#he lives on in my heart. he gets a boss battle TO ME. He's so fun to draw please whyyyyyyyyy

[four-comma-five-verse]

i hope this isn't an unwelcome addition :

He doesn't really remember what led to this point. A world meeting? Some press conference gone wrong? Tolys can’t recall.

Whatever might have been the start - the end is evident. There is blood on his hands. He feels it on his knuckles - an uncomfortable cover that fits like a glove.

And then there's that hateful face below Tolys - him - Ivan. He doesn't even look angry about the whole thing. Instead he chuckles, and shakes his head like one would to a misbehaving child.

"Oh, Tolushka," Ivan sighs, as blood drips down from his broken nose in a very satisfying arc, that ends dirtying Ivan's precious scarf. "Why do you always have to ruin a good thing? Why do you not want to be friends?"

Tolys screams.

It's not a guttural scream of rage – despite the fact that almost everyone around will then describe it to the journalists and their bosses and anyone else who asks as such. The scream is instead frustration personified.

There is a hot, smouldering coal where Tolys's heart should be - and it burns as Ivan becomes more and more unrecognisable, but there is also a cold, hard, sharpened certainty - there is no winning combination in this 'battle of wits' that Tolys is getting baited into, there is nothing he can say or has said that will make Ivan stop looking at him like that - because to Ivan he is nothing more than a pretty trophy to display to his more important friends.

Ivan doesn't want to be friends with Nations like him - he wants toys - pretty and obedient. There is a tiny speck of Tolys that allows himself the idea that maybe to Ivan friends and toys got mixed up somewhere along the way - that maybe there is something to pity here.

But that pity is a grace Tolys can't find himself allowing to the man below him.

There are not a lot of languages they both understand, and Tolys refuses to speak to him in the one Ivan prefers, so violence it has to be.

How could he possibly explain to anyone else that Ivan never calls him by his proper name? Only uses his human one - usually with a Russian diminutive. How could he possibly explain what that means to anybody else?

Then - he feels a pressure somewhere on his back. Then his elbows. He feels himself getting torn off Ivan more than he sees it. There is something below him - and then suddenly - there isn't.

"Oh dear Christ," He hears someone say. "Will you calm down? This is really no way to go about doing things!"

Half the people in the room are looking at him like a wild animal.

Some look at him with pity.

Some? Some have their sights on the way red drips on the floor below Ivan and their eyes shine with a primal envy. A hunger.

It's not a sight that is foreign to Tolys - not after they all had to spend their lives together under a flag just as red as Ivan's blood. Living vicariously through other people’s rebellions was a staple in their 'happy family'.

"Are you okay?" Someone asks Ivan and the smile he gives them in return is so pathetic Tolys wants to vomit.

"I'm sturdier than I look! Luckily I didn't get a concussion!" Ivan laughs.

'Look at how reasonable I'm acting' - Ivan seems to project. 'One can’t fault me in my actions if this is how I'm treated!'

Then - Ivan's head is bashed in with a beer bottle.

“Oops,” says Raivis, actually managing to look slightly sorry about the whole thing (the man has a gift really – no wonder so many people still see him as a soft, innocent young lad) “Sorry! Looks like you’ll still get that concussion yet!”

Huh, Tolys thinks, usually he goes last.

Then another beer bottle got bashed against Ivan’s head and Tolys thought: ah, he just didn’t want to waste the good liquor, got it. Eduard seemed to instead have opted to waste Raivis’s brought ‘best alcohol – drunkenness against price way’ that even he himself admitted was not drinkable sober.

“You are all going to get in trouble for this, you know that right?” Someone – probably Ludwig, from the frantic, stuck-up way he sounds – says.

Tolys didn't find it in himself to care that much.

I need more content of Tolys beating the shit out of Ivan.

[ghosted-jazz]

Doey's 2/3 angsty traumatized teen, I think he'd love MCR

[minhosimthings]

From Eden || HJY

Synopsis: You ask your favourite angel, Hyunjin about love. And he has a lot to say on a chilly night.

Pairings: Angel!Hyunjin × demon!fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, biblical themes, Heaven and Hell, ik angels don't technically have genders but I made reader a bit feminine, teensy bit of angst, mention of Han because I love him, VERY poetic, me yapping about love

A/N: whatsup my popsicles your girl's back from her hibernation with Hyunjin because God damn this man has been bias wrecking me so much. Also this is based on Good Omens, so I hope anyone who watched the show notices the details I put in. As always, enjoy!

Song Recs: From Eden by Hozier, My love Mine all Mine by Mitski

I am yours,

The way the sea belongs to the moon,

And the way the moon belongs to the sky.

The cicadas were chirping. It was a beautiful, wintry night.

An angel and a demon lay on a tiny mound in a park.

“Do you ever think about going back up there?”

Your question stuck to Hyunjin’s mind like pollen to a bee. His magnificently outstretched left wing was practically numb now, from bearing your weight on it for so long. But Hyunjin didn't complain.

