#sorry i didn't talk about the execution

[cloud-somersault]

it's kinda hard for me to discuss canon things because I always am like "oh yeah! in my AU--" and people are like "no...i meant in canon" and it's just

i don't wanna talk about canon LMFAO why would i do that when i've sunk all these hours into this fucking AU man

[carmillatism]

u may lose ur mind when u learn that straight is oftentimes used as a generalized term to mean not queer and/or cishet

[pangur-and-grim]

it's funny, I was talking to someone last night who didn't really know what an illustrator was. so when I introduced myself as one, he gave a speech that would've probably gone over well with a gallery artist, but which was precision-tailored to make any illustrator within a 50 mile radius go into eyes-glowing-red kill mode.

his speech was about how there is a difference between craft and art, and how people can practice craft (as in, skillfully execute a painting) without it having any artistic merit.

so I'm someone who gets paid to paint waffles for restaurant menus and dinosaurs for museums exhibits, and AHHHHHH! AHHHHHHH! you can't make art without it being something something you've made. does that make sense? like every illustrator I know has an individual way of approaching any given imagery that is informed by a lifetime of inspiration, and of passive intake of culture, and of the specific mistakes they make because of whatever their particular mass of grey matter deems as important thing to render or unimportant, just fuck it up.

I can make something that is informed by both a century of Canadian print-making and by my own particular neurosis, and it can also be commissioned commercial imagery that I regurgitate without care because I want to pay my mortgage. everything is art, nothing isn't art, art is something sticky and impossible to shake off of you.

anyway he got very wide-eyed and said "I'm sorry if I offended you," so today I feel a bit bad for having gotten so, uh.... excited.

[tobiasdrake]

Where do you fall on the "killing vs. not killing bad guys" argument? I know the debate is complicated and there's a lot of various factors for and against either side, so I wanna hear your take on things.

An intensely complicated subject that tends to get oversimplified on both sides of the equation. I generally don't like to take a "side" on this because I feel like the idea of there being "sides" on killing misses the point.

Unless you're talking about cold-blooded execution of a subdued foe, killing generally isn't a choice you get to make. It's a consequence of the choice you already made to use violence.

While arguments about killing villains exist beyond superhero comics, this is a particular way that they tend to happen in superhero media. Superhero stories depict their heroes as, effectively, SWAT teams. The Green Goblin is about to blow up Newark, so Spider-Man breaks in and smashes his face against a brick wall until he passes out.

Part of the fantasy is the idea that nonlethal violence is easy and reliable. After Spider-Man reduces the Green Goblin's HP to 0, a Windows menu pops up and says "Would you like to finish him?" Spider-Man boldly clicks "No" after every fight like the hero he is.

It allows fans to enjoy brutal takedowns of bad guys without having to reckon with the reality that when Batman brought an entire floor down on top of that guy's head, he probably didn't wake up in a hospital bed. Batman can throw a guy off a third story balcony and watch his knees crack as he hits the ground and the story assures you that he's fine. He'll just need a little stay in the hospital.

But realistically speaking, all of these guys would have body counts. Not because they were aggressively trying to murder, but because you don't really get the choice. It is extremely easy to kill someone and surprisingly difficult to nonlethally incapacitate them. The line between how much blunt-force cranial trauma will knock someone unconscious versus how much will kill them is extremely blurry and it moves.

There are less lethal ways of incapacitating someone than others. Obviously, tasing someone has a lower mortality rate than shooting them with bullets. But the only surefire way to uphold a Code of No-Killing is to not use violence as your problem-solving tool in the first place. And there's not a lot of de-escalation training going around the Avengers Mansion.

So it always just feels kind of self-delusional when superheroes brag about not killing people but their primary mode of problem-solving is to shoot a guy in the face with an exploding arrow or something. You're gonna kill people if you're Batmanning. Sorry, that's just the reality of violence. When you throw a guy off a roof, you don't get to choose what physics is going to do to that sack of meat and bone as it hits the ground.

Now, on the opposite end of the spectrum, should superheroes kill people on purpose? Uh. No. I don't want cops extrajudicially murdering whoever they don't like, and I don't want Batman to do it either. Due process exists for a reason.

Superheroes should not try to kill people. But they are going to kill people sometimes, because their hammer is violence and their stories are just excuses to pit them against nails.

"But the Joker always breaks out of prison." Yeah, but he also always comes back to life. If you can nitpick about genre conventions then I can too. Hell, often times you can't even redeem a villain without the next writer unwriting it and making them a bad guy again. At a metafictional level, there is rarely any way to truly do away with a popular villain.

But. Y'know. Let's talk about heroes who aren't fucking copaganda. In the broader fictional sense, should stories end with the hero killing the villain or shouldn't they?

This, again, has no simple Yes or No answer. It depends heavily on the themes being explored and what the villain is meant to represent.

We need to talk about the "demise" of the villain, which can be a literal death or it can be many other things. The primary function of the villain is to be wrong about something. To oppose the hero, who is right about something.

The villain holds bad ideas, bad beliefs, bad ideology. The hero may start out holding good ideas, or they may be something that the hero comes to over the course of the story. But by the time these two meet in the third act climax, they are meant to embody the two faces of the story's central thesis. Regarding whatever this story is trying to talk about, the hero is right and the villain is wrong.

Whatever form it takes, whether literal death or not, the demise of the villain is the final statement on their incorrect or even toxic beliefs. Which often does take the form of literal death because it's easy to write a comeuppance that way.

Luke Skywalker believes that there is love in his father's heart for him, and Emperor Palpatine is confident that Anakin is truly lost. But Luke's love for his family wins out and destroys Palpatine.

Scar is selfish, cowardly, and disloyal. Simba returns out of a sense of responsibility and loyalty to his people, coming clean to them and accepting his place among them. Scar tries to sell out the hyenas to save his own skin, as well as stabbing Simba in the back. For his treachery, the hyenas rip him to pieces; He is devoured by the very loyalties that he selfishly betrayed.

Obadiah Stane, the embodiment of war profiteering and the military-industrial complex, is literally consumed by the clean energy project that Tony wants to move the company towards instead.

Sauron underestimates the power of the small and meager folk, and believes wholeheartedly in Great Men of History. And so when Great Man Aragorn marches to his gates, he allows himself to become convinced that this is his true nemesis, his true rival, the threat he must face. This is the glorious battle that will decide the fate of Middle-Earth. And so he turns his eye away from the common folk that will be his undoing.

The villain's flaws, their toxic ideology, the things that make them the villain, are what their demise is supposed to be about. They can be consumed by their failings or undone by the hero's virtues, but either way, in a well-executed demise, a closing statement on the story's thesis is made.

But a well-executed demise doesn't necessarily have to be fatal, either. Like I've said, it can be things other than a literal demise. Sometimes it absolutely should.

In Civil War, Zemo is driven by an obsession for revenge. His homicidal retaliatory bloodthirst is a toxin that he infects both T'Challa and Tony with over the course of the story. Tony succumbs and has to be defeated with force, though Steve still demonstrates his strength of character by sparing Tony's life in the end even when the madness of the battle threatens to grip him too.

But it's T'Challa who delivers Zemo's demise. Not by killing him, but by making the choice to rise above vengeance. T'Challa breaks the shackles of Zemo's infectious vengeance and chooses mercy. And it's in this moment that Zemo's feelings, his cruelty, are opposed and vanquished by T'Challa's heroic virtue.

Firelord Ozai believes in the Social Darwinist ideology of Might Makes Right. He leads a culture where disputes are settled with deathmatches and believes it is his right to blanket the world in fire because he has the power to do so, and no one can stop him. Aang, by contrast, is a pacifist at heart because those are the values he was raised in; Values of a culture that Ozai exterminated, whose very last vestiges exist only in Aang's heart.

Ozai would kill Ozai and Azula, who often gets left out of this conversation. Because theirs is a culture where righteousness stands hand-in-hand with brute strength. Where who is right is decided by who is left standing when the dust settles, and who is a pile of ash. Aang defeats Ozai; By Ozai's belief system, Aang is stronger thus Aang is righteous and it is his Conqueror's Right to execute Ozai where he stands.

But Aang doesn't just beat Ozai; He rejects Ozai's way of life. He renounces the belief system of the imperialist colonizer and holds true to the belief system of a people they destroyed. While a simultaneous outcome plays out between Katara and Azula, as Katara similarly chooses mercy once she's obtained a position of power and control over Azula.

Special note also to Zuko who demonstrates that he actually cares more about protecting people than about winning his Glorious Deathmatch of Imperialist Honor. Which also serves as a rejection of Azula's beliefs that relationships are founded on fear and control. Zuko, too, rejects the belief systems of Ozai and Azula and warrants recognition. Ozai would never have taken a hit like that for Azula. Azula would never take a hit like that for Ty Lee.

It's this mercy that breaks the Hundred-Year War, destroying not the perpetrators of it but the very principles on which it is founded. This philosophical annihilation of Azula and Ozai's very understanding of strength and power is their villainous "demise", and weighs far more than just cutting their heads off and calling it a day ever could.

There is no correct answer to whether or not heroes should kill. What matters most is how the demise the writer chooses for the villain reflects upon the story's central ideas and thesis.

[ssa-dado]

I could totally see Aaron being jealous. Maybe a oneshot of her meeting Sean Hotchner for the first time.

Covering Up - SOS

Aaron Hotchner x fem!bau!reader Genre: fluff Summary: You’re late, and while Gideon’s passive-aggressive remarks are expected, it’s Hotch who really has you on edge. But it’s not just his authority; it’s the way you inadvertently caught the attention of Hotch’s brother, Sean. Warnings: None, just wanted to clarify the story is set around late 1998 or early 1999, before Hotch became Unit Chief (Gideon was in charge instead). Word Count: 3k Dado's Corner: You didn't see this coming, did you? Something cute to celebrate the end of the year. Sorry it took so much to respond, I totally forgot about this ask... hope you like itttttt. Again, HOTCH IN LOOOOOOOVE but doesn't want to admit hahaha what a fool.

masterlist

You were late today. Remarkably late.

For the first time ever in your life.

And while the idea of Gideon giving you one of his passive-aggressive “I’m not mad, just disappointed” speeches wasn’t exactly fun, there was one person who truly terrified you in this situation.

Hotch.

How ironic: it wasn’t your boss you were afraid of - it was your fussy coworker. The same coworker whose desk, unfortunately, happened to sit right in front of yours.

Perfect.

You were still trying to salvage your dignity in the elevator, jabbing at the elevator button, fumbling with your hair as the doors closed. Maybe an updo would make you look less… late. But by the time you reached your floor, the mess you’d made felt more “distressed damsel” than “competent federal agent.”

So, naturally, you made the split-second decision to undo the whole thing, pulling your hair loose halfway to your desk.

You winced.

Not because anyone was watching - everyone seemed too absorbed in their own work - but because if someone had been looking, you’d have perfectly executed that clichéd, overly dramatic hair flip straight out of a low-budget action movie.

The kind made by men, for men.

The ones where the femme fatale struts into the room, stiletto heels clicking, hair whipping in slow motion, cleavage doing all the talking, her entire existence engineered for the male gaze.

And here you were. No stilettos. No slow motion. Just… the hair flip.

Fantastic.

You shook it off, hoping to slink to your desk unnoticed, now more focused to brace yourself for the silent judgement of-

A man.

Not the man you expected - Hotch.

An actual man, a somehow handsome man.

Oh God. He’d definitely seen you do the dramatic hair flip.

His smirk confirmed it - no need for a profiler to figure that one out.

A man, sitting comfortably in Hotch’s chair. And, notably, no Hotch in sight.

“Are you here for a consultation with Agent Hotchner?” you asked, doing your best to sound at least professional as you set your bag down.

He chuckled – like you were the punchline of some inside joke you weren’t in on. “Actually, yes.”

Though you couldn’t help but study him... it was in your nature afterall.

He was about Hotch’s height, blond, blue-eyed, and generically good-looking in a way that probably gave him the nerve to sit at an agent’s desk without any kind of second thought.

But what really stood out? He looked about your age.

Very early twenties - which, mathematically speaking, made him way too young to be here asking for a consultation.

Not that you were one to talk. You were constantly reminded you were “too young” to be working for the FBI. So, at least you had that in common.

“Agent Y/L/N,” he read from your badge, dragging out the syllables for some of his twisted reasons you chose to ignore. Then he smirked. “You’re young.”

“She is.” Hotch’s voice cut through the air before you could form a response, making you startle slightly. He was suddenly there, right behind you, like he’d materialized out of thin air.

“Sean,” he said, his tone clipped in that uniquely Hotch way that made you feel guilty even if you’d done nothing wrong, “I told you to wait for me outside.”

“And why are you so late?” Hotch added, his focus snapping to you with laser precision, his brows drawing together in that way that made your stomach twist in both irritation and… something else.

Classic Aaron Hotchner.

Two seconds on the scene, already cataloging what annoyed him. Efficiency at its finest.

“Damn, Aaron, relax. It’s barely been a minute,” Sean said, standing up finally, though not without flinching slightly under the weight of Hotch’s glare.

He stepped closer to you, extending a hand like he wasn’t about to be vaporized by the man’s disapproval. “I’m Sean, by the way. I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

Before you could decide whether to shake his hand or politely tell him to run for cover, Hotch’s voice sliced through the air, as sharp and unyielding as ever. “No, you haven’t. Y/N, this is Sean, my brother. Sean, this is Agent Y/L/N, my partner.”

It took approximately two seconds after those words left his mouth for Hotch to realize he’d made not one but two rookie mistakes.

The first? The fact that, for some reason, you got to be “Y/N” while Sean - his brother - was firmly stuck with Agent Y/L/N.

A seemingly innocuous choice, but an interesting one.

Almost as if Hotch didn’t want Sean to forget who you were. Or worse, as if he wanted to keep that small, intimate privilege - using your first name - exclusively for himself.

And why?

Perhaps because, whether he admitted it or not, you’d managed to take up residence in his overworked brain. You weren’t just his colleague - you were his very own walking, talking paradox.

Equal parts intellect and quick wit, you could quote anything from your beloved dead philosophers as easily as you could dismantle someone’s argument with a single sarcastic comment.

You lingered, persistently, in his thoughts - too vividly, too often - so much so that you’d even started showing up in his dreams.

That might explain why his tongue betrayed him now - a slip you would undoubtedly label as ‘textbook Freudian.’

Somehow, through the cracks in the armor of the man who prided himself on control and precision, a truth he had no business acknowledging had leaked out.

Because, inexplicably and irreversibly, he’d just let his younger brother - of all people - catch the faintest glimpse of something he refused to admit even to himself: that he wasn’t entirely indifferent to you.

Not that Sean picked up on it - yet.

No, Sean’s focus was already drifting toward his second mistake, the one Hotch really hoped would keep Sean too distracted to notice the first. And, to Hotch’s silent horror, it worked like a charm.

“Partner?” Sean repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Are the two of you…?” He let the insinuation hang, his expression a mix of confusion and amusement.

Because here’s the thing - thanks to the way Hotch had worded it, Sean wasn’t just thinking that his big brother was casually sleeping with you. Oh no, this was way bigger.

This was Sean, standing here wide-eyed and completely convinced that his older, emotionally constipated, miserably single brother - who’d spent years brooding after his breakup Haley - had somehow not only managed to get a girlfriend but had kept it a secret.

And worse? That this whole scenario meant Hotch was maybe, just maybe, a little happy these days.

That alone was enough to blow Sean’s mind.

But before his imagination could run too far, you stepped in, your voice sharp and immediate. “God, no,” you blurted, practically recoiling from the suggestion.

“No,” Hotch said at the same time, though in stark contrast to your reaction, his was flat and unbothered.

