn't know which way Robeson vs Poitier would flip.

FINALS:

I wanted Sidney Poitier to pull a last-minute sweep out of nowhere, but alas, Toshiro is just THAT GOOD (maybe. I will admit that I find Toshiro's domination a little hard to believe, given the variety and hotness of all his competitors; the man is hot but all these men are hot). I'm still happy with how the tournament went.

FINAL MEDITATIONS:

Biggest shock of a dropout: the loss of Paul Newman

Biggest "you people have no taste": the loss of James Cagney

Biggest victory: Paul Robeson making it to the semifinals over often-assumed champion Gregory Peck

Biggest coalition who deserve justice: dancing men

Biggest ask character: vents anon (currently eating Laurence Olivier)

Biggest, uhh, anything: how many of you are here! I genuinely thought it would be me and 10 other people voting for the whole tournament. I'm thrilled it took off like this!

I think that's everything, but I'm happy to answer addl asks. And THANK YOU to everyone for your tags, rants, impassioned propaganda, beautiful pics, and love for the hot men! See you for the ladies!

[moodymisty]

Author's note: Feeling Night Lordish today <3 I'm not happy with this one, but I wanted to just finish it and work on requests.

Relationships: Shang/Fem!reader

Warnings: Vaguely nsfw, Shang uses derogatory language but you're very much into it and he knows it, Armor kink, Kind of voyeur? It'll make sense

Shang has a secret, and Sevatar has spent weeks figuring out what it is.

The Equerry was quite good at covering his tracks however, and it had taken quite a long while for Sevatar to wait for a slip up. If it wasn't for how keen the Prince of Crows is, Shang could very well have kept it hidden forever.

He tails Shang briefly, and in his security the equerry doesn't seem to expect it. He walks all the way throughout the pitch black halls of theNightfall to the neglected Librarium, and heads inside. Sevatar lingers by the entrance to listen, cloaked in darkness still. He doesn't risk getting any closer yet.

Someone else is in there already however, he can hear the heartbeart. It's quieter, only one- it's a baseline.

The Librarium however means it's more than likely not a serf. The rustling of fabric that isn't coarse and ragged supports such a thing. Sevatar picks a moment to slip inside the Librarium fully, disappearing into the darkness beyond the dim few candles that are still burning ever after so much neglect. He sees you huddled at one of the tables closest to a batch of old candles, and his suspicions are all proven.

It's one of the remembrancers.

Sevatar is confused for a moment, though he supposes Shang might have some business with you all as equerry. It however still seems off for him to come all the way out of his way here just to speak to a single one. Why wouldn't he just summon you to him?

Though Sevatar doesn't need to keep himself wondering for much longer, as Shang approaches you from behind. You don't hear him coming- Shang's blended into the darkness enough that your less than keen baseline senses don't even realize a Night Lord is descending upon you until he speaks.

"Busy?"

You suddenly turn and a deep inhale is caught in your throat, the chair you were sitting on skidding across the floor as the back of your legs push it away. Your heart has suddenly revved up in terror, but when you turn and see Shang, the expression that blossoms on your face is...

Joy?

"Shang!"

The armored Night Lord approaches closer and quickly you're trapped against the table, enveloped in his shadow. In one fell swoop he grabs the back of your thighs and plops you on the table, bringing you up closer to his face. If he hadn't, he would tower over you in his armor so much so that looking down on you would require a near hilarious tilt of his head.

You gleefully let yourself get thrown about, putty in his hands. Sevatar can see his gauntlet dig halfway up your blouse, firmly gripping your ribs.

"I'm going to rip their eyes out if one of them leers at you again."

Sevatar watches. He wonders who them is. One of his brothers, is his first guess.

"Don't you leer at me, Shang?"

You say it with a smile, letting the Night Lord lower his head deep into your personal space. You wouldn't have a choice to refuse- Shang is your master and more powerful than your delicate body to an unfathomable degree- but Sevatar finds your enthusiastic consent interesting.

"Perhaps," He says, his lips coming to rest just brushing over your own.

"Though I remember you saying that it makes you wet."

The look you give the Night Lord is cruel within itself. Pure unending want. The smell that begins to radiate from you is more sickly sweet than the wine that Sevatar gag at in the Terran Palace, bottles popped by the Phoenician Fulgrim himself.

"It does."

The noise Shang lets out is nothing short of an inhuman growl, holding your body tighter. The fear you feel of him only seems to make your body run hotter, as Sevatar can see your breathing pick up pace as your chest rises and falls beneath the fabric of your clothes. If your heartbeat is ringing in his ears, in Shang's, it must sound like a clock tower ringing midnight.

"You little Terran whore, do you know how many of my brothers I have to beat and kill to keep them from tailing that sweet little cunt of yours around and trying to get a bite?"

His mouth latches to your neck just underneath your jaw, your head tilting to let him access the pulsing veins. His tongue glides across your skin as he bites and kisses your neck; Your hands grip at his armor trying to find stability, gasping as he bruises your skin with intensity. Eventually they slip into his hair, fingers knotting into the pitch black strands.