 After all, he wouldn't have let you lay on wet grass on a frosty November night if his life depended on it; even if he knew that you—as a demon—couldn’t technically feel anything. But as much as you’d tried to convince him of that factual piece of information, he’d rather throw his halo into a river than believe that you had no emotion hiding in you. Hyunjin was a stubborn angel.

Your stubborn angel.

“Not really.” Hyunjin said in a tone almost as soft as his feathers, “Why do you ask?” He pressed a light kiss to the side of your forehead before you could answer, as if wanting to distract you from the topic at hand. You’d understand why. He disliked the idea of talking about it.

“Just….” You trailed off with your sentence, not knowing what reason to give him. Why did you ask him that? 

Hyunjin hummed softly, shifting his legs so that yours could be more comfy. You didn't have the heart to tell him you were just fine in your previous position. In fact you didn't have a heart at all!

That was the common human perception of demons, Hell, Lucifer and all that jazz. But you knew that your boss, Lucifer, was only scary when his new assistant didn't get some paperwork done for souls to enter that paradise that was Hell. 

“Do you remember the first time we met on Earth?” Hyunjin suddenly asked you, his eyes still gazing up at the painting of the starry sky hanging above you.

“Of course I do.” You laughed gingerly. You vividly remembered the first time you had met Hyunjin.

Five Years Ago

 Contrary to popular belief, demons or—as you liked to call yourself—fallen angels, actually didn't like wrecking stuff and destroying everything in their path. You just had to trip people on the sidewalk every now and then and occasionally make a deal with a naive human who stumbles across a cross-road. Most of the time, you were stuck doing paperwork.

So there you were, on a fine November’s evening, strutting down a nice little street in your very cliche all-black outfit, when you abruptly stopped in your tracks in front of an art supply store. It wasn't the Studio Ghibli-esqueness of the shop that made you stop or the fact that the most beautiful paintings of flowers lined the big windows. 

It was the familiar celestial energy that was practically leaking out from the shop.

The energy only got ‘louder’ as you entered the shop, having lost the battle to your curiosity. You knew this feeling well enough to figure out that there was an angel or perhaps even God themselves hiding in this store. Turning into a corner, which was lined with shelves of paints of all sorts, you stopped in your tracks, when you lay eyes on the only other living being in the shop.

It was a tall, long-haired man, wearing a black worker’s apron over a white shirt and beige pants and restocking some empty shelves. Perhaps the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on. But you knew better than to strike up a conversation with him.

He was no ordinary man, from the looks of the golden halo floating above him, something only you could see very faintly. 

Angels and Demons who get stationed on Earth are warned very strictly not to interact with each other. Not even so much as a glance if they accidentally reach for the last cupcake at a bakery. Hell and Heaven's monitoring systems were the best in the universe. But perhaps they were lying about that.

Because no sudden flash of death-inducing lightning struck you or the angel when he turned his eyes to you in the store and said with a sweet smile, “I can see you staring, you know.”

To say it in simple words, you were practically awestruck when you saw him face-front. It was a face which was….eerily familiar. Beautifully familiar. Like a face from a memory you had chosen to rewrite. His beautiful hair fell perfectly onto his face, framing it in such a way that all his features stood out. With eyes that stood proud yet gentle, like a stream by a forest, and lips that looked as if they could heal anything with a single kiss, one could say that he looked angelic.

“What are you looking to buy today?” He asked you as if you two were nothing more than mere humans, “The oil paints perhaps?”

“No…” You said with uncertainty, “I’m sorry I barged in, I just…” You paused, studying his features even more, why was he so familiar? “I thought I saw someone I knew.”

He smiled again, his eyes forming half-moons at you. “Don’t worry, the shop has a spell around it.” Then as if to certify his point, he said in a childish whisper, “Neither Hell nor Heaven will find us here.”

“Oh.” You said simply, not knowing what else to say. You slipped your hands into the pockets of your coat and considered him for a while. Then you slowly walked towards him, feeling warmer and warmer as you did. 

“Y/N.” You extended your hand, “Former angel of creation, collector of souls and occasional deal maker.” This was perhaps the boldest act you’d ever performed ever since you fell into Hell, “Oh and I like plants.”

“Hyunjin.” He took your hand in his and shook it formally, “I own this shop.” His gaze was locked on yours, never once wavering, “I’m an angel of Heaven.” He finished the sentence with such gusto that you were sure wind was blowing inside the store.

“Yeah I got that figured.” You said curtly, “I just wanted to ask—” You took a deep breath before speaking, “Have we ever…met before? I mean you just seem so familiar for some reason.” You let out a forced laugh, “I’m sorry if we haven't. It's just that I don't remember anything that happened before—” You stopped briefly, you hadn't talked about it much, “before my fall.” 

You noticed the way Hyunjin’s face dropped for only a second or two before he went back to his calm gaze. “No worries.” He said cheerily, “I don’t have a really good memory either so we can just start over from now.” 

As an angel of Heaven, a loyal servant of God and Humanity, Hyunjin hated lying. His honesty proved to be as useful as it was dangerous. For example, Hyunjin had gained one of his best friends, Jisung, when he kindly albeit bluntly stated that beige would be a horrible colour for Jisung to paint on a rock album’s cover. After a few hours of debating, in which many noise complaints were involved, Hyunjin had gained a human friend for the first time. He knew Jisung wouldn't live for as long as he would, but it didn't matter. Hyunjin loved the company.