Sean chuckled at your synchronized denial, which only prompted Hotch to fix you with one of his looks - the kind that felt like it could peel layers off your soul. Judgy, silent, but impossibly loud at the same time.

The kind of look that made you curious.

“Was he like this as a kid,” you asked Sean, “or was he ever actually a normal person?”

Sean’s smirk widened. “The only difference between then and now is that now they pay him to act like this.”

You laughed, loud and genuine, and Sean joined in - a perfect snapshot of solidarity between two survivors of Hotch’s relentless Hotch-ness. “Though I have to wonder… maybe he misunderstood the government’s contributions as a green light to act this way. It’s kind of like when you teach a dog to stand on two legs for a treat, and then he just keeps doing it.” You commented.

You and Sean burst into laughter, your voices echoing through the bullpen, while Hotch just stood there.

Watching. Seething.

But not entirely for the reasons he’d expect.

Sure, he was irritated that you had the audacity to make fun of him within perfect earshot - a clear, deliberate payback for all the grief and micromanagement he’d put you through.

But there was something deeper beneath his discomfort, something far more unsettling.

It wasn’t just that you were laughing at him - it was that you were laughing with Sean.

That easy, effortless kind of laughter, the kind he so rarely managed to coax out of you. Sean, his little brother, was already pulling it out of you like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like he’d cracked some code Hotch didn’t even know existed.

And that stung. More than it should’ve.

Because as much as he told himself it was ridiculous - childish, even - he couldn’t shake the flicker of jealousy curling in his chest.

A low, unwelcome burn.

It wasn’t just about the laughter. It was the way you looked at Sean. The way you seemed curious, intrigued by him in a way that made Hotch feel like an outsider in his own space. Like he was standing just outside the circle, close enough to see but not close enough to touch.

And he hated that.

He hated how much it bothered him.

Hated that he cared at all.

Hated the fact that, for all his discipline and carefully crafted walls, you always managed to slip through the cracks.

Unnoticed until it was too late.

Though you weren’t quite as unnoticed by everyone else.

Standing on the mezzanine, there was Gideon, watching you with that unshakeable calm of his. His eyes locked onto yours, and before you could even catch your breath, he called you over to his office.

It was probably for showing up two full hours late, but who could say?

Panic was all over you, though you were certain you kept it well-hidden - at least, you hoped so.

But before you could second-guess yourself, Hotch, who had been silently observing everything, grabbed a file from his desk and walked toward you at a precise angle that turned his back to Gideon.

Then, in a blur of words, he started speaking faster than you thought possible.

“I covered for you,” he said, voice low and hurried. “Tell him you went to see your mom yesterday. You took the 5:07 a.m. train. It broke down in Baltimore - stuck for an hour and forty-two minutes. That’s why you’re late. It’s all fact checked. If he asks - and he probably won’t - you don’t have the ticket because after a 90-minute delay, the company offers a full reimbursement if you send in the original.”

Before you could process what he was saying, he thrust the file into your hands.

“I filled out all the interrogatory statements for the Arlington case. If he asks why I had them, say I’m an idiot and that you cracked the unsub before I did, so the paperwork fell to me.” His dark eyes bore into yours, and for the first time since you’d met him, he sounded almost…desperate. “Don’t panic.”

Your brain short-circuited. The only thing you managed was a breathless, “Thanks.”

He watched you go, tracking every step you took until you disappeared into Gideon’s office. His jaw tightened, his fingers twitching at his side like he was bracing himself to pull you out of trouble if it came to that.

Though Sean, ever the opportunist, broke the silence. “Since when do you cover for people?” he asked.

Hotch didn’t bother looking at him, his focus firmly fixed on the files in his hands, though his grip had tightened ever so slightly. “Since her boss called her in for something unfair. She’s the first - well, second - person to arrive every day and the last to leave. She works harder than anyone here, including me, and she never complains about it. It’s not fair to punish her for being late once when she’s the one who picks up everyone else’s slack. This is a one-time thing, and frankly, it’s probably for the best - at least she got some sleep for once.”

Was that an over-articulated answer to what was likely more of an exclamation than an actual question? Yes. But better to be thorough than shallow - or at least, that’s what Hotch told himself.

Sean, on the other hand, had no qualms about being a bit shallow.

“You’re sure that’s the reason she was late?” Sean asked, his tone dripping with faux innocence. “Not because she, you know…” He trailed off, tilting his head, the mischievous grin practically begging Hotch to take the bait.

No. Of course not.

Not that there would’ve been anything wrong with it. Not because he wanted to come off as paternalistic or prudish about it.

Hell, if you really did, he hoped it was… fine.

Great, even.

But then, there was that annoying, traitorous part of him whispering - shouting, really - that he hoped it wasn’t too good.

Or serious.

Or anything worth bringing up more than once.

Damn it, Hotchner, could he not just be a normal, well-adjusted adult and be happy for someone else’s happiness without making it weird? Apparently not.

Still, he needed to give an actual response. Out of the 600,000 words available in the English language, what did he choose? The most original, expressive, and earth-shattering one of all: “No.”

Of course, it probably came out sounding way too sharp, betraying every tightly-coiled emotion he was trying to keep hidden.

Luckily - or unluckily - Sean was too busy zeroing in on something else to even notice.

“So,” Sean began, dragging out the word, “she’s single.”

…it wasn’t even a question.

Hotch exhaled through his nose, his patience already wearing thin. “Yes.” He admitted. “But don’t think about it.” He stopped him, already knowing where this conversation would eventually go.

“Why not?” Sean asked, his smirk practically carved into his face now. “You like her?” The teasing lilt in his voice was impossible to miss, but beneath it, there was a flicker of genuine curiosity.

Yes. Absolutely.

More than liked.

Liked in a way that he thought about you far too often, in places he shouldn’t, and at times he didn’t have the luxury of indulging.

Liked in a way that made him occasionally catch himself smiling in the middle of a meeting because some stray thought of you had slipped past his defenses.

Liked in a way that he imagined you during his early-morning runs, wondering if you’d find the sunrise as breathtaking as he did - or if you’d roll your eyes at his choice of music.

You probably would, because it was either the original cast recording of whatever Broadway musical he’d recently become obsessed with, or something from The Beatles.

Not just their classics, but the deeper cuts - the kind his mom had played on repeat during her own Beatlemania phase back in the ’60s, which was, admittedly, a phenomenon he’d inherited in his own way.

He liked you in a way that felt ridiculous, really.

Like the time he caught himself wondering if you’d like the tie he was wearing, not that he’d ever admit he chose it with you in mind.

Or when he stayed up too late re-reading one of your old case reports, pretending it was for work when it was really just to admire how sharp and thoughtful your insights were.

But admitting that? Out loud?

To Sean, of all people?

He’d rather reorganize the mountain of case files sitting on your desk alphabetically and chronologically - twice.

“No,” Hotch said instead, his tone clipped and matter-of-fact. “I work with her, Sean.”

Sean wasn’t one to let things go easily - especially when he sensed he was onto something. “Okay, so you work with her,” he said, dragging out the words like they were some kind of weak excuse. “But that doesn’t explain why I can’t take a shot. What’s stopping me?”

Hotch’s jaw clenched as he shifted his attention back to the windows of Gideon’s office. He didn’t want to say it, but he also didn’t trust his brother to let the subject drop without some kind of deflection. “You’re not her type,” he said flatly.

Sean blinked, caught off guard for a moment before recovering with an incredulous laugh. “Not her type? How do you know what her type is?”

Hotch didn’t respond right away.

He didn’t need to.

The deadpan look he shot Sean over his shoulder was enough to say ‘I know her type because I know her’.

Sean, however, wasn’t deterred. “Okay, genius, enlighten me. What exactly is her type, then? Because I’m charming, good-looking, and - let’s not forget - single.” He motioned to himself like he was presenting the world’s greatest catch.

Hotch sighed. “Her type,” he began almost whispering, now suddenly afraid that someone would hear him, “is someone more serious. Someone who knows how to respect her work ethic, her intelligence, and the fact that she’s earned her place here. Someone who doesn’t think he can waltz in and-” He cut himself off, realizing he was veering dangerously close to sounding personal.

Too personal.

Too bad he stopped talking before he could drop the one crucial piece of information Sean probably needed to know: as far as Hotch knew, you only dated older... much older.

And him being the same age as you? Yeah, that definitely didn’t work in his favor.

Sean tilted his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. “So… basically, someone who isn’t me. But someone who is… maybe a little more like you?” He watched the way Hotch’s shoulders stiffened at the suggestion.

Hotch turned fully to face his brother, his expression dark. “Sean,” he warned, his voice a low rumble.

But Sean wasn’t fazed. “I’m just saying, Aaron. You’re standing here, going on about how she deserves someone serious and respectful and all that, but you’re practically describing yourself. So maybe the reason you don’t want me going after her is because-”

“That’s enough,” Hotch interrupted, his tone sharp enough to cut through any further teasing. “It’s not appropriate, and it’s not happening. End of discussion.”

Sean held up his hands in mock surrender, though his smirk stayed firmly in place. “Alright, alright. But for the record, you didn’t deny it.”

Hotch didn’t bother dignifying that with a response. Instead, he turned back toward the windows of Gideon’s office, his gaze locking on your profile once more.

Sean followed his brother’s line of sight, leaning closer “She really does have you all twisted up, doesn’t she?”

Hotch ignored him.

But as much as he wanted to pretend Sean was wrong, the burn in his chest told him otherwise.

Because 'twisted up' was probably an understatement for what you were doing to him.

---

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softestqueeen ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24

[watery-melon-baller]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32877034

Practice makes perfect (?)

[organic-bloodbath]

Please, forgive me (i love you) - Part 2

Thanos x Reader

Summary: The final game is here and Thanos' priority is to get you and your baby out of the games alive.

Part 1

A/N: Writing an epilogue so y'all not asking for part 3 i have too many requests waiting in my inbox lmao. This was really fun to write tho <3 Hope y'all enjoy it too.

☆☆☆

You and Jun-hee with your babies, Thanos, Gi-hun, Myung-gi, player 100, Min-su and Nam-gyu were the finalists, the players who had survived to play the final game. The last game before you’d be able to go back home — if you lived, that was.

Right now, you were about to eat a special dinner as a celebration of your ability to progress this far in the games. Surviving all the way to this point. And god damn, the food actually looked delicious and you could eat however much you wanted.

You almost felt like an inmate eating their last meal before getting executed on death row.

Before you were about to sit down at the table, Thanos approached you, dressed up in a black suit like everyone else, including you. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him in a suit this clean and fancy, but it certainly looked good on him.

"Damn, señorita," Thanos gasped as he looked at you from head to toe, his gaze hungry and smile wide. "I already know you look good in a dress but in a suit? Hot. So, so sexy."

"What have i told you about calling me 'señorita'?" you sighed, the nickname annoying you – and Thanos knew that very well.

"Sorry, sorry," Thanos quickly apologized and lifted his hands in the air as a surrender for a second, until resting his palm against his heart. He took a step closer to you, invading your personal space. "Sweetheart. Mother of my child. Mama–"

"Do not say mamacita," you spat.

"You mami, me papi," Thanos smirked, pointing first at you and then at himself, following a wink.

You crossed your arms against your chest. "You want me to call you papi now?"

"Baby you can call me whatever you want," Thanos said and put his finger under your chin. You pushed his hand away from you.

After the dinner, you went back to your bed to get yourself some privacy as you fed your baby as well, out of the sight of others. Thanos disappeared somewhere, probably to go to the bathroom.

Then, Nam-gyu approached you as you were just finished with feeding your baby. You furrowed your eyebrows, searching for Thanos around the room. When you didn't see him, you looked back at Nam-gyu.

"What do you want?" you asked, a little too coldly. Nam-gyu had pissed you off since day one, you had no urge to get friendly with him now either.

"Just came to see your baby," Nam-gyu smirked and leaned in to take a closer look on her but you put more distance between the two of you. "Come on, i just wanna see how much she resembles Thanos."

"Oi, Nam-su," Thanos called from the distance, his steps coming closer to you. Thank fucking god. "I go to take a piss for a second and you're already bothering my girl, huh?"

"I just came to say hi," Nam-gyu answered, smiling innocently, but you could notice the way his jaw clenched for the name.

"Yeah? Well she doesn't wanna talk to you," Thanos said and crossed his arms.

“I think she can talk for herself,” you stated.

“Yeah? You wanna talk to this little shit?” Thanos asked, raising his eyebrows.

“No thanks,” you huffed and stood up, the baby in your arms. You shook your head and left the two guys to argue by themselves, heading towards Gi-hun to see how he was doing, sitting on his bed by himself.

When you were gone, Nam-gyu pulled Thanos slightly more to the side, making sure they were far enough from you that you couldn't hear what they were talking about.

“Alright, give me another pill,” Nam-gyu insisted.

“Nah, think I’ve given you enough,” Thanos stated, becoming annoyed how Nam-gyu was constantly begging him for drugs. Should have brought his own here if he was that desperate for fuck’s sake.

"Come on, man," Nam-gyu groaned, his hands shaking. "I know you have more, give me one pill, just one."

"I don't have them anymore, alright," Thanos said strictly.

Nam-gyu looked at him dumbfounded and shocked, starting to panic Surely he had heard him wrong. "What the fuck do you mean you don't have any? Jesus fucking christ, i need more.”

"You being an addict isn't my fucking problem," Thanos gritted through his teeth. "Should have brought your own if you're that desperate."

Nam-gyu grabbed Thanos by his sleeve, pulling him back towards himself when Thanos was about to leave. "Thanos, please –"

Thanos didn't even let him finish his sentence, pushing Nam-gyu harshly on the floor.

"I said," Thanos repeated. "I don't fucking have any."

Thanos needed drugs too, he had to admit it to himself – he craved for a pill. But he had to ignore that feeling and concentrate on what was more important: you.

Thanos turned his head back towards you, chatting with Gi-hun, smile spread on your face. Giggling at something the old man said to you. God, how much Thanos wished you'd smile like that to him too some day. He missed your smile and laugh so, so much.

Thanos spared one last glance at Nam-gyu, who was shaking and pulling his hair still on the floor, then walked back to sit on his own bed. His leg bounced up and down, sweat rising on his forehead.

Around half an hour later, you approached Thanos and sat next to him, who was still sitting on the same position, leg bouncing. He had been deep in his thoughts, the memories with you coming back to him. How you first met, your first date, first kiss… and the last time you had slept together, which resulted to the child you had birthed here. But all the fights covered the good moments together, all the shouting and objects thrown against the wall…

"Everything alright?" you asked, putting your hand on his knee to make his leg relax.

"Yeah, no problem," Thanos mumbled.

Both of you sat in silence for a while, neither of you knowing what to say, how to break the silence. You had so much unsaid things between the two of you that would have needed solving but you didn’t know how to bring them up. You didn’t want to. Neither did he.

"Can i… can i hold her?" Thanos finally asked. He had held her only once and that had been during the jump rope game. He had proved to you that he was very well able to hold a baby but you were still hesitant to let him handle her. Were mothers just automatically overprotective of their children and didn't feel comfortable others touching them? Or was it just Thanos you weren't sure to trust just yet? You couldn't be sure, perhaps both.

You ended up handing her over to Thanos who handled her again like her bones were glass.

A week ago Thanos' life was just about drugs and music while being drowned in debts and mind even spiraling in suicidal thoughts. He couldn't have imagined how things could change so fast to something completely different. If he'd get out of here alive, along with you, he would be able to pay his debts and he'd have a new reason to live again, a reason to quit drugs and get his life together – you and your daughter. His daughter. The child you and him created.

"Y/N," Thanos said quietly, getting your attention. "Why didn't you call me? Tell me about the pregnancy?"