"When, when will you be out of your armor again?"

You're mewling, and even in the pitch dark no less than a hundred feet away Sevatar can smell that you're still getting even more riled up. He isn't even pushing on them, but your thighs unconsciously spread wide, ready for him. You're either well trained- a mind broken baseline or Nostroman whore, or...

You want him.

The feeling Sevatar has in his chest is, unfamiliar; Watching you pull the Night Lord closer instead helplessly sobbing and crying while attempting to push him away.

"Soon. You can wait, you're not starving. Keep that cunt of yours under control or else you're going to have a squad of men wanting to tear it apart."

You whine, and again ever louder when Shang grips your hips, pushing his thumbs into the soft fat of your hips just above your groin. It makes you writhe helplessly underneath him, as he hisses at you.

"Even if they won't get to, because it's mine."

His lips roughly meet yours, a ruthless aggressive kiss broken up by his growling voice. Muffled against your skin it's a bit harder to hear, but he still manages it.

"Once I am out I was intending on fucking you within an inch of your life whether you wanted it or not."

You mewl for him, and even Sevatar can admit that the sound is delicious; Like squeaky, active prey. You attempt to pull your body closer to him, hands still deep in his hair. Shang sighs.

"I must return to Kurze. He'll return from his gallery soon."

Your hands linger on him, and the look of blissful stupidity you had on your face fades to one much more lucid and becoming of your station.

"I'll miss you."

Sevatar feels that thing in his chest twist tighter. The shadows around him almost seem to shake at his loss of concentration.

"Why do I think you're just missing one part of me, you hungry little bitch."

You pout at him, displeased by his overt implication; Your lips shift with a search for words.

"I'll miss you, Shang. I-"

Shang leans closer to you and your voice fades to something Sevatar can barely hear, but you do say something. He leans away once you finish, and his expression is much more neutral. The way Sevatar is used to seeing his ugly, scarred face; Stoic.

"Stay out of their sight."

You nod. Shang leans forward and kisses you again, a hungry gesture that has you moaning into his mouth. But the act itself is still, soft. Sevatar has never seen anything that gentle from one of his brothers- they don't even handle their few possessions with such care.

It, feels wrong.

Shortly thereafter Shang removes himself from you and pulls from your personal space, as much as your weak little limbs try and hold him close.

Sevatar moves to slip out before Shang does, but he catches the forlorn look on your face as this brief moment is cut.

When Shang finally leaves the librarium, he comes face to face with Sevatar a short ways down the hall. Sevatar can tell by how Shang reads his expression, that his knowledge of what transpired is obvious.

"You should keep out of equerry business."

Sevatar laughs, a full belly laugh that reverberates in the hall and mocks Shang to an insulting degree.

"Baseline cunt is equerry business? I was unaware."

Sevatar makes a crude mention of you, and he can see Shang bristle instantly. It's even easier to piss him off now.

"I didn't think you were so low as to go around peering in on others."

Sevatar crosses his arms. The plates of his armor softly knock against eachother.

"If you mind your business, I didn't see a single thing."

The equerry sneers and raises his voice, but it only makes Sevatar laugh. He couldn't find this intimidating now when not minutes ago, he was damn near trying to croon at you.

"You intend to threaten me?"

Once again the first captain laughs, rolling his eyes. The display Shang is putting out now is embarrassing for a Night Lord of his reputation, compensating for being caught in a situation far less that becoming of him.

"No. I am telling you. Stay out of my business, and I will not inform Kurze."

Sevatar isn't stupid. He knows that Kurze would love nothing more than to find a weakness in any his sons he could exploit, especially for a son such as Shang, who Sevatar knows the Primarch already sees as weak.

You would be gone in moments- stolen away and Shang would be forced to know in detail every disgusting and inhuman thing Kurze did to you. If he wasn't forced to watch it.

Judging by how possessive Shang clearly is over you if the mere idea of another's eyes on you sets him off, Konrad could quite easily break the man in one fell swoop- if he wanted.

If he knew he could.

Shang's nose twitches in his sneer. Sevatar hit a nerve; A deep one, the inkling that his affinity to you goes deeper than carnal is more than obvious. And he knows Shang will be easily manipulable because of it.

He could get another fresh cunt, if he wanted. No one would stare if he found a random serf and dragged them back to his quarters. But he wants you specifically, and Sevatar finds that interesting.

Not enough to pursue, but, interesting none the less.

"Very well."

Shang curtly decides to take his leave, pushing past Sevatar to make his way towards the front of the ship. Presumably to return to Kurze's side.

But for a moment Sevatar lingers in the comfortable pitch black of the hall, and considers going to speak with you.

A word lingers on Sevatar's mind.

They can't. Sevatar knows they can't, and Shang is merely indulging in some more primal part of his brain he and some other astartes have managed to unlock. Nothing more.

Sevatar moves on, wiping it all from his mind and returning to his duty. He'll honor what he said, as long as Shang does as well.