Of the three lies he had spelled in his entire life, this was one of them. You were the second angel he had lied to. Well, fallen angel.

He, in fact, had a terrific memory. And he distinctly remembered the time he first set his eyes on you 

After a few days of the Universe’s creation, he had been ordered by Gabriel to bring you forth. They alleged that you had been far too creative in your matters of creation–and too curious as well. God didn't create curiosity for the angels.

After a few hours of drifting through the vast caves of the newborn Universe, Hyunjin spotted an angel of high ranking standing stagnant before what appeared to be a large canvas of infinite, colourful, space. 

Your wings were spread high and mighty, beautiful feathers of gold and silver silhouetting an excited figure. You were rushing your fingers about in orchestral movements. Every flick of your finger brought forth a string of rainbow colours that burst forth into one or the other star in front of you.

Angels were not meant to have feelings. It was something that only the lowest of 

organisms—humans—had. Atleast, that was what Hyunjin was taught.

But something inside him stirred when he set his eyes on you.

(Was it hatred? You’d broken the Rule of Heaven with your curiosity. Hyunjin loved rules.)

 Your sparkling eyes, filled with far more stars than any galaxy that surrounded him, captivated him. You looked like one of those things that the humans did, what was it called? Perhaps it was called a painting, but Hyunjin's memory disappointed him for the first time. He took a deep breath and flew towards you, his mind frantically racing as to how he’d tell you that you had apparently failed God.

“Ahem.” He had said, trying not to seem too overenthusiastic, “Excuse me?” 

Hyunjin couldn't find a word to describe your appearance when you turned towards him. He described the moment to you eons later—in a heated argument of betrayal and trust that shook the very Earth itself—as the most beautiful thing he had seen since his birth.

“Oh hello there!” You had responded, not waiting for the angel’s response as you beckoned him to come and stand by your side, “Come look! This is always my favourite part.”

‘Favourite part’ evidently meant the stream of colours that had just erupted in front of you both, some rushing off rapidly in different directions, while some lay still joining together to form a nebula. Hyunjin had seen the creation of nebulae before, but this one was exceptionally magnificent to look at.

“That's…amazing.” Hyunjin breathed out, his eyes widening by the minute as he stared at the dance performance in front of him. You stood with a smug smile on your face.

“I’m quite proud of it actually.” You grinned at him, “I love making nebulae the most. Don't get me wrong though, I still like galaxies!” You threw him a wink, to which he sheepishly smiled

“I don’t see the point in nebulae much though.” He mumbled, trying to make conversation, “I mean, a poor star has to die in order to make such a divine formation.” He motioned towards the theatre of colours in front of you, “It seems odd doesn't it? For death to be so beautiful a thing?”

“I dont think it's odd.” You said, tilting your head, your gaze fixed on his, “I think it's a lovely thing. That the star, which was so beautiful in its first life—” You turned your head back towards the nebula and smiled wide, “—is allowed to be so beautiful in its second one as well.” You grinned with all your teeth this time, “Makes me wonder about all those humans down there on Earth. I think they’re rather lucky to have a life which is short, don't you think? They get to appreciate love better.”

“Appreciate it?” Hyunjin asked, feeling a creeping emotion cling to his wings. Did curiosity always feel this amazing?

“Of course! Loving is practically what anyone would—and should—live for!” You said in the same cheery tone, “Love wasn't made to be locked up in some cage and fed a beggar’s meal all day like Heaven thinks! Absolutely not!” Your eyes shone with determination, “Love was created to be talked about. Asked about. It was made to be yearned for, cried after and laughed about. Love, I think, took God the longest time to make. It would be hard, wouldn't it?” Your eyes softened, “To make something that is to be given so tenderly and felt so violently.” 

Hyunjin drew in a sharp breath at your words. He didn't comprehend the concept of love that well, having only been taught that it is a dangerous thing. Now he mused on what danger might feel like.

“Personally I think we angels should be allowed to live a mortal life at least once in this infinitely dreary life-span of ours. I do love the idea of love so much and maybe we’ll learn to appreciate warmth once in a while. Heaven does get so cold.” You laughed.

“So it’d be like some sort of mission?” Hyunjin asked, cocking his head to the side. You stared off into the distance for a while before answering, your eyes wider than ever before.

“Oh I have such a brilliant idea!” You said, radiant joy lacing every word you said, “Why haven't I ever thought about it ever before?”  You noticed the dark-haired angel staring at you in confusion before you started to explain, “Why don’t we suggest to Gabriel and everyone else to have a few angels be posted down on Earth?” You looked around you frantically, before your far-seeing eyes landed on a tiny blue dot floating about its own space, “So we can keep an even better check on them.” You smiled widely, before looking at Hyunjin and making an excited sound, “I should go right now if I want to catch Gabriel at a good time.”