You were silent for a moment, building the answer inside your head before answering. "I didn't think you'd care."

"The hell you mean i wouldn't care?" Thanos asked, sounding offended.

"You hadn't exactly paid attention on me, I felt like you didn’t care about me. It was all just about rapping and drugs and i just," you started, not sure how to continue. “I just wanted nothing to do with you anymore.”

Your words and the fragile tone of your voice, the way you avoided eye contact with him, broke his heart. Thanos hadn’t realized how shitty he had been towards you, but now thinking back, he had truly messed up.

“I promise I’ll change. For you,” he said.

You could see that he meant that but wasn’t confident that he’d be able to keep his promise when you’d actually get out of here and settle down to your normal life again as if nothing had happened. You didn’t say that out loud, only turned your head away from him. He had disappointed you so many times. Sure, now you had a baby together but it didn’t automatically mean that he’d be a changed man.

He’d change for the baby, not for you. That’s what you felt like it to be.

☆☆☆

The final game started the next day. You were so, so close to the end, you couldn’t die now. The rules were simple: you had to choose to kill three people among you. So, one player on each pillar. The thought alone made you sick, but whatever to entertain the VIPs, you assumed. If the rules were followed and only three were to be eliminated, five of you would walk free, but you weren’t confident of that happening; there would definitely be more death victims.

“I’ll protect you, don’t worry,” Thanos whispered to you, holding your cheek with his hand. “I won’t let anyone push you off the pillar, got it?”

You just nodded your head.

All the players were now standing on the first pillar, trapped extremely high from the ground. You’d only have to push someone off the pillar and they’d die by hitting the ground. Before you had only voted whether you wanted to leave or stay playing the games, but now you were about to vote who you wanted dead.

Whoever came up with these games had something very, very wrong in their head.

The first round seemed to be easy, even though deciding who should die would never be easy. Not in the real word — this didn’t feel like a part of the real world. It was a separate world which you previously knew, here there weren’t any rules or morals.

Everyone seemed to agree that the player 100 should go down and that’s exactly what Nam-gyu ended up doing: pushed him off the pillar with the metal pipe.

First round, finished. Seven players left.

This round was a little more difficult, since you had personally become more familiar with each person around you — some much more than others.

Gi-hun, Jun-hee and Thanos were definitely out of question. You didn’t know Min-su well, he barely talked to anyone except Se-mi, but he seemed like an honest and kind kid. Nam-gyu, on the other hand, was a complete asshole and had even killed people for fun and for the greed of more money to him. Although, you weren’t sure how close he had become with Thanos. Would Thanos care about him dying?

The arguing and shouting who should die was making you lose your mind, Nam-gyu, Myung-gi and Thanos doing most of the shouting. The time was running down second by second with each word.

Then, Nam-gyu approached Min-su, making him back towards the edge of the pillar, afraid what Nam-gyu was going to do to him. Min-su and Nam-gyu were now standing face to face in front of each other.

“Now, maybe you should be the one we’ll eliminate, hm?” Nam-gyu thought out loud. “That way you could finally get back to the bitch you called your friend. Se-mi, was it? Don’t you want to be with her, hm? You could bond over the fact that i killed both of you.”

You could see the anger starting to boil inside Min-su, his fists tightening and jaw clenching. Nam-gyu only found it hilarious, laughing at his face. That was it. The breaking point.

Min-su grabbed Nam-gyu’s shirt, switching places with him so that Nam-gyu was now the one to stand at the edge and ready to fall down.

“What the fu—“

But Nam-gyu wasn’t able to finish his sentence, because right then, without another thought, Min-su pushed Nam-gyu off the edge, sending him to his death. However, before Nam-gyu fell, he managed to grab Min-su by his leg, taking him with him.

If Nam-gyu was about to go down, apparently so was Min-su who was now holding on the edge with his hands. Min-su wasn’t very strong, so it didn’t take longer than a few seconds for his fingers to slip and make them both hit the floor — their corpses lying on the ground next to each other.

All of you stood still on the pillar, shocked at what had just happened, not having expected that sort of result. Thanos walked to the edge to look down where his ‘friend’ was lying on a pool of blood, but you didn’t want to take a single look at them.

Second round, finished. Five players left. You, Thanos, Jun-hee, Gi-hun and Myung-gi.

One of you had to die. But apparently Myung-gi had already decided that he wasn’t the one to die today, instantly grabbing the long metal pipe ready to push one of the four players down. Although, basically three; he and everyone else knew he wouldn’t harm Jun-hee like that.

Myung-gi was angry especially at Gi-hun. Why the hell had he become so close to Jun-hee and daring to carry her baby instead of the baby's real dad? Was Gi-hun trying to be some sort of a father figure to him? The thought of it made Myung-gi absolutely furious, boiling inside.

Myung-gi and Gi-hun ended up fighting, which eventually resulted to the same situation as with Nam-gyu and Minsu: Gi-hun holding the edge of the pillar with his hands, Myung-gi having a firm grip on his leg. Gi-hun was definitely stronger than Min-su, so he managed to stay there a little longer.

Thanos glanced at you, looking at the situation completely horrified but of course you weren’t strong enough to help him; he’d only unintentionally pull you down with him. Thanos had seen you spend time with Gi-hun between the games. He could tell you enjoyed his company, though Thanos didn’t understand why the hell you cared to hang out with an old man like him.

Eventually, Thanos ran towards Gi-hun to help him back up. Did he do that for simply the good of his heart or because you’d be proud of him playing the hero of the day? Probably the last option.

“Come on, man. Kick him off and take my hand, I’ll pull you up,” Thanos said, quiet enough that the others behind him didn’t hear.

Then, you realized something horrifying and your eyes widened.

Nobody had pressed the button. You ran quickly to the center of the pillar and pressed your foot hard on the red button, turning it green.

Round three has started.

Just a few seconds later, you heard a noise of Myung-gi’s body hitting the ground. After a little bit of a struggle, Thanos managed to get Gi-hun back up to stand on his own two feet.

Congratulations. You have now passed the game.

You, Jun-hee, Gi-hun and Thanos were the winners of the games, along with two babies. Out of 456 people, 4 of them would walk out of there free and alive — and you were one of them. You. You and your baby, along with your baby’s dad.

Thanos rushed to you and instantly cupped your face with his hands.

“I really, really want to kiss you right now,” he whispered, looking directly into your eyes and waiting for the permission.

You glanced at his lips and was the one to close the gap between the two of you, lips pressing against each other. The kiss was soft and slow, loving almost, careful. Thanos was afraid you’d back off if he kissed you too hard — it was completely opposite how Thanos had usually kissed you.

“I love you,” Thanos whispered.

You didn’t say it back, but Thanos didn’t expect an answer. He’d make sure to treat you well so that some day you’d be able to say it to him again. You’d be able to love him again, the way he would love you from now on. Cherish you and your kid together.

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

☆☆☆

EPILOGUE

10 years later

In-ho was sitting at a bench in a park, enjoying the summer weather, the sun high up in the cloudless sky.

Then, he saw someone familiar in the distance. Someone who he hadn’t seen in almost a decade.

You, along with a small girl who resembled you awfully lot.

He looked at the two of you for a while, seeing how you had changed throughout these years. There wasn't that much of a change but you looked... happy. Smile wide on your face you sent your daughter to go play football with her friends.

The last time In-ho had seen you was a little while after the games when you had been brought back here from the island. He had visited you once after a few weeks to see how you were doing, though not approaching you, not letting you notice him. In-ho had gone to see each of the winners: Gi-hun, Jun-hee and Thanos as well. Looking at them from the distance. Only once, then he had left you alone for good.

Until now seeing you again. All the memories of the deadly childhood games were coming back to his mind. Memories he hadn't thought about in years.

In-ho was so deep in his thoughts that he hadn’t even realized how a ball had hit his ankle. The same girl In-ho had looked at just a moment ago came to take the ball back to her.

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to kick the ball towards you,” she apologized, looking embarrassed.

“It’s alright,” he said, a small smile on his face.

The girl looked at him for a moment, wondering if she should say something again to make sure In-ho wasn’t mad at her for disrespecting elders like that. But then she decided to just leave back to her friends who she was playing football with in the middle of the park.

The last time she saw her was when she was just a newborn baby wrapped in the green jacket with your number.

In-ho looked back towards you, now with a man who In-ho quickly recognized as well, even though he didn’t have his purple hair anymore. Choi Su-bong pressed a kiss on your cheek and put his arm around you, saying something to you but of course In-ho couldn’t hear the conversation this far.

In-ho had liked you since the beginning, you were a naturally likable person, and he was glad that you had been one of the winners, living your life with a happy smile.

☆☆☆

[ollyissleepy]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

pairings: platonic yandere!batfam x uninterested!male!reader summary: After being caught red handed stealing, (name) finds himself in the Wayne Manor, surrounded by his new family. (Name)'s disinterested in bonding is met with equally not caring siblings and father. As he spends his days alone, (name) realises his new family might care much more than he originally thought the did. cw: stealing, swearing, underage smoking, forced vomitting, drugging (kind of?), mentions of dying (like once) a/n: I know I am like days late but I started taking new medicine and the last few days were rough. Do I like this part? No. Am I capable of making something better? Also no. Anyway please enjoy and so sorry for the delay based on this idea I had

m.list • part: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

I would like to dedicate this part for @/robinvomit and all the other writers who were falsefully accused of using ai for their writing. I'm so sorry it happened to you and please remember that you are loved <3

(Name) makes another lap around his room, trying to come up with an excuse to not eat with the entire family. All of them, including Alfred, haven't bothered him to join the family dinners since the one where there wasn't space for him at the table.

He knew he wouldn't have the heart to tell Alfred no, not after seeing him so excited about the teenager participating in dinner with the entire family. Pretending to be sick is off the table; he didn't want to risk getting more attention from the family while being made to stay in bed.

"Brother, the dinner is ready. Let's go." Damian knocked on his door before creaking it open.

There was no point in trying to run, as the youngest Wayne would probably catch him before (name) could get far enough.

The two of them walk down to the dining room in silence. Damian looks pleased about being the one to bring his older brother to his first dinner with the entire family. (Name), on the other hand, looked like a prisoner walking to his execution. Although a part of him wishes he was said prisoner.

Walking inside, the teenager notices that he has two choices on where he could sit: between Damian and Bruce or Damian and Dick.

(Name) sits down closer to Bruce, knowing his 'father' won't be interested in talking to him. The boy would also rather have the man stare at him than listen to Dick run his mouth the entire dinner.

The teenager ignores the look Bruce sends his way as he sits down on the chair. His eyes are focused on the table in front of him, not interested in being included in any small talk.

The meal itself goes rather smoothly, ignoring the burning sensation Bruce's stare left on the side of (name)'s face.

(Name), however, didn't dare to look up for the duration of it. A part of him was scared of what the man's expression could be. Was he mad that the teenager was sitting at the table? Or was it the fact that he's sitting right next to Bruce? Did he want Damian to sit next to him?

The teenager dashed out of the room the second Alfred started to gather empty plates. He ignored everyone's, including Duke's, shouts for him to stay a little longer.

The next day, after (name) had finished his breakfast and just returned to his room, when Bruce knocks on the door. The man opens it slightly, poking his head through it.

"Good morning, (name). Would you join me for breakfast?" Bruce asked, stepping inside the room.

"No, I already ate," the boy declined, trying to get himself comfortable on the bed.

With his arm behind his head, (name) watched Bruce closely. The way the man was clearly thinking of something to say, to drag the interaction on for longer. He knew that nothing came to his 'father's' mind when Bruce just nodded and left the room without another word. 

(Name) didn't have much time to dwell on the situation for the rest of the day, as most of it was occupied by Timothy. Something about how he, as a Wayne, needs to know more about technology.

By dinner time, the teenager forgets about the whole situation entirely. This meal, he had more chairs he could choose from, as the only people who were eating were the ones living in the manor full-time.

(Name) makes sure to choose a chair next to Duke, even though the teenager was acting a little off these days. He decides to ignore the way Duke seemed to be just as persistent in spending time with him as the rest of the family. For now that is.

Everyone at the table is silent, the only noise being the clicking of the utensils against the plates. The teenager doesn't get to enjoy the meal for long, though, before Bruce breaks the silence.

"So, (name), are you enjoying your stay at the manor?" Bruce asked, stabbing the food on his plate.

"I'd enjoy it more if I didn't have to eat with all of you," (name) murmured, tossing the food around.

"(Name)—" Alfred was about to scold the teenager for speaking for his father like that.

"It's alright, Alfred. Maybe we should spend some time together, bond with each other," Bruce suggested, using his hand to let the butler know he got this. "Maybe then you would enjoy a meal with me."

(Name) doesn't say anything, hoping for the subject to be dropped. He keeps on playing with his food, the idea of spending one-on-one time with his father making the boy lose his appetite.

"I believe it's a great idea, Father." Damian agrees, glancing over to where (name) and Duke were sitting. "I would like to join as well." Bruce smiled.

"If he's going, I want to take Duke with me," (name) tried to bargain. With the teenager as company, he might've been able to survive the outing.

"No. I believe you should bond with your blood family," Damian argued, not wanting Duke to take up his brother's attention. Again.

"Damian's right, (name), besides you spent a lot of time with Duke already; it's not fair for us," Bruce insisted, the fork stopped midway to his mouth.

(Name) sighed, glancing over to Duke. The teenager next to him looked just as displeased by Bruce's reaction as he did. The teenager makes a call to not argue with his 'father'. He hoped that by dropping this subject, the two of them would simply forget about it.

By the next day, (name) had forgotten about the 'plans' Bruce and Damian made entirely. The teenager was heading towards the library to read yet another book when his 'father' found him. 

"Great! It looks like you're ready to go." Bruce's voice came from behind him.

(Name) turned around, his head tilted slightly. He couldn't possibly mean…

"Brother, don't tell me you forgot." Damian pops out from behind Bruce. "We're supposed to spend the day together."

The teenager groaned. Of course they didn't forget.

Before he knew it, (name) found himself in a mall with his father and brother. This mall was different from the one he and Duke frequently visited. Everything about the mall he's inside screamed, 'I have so much money I make the pope look poor'.

With each store they go into and each uncomfortable piece of clothing he's forced to try on, (name) grows more and more tired. The constant music playing in the background and the too-bright light along with the suffocating smell of all of the other customers around them were giving him a headache. By the time they leave a third store, the teenager starts thinking of a plan to cut the outing short.

As the three of them walk towards another too-stuck-up store, (name) spots a bathroom. It sparked an idea on how to cut the outing short. (Name), on cue, wrapped his arms around his stomach, hunching over slightly.

"I don't feel too good. I'll stop by the bathroom," (name) pointed towards the bathroom, trying to look as pitiful as possible. "I'll be right back, I promise."

(Name) doesn't give his father and brother a chance to say anything, already walking towards the bathrooms. Once he's inside, the teenager locks himself in one of the stalls, in case one of them followed him.

He knew he made the right call when the bathroom door opened and he heard footsteps walking from one stall to another.

"(Name)? Father has asked me to check on you." Damian's voice echoed through the empty bathroom.

The teenager turns himself towards the toilet, trying to think of something that could make the youngest Wayne believe he was actually sick. His eyes land on the toilet, and before he really thinks through it, (Name) sinks two of his fingers deep inside his mouth. He touches the back of his throat, and that was enough for the stomach fluids to leave a sour aftertaste in his mouth.

He lounges himself towards the toilet, throwing up the remains of his last meal inside of it. His hands grip the toilet tightly as the convulses shake him repeatedly. He barely manages to register the knocks on the door and the worried voice that belonged to Damian, promising to grab their father.

(Name) takes a shaky breath after his stomach is empty. He stands up, leaning against the stall. Staring down the toilet at what was once the food in his stomach, the teenager wonders what went wrong in his life that he had to do shit like that. A swear escapes his lips as he's flushing the vomit.