Your wings seemed to have understood your excitement, as they fluttered rapidly, at the prospect of going down to the planet you and a few others had designed so carefully. A planet that was neither too hot nor too cold. A planet filled with your favourite creations of God. A planet that was just right. 

“Oh I never asked.” You snapped your gaze to him, “What is your name?”

Right. He never told you his name. What an idiot you are Hyunjin, he scolded himself, getting distracted by pretty angels.

“Hyunjin.” He said, bowing his head, “My name is Hyunjin.” 

“I’m Y/N.” You said, bowing your head back, your lucent halo shining so brightly in Hyujin’s face. He already knew your name. He had to bring you to Gabriel in chains.

“Well I’m off to Gabriel’s.” You said, “Thanks for the idea, Hyunjin!” 

Hyunjin never thought his name could sound so harmonious. So melodic, full of stories. A captivating name.

He relished that moment endlessly, all the while trying to suppress the carnal hunger within him that wanted to speak to you again. To explain all his thoughts and ask every question residing in his non-existent heart. He had that feeling that you’d know the answer to each of them. But he wouldn't have the opportunity to do that for a very long time.

A couple thousand years to be precise. 

In a paint store. 

Out in the middle of nowhere and yet in the middle of everything. 

Time always seemed faster to you after you became a demon. The same old routine—though it tired you out—seemed to continuously keep you on your toes. You couldn't remember the last time you looked up at the stars. For some reason unknown to you, you had always felt a special sort of connection to them, as if they were your own creation. You could always retrace your footsteps at night, feeling the warm splutters of light being shaped like soft clay in your hands. And then you’d forget it all by the morning.

It was only a dream, you’d surmise, demons don’t get dreams though.

But the dream you had that day was one you’d never dare to forget. 

The dream in which you stumbled upon a faintly familiar (absolutely gorgeous) angel, brought a few weird looking paints called gouache, realised you knew nothing about painting, and took up the angel’s offer to teach you.

The dream in which your colorless penthouse apartment held a little more colour when Hyunjin stepped into it, with a canvas and an easel and another home-stitched apron made just for you. A white one with tiny black cats on it. He always despised the fact that angels couldn't also turn into any animal they wanted. He wanted to be a snow-coat ferret. 

And the dream in which a sin was committed, a sin greater than when Eve sunk her teeth into God’s most precious jewel.

It didn't matter though. You weren't struck by Heaven’s lightning.

Just sweetly kissed on your forehead by Hyunjin as you both lay in bed, silently wrapped in each other’s arms tightly, afraid the other would float away if you let go.

“I think I want to love you.” Hyunjin said, "I think I really want to love you."

Love was for humans, not angels and demons.

"I think I do too." You said, breathing in his scent. It was the same old crisp smell of paint and a bit of something else. Rain maybe? Or was it pine? There were some traces of old paper as well but you thought—

"I love you, Y/N." Hyunjin exhaled shakily, "I love you so much." 

Love was not meant for demons.

"I love you so much too, Hyunjin."

Present

"How could I ever forget the time we met?" You chuckled, cuddling closer to Hyunjin. His warmth made you want to sleep so bad, but you persisted. Anything to complete a conversation with your favourite angel.

"I think that was the day I made up my mind to never leave Earth." Hyunjin said slowly, tentatively almost, “That was the day I found something—” He smiled, and closed his eyes, taking a breath in before continuing, “—that made me want to love again.”

“It's funny.” You chuckled, admiring a distant red star in the sky, “People would usually end that sentence with ‘live again’.” You sighed, the red star glistened again, “But we’re not people are we?” You nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck.

Hyunjin’s arm beneath your neck slightly shifted, causing you to press your nose into his chest instead. Angels smell like rain, you thought. His breathing slowed down and you could hear the cogs in his brain turning. My angel smells like paint.

“Would you like to be human?” Hyunjin asked hesitantly. The constellation of Cassiopeia was particularly bright tonight, with her five stars reminding everyone of the downfall due to vanity. You shifted again, not saying anything. The same silence remained hanging in the air for a few minutes, with the two of you just taking in each other’s mellowness. And then you spoke.

“What do you think about love, Hyunjin?” You asked him, for perhaps the fifteenth time in five years. Every time he had been confronted with that question, he’d either never answer it or find a way to flirt with you. But he couldn't escape now, you thought. He was trapped in between your arms and your attack of a thousand tickling kisses was notorious for its ability to—

“Love…..” He started, “is practically what anyone would—and should—live for.” You tilted your head curiously up at him and he began to narrate.

“Somebody once told me that, you know?” He laughed, “Back in heaven. She loved the idea of love so much, she gave me an entire speech about it.” He cleared his throat dramatically.

“Love wasn't made to be locked up in some cage or thrown onto the streets.” His eyes seemed to gleam, “Love was created to be talked about. Asked about. It was made to be yearned for, cried after and laughed about. Love  took God the longest time to make.” It would be hard, wouldn't it?” His eyes softened down at you, as he pressed the umpteenth kiss of the night to your skin, “To make something that is to be given so tenderly and felt so violently.” 

 Those words…..why were they so familiar?

“But I think I disagree.” Hyunjin said again, saving you from the task of replying, “As much as I liked that idea back then, I think I find it a bit incorrect now that I know more about love.”

“It's not like you to disagree on most things.” You smiled to yourself. Though Hyunjin did like giving his own opinions very honestly, he didn't like to disagree or argue over other people’s choices. Unless it was his mortal friend Jisung of course. Hyunjin chuckled and raised his hand up to touch the sky. You followed his outstretched finger to where it was pointing and your gaze stopped on something. 

A nebula.

Though you were a demon, you were still technically a celestial being. So your vision stretched about as far as the Aries constellation’s multitude of galaxies. And maybe even farther. You didn't know though. You were far too lazy to waste your energy on peering at the sky. 

“You know that angel who told me about love?” Hyunjin dropped his hand back down onto the soft grass, “She was creating a nebula when she said that.” 

Hyunjin shifted to lay on his side, his wing beneath you stretching to adjust to the new position. He fluttered his eyes from your eyes to your lips, admiring all of your features in the process. You felt warmth cloud your cheeks and ears. He always did that to fluster you, and it was a battle you could never win. 

Reaching out a hand, he cupped your cheek in his palm. You melted into his touch and closed your eyes, relishing the moment like a touch starved human.

If this was what being human felt like, then you wanted to be human. 

“I think love is like a nebula.” Hyunjin said in a crooning voice, “Nebulas are created by the death of a star right?” He started to explain, amused at your confused expression, “When the star dies, those wisps of starstuff come together again to form something so beautiful, something which can support another galaxy, something that is as pretty as that late star.” He closed his eyes for a moment and opened them again, you could clearly see the mole beneath his eye, “That's what love is, I think.” 

You shifted in your place onto your side, and took him in—his words and his beauty. By God were both of them absolutely gorgeous. 

“Love is eternal.” Hyunjin’s voice was an early morning mist, “Love is something that can never truly die out, no matter what. It's those little things that we do without realizing it was the habit of someone in our past. It's the fact that we are all just made up of starstuff and little bits of someone else’s soul. In a way we are also nebulas, don't you think?” He brushed a strand of hair back behind your ear, his hands were still warm in the cold night’s air, “I think love is a mystery which shouldn't be solved. Just embraced.” You blinked, feeling the mellowness of him and for a moment, you thought it was a dream.“I don't think love should be felt violently. Just….warmly.”

His solid form pressed into you, the familiar rise and fall of his breath. Your fingers resting gently on his chest, and the sense of closeness sent a rush of feelings that almost hurt. Your mind spun as you tried to recall your memories as an angel. Were you the one who had told him about love?

Hyunjin looked at you, at the faint crease between your brows as if he were afraid to lose you again. His chest tightened, and for a moment, he allowed himself to think for a moment—just a moment—that an angel and a demon could defy the rules set by the one who created them. If God didn’t want love to exist between Hell and Heaven’s soldiers, then damn Them, Hyunjin thought.

“If love is a nebula…” You softly hummed, eyes flickering to his lips every now and then, “...that means it's always changing right?” Hyunjin nodded, taking note of the teasing expression on your face and taking his eyes down to the grass instead, “Then I think I want love to be us.”

In that second heartbeat of silence, Hyunjin looked up, his eyes blazing with passion, and before either of you could think, you pulled him by the neckline of his hoodie, your lips crashing onto his with a desperate intensity that left no room for doubt.   

Your breaths mingled, Hyunjin could see the flicker of longing in your gaze, the vulnerability you’d always tried to hide. With a hum, he closed the distance between your bodies, capturing your lips again with a tenderness that held nothing but love, both of you melting into the intensity of the moment. 

“Love is us.” You said, after pulling away from the brief moment of passion, “I think love is nothing but us.”

“An angel and a demon?” Hyunjin asked, his lips faintly pinkish and his cheeks even more so.

You shook your head, “A star and another star.”

Hyunjin laughed heartily and nodded, “A star and another star it is then.” He pressed his lips to your forehead, “Love is us.”

The cicadas were chirping. It was a beautiful, wintry night.

Two stars lay on a tiny mound in a park.

And even if the jealous stars

Break and shatter upon the milky way,

I will still see Heaven in your eyes.

[yunholic-jongholic]

Bound to the Bosses [Part 12] | C.JH x Reader x J.YH

SUMMARY | At the age of 20, you surrendered your freedom to a former mafia gang in exchange for a secure life and all your needs met. You pledged your existence to two of the members, Choi Jongho and Jeong Yunho, who managed the leading underground strip club and took you under their wing. They both permit you to perform on weekend nights, but once the lights go out and the workday ends, you belong solely to both of them.

PAIRINGS | Jongho x Fem!Reader x Yunho

RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW, MDNI!!!

CONTENT WARNINGS | ANGST, NSFW, Some Mentions of Smut, Mafia Setting, Weapon Use, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Blood, Fighting/Attacking, Teasing, Trauma Dumping/Bonding, Drunk!Yunho, Mentions of Toxic Relationship (Reader and 2Ho), Slight Mentions of Anxiety, Mentions of Past Relationships. (We might be missing some!)