The teenager leaves the stall after a few more deep breaths. As he's splashing his face with cold water, both Bruce and Damian rush inside. His father pats his back, apologising for noticing (name) not feeling great sooner. His brother stands to the side, his arms crossed, mumbling about how he should be more observant of his older brother.

During the ride back to the manor, (name) tries his hardest not to blow his cover. His head is pressed against the window, his eyes closed slightly. He doesn't talk, just shakes his head 'yes' and 'no' when asked questions. 

Back in the manor, (name) is ordered to lie down by Alfred as he prepares something light for the boy to eat before taking any medicine.

The teenager fully expects to be brought back to his room when he's stopped by Bruce.

"You should lie down in my study so I can keep my eye on you while I work." His father puts a hand on his shoulder, guiding him to the room despite all of (name)'s protests.

(Name) stood in the middle of the room and watched as Bruce set up a sofa for him to lie on. His father laid out a few pillows and unfolded a blanket. Then, Bruce asked the boy to lie down as he tucked him in. When Alfred came over with soup, the man insisted on feeding it to him. After that, without any warning, he made (name) swallow a weird-tasting medicine. It didn't take long for the substance to start working, and before he could ask any of the men in the room to be moved to his own bedroom, he had fallen asleep.

And that's how (name)'s next few days went by. Every day, after eating some light breakfast, Bruce fed him a spoonful of the medicine. Each time the teenager tried to protest, he held (name)'s face still, forcing the medicine down this throat. After that, the boy would sleep for the majority of the day on the sofa in Bruce's study, only waking up for meals. 'Everything for his child,' Bruce told the butler at one point.

With the medicine from the previous night wearing off, (name) eats his breakfast. Both Alfred and Bruce watch him closely, making sure the boy finishes his food.

"Master Bruce, I believe more medicine won't be necessary," Alfred declared, scanning over (name)'s face. "He looks quite healthy; I believe the sickness has passed."

"Are you certain?" His 'father' makes sure, glancing over at the butler. Alfred nods his head. "If you say so."

"It would be good for him to spend some time with his siblings, Master," the butler said, earning only a sigh from Bruce.

(Name) was relieved to find out he no longer had to take the weird medicine and was once again in some control of who he was spending his time with.

Instead of going to any of his siblings, however, he hid himself in the library under a few blankets. He needed some time away from all of the members of the family.

Coming down for dinner, he was displeased to learn that the manor is once again full of people. All of them were somewhat happy that the boy was now feeling much better, though some of them complained that (name) didn't seek them out to hang out. 

At some point during the meal, Dick suggests for all of them to have a movie night to 'make up for the lost time'. And much to (name)'s dismay, everyone, including Duke, agrees with the idea.

There go (name)'s plans for a peaceful night in his room, by himself.

The teenager chooses a seat at the end of one of the couches, dragging Duke to sit next to him. Ignoring everyone else in the room. He curls up on the couch, his head resting slightly on top of his brother's shoulder. (Name) hears a snicker somewhere to his side followed by silent scolding from Dick about how they should leave him alone. 'He's probably tired from being sick, Damian; let him rest,' the eldest scolded the boy.

The next day it became apparent that spending an evening watching movies in the same room as the teenager wasn't enough for Stephanie, who dragged (name) to something she referred to as 'girls day'. The girl did that despite his protests about how the teenager didn't want to interfere with their day.

By the end of the day of face masks, silly movies and snacks, (name) managed to fully relax and start enjoying spending time with the three women. Walking into the dining room, he no longer felt like he was walking into a death sentence. 

Sitting down, (name) knows his happiness won't last much longer, especially after noticing Damian staring at him oddly. The teenager doesn't address it, brushing it off as the jealousy problem the younger boy seemed to have.

(Name) waits for the butler to give out food before starting to eat it. He doesn't look up, knowing that the youngest Wayne glances at him from time to time.

"(Name), why do you have a calendar in your room? And what does that date you circled in mean?" Damian questioned, staring directly at (name). The food on his plate was barely touched.

"It's so I can count down to my birthday," the teenager explained, looking directly into the younger boy's eyes. "I promised Alfred that I'll stop running away and wait till I'm eighteen to leave."

"Well, now that the situation has changed, you probably don't need it," Bruce intruded, the rest of the family agreeing with him.

"I do need it; I'm still leaving the moment I turn eighteen." (Name) tried to keep his cool, no longer looking at any of the people at the table. He plays with his food, hoping for someone to change the subject.

"I'll make sure to plant a tracker on your phone to make sure you won't be able to go that far," Tim joked, earning a laugh from everyone at the table.

(Name) didn't feel like laughing. To the teenager, it wasn't a laughing matter. There were some parts of him that wanted to ask, 'What did he mean by that?' the phone in his pocket suddenly felt heavy. A different part of him didn't want to know. Ignorance is bliss, especially in situations like this.

That night, staying in his room, (name) snuck out to the gardens. He walked to the back, where his favourite spot, an overgrown pond, was located. There he met Jason, whose company the teenager didn't really mind. Although, he didn't really seek it out. The two of them don't exchange any words that night, just smoking in each other's presence.

The subject of (name)'s birthday wasn't brought up for another week. The teenager forgot all about it, including the joke about a tracker in his phone.

With each coming day, his freedom is closer and closer. (Name) makes sure not to show how happy he truly was about leaving the place. The teenager didn't want anyone to stop him.

The boy spent his days slowly preparing for his departure from the manor, exchanging his old clothes in the backpack with the ones bought during one of my trips to the mall with Duke. He also stashes away a pretty big sum of money he took from his 'father'. 

(Name) spends yet another night smoking with Jason. The two of them smoke their cigarettes in silence for a while, watching the fireflies fly around.

"Heard your birthday is soon," Jason spoke up, putting out his cigarette. "Do you want anything for it?"

"Yeah, some peace and quiet." (Name) rolled his eyes, taking a last puff of his.

"I don't think it's possible; B already started planning a big party just for you." Jason watched (name)'s movement stop at his words. "You'll get used to it." Jason nudges the boy with his elbow.

"Not planning to," (name) mumbled, throwing the rest of the cigarette in the jar they claimed as their ashtray.

Jason watched as the teenager walked back to the manor with a smirk. He remembered telling Bruce that (name) might not be happy with his idea for the boys' birthday.

Sitting down at the table the next morning, (name) found himself wishing to eat the meal with just the butler one more time. Watching the family members take their places at the table one by one, the teenager wonders what went wrong in his life to find himself in such a position. Surrounded by vigilantes, people who made Gotham just a little bit safer, feeling trapped, suffocated by their obsession.

The boy missed his old life. It might've been unbearable sometimes, but at the very least, (name) was free.

Freedom. The words now left a sour taste in his mouth. During moments like this, smushed between Duke and Damian arguing who will spend time with him today, he wondered if he would ever be truly free again.

The breakfast started as usual. A small talk between the family, which the boy tried to tune out, was followed by the sounds of utensils. All was well, until Bruce used his fork to clink against his glass, grabbing everyone's attention.

"(Name), I have decided on your birthday celebration," Bruce announced, his lips twitching as a few family members showed their approval.

"The only celebration we'll be having is me leaving this haunted place." (Name) propped his chin against his hand, staring back at Bruce.

"You are not leaving. I've decided on a party with all of the important people in Gotham," Bruce stated, his voice showing no signs of emotion. "You need to be properly introduced."

"We're not doing that," the boy argued, clenching his fists.

"Yes, we are. My word is final." Bruce finally looked away from the teenager, picking up food with his fork.

"Your word is final?! You can take your word and shove it up your ass, Bruce." (Name) stands up so quickly, the chair behind him falls to the ground.

Before anyone can really process what just happened, (name) is standing right in front of Bruce with his fist inches away from the man's face.

"I will leave!" (Name) shouted.

"Don't you dare raise your voice at me!" Bruce stood up, trying to intimidate the boy. "I'm trying my best."

"I never asked you for shit," the teenager spat, mentally ready to fight the man if he had to. "I don't want you or any of your fucked-up family!"

"(Name), calm down—" Bruce reached over, trying to grab the boy by his shoulders.

"I'm done being calm." (Name) moved, making sure the man's hands don't come near him. "Every day I wish that it was you that died instead of Mom."

"Don't talk like that to Dad," Dick scolded the boy.

"He's not my dad. He would never be my dad." (Name) yelled towards the eldest of the siblings. Then, he turned back towards Bruce, venom coating his words as he spoke: "Just an arsehole that happened to fuck my mom."

A noise cuts though the dining room, followed by the burning on (name)'s left cheek. The teenager's head fell to the side due to the impact. For a moment, nobody moves, trying to process if their father really just slapped (name) in the face. 

Bruce takes a step towards the boy, trying to apologise for what he just did. He's not given the chance to, as the teenager bolts out of the room.

(Name) hears multiple voices call out his name, some running right behind him. He doesn't dare to look back, focused on creating as much of the distance as possible. Running into his room, the boy shuts his door in Dick's face, locking it.

Dick, along with a few other siblings, kept knocking on his door, begging for (name) to open it. He doesn't listen, waiting for them to leave.

The siblings only stop knocking after Alfred suggested that the teenager might need some time to cool off and asked them to leave (name) alone.

The teenager spends the rest of the day in his room, the silence of it only interrupted by the knocking from one of the siblings. Sometime during his time in the room, (name) makes a decision to leave the manor tonight no matter what. Even if that meant dying.

Hours later, when the sun had been replaced by the moon, (name) heard Alfred's voice from behind his door. The man was asking the boy to let him inside.

(Name) stands up with a sigh, pushing the bag back under his bed. He unlocks the door, opening it slightly to make sure there wasn't anyone accompanying the butler.

"Don't worry, (name), the family had to leave early for patrol. There was an emergency in Arkham," Alfred explained, walking into the room. "I brought you some dinner; you must be hungry."

The boy sits back down, eating the food silently. Alfred watches him for a moment, wondering what to do.

"I know nothing I say would make that situation better. Master Bruce shouldn't have hit you," the butler started, sitting next to the teenager. "And the emotions you must still feel are valid, even if I think you could express them better."

"I just want you to be happy, (name)." He continued, placing his hand on (name)'s shoulder. "Even if that means you'll be away from me, from us."

The teenager sends a forced smile towards the butler. He knew that there was no way he could stay in the manor. Even if leaving the butler made his heart break a little.

When Alfred finally leaves, hugging the boy as if he knew this might be the last time they saw each other, the teenager doesn't waste any time. (Name) grabs the sheets, tying them together to create a robe. He tied the robe to his door, throwing it out the window. The teenager put on his bag, glancing towards his bedroom door one last time.

With a heavy heart, the boy swings both of his legs out the window. Getting out of his room turned out to be the hardest part, not only due to the height but also because the sheets gave his legs little to no support. The rest of the trip was rather easy, as (name) used the same path he had used the previous times he snuck out of the manor. He walked away a good distance before stopping.

(Name) looked back at the manor. He needed to get away from here. Away from Gotham and the Waynes.

m.list • part: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

taglist: @amber-content @bellethesleepypotato @leeiasure @sleepdeprivedcrappywriter @tenthmilo @eyeless-kun @holyfishbailiffpeanut @cuntiesweet @jsprien213 @marsmabe @cssammyyarts @ilovecoffe0 @phoenixgurl030 @esposadomd @alittlelostmoonchild @stargirl404 @xnutz0 @s4raahi @reeyy0-2@ironsaladwitch @chemicalwindexbottle@ityourguy @im-so-goddamn-tired@dirtydiavolo@etern1tyxxx @whognuthis @verypersonadazzel

[koffeinkaos]

Some evil sorcerer after magically appearing in the throne room: Arthur Pendragon, this was a long time coming. You don't remember me, do you?

One of the guard tries to get a hold of the guy but his hand just goes through him like he was made of smoke.

Arthur: Who are you and what do you want

The sorcerer: Six years ago you and your knights were responsible for the death of my entire family. You murdered them. They were good innocent people. Their blood is on your hands.

Gwen next to Arthur: We understand your anger and your grief. My father was executed too under the magic ban but we lifted it and we're trying to do better. I'm sorry for what happened to your family.

Sorcerer: It doesn't change anything. The Pendragon rule has brought nothing but death and fear. It must end. I spent years following you around, getting to know your dirty secrets. One of them is currently with me and if you don't leave Camelot until midnight I will kill your one true love.

Arthur very confused, looking over to Gwen and the back at the guy: You will never get your hands on Guinevere.

Sorcerer now with a grin: oh I'm not talking about your queen

Now everyone looking around to check if anyone was missing.

Sorcerer exasperated: I am talking about that pretty servant of yours

Arthur: Merlin!? Why the hell do you think I'm in love with him??

Leon huffing: Let me guess, the longing stares?

Sorcerer: uhm yes and the

Leon nodding: the intense flirting, the being attached by the hip?

Gwaine laughing: don't forget the innuendos

Gwen: You keep bringing him to our dates

Sorcerer: I didn't know that, that's fucked up

Gwen: He's grown up with Uther, he's a good man but-

Arthur: But!??

Merlin yelling from somewhere in the background from wherever the sorcerer was hiding: Don't interrupt her you oaf.

Arthur, pouting: Sorry

Gwen: He needs Merlin to help with his emotions. I truly understand and respect the effort and passion on your part but we actually need Merlin to get him to be reasonable.

[kaivenom]

One piece dilfs with a marine reader (like high up in the marines) who they recently had a BAD break up with because marines and pirates can’t really make it work but then the reader turns up at their door telling them that no matter that they can’t help but love him. Marines and their dubious morals be damned! Like real romcom style (but more angst with a happy end)

(Or in smokers case , a prolific pirate leaving their crew to be with him)

OP Dilfs with an enemy!reader

Characters: Doflamingo, Mihawk, Crocodile, Smoker, Shanks

Warnings: alcohol, angst, depressing episodes (but with a comic relief)

A/N: someone also requested Smoker x pirate fem so this is perfect to satisfy anyone. I love this idea cause i am a fan of miserable whiny men.

Masterlist

Dracule Mihawk

He was a very careful and scrupulous men, he knows how to keep his cool no matter what.

So how is he on the liquor pantry of the castle with all the bottles of sake and wine around him.

He loved you and tried to do everything to make it work. He stoped killing people (that often), he made renewals on the castle, he even tolerated being a sichibukai... and still you broke up with him.

Then he heard the door knocking.

"I am sorry that the sichibukai disolved." you said, trying to break the ice.

"I didn't stand them, i hate being there" he was dragging syllables.

"Are you drunk?"

"No" clearly his red cheeks were saying the opposite. "What do you want?"

"Marine values are good but the institution is rotten to the core, i realised that your cross guild stuff was better justice than ours so... i quitted. And if you want we can try to make it happen again, better and longer this time."

"You on cross guild would be my worst nightmare," he was having a mental crisis, "but i still want to try again with you, just... i think i am going to throw up. Tell me again in a couple of hours."

Apparently alcohol made him really honest.

Donquixote Doflamingo

He asked you to be his queen, how could he be so stupid... or that's what he thought for the two next months of your broke up.

How dare you broke up with him and make him feel so sad and miserable.

All the citizzens of Dressrosa knew this cause they weren't tortured like usual, instead they were forced to hear Doflamingo talking about you.

He wasn't giving up on this and that got to your eyes thanks to the marine's spies.

Hearing this things made you reconsider everything on your life and you finally decided to quit.

You went to Dressrosa and you didn't have to identify yourself to enter the castle, everyone wanted you to finally shut up Doflamingo.

"Doffy, i am here to make things right, be with you, all in..." he was petrified like a statue, and the he crossed his legs."