WORD COUNT | 6.6k

AUTHOR NOTE | It's kind of against my own rules to make smut that is not Ateez. So... You don't get Maverick Smut. LMAO. Also, I am sort of rushing it now since I want to focus on other upcoming idea stories. (I probably shouldn't) but thing is I am slowly losing ideas (It's mainly my Editor spinning a wheel on ideas for chapters now LMAO) for this story and don't even know what to do with the ending. Anyways Enjoy!

TAG LIST | @mingisleftnipple @yusalterego @galaxycatdrawz @jjongsho @pixie0627

•

The next night has come, you finally tried pushing your past behind, sometimes it worked, sometimes it did not. You tried your best moving forward.

You no longer looked over your shoulder in fear of Hongjoong’s wrath. No more secret glances across a crowded room, no more possessive hands claiming you as theirs. No more battles between love and control.

You sat on your balcony, gazing out at the city lights, the hum of nightlife filling the air. Your eyes kept drifting toward the old strip club—the place that once felt like home, where Jongho, Yunho, and the others still lived. A sigh escaped your lips, the weight of old memories pressing down on you.

The sound of the door opening behind you pulled you from your thoughts. Turning slightly, you saw Maverick step outside, his presence grounding you as he moved to stand beside you.

"Hey, are you feeling alright?" He leaned up against the railing. You smiled at him nodding.

"Yeah... Just in thought." You hummed glancing back at the club. He noticed your glanced.

"Is everything okay with that place?" He asked. You finally snapped out of it and looked at him.

"Oh! Yeah... It's just..." You paused looking at your feet then back at the city.

Maverick studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Just what?” he pressed gently, his voice laced with curiosity.

You hesitated, gripping the railing a little tighter. “It’s nothing, really,” you sighed, forcing a small smile. “Just old memories, I guess.”

He followed your gaze back to the club, nodding slightly as if piecing things together. “You used to work there, didn’t you?”

You swallowed, your heart tightening at the thought. “Yeah… a long time ago. Feels like another life now.”

Maverick didn’t push further. Instead, he reached out, placing a warm hand on yours. “Well, whatever’s on your mind… just remember, you don’t have to face it alone.”

You looked up at him, his sincerity catching you off guard. And for the first time in a while, you felt a little less weighed down by the past.

"If I tell you the story... Promise me you won't tell my father." You gave him a soft look. He looked into your eyes and nodded.

"Come on." You took him back inside your room and sat on the bed with him trying to relax.

Maverick settled beside you; his expression serious but patient. “I promise,” he said, his voice steady. “Whatever you tell me stays between us.”

You took a deep breath, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of your sweater. “I used to live there… at the club,” you began, nodding toward the distant neon lights outside the window. “I worked for them. They… they took care of me. Or at least, that’s what I thought.”

Maverick leaned in slightly, listening intently as you continued.

“At first, it was just a way to survive. I didn’t have much of a choice, and they provided for me. But then… it got complicated. They got possessive. Protective. It felt like love, but it was also… controlling.” Your voice wavered as memories rushed back—the late nights tangled in their arms, the whispered promises, the fights, the betrayal.

Maverick didn’t interrupt; just let you speak.

“I messed up,” you admitted, your throat tightening. “I tried to move on, but they couldn’t let me go. And then… they did. They threw me out. Cut me off. Just like that.”

Maverick exhaled slowly, his fingers brushing over yours. “And now?” he asked. “Do you regret leaving?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding. “I don’t know,” you whispered. “I thought I moved on. I thought I was happy. But some nights… I still dream about them. About what could have been.”

Maverick tilted his head, searching your face. “Do you want to go back?”

You bit your lip, shaking your head quickly. “No. I mean, I can’t. They’ve probably got rid of their feelings about me by now.”

Maverick frowned slightly but didn’t push. Instead, he squeezed your hand. “You have a new life now. But if you ever need to face your past, I’ll stand by you.”

You met his gaze, a lump forming in your throat. “Thank you,” you murmured, squeezing his hand back. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as alone as you thought.

"So, how did you end up joining my dad’s gang?" You nudged him playfully, trying to coax some secrets out of him. "Come on, I promise I won’t say a word."

Maverick chuckled, shaking his head before finally giving in. "Well, it was me and my older brother. We didn’t have much of a choice. Our parents were killed in a brutal police ambush when they got caught. My dad was a thief, and my mom… she was an assassin."

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you leaned in closer. "Oh? So just like us, then… huh?" You teased, tilting your head.

Maverick laughed, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. "Yeah… something like that."

"My older brother and I learned to survive on our own. We grew up in the city, making a living by stealing and targeting wealthy men. When we were old enough to work, we separated, he joined a mafia group at age 19, leaving me to a close friend of ours. Once I hit 18, I tried to join the same group but was quickly denied since I was weaker than most men." Maverick looked at you and back at the railing, gripping his hands tighter.

But… my brother he pushed me away... On my last test he left me to get caught and I ended up getting injured badly." Maverick's voice grew quieter, his gaze distant. "Once I was let free, I saw your dad's gang. Trained harder and finally he let me in after 3 months of training." He let out a heavy sigh, smiling softly.

You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “Maverick… I’m so sorry about your brother betraying you...”

He let out a small, bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “Don’t be. It’s just how life is, right? You fight, you survive, and sometimes… you lose the people you love.”

You frowned, feeling the heaviness in his words. “But that doesn’t mean you should have to carry that weight alone.”

His eyes met yours, a flicker of vulnerability crossing them before he masked it with his usual smirk. “Look at you, being all soft on me now.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t let go of his hand. “I’m serious. You’ve done enough punishing yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.”

Maverick exhaled deeply, nodding slightly. “Maybe you’re right…” He glanced down at your hand in his and smirked. “You know, if you wanted to hold my hand this bad, you could’ve just asked.”

You scoffed, shoving his arm lightly. “And just like that, the moment is ruined.”

He laughed, but there was something different in his eyes now—something lighter. And as you sat there with him, you realized just how much you understood each other’s pain.

His phone started buzzing.

"Crap, I guess your dad needs us for another mission." He sighs grabbing his phone from his pocket looking at the message.

You sighed, leaning your forehead against his for a moment before pulling away completely. “Guess our time got cut short.”

Maverick chuckled, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “Yeah, duty calls. You ready for another night of chaos?”

You smirked, grabbing your gear from the side of the bed. “Always.”

He watched you for a second, eyes flickering with something unreadable before he stood up and stretched. “Well, let’s go before your dad thinks we’re slacking off.”

You both left your room, the moment you shared lingering in the air, unspoken but understood. As much as your past haunted you, Maverick was quickly becoming a presence that grounded you—one that made you feel like you were finally moving forward.

But deep down, you still wondered… would your past ever truly let you go?

---

You both arrived at the warehouse.

"You distract I take the goods?" You hum placing your hand on his thigh, he looks up at you and grabs a gun.

"You know it princess." He winks.

You smirked, slipping your dagger into its holster. “Just don’t get too distracted.”

Maverick chuckled, rolling his shoulders as he checked the gun. “Can’t make any promises, sweetheart.”

The warehouse was dimly lit, the air thick with dust and the scent of oil and metal. You both crouched behind a stack of crates, observing the guards patrolling the area. There were more than you expected, but that only made things more interesting.

Maverick turned to you, his expression sharp and focused. “I’ll start the diversion. Once they’re all looking my way, you get in, grab what we need, and get the hell out.”

You nodded, already planning your moves in your head. “Just don’t get yourself killed.”

He smirked, standing up and adjusting his jacket. “I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

Before you could say anything, he strolled out into the open, completely fearless. You watched as he casually walked up to one of the guards, striking up a conversation like he belonged there. Within seconds, he had their full attention, his charm and confidence working effortlessly.

That was your cue.

You took a deep breath, gripping your dagger tightly as you silently slipped into the shadows, weaving through the stacks of crates toward the shipment. The thrill of the mission sent a rush of adrenaline through your veins.

Time to get to work.

You moved quickly, keeping to the shadows as Maverick continued distracting the guards. His voice carried through the warehouse, smooth and confident, keeping their focus entirely on him.

Slipping behind a stack of crates, you spotted the shipment—several large, sealed boxes stacked near the back of the warehouse. You crept forward, carefully pulling out your dagger just in case. With quick precision, you pried open one of the boxes, scanning its contents. It was exactly what you were here for.

A smirk formed on your lips. Too easy.

You reached for your earpiece, whispering, “I got it. Heading out now.”

Maverick's voice crackled through. “Good girl. Just be quick, they’re starting to get suspicious.”

You carefully lifted one of the boxes, but just as you turned to leave, a noise behind you made you freeze. A guard.

Shit.

Before he could react, you lunged forward, slamming your dagger into his throat and muffling his gurgled scream. You carefully lowered him to the ground, wiping the blade clean before grabbing the shipment.

"Maverick, I might need a little more time," you whispered.

"Clock's ticking, sweetheart," he responded. "I've got two guys onto me. Get out now."

Heart pounding, you hoisted the box and moved quickly toward the exit. Just a few more steps and you’d be out. But then—

"Hey! Stop right there!"

Damn it.

You turned, seeing another guard raising his weapon. Without hesitation, you hurled your dagger, embedding it deep in his shoulder. He screamed, dropping his gun, and you took the opportunity to run.

You sprinted through the warehouse, the sound of shouts and footsteps growing behind you. Maverick was already in position by the getaway car, engine running, eyes scanning the area for you.

"Hurry up, princess!" he shouted.

You burst through the side exit, sliding across the pavement as bullets ricocheted behind you. Throwing yourself into the car, you barely got the door shut before Maverick floored it, tires screeching against the asphalt.

Breathless, you turned to him with a grin, adrenaline still pumping. “Well, that was fun. You alright?” You scanned his expression and body to make sure he himself didn't get hurt.

Maverick smirked, nodding. “Yea, and you’re insane.”

You leaned back against the seat, catching your breath as the city lights blurred past. You were starting to get the hang of this lifestyle.