"No." his forehead vein was popping out.

"What? i quitted and came all the way here."

"I already got over of our little thing."

"Don't lie to me Mingo, i know you've been crying like a baby."

"No, i am a king, i don't cry like a baby and if you try to dismiss my reputation again i am going to execute you."

"Fine, i am going out." his facade falled out as fast as light.

"No, please don't go, i am sorry, i was angry at you but i really wanted you back." he hugged you.

"Fine, you have ten more seconds to complain and then we can make out." he noded.

Sr. Crocodile

He was so sad and wanted no one to know about it that he runned away.

He moved out of his place and left all his bussiness on town to other people.

He then started to become a "little" obssesed with the idea of trying to erase everything that reminded him about you.

And then people asked him "Why do you buy this...? and why did you buy that store...?" but he couldn't admit that was just to close it so he didn't have to revive memories with you.

He lost millions of berries but he was sad and tried to cope with this.

You tried getting to him but his address changed, you had to get to the underground mob bosses to know where to find him.

You showed at his door just to see him with the robe you gifted him and a beard of a whole week.

"I don't have bussiness with marines." he turned around to close the door.

"Good for me that i am no longer one." his neck almost snapped.

"You what?"

"I quitted, but like two weeks ago... i've been trying to contact you but nothing, you moved out and then i started to see a pattern. Really? you've been buying the places we liked together?" he started to feel guilty.

"I was sad."

"Me too. But you got to much out of the line. You should call all this places and make them open again."

"And why is that?"

"Cause otherwise we won't be able to go there on dates anymore." you smiled shyly and he spent all night calling places with you on his lap.

Smoker

He even had to take days off for personal issues on work, he felt like the weakest men ever.

He was the vivid image of a sad wet puppy looking at the window while it's raining outside.

All he did those days was eat, watch movies that you both liked, cry on the shower, sleep and repeat.

His house was a mess, he was a mess, how could he betray the marines codes so much that he even loved a pirate... and worse, the pirate broke up with him and he is the world's saddest person.

Right now he was crying on the shower again, for like a whole hour.

You trespassed the garden and entered into his house thanks to an unlocked window.

You entered and all the mess you saw was more than disgusting and alarming.

You heard the shower and then the water closing, you took a seat and waited for him to get out.

"Smoker, why is your house like this, this isn't how..." you had to stop when you saw him shocked and with red eyes, "you've been crying?"

"No." he took his weapon while pointing at you, "a pirate is tresspassing my property, i should arrest you."

"I thought you would be glad that i am trying to get on the marine's recruit's program, " you showed him some papers, "but i don't konw how to fiil this documents, i wanted to ask you for help and maybe... take a coffe or talk about us."

He really needed a chair right now. He couldn't talk for the next hour, but since he still helped you and served you the coffee, things were going into the right direction.

Akagami Shanks

He got the most drunk he has been in all his life and did the most uncivil crimes he has ever did, he definitely broke his record.

He throwed up on the street, dranked alcohol in public, yelled at people, supposedly he also showed his private parts to some of the passengers but the report didn't inform more about it.

You were so sad by seeing this like him that made you reconsider the approach you gave the situation.

He otherwise was alone, he wanted to be on his own to just feel miserable without no one looking.

You got to the ship and you had to confront all his crewmates, they were really mad at you, but you explained the new situation and they decided to give you a change to explain yourself to his captain.

You entered the room that smelled like a liquor store and he saw you.

"Not the visions again, i've been lying for one hour now."

"It's not a vision captain, it's really her."

"Don't put jokes on me, i am not in the mood."

"You hadn't been on the mood for a week it looks." you got to the side of his bed. "Shanks, i came here to tell you that i am no longer a marine and that my door is open."

"My door is really open and the light is getting in, close it." his words were full of pain but tried to hide it.

A long pause got behind you both and he looked at you, finally getting up but tripping midway.

"Are you really saying it? no jokes?"

"I would never joke about this. I want to be with you."

His mood lifted up instantly and tried to kiss you but you had to stop him and oblige him to take a long shower first.

[wtfaniii]

Hi! I bring you this final part! Thank you for your support, readings and love.🤎

N/A: I have pending orders and I hope to complete them as soon as possible. I will upload one of them this afternoon. Thanks for your support!!

PAPARAZZI

Hwang In-ho x reader

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

Summary: A private detective that Gi-hun had hired to investigate those games he participated in three years ago, is taken against her will without knowing that a certain man with power and money knew absolutely every detail about her.

Warning: Blood, violence, kidnapping and some romance, I was listening to Lady Gaga's Bad Romance while writing this, sorry not sorry

Note: This would be the last part, if were to resume it I would do so when the third season comes out, thank you for your love!

The plan to escape through the ventilation ducts would be carried out that night, after playing the third game.

"Players, the third game is about to begin, everyone is asked to wake up and prepare" the female robotic voice spoke from the speaker.

The girl smiled as she saw that the piece of metal had in his hands had finally taken the shape that would be quite useful to her.

—I did it... —Her murmur with a radiant smile.

—¿You did what? —001 asked, approaching her with curiosity, as if he hadn't heard anything of the conversation she had with 388 during the night.

—The key to get out of here —She said proudly, showing off the piece of metal.

In-ho put on a confused expression, but deep down he was more than fascinated and intrigued, as well as anxious for night to come and for her to execute the "escape."

—Trust me, we will get out of here.

He gave her a silent smile.

As they left the room to be taken to the next game, In-ho stayed behind to talk to one of the guards with the triangle symbol. —455 will try to escape tonight through the ventilation ducts, keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn't, then she'll be taken out of the game, ¿understood?

—Yes sir —replied, giving a brief reference, then he left to catch up with the group.

The next game would be called "mingle" and it was for groups.

The game consisted of grouping up every time the robotic voice said the number of players that had to get together and take one of the small rooms that were scattered around the place, the platform would spin before this so you are probably a little dizzy.

—If the number is more than six, we'll take the other players —Gi-hun said.

—¿What if the number is less than six? —Dae-ho asked with some uncertainty.

—We're split up, but we mustn't lose our patience— Young-il said seriously. —You two try not to get away from us —added looking at Jun-hee and the girl, who both nodded.

When the platform began to spin and the children's song started to play, the tension in the atmosphere was present, once again the girl was afraid of dying so inevitably her hands trembled, In-ho noticed this and without thinking much he took one of her hands with his.

—Trust me, we'll get out of here —He repeated the same words she had told him, making her smile.

The first stop was ten, that was easy, they met up with another group of four with players 120, 007, 149 and 097

The second was four, In-ho never let go of the girl's hand. —You four go, we two will look for others —He stated confidently.

She felt pretty safe with him so she didn't refuse, once again it was easy to find another partner and get to a room on time.

The third was three participants per room, once again it was simple, the girl was Gi-hun and Young-il but when they were dividing she was knocked down by another player.

In-ho opened his eyes searching for her in the crowd as Gi-hun called out to her but seeing that the timer was about to end they had no choice but to run and carry player 149 who was standing alone in the middle of all the chaos.

Meanwhile, the girl was stunned, looking for someone to go with to save her life when suddenly someone arrived and practically pulled her by the arm with brute force straight into a room. When the timer came to an end, she saw both players.

—Thank you very much.

Player 333 nodded, taking deep breaths.

She would remember him number, he had practically saved her life and she would make sure to do the same once she managed to get out of there for help.

Coming out of the cubicles, the first thing In-ho did was look for her with his eyes and when he saw her coming towards them, a sigh of relief left his lips, a reaction he never thought would have in a long time.

It felt strange to feel the anguish of another person's life again, especially that of a girl he knew as well as the back of his hand but hadn't spent enough time with, it was as if she had gotten into his head and heart without him realizing it.

When least expected it, he was already hugging her.

—Sorry for letting go of your hand.

—I'm fine... —The girl sighed, gladly receiving the gesture —He saved me —She added turning to see 333 who was a short distance away, watching them in silence.

He didn't care who had done it, he was just grateful that she was still there, although his triangle team had orders not to kill her, it was impossible to deny the immense concern he felt.

Finally, teams of two had to be formed, the participants fought to survive and this time, In-ho made sure not to lose the girl at his side.

In-ho grabbed a man who was about to enter the empty cubicle and pushed him back, allowing her to pass through, but she froze when she saw another player there.

—Get out —Young-il demanded firmly, staring at the man.

But seeing that the player refused, he rushed towards him, the girl stayed at the door preventing anyone else from entering.

When the timer was coming to an end, the only sound of a 'crack' reached the young woman's ears, she turned around in fear, but when she saw Young-il alive sighed and dropped to the ground tiredly.

She didn't judge him, her knew that humans naturally attacked when felt in danger.

[...]

The third vote had concluded, the circles and crosses had been tied so the elections would be repeated the following day.

But she couldn't bear another day, these games changed people, she saw it in Young-il and her didn't want someone good to get his hands dirty like that again.

Or at least that was the image she had of the man.

She couldn't stop watching him intently as chatted with Gi-hun, he was a gentleman, kind and sociable man but seeing him in that cubicle killing a man by breaking his neck in one move to save them both made her heart beat like never before.

She was fascinated by riddles and had a hunch that this man was one that needed to be solved. She didn't know, but her intuition told that Young-il was a poker face.

But for now, her needed to execute his plan.

She got up from where was and walked to the bathroom, there were only a couple of hours left until nightfall and she didn't want to walk around that island in the dark.

—Oh no, she's going to do it —Dae-ho muttered nervously as he watched her walk away.

—¿What is she going to do? —Gi-hun asked.

—Will try to escape and go for help.

The group looked at her with concern as she entered the bathroom and the two guards continued to guard the entrance.

She walked over to the toilet, pulled down the lid and stood on it to reach where the vent was, using the deformed piece of metal to remove the screws.

A proud smile formed on her lips as she was able to remove the lid and push herself up with his feet to begin climbing through the duct. ¿Could this be a dream? Judging by the fresh air she perceived in his nose these ducts would lead her to an exit to the outside.

But before she could declare victory and move forward faster, she felt two hands grab her by the ankles and pull back, back to his nightmare.

—¡No! ¡Please no! —She screamed, digging her nails into the metal of the duct as if that would stop, but she only managed to hurt own fingers a little.

When the guard with the triangle mask had her in hin arms and held tightly, she hit him in the stomach with his elbow to free herself.

She ran to the bathroom door to get out of there but as soon as touched the handle she was shot in the leg causing to fall and scream in pain.

Her scream mixed with the gunshot caught the attention of the players outside, it caught In-ho's attention, they weren't supposed to shoot her.

Meanwhile inside the bathroom she was bleeding and crying in pain and fear, she believed that this was end but another guard entered the bathroom and stuck a needle in her neck forcing her to fall into the subconscious.

"Player 455, eliminated" said the robotic voice over the speaker, leaving her fellow players bewildered and sad.

Gi-hun stood up and walked towards the guard guarding the bathroom and shouted angrily, followed by In-ho.

—¿What did you do to her? She wasn't playing! ¡You killed her!

The triangle raised his gun and pointed it at him to get to back off.

—She tried to escape and that will not be tolerated.

—¡That's not fair! You're only eliminated if you lose one of these games —Young-il yelled at them, putting on a little drama show just enough for the guards to get him out of there too so could see the girl.

When the doors opened and more guards entered carrying a black box with a huge pink bow through the door In-ho paled, he had given a specific order, it was just to take her out of the games, not kill her.

—¡You killed her! —he shouted at them this time a little more excitedly as watched the triangles take the girl out of the bathroom and place her in the box to later close it —¡These weren't the rules! ¡I demand to see your leader!

The guard nodded and asked him to follow him, once out of sight of the other players In-ho glared at his worker waiting for an explanation.

—She's alive, just sedated, we thought this was the best way to get her out without raising suspicion.

The feeling he had a few moments ago was like torture but also a small flash in his dark heart, after so long he had not felt such a whirlwind of emotions since his wife.

[...]

In him golden room, in the middle of the bed, the girl rested, with a bandage on her leg and wearing more comfortable clothes, a white blouse and grey pants.

The front man walked through the door and sighed at the sight of her there, leaving the gun he had used against the guard who dared to shoot her disobeying his orders on the table by the entrance and walking cautiously towards her.

He knew was breaking the rules by taking her out of there but he couldn't let her die, she had made him feel so many things again in such a short time that it was terrifying to a certain extent.

With his hand he moved a couple of strands of hair away from her face.

The girl gently opened her eyes and seeing a masked stranger near her, she tensed up because was still a little dazed to react otherwise.

—Calm down —he said under the mask with the voice modifier —I won't hurt you, we already fixed your wound and you'll be fully conscious in a few hours.

—You... you are... the front man... —She said trying to clear her mind and focus his vision.

—¿How much do you know about me? —He asked curiously, sitting on the edge of the bed without stopping to observe her under the mask.

—I know as much about you as you know about me... —She smiled at him with a hint of arrogance —You sent your employees to follow me for a while... They're not as stealthy as you thought.

He smiled under the mask, he knew for sure that she was intelligent, she was extremely afraid of death but had strategies and a brain to know when being stalked.

—¿Do you want to take off your mask?... I want to know if right about something.

—¿About what?

—You’re Young-il —that took him by surprise —¿Or should I say In-ho? You’re a man of many riddles.

He took off the mask, not just physically, he was also going to let her enter his soul.

—¿Since when did you find out?

—Oh not as quickly as I would have liked, I figured it out now that you sat up in bed.

From him posture, carefree and passive, and the way he stroked her hair, she deduced that he was someone who had already had contact with her.

Moreover, she had read a long history about the front man, the man in front of her was more than just that, more than just a cold-blooded assassin and leader who controlled these games, he was now showing his more "Young-il" side.

—¿Like Sherlock Holmes? —In-ho asked, half amused and half curious.

—That's my job... —She sighed tiredly, closing her eyes again.

They both knew they had many things to talk about and clarify but now was not the time, she longed for some peace and rest and he had to return to the games or he would raise suspicions.

They had a pending conversation but first, In-ho had to put an end to all this and put everything back in its respective place, after all, the girl was no longer in the crossfire, with her safely in him room, it was time to act.

N/A: This is the last part! Maybe I'll pick it up again when the third season comes out, I wanted to do something like Joe and Love only without the killer and crazy stuff.

Tag List:

@carrotjuicepdf @sxmmerchxldblog @syraxnyra @deathsmellzz @starkeyszn @deftonianfr @djloveyou3000 @lowkeyhottho @shadow-tumbler

[heroesneedalancer]

Post by u/DJConvex to r/AskReddit on Nov 6, 2024:

People who work in DC for the government, what is the vibe?

Comment by u/Meduselde:

Resigned. We are generally very good about not discussing politics in the workplace but the vibe was obviously off. My more conservative colleagues who were happy Trump won were extremely respectful. There wasn't smug gloating and they were very obviously being cognizant of others' feelings even more than normal. It was extremely appreciated. Ultimately, we survived the first administration and will survive again. It's not necessarily Trump who was the problem last time, but his inexperienced senior appointees. The world isn't going to end nor do I feel democracy will crumble at his feet. It's just gonna be chaotic, and that's the worst part as a worker bee. At least with Biden we had consistent leadership and clear guidance, even if you didn't agree with it. Under Trump, your "yes man" says "no" and that's how you rotate through four SECDEFs. But as a sign of hope, it also means that even the most loyal DO say "no" sometimes, especially when businessmen are finally confronted with the realities of governance.

They chill out REAL quick on their dismantlement plans when they see the work these agencies do and what's at stake if they don't stand up for their people. It's easy to say you will dissolve or cut funding for something when you do not truly understand it. And as much as people say we can ALL be magically replaced with "yes men," even the most stone-hearted appointees recognize that the last thing you ever want is to lose the entirety of your skilled workforce. They learn it's best to get the skilled people to work towards their vision and not hire enthusiastic but stupid people to attempt the same. If they do, they risk looking inept themselves. You don't get skilled federal workers in a blue portion of the country to work for you by being a fucking Nazi. We're cranky and will make your life hell if you behave like that. I'm not talking about some sort of organized resistance movement because we feel like it. That's wrong. But just imagine hundreds of thousands pissed off at you. If that's the Deep State at work, then we aspire to be the quality of swampy Deep State your racist uncle thinks we are. If implementing dictatorship was that easy, Trump would have taken out every agency his last term and fired us all. I am actually extremely proud of the resiliency and checks and balances that the American federal government has in place to prevent most of the shit he says he can achieve by waving a magic executive wand. (He's done this once. He knows he can't. He just lets the majority of the population believe he can.) Us feds will make it, as we always have.

And we will live up to our oath to serve the Constitution, not a president. We serve every official of every party faithfully within the bounds of legalities and our oath. Working for administrations you may not like it's just a part of the job that we all recognize. Public servants at the federal level generally hold that extremely close to their heart. The ones that don't (I'm talking to YOU, WaPo "informants!") put us to shame. We're just tired, man. I can't believe it has already been four years since the last round. There's going to be some waves, no doubt, and some people definitely are going to be hurt at upper levels. But grab a Twisted Tea and buckle up. We'll at least pretend it's meant to be a roller coaster and ride it. TL;Dr Democracy is not going to die. But a drink and "thanks" would go a long way.

EDIT: Woah! I woke up this morning and am surprised by how much traction this got. I'm sad that this was the most positive thing some people had read. I'm sorry it's been that bad. I am not predicting outcomes. I have no idea how it's going to go. It's going to be bloody. But the hope I am trying to get across is that we are a resilient people and a group of (generally) good people. It will be okay, okay? The people that really make or break your daily life are those around you and your local government. Hold those around you close to your heart and always be kind. Everybody go outside, take a deep breath, eat something you love, and hug your grandma (even if she voted differently). The world is still turning and the sky is still blue. Being surrounded by spiraling anger on the internet only makes us the losers, not those we disagree with. The only thing we can do right now is wait. We have a few months to cool off! Enjoy your holidays!

EDIT 2: I think everybody has forgotten about this, but go check out the memorandum signed by the Joint Chiefs of Staff at the end of Trump's first term after January 6. The feds basically said "fuck that" when people were scared that the government was going to turn the military on them to help Trump in some way. While it was specifically addressed to our armed forces members, it was spread throughout the DOD and beyond. Partially as a result of federal workers' fear (not actually ordered, to be crystal clear) that they would be asked to turn on citizens. This sentiment was echoed across the entire government via internal emails (from Trump appointees!) as well to the civilian workforce. That's one of my proudest moments as an American and why I know we will get through it.

Emphasis mine. Link to original Reddit Post. Link to an article about the aforementioned memorandum signed by the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

Don't give up. We will get through this.

[vmlnrzmp4]

more of tokyo revengers characters as papas.

bonten executives + hanma

fluff + angst

sanzu haruchiyo

as the door opened, the first thing he was greeted with the sight of you and himari drawing in the living room. the moment she saw him, she zoomed, a red crayon in her hand. the same colour on his knuckles. she rushed, hugging his legs. her gaze falls on the back of his hands. "hurt?" she asks gently. and he simply picks her up. "not my blood." she smiles. "did the bad guys lose!?" haru lets out a chuckle. "they always do." the truth was—he's the bad guy. and she didn't need to know that.

haitani ran

ran hated early mornings. and then there was yua who walked into the room, shaking him. "papa," she calls. nothing. "papa..." she calls again. a little louder this time. still nothing. still no response from him. so she keeps shaking him with her full effort (which basically felt nothing to him) and keep calling "papa" over and over and over again. her eyes well up with tears. her bottom lip trembled and just when she was about to give up, ran reaches out for her, grabbing her, making her yelp as he settles her between you and him and both of you shower her with kisses.

haitani rindou

rindou never refused rina. he let her paint his nails, wear a tiara because she said so and what not. that was untill one day when—"no." he declared. "rina, no." rina being the quiet girl she was, didn't question him. only letting out a little oh. he heard that and his heart dropped at her expressionless face but still caught up to the sadness in her eyes. he immediately knelt down to her, explaining that he didn't mean to sound so rude. and that he's sorry, later promising to play tea party with her.

kokonoi hajime

miyu wasn't unfamiliar with blood. she knew papa would come home late with it on his clothes and knuckles. she noticed. ofcourse she did. she never questioned cause you told her not to. so when he got a paper cut, he simply clicked his tongue in annoyance. she walks to him offering a cartoonish pink bandaid. he smiled, ruffling her hair. he lets her wrap the bandaid on his index finger where the cut located. her hands trembled and tears in her eyes. his smile vanished and he called for her. she looked up at him, "i was worried."

kakucho

you and kakucho didnt think she'd hear it. in the kitchen, you both sat at the table, talking about how he had to leave for whatever business he had. he never told you. not really. not wanting to mix you and hana with what he does. "papa's leaving?" a little voice echos. you both turn to see hana. sadness etched on her face. "hana, you should be asleep—" "why?" she cuts him off with a question of her own. he wanted to speak but no words came out. "baby, he'll be back before you know it." she didn't look much convinced at your words, rushing to her papa. he scoops her in his arms, promising he'd return and binge whatever cartoons she wanna watch together.

hanma shuji

"you're back..." you say as he closes the door behind. "yeah. safe and sound too," his tone playful. it was quiet. too quiet for the hanma household. he places the little box on the table, "where's my gremlin?" "asleep," you answer, "she was...waiting for you." quietness engulfed for a moment. he walked to you, giving you a little kiss on the top of your head. "go see her. it's not too late."

shuji kneels beside her bed, "hey birthday girl." "...papa?" it wasn't midnight yet. so the three of you sit by the dining table, cake and candles infront of rui. she clasps her hands, shutting her eyes tightly, "i wish...for papa to always come back home."

[ironteeth-fury]

👋 👋👋

Do u give ghoap fic recommendations? If so can u give us please 🙏 (iys alr if u don’t want to ^~^)

*rubs hands together* finally my time has come, the 436 cod bookmarks i have will be useful!

right so you didn't specify anything beyond ghoap so i'm gonna throw a bunch in here with different themes and lengths and settings and stuff.

Gonna try to keep it to one work per author as well, but generally check out the other works of these authors!

I'm gonna cover WIP's that i'm following and loving, canon ghoap, still military but au in ways that might be timeline or in the sense of magic or abo or supernatural or something. Also completely AU ghoap, and I also have a couple crack fics that i just think are really good and funny.

Buckle up there's a lot

WIPS

Acceptable Loss by MildLimerence. Limerence is one of my favorite authors, definitely check out all the other works as well. Acceptable Loss is post MWIII wherein Soap gets turned into an agent for Makarov. This has made me cry and scream.

But not to yield by monsterlice and toomanybats. Definitely also check both authors out, more good shit to be found!! post military service for ghost and soap both. Demi!Simon in an abusive relationship, absolute perfect specimen who will treat you right! Soap. Pretty sure this updates weekly on wednesdays or thursdays, i forgot sorry :/

There will be no tenderness by Simcoehole. Simcoehole is where I break the rules, there will be 4 of their fics in this list and I will not apologise (really you should applaud my restraint because i could've put a lot more in here). This is canon Ghoap with Soap on medical leave, stalker!ghost, a lot of angst and pining, and Simcoehole's specialty: idiots to lovers. has only one chapter so it's the best time to get into it! Updates on mondays, I think.

Crack fics

right so a couple shorter fics that are just generally funny

miannach by simcoehole. Right. Simcoehole fic #2. This is very much Crack Premise, executed super well and quite seriously as well. Premise: Soap cuts a hole in a bar of soap (lol) and it becomes a magical portal hole to his ass. So after fucking himself with it, he decides to leave it in teh communal showers. Which is fun but overwhelming. Then Ghost gets a hold of it. (this is just a lot of porn, but it's awesome)

Save a pony, ride a ghost - Jazzybot4 and naughtypixie. Soap has Stripper Skills and it is the perfect opportunity to show them off. the rest of the 141 is stunned <3

the divine and the blessed by ghost_throat. Soap finds himself being sacrificed to a god (believe me this will be 1000x better iwthout context. Don't forget to read the sequel)

Talk Too Much by achievement_huntresss. '22 ghoap who are in denial about their feelings run into '09 ghoap who, while not fucking (anymore) immediatly clock that the idiots are head over heels for each other, and decide to do something about it.

Russian Roulette by Red_Clegane. Just. Soap being a badass completely casual, as you-please. Love the attitude

Canon Ghoap

Up In Arms by eclecticscribbles. Ghost introduces Soap to BDSM so they can infiltrate a fancy exclusive bdsm club to find their target.

Any Time You Need Me by thirteenbullets. right so this is technically an entire series that i've linked, but, they all fall under what im gonna tell you: non-sexual intimacy, physical touch, a bit of angst and a lot of comfort. This entire series feels like curling up with a blanket on the couch in front of the fireplace with a mug of hot cocoa. it's comfy. (also has one of my favorite sentences ever that will live rent-free in my brain forever. He drew the ducks <3)

Seasons by StinglessWasp. the writing is breathtaking, it's a beautiful look at soap, ghost and their relationship and how they change over the course of four seasons.

What Has One Good Leg and Bleeds? by YmeMadarame. Soap gets his leg injured and betrayed and falsly confirmed KIA in the depths of hostile territory. He tries to make it back home. A classic case of it gets worse before it gets better.

Mission Briefs by BleedingTypewriter. What if ghost and soap hooked up before they met for the mission in al mazrah? Written as missing scenes between game cutscenes and missions. Beautiful, funny and sexy!

sometimes words have two meanings by Bluejay141519. beautiful take on the "the team accidentally massively hurts soaps feelings and trigger his inferiority complex" featuring a lot of hurt!soap.

its just a shot away by Bluejay141519. so another breaking of the rules by adding a second fic from bluejay, but both these fics are special to me. This is soap on a mission that went beyond FUBAR, trying to survive long enough for the 141 to come get him, and has been going on stims for almost 4 days. Soap reacts real bad to stims once he comes off of it. This is beautifully written and grabs me every time, and somehow manages to be one of the funniest things i've ever read while the tone of the fic overall is very serious and angsty.

Take a Breath by TAFKAmayle. Longg before the 141 started, we get Sergeant Simon Lamont (who will later be Lieutenant Simon "ghost" Riley) in charge of training the platoon of Corporal John "soap" MacTavish. There is tension. (turns out, it's sexual tension. who'da thunk it?) Includes them meeting again in game canon. (love this, its hilarious and i love it as a peek into Simon's mind)

can't keep johnny down by Wheezing_Joe. Soap loses comms on a mission. The 141 have to leave him behind. Soap makes his own way back to base. Turns out they missed him.

Bad Habits by NebulaGazer. I think this is the first real long fic that I'm linking, at 140k words. It's a mission fic of ghoap getting together. Soap gets thrown out of a couple of windows. It's great!

I Woke Up Underground by WispScribbles. this is a fun one!! we get wump, angst, buried alive trope, more wump, dad!price, and a lot of Feelings. (also definitely comfort at the end no worries)

Bait and Switch by Starlight_VLD. Another Soap gets turned into Makarov's assassin fic, this time with body doubles!! it's beautiful, it's sad, it's comforting, it's 141 as a family.

Oh, Brother by MeowMeowRiley. Ghost's family lives, and through some work civililan connections, both get roped into helping Soap's sibling move, unbeknownst to each other.

This is Ghost and Soap as Simon and John, seen through the eyes of their siblings, who do wonder 'why the hell are they not fucking yet?'

Military Ghoap AU's

faege by Simcoehole. #3 Simcoehole fic!! Soulmate AU following the MWIII storyline. Ghost and Soap wake up tied together by a red string of fate, declaring them soulmates. Both of them decide that, no, fate must have made a mistake, just because I'm hopelessly in love with him. He doesn't feel the same. I don't want to ruin our friendship. Let's see how we can get rid of this because he deserves better than being stuck with me for the rest of his life. (yep.) A lot of pining, angst, Idiots to Lovers (altho the idiots never really goes away with how fucking bad it is lmao). This is beautiful and it will make you yell at your screen and want to throw things but the worst part is that even though they're being big stupid idiots, when you're in their head you GET IT, you might not agree but you understand why they're comign to the conclusions they are (mostly). It's infuriating in the best way.

The devil has my throat by Simcoehole. Hi, last but certainly not least (with over 400k words) we have the devil has my throat. THIS FIC is what got me into the author, and what got me into the community. This fic is the start of my tumblr account. So, yeah.

Vampire!Ghost and Previously-Traumatised-By-Vampires!Soap. Who has, obviously, not processed said trauma at all, but is also immediatly horny as fuck for ghost. Features: being idiots, a lot of kinky vampire sex (so blood and biting and also some fun surprises you'll love later) a supernatural plot, price who doesn't get told even 10% of what's going on, and my Favorite OC Of All Time Ever.

Thrown for a Loop by enter_fand0m_reference00. Time Loop Alone Mission!!!! need I say more?? no, no i don't. (check out the rest of the series for more time loop shenanigans)

Results May Vary by HigherMagic. HigherMagic is one of my favorite authors so definitely check out all the other works as well, but this is the one I picked out to go on this list. It's wolf shifter soap deciding to woo the shit out of dragon ghost. (with a lot of lore!!! we love lore!!!)

Wont you lay your hands on me by Kensington. ABO but make it make sense! Alpha Ghost, Omega Soap, courting, world-building, trauma processing. absolutely one of my favorite abo fics ever (it's #2)

Yes to Heaven by Apollos_Last_Prophet. Okay but what if Soap was "killed" and taken and been made into Makarov's assassin before the 141 is even a thing?? You get this. The Ghoap is absolutely gorgeous in here.

My heart in your hands keeps going on by FetteEule. Former Military Soap! Neighbours Soap and Ghost! Ghost being forced on leave and fucking hating it, and soap changing his mind on it <3 (also of course price knows soap too)

Collecting Strays by WhisperedWords12. Check out the author again, there are more!! Werewolf soap gets rescued from a werewolf fighting ring and, being military, gets kept by Price and the 141. Ghost does not trust Soap at all.

No Rest for the Wicked by WispScribbles. Retired Ghoap are called back in when Price goes MIA. Mission fic. Feelings. Established Ghoap (theyre marrieddd)

hell hath no fury by sunshowers_and_dandelion_wine. Dragon shifter Soap!! Who accumalates the 141 as his hoard and is super protective and possessive, while trying to keep his being a dragon a secret!

Varium Lupus Division by North927. Sort-of military, sort of not? Post 141, Simon sets up his own division where they rescue and rehabilitate shifters/hybrids. Soap is the latest rescue.

Take Me On by Monsterlice. this is the #1 abo fic. It's got traumatised omega!Ghost who does Not Trust Anyone who goes into heat, has put it off long enough that it might kill him if he doesn't get handled by an alpha. Surprise, Gaz and Price, the only alphas (people, really) he trusts in the world are not here!! and won't be back in time. So, Laswell calls in Alpha!Soap (who will start at the 141 in like, a couple weeks) Features Consent!King!Soap who is absolutely enamoured by this huge feral omega who will fucking kill him if he steps a toe out of line. I fucking love soap in this soooo much.

a patron saint for butchers, fools and living fire by ForgottenFrog. I dunno, don't really want to spoil it by telling too much about it. This is one of the fics that settled into my bones and refused to leave.

(are you tired yet, cuz we've got some more to go)

AU's!

Dark Eyes Meet Under The Sky by Aessedia. (gonna have another one of Aessedia because i could NOT for the life of me choose) University professor Ghost. Grad student Soap. Soap needs a reccomendation for ghost who is known for being grumpy and hating his students. Also, Soap begins talking to a Dom on a kink-related dating website. Wonder who that is.

The Aerialist by Aessedia. LIsten okay Aessedia is just fucking amazing and go check /all of it/ out, because these two are my favorites but all the others are super good as well. Also, happy birthday to The Aerialist!! Aerialistic Acrobats Soap and Ghost who starts as rivals but then suddenly have to work together. Beyond overcoming their rivalry, there is also seemingly someone out to kill or at least ruin the 141 acrobats.

Why Did The Cowboy Take Hay To Bed? by LawfulSlab. Definitely check out all the other works as well they're beautiful. Historical au. Omega Soap and Alpha Ghost are the only two survivors of a convoy ambush. They seek shelter and have to pretend to be married to save Soap's virtue (unmarried omega out all alone, gasp!!) and then they fall in love. It's domestic as shit, and beautiful and the convoy was definitely a plot device to get them here and not something that will come back later as more plot, nahh.

Head of Department by Goblin_Pudding. Professors AU! Rival professors who hate each other, Price forces them to work together and /shit fuck we're in love now/. Including the past coming back to haunt you and Feelings <3. Romcom!!

Yellow Card by eddie_dxaz and skerryB. Football players AU! of course our boys start out having a massive rivalry and then Soap comes on the team and they have to play nice. Featuring homophobia of the world of sports, shitty exes coming back to create chaos, alive Riley family (except Simon's dad).

a pirate's life, aye? by victorianankles. firstly, pirate AU is one of my favorites. WE need more pirate au. Just gonna quote my bookmark of this one:

Soap's voice is the perfect mix of melodramatic, sad, hilarious and that somehow humble cockiness that's all Soap. I laughed so fucking much reading this and everyone should read this too, it's beautiful and I love it and I'm gonna cherish this fic forever

for those who need more convincing; one of the epilogues has soap in lingerie that's made of fancy chains and shiny gems. (i might or might not absolutely need art for this fucking hell)

Spoils of War by WhisperedWords12. RIGHT losers of a war get kept as war prisoners until the losing party signs officially that they've lost or something. They get used as sex slaves by the winning party. This is considered normal by everyone involved, as long as you treat your (temporary) slaves well. Soap gets captured and falls under Ghost's care. They are both not prepared for how much they like the other. (a tag from the fic: Enemies to Something They'd Rather Not Talk About. Which I think is quite fitting.) I love the dynamic in this, it's gorgeous.

RIGHT so that's it. For now. I mean i'd assume it's enough for the forseeable future.

Again, like i said i have more than 400 bookmarks so if you want more reccs, reach out, tell me what you like and I'll dig through my bookmarks and brain to see what i can find <3

Also people dont forget to leave kudos and a comment on the fics. If you dont know what to comment, give 'em this one from me:

✨️✨️💕🫧❤️💀💕✨️✨️

[bratzkoo]

barely yours | mingyu pt. 2

Author: bratzkoo | navi Pairing: rockstar! mingyu x reader Word Count: 5.4k Genre: fluff, angst, smut-ish Rating: NC-17 (PG-13 for this chapter only) Possible Warnings: mingyu is an idiot, AGAIN. written in third person.

Summary: you flirt, you fuck, but when you hint that you want to be more he dismissed it as if you’re joking… and when you decide to ignore him he comes back with flowers at your doorstep.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): ​ @ca-clover, @junniesoleilkth , @gaslysainz , @darkerrdaze , @mansaaay , @childish-fear , @whoa-jo , @movingalongfrs

find other parts here! pt. 1 | pt.2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

Y/N felt her carefully constructed facade begin to crumble as she looked into Seungcheol's eyes. The lead vocalist and leader of HHT stood before her, his usually melodic voice now tight with concern and something that sounded like barely contained frustration.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and urgent. "We need to talk about Mingyu."

She glanced around the hallway, acutely aware of the curious glances from passing employees. This was not a conversation she wanted to have in the middle of her father's company.

"Not here," she hissed, grabbing Seungcheol's arm and pulling him towards an empty conference room. Once inside, she closed the door and leaned against it, as if she could physically block out the complications that were piling up around her.

"What's going on?" Seungcheol demanded as soon as they were alone. "Mingyu showed up at our dorm this morning looking like he'd been hit by a truck. He's refusing to talk to anyone, and we have that radio interview in a few hours."

Y/N closed her eyes, guilt washing over her. She'd been so focused on protecting herself that she hadn't considered how her decision might affect the band. "I... we ended things," she admitted quietly.

Seungcheol's eyebrows shot up. "Ended things? I didn't realize there were 'things' to end. I thought you two were just..."

"Fooling around?" Y/N supplied bitterly. "Yeah, well, it turns out feelings don't always follow the rules we set for them."

Understanding dawned on Seungcheol's face, followed quickly by sympathy. "You fell for him."

It wasn't a question, but Y/N nodded anyway. "I did. And when I tried to talk to him about it, he made it clear that he didn't want anything more. So I ended it."

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, a habit he shared with Mingyu when he was stressed. "Shit, Y/N. This is... complicated."

"You think I don't know that?" Y/N snapped, then immediately regretted her tone. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't know what to do. And now my father wants me to take a more active role in managing you guys, and I-"

"Wait, what?" Seungcheol interrupted. "You're going to be our manager?"

Y/N shook her head. "Not exactly. He wants me to be more involved in the management side of things. Apparently, I 'understand your demographic' better than the older executives."

Seungcheol let out a low whistle. "Talk about adding fuel to the fire. How are you going to manage that with... everything else going on?"

"I have no idea," Y/N admitted, slumping into one of the conference room chairs. "I never wanted this, Cheol. Any of it. I was happy being the party girl, the CEO's wild child. It was easier."

Seungcheol took the seat next to her, his expression softening. "Maybe it was easier, but was it really what you wanted? Because the Y/N I know is smart, talented, and more than capable of handling whatever comes her way."

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat at his words. It had been a long time since someone had seen her as more than just a pretty face or a potential scandal. "I'm scared," she whispered.

Seungcheol reached out, taking her hand in his. "It's okay to be scared. But you're not alone in this, Y/N. The band... we care about you. Both you and Mingyu."

At the mention of Mingyu's name, Y/N felt her heart clench. "How is he, really?"

Seungcheol sighed. "He's hurting. I've never seen him like this before. Whatever was between you two... I don't think it was as casual for him as he let on."

Y/N's head snapped up, hope and confusion warring in her chest. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Seungcheol said carefully, "that maybe you two need to have an actual conversation. One where you both be honest about your feelings."

"I tried that," Y/N protested. "He laughed it off."

"And you immediately ended things instead of pushing the issue," Seungcheol pointed out gently. "Look, I'm not taking sides here. You're both my friends. But I think there's more to this story than either of you are seeing right now."

Y/N wanted to argue, to defend her decision. But a small part of her wondered if Seungcheol might be right. Had she been too hasty? Too afraid of rejection to really hear what Mingyu was saying – or not saying?

Before she could respond, Seungcheol's phone buzzed. He glanced at it and grimaced. "That's our manager. I need to go wrangle the guys for this interview." He stood, then hesitated. "Y/N, promise me you'll think about what I said. And maybe... maybe come to our studio session tomorrow? We could use your input on some of the new tracks."

Y/N nodded, not trusting herself to speak. As Seungcheol reached the door, she found her voice. "Cheol? Thank you. For everything."

He flashed her a warm smile. "That's what friends are for. Just... don't let fear make your decisions for you, okay?"

As the door closed behind him, Y/N leaned back in her chair, her mind whirling. She'd thought ending things with Mingyu would simplify her life, but it seemed to have done the exact opposite. Now she had a broken heart, a new job she wasn't sure she wanted, and the possibility that she'd misunderstood everything about her relationship with Mingyu.

Her phone buzzed, and she looked down to see a message from her father:

"Meeting with HHT's team tomorrow at 10 AM. Be there."

Y/N closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Tomorrow, she would have to face Mingyu, the band, and her new responsibilities all at once. She wasn't sure if she was ready, but she knew she didn't have a choice.

As she left the conference room and made her way out of the building, Y/N made a decision. She would go to the studio session tomorrow, as Seungcheol had suggested. She would face her fears head-on.

And maybe, just maybe, she would find the courage to have that honest conversation with Mingyu. Because if there was even a chance that he felt the same way...

Well, that was a risk she might just be willing to take.

-

Y/N stood outside the studio door, her hand hovering over the handle. She could hear muffled voices and the faint strains of music from inside. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed down her blazer and steeled herself. Today, she wasn't Hwang Y/N, the party girl with a broken heart. She was Hwang Y/N, the professional, here to do a job.

With that thought firmly in mind, she pushed open the door.

The chatter inside the studio immediately died down as she entered. Five pairs of eyes turned to her, but she only allowed herself to focus on one – Seungcheol's. He gave her a small, encouraging nod.

"Good morning, everyone," Y/N said, proud of how steady her voice sounded. "I hope you don't mind, but I'll be sitting in on your session today. My father thinks it would be beneficial for me to have a more hands-on role in the creative process."

She deliberately avoided looking at Mingyu, who she could sense was staring at her intently from his position by the guitar rack.

Vernon was the first to break the awkward silence. "Cool, always good to have a fresh pair of ears. We're working on the bridge for the title track. Want to hear what we've got so far?"

Y/N nodded gratefully, taking a seat next to the sound engineer. As the music started playing, she allowed herself to get lost in the melody, analyzing the composition and arrangement. This, at least, was familiar territory. She'd always had a good ear for music, even if she'd never pursued it professionally.

As the song progressed, she found herself nodding along, impressed by the intricate harmonies and the way Seungcheol's powerful vocals blended with the instrumental. But something was off in the bridge – the guitar riff didn't quite mesh with the rest of the arrangement.

When the song ended, Y/N cleared her throat. "That was great, guys. Really solid work. But I think the bridge needs some tweaking. The guitar part feels a bit... disjointed."

She saw Mingyu stiffen out of the corner of her eye, but she kept her gaze fixed on Seungcheol.

"What do you suggest?" Wonwoo asked, leaning forward with interest.

Y/N bit her lip, considering. "Maybe if we simplified the riff a bit? Something that complements Seungcheol's vocals rather than competing with them."

There was a moment of silence, and then Mingyu spoke for the first time. "And what would you know about composing guitar parts?"

His tone was cold, almost challenging. Y/N finally allowed herself to look at him, keeping her expression neutral despite the way her heart raced at the sight of him. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes, but still unfairly handsome.

"I may not be a guitarist," Y/N replied evenly, "but I know what sounds good. And right now, that bridge doesn't flow with the rest of the song."

Mingyu opened his mouth to argue, but Seungcheol cut him off. "She's right, Gyu. I was thinking the same thing, but I couldn't put my finger on why it wasn't working. Let's try simplifying it."

For a moment, it looked like Mingyu might argue further. But then he shrugged, turning back to his guitar. "Fine. Let's hear your ideas then, Y/N."

The way he said her name, like it left a bitter taste in his mouth, made Y/N wince internally. But she pushed through, working with the band to refine the bridge. To her surprise, once they got past the initial awkwardness, the creative process flowed smoothly. Even Mingyu, despite his obvious reluctance, contributed valuable ideas.

As the hours passed, Y/N found herself relaxing into her role. She offered suggestions on vocal arrangements, helped fine-tune lyrics, and even hummed out a melody idea that Vernon quickly turned into a catchy hook for their b-side track.

It wasn't until their manager called for a lunch break that the comfortable bubble of creativity burst. As the others filed out of the studio, chatting about where to grab food, Y/N hung back, gathering her notes. She was so focused on avoiding being alone with Mingyu that she didn't notice Seungcheol had stayed behind until he spoke.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Y/N looked up, offering him a small smile. "No, it wasn't. You guys are incredibly talented. It's... it's an honor to work with you like this."

Seungcheol's expression softened. "You're good at this, Y/N. Really good. Have you ever thought about pursuing music production?"

She shook her head. "Not really. It was always just a hobby. Besides, my father has other plans for me."

"Maybe it's time to make your own plans," Seungcheol suggested gently. Then, after a pause, "Mingyu was watching you, you know. When you weren't looking."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to shrug nonchalantly. "We have to work together now. It's bound to be awkward for a while."

Seungcheol looked like he wanted to say more, but just then, the studio door opened and Mingyu walked in, stopping short when he saw them.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Forgot my phone."

The tension in the room was palpable as Mingyu retrieved his phone from beside his guitar. Y/N kept her eyes fixed on her notes, hyper-aware of his every movement.

As he turned to leave, Mingyu paused. "The bridge sounds better now," he said stiffly, not quite looking at Y/N. "Good call."

Before she could respond, he was gone, the door closing firmly behind him.

Y/N let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "This is going to be harder than I thought," she admitted quietly.

Seungcheol squeezed her shoulder supportively. "Give it time. And maybe... maybe try talking to him? Outside of work?"

Y/N shook her head firmly. "No. It's better this way. Clean break, professional distance. It's the only way this can work."

As they left the studio to join the others for lunch, Y/N repeated those words in her head like a mantra. Professional distance. It was the right thing to do.

So why did it feel so wrong? -

The atmosphere in the practice room was thick with tension, the usual easy banter replaced by an uncomfortable silence broken only by the sound of instruments being tuned. Seungcheol watched as Mingyu stole yet another glance at Y/N, who was studiously avoiding eye contact as she reviewed some paperwork in the corner. The leader of HHT sighed inwardly, knowing that something had to give.

For weeks now, Seungcheol had noticed the change in dynamics between Mingyu and Y/N. The playful flirtation that had once been a constant source of amusement (and occasional exasperation) for the band had vanished, replaced by awkward silences and stilted interactions. It was more than just personal drama – it was affecting the band's chemistry, and as the leader, Seungcheol knew he had to do something.

"Alright, let's take it from the top," Seungcheol called out, hoping that focusing on the music might alleviate some of the tension.

As they launched into their latest single, Seungcheol couldn't help but notice how Mingyu's usually flawless guitar work seemed off. The tall guitarist kept missing cues, his rhythm slightly out of sync with the rest of the band. Every time this happened, Mingyu's eyes would dart to Y/N, as if seeking her reaction, only to quickly look away when he realized she wasn't even watching.

Y/N, for her part, seemed determined to focus solely on her work. She sat in the corner, ostensibly reviewing marketing reports, but Seungcheol noticed how her pen hadn't moved on the page for the past ten minutes. Every now and then, when she thought no one was looking, her gaze would flicker to Mingyu, a mixture of longing and hurt in her eyes.

After an hour of subpar practice, Seungcheol called for a break. As the other members dispersed, grabbing water bottles and checking their phones, he pulled Vernon and Wonwoo aside.

"We need to talk about the Mingyu-Y/N situation," he said in a low voice, guiding them to a quiet corner of the room.

Vernon nodded, relief evident on his face. "Thank god someone said it. The tension is killing me. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells every time they're in the same room."

Wonwoo frowned, his usually calm demeanor showing signs of strain. "It's affecting our performance too. Did you hear Mingyu during that bridge? I've never heard him miss those notes before."

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, a habit he'd picked up when stressed. "I know. That's why we need to do something. I have an idea, but I'm going to need your help."

As Seungcheol outlined his plan, Vernon's eyes widened in disbelief while Wonwoo's narrowed in thought.

"Fake dating?" Vernon whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Mingyu wasn't within earshot. "Isn't that a bit… I don't know, dramatic?"

Seungcheol shrugged. "Maybe. But subtle hasn't been working. Those two are too stubborn for their own good. Sometimes you need to fight fire with fire."

Wonwoo nodded slowly. "It could work. But are you sure Y/N will agree to it?"

"Leave Y/N to me," Seungcheol said, a determined glint in his eye. "For now, I need you two to help set the stage. Can I count on you?"

Both Vernon and Wonwoo nodded, though Vernon still looked a bit uncertain. As they broke apart, returning to their instruments, none of them noticed Mingyu watching them with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

Later that week, Y/N was working late in her office, the soft glow of her desk lamp the only light in the room. She rubbed her eyes, tired from staring at spreadsheets all day. As she reached for her coffee mug, a soft knock on the door made her jump.

"Come in," she called, straightening up in her chair.

Seungcheol poked his head in, an unusually serious expression on his face. "Got a minute?"

Y/N nodded, gesturing for him to sit. "What's up, Cheol? Is everything okay with the band?"

Seungcheol settled into the chair across from her, his usually relaxed posture tense. "Yes and no. The band is fine, but… well, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about."

Y/N felt a knot form in her stomach. She had a feeling she knew where this was going. "If this is about Mingyu-"

"It is," Seungcheol cut in gently. "But not in the way you might think. I have a… proposition for you."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. "I'm listening."

Seungcheol took a deep breath. "Look, we've all noticed the tension between you two. It's affecting the band, and frankly, I hate seeing you both so miserable."

"I'm not-" Y/N started to protest, but Seungcheol held up a hand.

"Y/N, come on. We've known each other too long for that. You're not happy, and neither is Mingyu. But you're both too stubborn to do anything about it."

Y/N slumped back in her chair, the fight going out of her. "What am I supposed to do, Cheol? He made it clear he doesn't want anything serious. I can't keep putting myself out there just to get hurt again."

Seungcheol leaned forward, his eyes intense. "What if we gave Mingyu a taste of his own medicine? What if… we pretended to date?"

Y/N's eyes widened in shock. "What? Cheol, that's crazy. Why would we-"

"To make Mingyu jealous," Seungcheol interrupted. "Look, I've known Mingyu for years. He's stubborn and proud, but he cares about you. A lot. I think seeing you with someone else might be the push he needs to confront his feelings."

Y/N bit her lip, considering. The idea was tempting, but… "But what about the band? And my position? Wouldn't it complicate things even more?"

Seungcheol shrugged. "Maybe. But it could also solve our Mingyu problem. Plus, it might help deflect some of the pressure from your dad about taking things seriously. Dating the lead singer of HHT? That's a power move in the industry."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at that. "You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

"I care about both of you," Seungcheol said sincerely. "And I hate seeing you two dance around each other like this. So, what do you say? Want to be my fake girlfriend?"

After a moment of hesitation, Y/N nodded. "Okay. Let's do it. But we need to set some ground rules…"

Over the next few days, Seungcheol and Y/N put their plan into action. They started small - sitting closer during meetings, sharing inside jokes, leaving together after practice. The other band members, clued in by Seungcheol, played along perfectly.

Vernon, ever the actor, would waggle his eyebrows suggestively whenever he saw them together. Wonwoo, more subtle in his approach, would casually mention how much time Seungcheol and Y/N had been spending together lately.

Mingyu, however, was oblivious to the plan. At first, he barely seemed to notice the change in dynamics. He was too caught up in his own thoughts, alternating between trying to figure out what had gone wrong with Y/N and convincing himself he didn't care.

But as the days passed, little things started to catch his attention. The way Seungcheol's hand would linger on Y/N's back as they walked into a room. The inside jokes they seemed to share, leaving the rest of the group puzzled. The fact that Y/N was suddenly at every practice session, even when she didn't need to be.

During one particularly grueling practice, Mingyu fumbled a guitar riff he'd played perfectly a hundred times before. His eyes were fixed on Y/N, who was laughing at something Seungcheol had whispered in her ear. The sound of her laughter, once a source of joy for Mingyu, now felt like a knife twisting in his gut.

"Dude, you okay?" Vernon asked, concern evident in his voice.

Mingyu shook his head, trying to clear it. "Yeah, just… distracted."

Vernon followed Mingyu's gaze to where Seungcheol and Y/N were huddled together, looking at something on Y/N's phone. "They've been spending a lot of time together lately, huh?" he said, his tone carefully neutral.

Mingyu grunted noncommittally, but his grip on his guitar tightened. "I guess. Not that it's any of my business."

Vernon raised an eyebrow at that but didn't push further. As they resumed practice, he exchanged a meaningful look with Wonwoo. Their plan was working, perhaps a little too well.

As the days turned into weeks, Mingyu's mood grew increasingly sour. He snapped at staff members over minor mistakes, isolated himself during breaks, and threw himself into his music with an almost manic intensity. His songwriting, always emotionally charged, took on a darker, more melancholic tone.

One evening, after a particularly tense practice session, Wonwoo found Mingyu alone in the studio, furiously scribbling in his notebook.

"New song?" Wonwoo asked, settling into a chair nearby.

Mingyu nodded without looking up. "Yeah. It's… it's about letting go of something you never really had."

Wonwoo's eyebrows shot up at that. "Sounds heavy. Want to talk about it?"

For a moment, it looked like Mingyu might open up. But then he shook his head, slamming the notebook shut. "It's nothing. Just… exploring some new themes."

As Mingyu stood to leave, Wonwoo called out, "You know, if something's bothering you, you can talk to us. We're not just your bandmates, we're your friends."

Mingyu paused at the door, his back to Wonwoo. "I know," he said softly. "But some things… some things you have to figure out on your own."

With that, he was gone, leaving Wonwoo to wonder if perhaps their plan was causing more harm than good.

The situation finally came to a head at a company party celebrating HHT's latest album going platinum. The event was in full swing, the cream of the K-pop industry mingling in a high-end Seoul nightclub.

Mingyu arrived late, his hair disheveled and dark circles under his eyes. He'd spent hours agonizing over whether to attend, knowing Y/N would be there. In the end, his pride (and a strongly worded text from their manager) had won out.

He froze in the doorway as he spotted Y/N and Seungcheol on the dance floor. Y/N was wearing a stunning red dress that hugged her curves, her hair swept up to reveal the graceful line of her neck. Seungcheol, looking handsome in a well-fitted suit, had his hand on her waist as they moved in perfect sync to the music.

Something snapped inside Mingyu. He stormed over to the bar, downing a shot of soju before grabbing another. As he watched Y/N throw her head back in laughter at something Seungcheol said, a series of memories flashed through Mingyu's mind:

Y/N's shy smile the first time they met at a company event. The electricity he felt the first time they kissed, hidden away in a dark corner of a after-party. Late nights spent talking about their dreams and fears, sharing parts of themselves they'd never shown anyone else. The way Y/N's eyes lit up when she listened to his new songs, always the first to offer genuine feedback and encouragement.

And then, more recent memories: The hurt in Y/N's eyes when he'd laughed off her suggestion of something more serious. The growing distance between them, a chasm he hadn't known how to bridge. The ache he felt every time he saw her now, an ache he'd tried to ignore, to rationalize away as mere physical attraction.

But seeing her now, radiant and happy in another man's arms, Mingyu could no longer deny the truth. He was in love with Y/N. Truly, madly, deeply, irrevocably in love. And he might have just lost her to his best friend.

The realization hit him like a physical blow. The glass in Mingyu's hand shattered, startling nearby partygoers. Blood dripped from his palm, but he barely noticed. All he could see was Y/N, beautiful and radiant, looking at Seungcheol with an affection that used to be reserved for him.

As staff rushed to tend to his injured hand, Mingyu's eyes met Y/N's across the room. The concern in her gaze was almost more than he could bear. In that moment, Mingyu knew he had to fight for her, to tell her how he really felt, before it was too late.

But first, he had some serious groveling to do. And maybe, just maybe, a chance to turn his pain into the most heartfelt song he'd ever written.

As he allowed himself to be led away for medical attention, Mingyu's mind was already racing with lyrics, a melody forming that he hoped would convey everything he'd been too afraid to say. He'd messed up, pushed away the best thing in his life out of fear and stubbornness. But if there was even a chance that Y/N still cared for him, he'd move heaven and earth to win her back.

Little did Mingyu know, across the room, Y/N was fighting every instinct to run to him, her heart breaking at the pain evident in his eyes. As Seungcheol squeezed her hand reassuringly, Y/N wondered if their plan had worked a little too well. -

Y/N went home to her apartment. She sat curled up on her couch, a glass of wine in hand, trying to process the events of the evening. The company party had not gone as planned – the image of Mingyu's pain-filled eyes as he clutched his bleeding hand was seared into her memory.

Y/N's phone buzzed for the umpteenth time. Another message from Seungcheol:

"Are you sure you're okay? I can come over if you need to talk."

She sighed, typing out a quick reply:

"I'm fine. Just need some time to think. Talk tomorrow?"

As she hit send, a loud, insistent knocking startled her. Y/N glanced at the clock – 1:37 AM. Who could it be at this hour?

The knocking continued, more urgently now. "Y/N! Y/N, I know you're in there! Please… please open up."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. She'd recognize that voice anywhere, even slurred as it was now. Mingyu.

Hesitantly, she made her way to the door. Taking a deep breath, she opened it to find Mingyu leaning heavily against the doorframe, his usually impeccable appearance in disarray. His shirt was partially unbuttoned, hair a mess, and the unmistakable smell of soju wafted from him.

"Mingyu?" Y/N said, shock evident in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

Mingyu's eyes, glassy from alcohol, focused on her face. A lopsided smile spread across his features. "Y/N… beautiful Y/N. I had to see you. Had to tell you…"

He stumbled forward, nearly falling. Y/N instinctively reached out to steady him, the familiar warmth of his body sending a jolt through her.

"Woah, easy there," she said, guiding him inside and closing the door. "Mingyu, you're drunk. You shouldn't be here."

Mingyu allowed himself to be led to the couch, collapsing onto it with a heavy sigh. "I know, I know. 'm not supposed to be here. But I couldn't… couldn't stop thinking about you. About us."

Y/N perched on the edge of the coffee table, facing him. Despite her better judgment, concern overtook her resolve to keep her distance. "Mingyu, what's going on? Are you okay? Your hand–"

Mingyu waved dismissively, wincing slightly at the movement. His palm was wrapped in a white bandage, a few spots of red seeping through. "It's nothing. Doesn't hurt. Not like…" he trailed off, his eyes growing sad.

"Not like what?" Y/N prompted gently.

"Not like seeing you with him," Mingyu finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N felt her heart clench. This was exactly the reaction their fake dating scheme was meant to provoke, but seeing Mingyu in actual pain made her question the wisdom of their plan.

"Mingyu, I–"

"No, let me… let me say this," Mingyu interrupted, sitting up straighter and fixing Y/N with an intense gaze. "I messed up, Y/N. I messed up so bad. I thought… I thought I could handle seeing you with someone else. Thought it didn't matter. But it does. It matters so much."

He reached out, taking Y/N's hands in his. She knew she should pull away, but found herself frozen, captivated by the raw emotion in Mingyu's eyes.

"I miss you," Mingyu continued, his thumbs tracing circles on her palms. "I miss your laugh, your smile. The way you scrunch up your nose when you're concentrating. I miss the way you make me feel – like I'm more than just a idol, more than just a pretty face or a good voice. With you, I'm just… me."

Y/N felt tears pricking at her eyes. This was everything she had wanted to hear for so long, but the circumstances were all wrong. "Mingyu, you're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

Mingyu shook his head vehemently, then immediately looked like he regretted the motion. "No, no. I'm drunk, yes. But I know… I know what I feel. What I've always felt, even if I was too scared to admit it."

He slid off the couch, landing on his knees in front of Y/N. In any other situation, it might have been comical, but the desperation in his eyes killed any urge to laugh.

"Please, Y/N," Mingyu pleaded, still clutching her hands. "Please give me another chance. Break up with Seungcheol. He's… he's my friend, but he's not right for you. Not like I am. We're… we're meant to be together. I see that now."

Y/N felt panic rising in her chest. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Mingyu wasn't supposed to show up at her door, drunk and emotional, laying his heart bare. She wasn't prepared for this.

"Mingyu, listen to me," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "You're not thinking clearly. We can't… I can't…"

But Mingyu wasn't listening. His eyes had taken on a glassy, unfocused look. "I'll do better this time, I promise. I'll… I'll write you songs. Take you on real dates. Show the whole world how much you mean to me. Just please… please don't leave me."

His impassioned speech was interrupted by a wide yawn. The adrenaline and alcohol seemed to be wearing off, leaving exhaustion in their wake.

"I love you, Y/N," Mingyu mumbled, his head drooping. "I love you so much. Please… please just…"

And with that, Mingyu slumped forward, his head coming to rest in Y/N's lap. Within seconds, soft snores filled the air.

Y/N sat frozen, her mind reeling. Mingyu's words echoed in her head, everything she had longed to hear for months. But was it real? Or just the ramblings of a drunk, jealous man?

Gently, she extricated herself from under Mingyu, laying him out on the couch and covering him with a throw blanket. She allowed herself a moment to study his face, peaceful in sleep, before retreating to her bedroom.

As she lay in bed, sleep eluding her, Y/N's thoughts were a jumbled mess. The fake dating plan had worked – perhaps too well. Mingyu had confessed his feelings, but at what cost? And what would happen in the morning, when he woke up in her apartment with a killer hangover and the memory of his whiskey-soaked confessions?

One thing was clear: the game they'd been playing had just gotten a lot more complicated. And Y/N had a sinking feeling that someone's heart was bound to get broken in the process – quite possibly her own.

[theevilfishywizard]

The complete dismissal of context when people talk about laurance and what happend at the wedding is kinda insane actually because I do not know how you can look at that situation and say "oh it's because laurance cannot handle being jealous." Genuinely did we watch the same show?

He was MIA for 2-3 days with a woman who defiantly does not respect consent, is brought to the werewolves where he learns aphmau is being human trafficked and married off against her will, then is immediately ordered to be executed. Laurance does not know fenrir, he has no way of knowing what kind of person he is, what he might have forced aphmau to do already. He sits in a cell awaiting his execution until the wedding where Aphmau tearfully says she's sorry to him under his breath as she passes. A woman who has only displayed unshaking determination in the face of adversity is meek and crying.

And if that wasn't enough, they skipped 15 years, he found his dead wyverns grave robbed, he learned his only other father figure died in that time and he never got the chance to see him one last time. This sounds like I'm pulling every trama out of my ass to defend him but it's been literally TWENTY fucking episodes since the beginning of the season all of this has happened right next to each other. Everything's fresh. This isn't a display of jelously, this is a breakdown.

I'm genuinely shocked anyone can see it as anything else. This has been built up since he came back from the nether as a shadow knight and refused to discuss anything that happened there. You look me in the eyes, and tell me that if you were in his position and you saw someone you loved being literally TRAFFIKED INTO AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE you wouldn't fight like hell to get them out if that situation.

Edit: Sorry, I know the post above sounds a little heated but I just keep seeing this circulate and needed to throw this into the discussion. I didn't mention it that much above but laurances losing control was absolutely a byproduct of being a shadow knight because I can say with absolutely certainly that were laurance not a shadow knight he would have refrained from killing anyone. (He even does it later with michi. Even though I wish he'd just let aphmau ice her) It's hard to differentiate what personality changes take place because he's a shadow knight vs what is caused by the trama he's experienced but since there's implied to be a sort of bloodlust I'd wager that's the more likely option. He reached a breaking point and lost the self control that was preventing him from basically rampaging. The reason the kiss worked wasn't because laurance "got what he wanted" or whatever it's because the action was so shocking it basically hard reboot his brain and cleared the red fog of violence that was clouding his thinking.