As you and Maverick arrived back, you both stopped to see your father dropping off the supplies.

"Look at both of you, both doing a great job!" Your father smirked proud of both of you. You smiled at Maverick nudging him softly.

"You both are allowed for the rest of the night to rest. Good work you two." Your father finalizes the conversation as he grabs the crate opening it and looking inside.

You went up to the staircase with Maverick and he followed you to your room.

As soon as you stepped into your room, you kicked off your boots and collapsed onto the bed with a sigh. “Finally, a break,” you muttered, stretching your arms above your head.

Maverick leaned against the doorframe, watching you with an amused expression. “You act like you just ran a marathon.”

You scoffed, turning onto your side to face him. “Close enough. You didn’t have to dodge bullets while hauling a crate.”

He chuckled and pushed off the door, walking over to sit at the edge of the bed. “Fair point. But you love it, don’t you?”

You hesitated before answering, biting your lip. “I don’t know… I guess I do,” you admitted, propping yourself up on your elbows. “I feel… alive, doing this.”

Maverick nodded, as if he understood exactly what you meant. He stretched his arms over his head before laying back beside you, hands resting behind his head. “Adrenaline’s addictive,” he mused. “Once you start, it’s hard to stop.”

You hummed in agreement, staring at the ceiling. The silence was comfortable, but your thoughts weren’t.

A part of you still couldn’t shake the image of Yunho and Jongho from your mind. It was as if their ghosts lingered, no matter how much you tried to move forward.

Maverick turned his head to look at you. “You sure you are, okay? You’ve been quiet.”

You exhaled, turning to meet his gaze. “Yeah… just thinking.”

His brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t push. Instead, he reached over, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to face it alone.”

Your heart clenched at his words. It was so simple, so sincere. And yet, you weren’t sure if you truly believed it.

Because no matter how far you ran, no matter how much you tried to move on, the past always found a way to pull you back in.

And deep down, you knew it was only a matter of time before it did.

"I need to distract myself somehow." You smile at Maverick lifting your body up from the bed.

"Well, do you like partying? I can go find us a party to attend tonight." Maverick smiles glancing at you.

"Mmm... Sure!" You finally jumped out of bed and soon you and Maverick both got ready.

You slipped into a sleek black dress, something that made you feel confident, powerful. Maverick leaned against the doorframe, already dressed in a fitted dark suit, watching you with a smirk as you adjusted your outfit.

“You clean up nice,” he teased, tilting his head slightly.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you shot back, giving him an approving glance.

He chuckled and grabbed his keys. “Alright, let’s go. I know just the place.”

The ride was smooth, the city lights blurring past as Maverick drove. The bass of the music could already be felt before you even stepped inside the venue—a high-end lounge with flashing neon lights, VIP booths, and a packed dance floor filled with bodies swaying to the beat.

Maverick led you through the crowd, his hand resting on your lower back as he guided you toward the bar. “Pick your poison,” he said, signaling the bartender.

You glanced around the room, your fingers drumming against the counter. It was a different world from what you were used to, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe this was exactly what you needed.

You leaned in closer to Maverick. “So, what’s the plan? Just drinks and dancing?”

He smirked, taking a sip of his whiskey. “That depends. You trying to forget something, or someone?”

You hesitated, then took your own drink and downed a good portion of it before answering, “Maybe a little bit of both.”

Maverick chuckled, setting his glass down before offering his hand. “Come on, let’s dance then. Let’s see if I can help you forget.”

You let him pull you toward the dance floor, letting the music take over as you moved with him, your body syncing effortlessly with his. For the first time in a while, you let yourself just feel the moment.

But as much as you wanted to lose yourself in this night, there was still something lingering in the back of your mind. A ghost of a past you weren’t sure you could truly escape.

Maverick twirled you, his hands firm on your waist as he pulled you back against him, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re overthinking again,” he murmured, voice barely audible over the pounding bass.

You forced a smile, shaking your head slightly. “I’m not.”

His eyes were sharp but laced with amusement.

Still, you played along, draping your arms around his neck and swaying with him to the rhythm. “Maybe I just like dancing with you,” you teased, leaning in closer.

Maverick smirked, his fingers tracing slow circles on your hips. “I don’t doubt that” he whispered. “But if you want to forget them, you need to actually let yourself.”

The words hit harder than you expected, and your body instinctively tensed. Because the truth was—you weren’t sure if you wanted to forget them.

Jongho. Yunho. The life you had before.

It still clung to you like an invisible chain, no matter how far you tried to run.

Maverick must have sensed your shift in mood because he suddenly dipped you, pulling you out of your own head. “I got you,” he said, steadying you before bringing you back up.

You exhaled softly, gripping onto his shoulders, trying to center yourself in the present. In him.

"I think I need a stronger distraction..." You hum as the song ends and you both stand there holding each other.

Maverick smirked, his hands still resting against your waist. “Oh? And what kind of distraction are you looking for?” His voice was laced with playful curiosity, but his gaze was sharp—always analyzing, always reading you.

You bit your lip, feeling the weight of the night pressing down on you, the emotions, the memories.

Maverick’s fingers trailed up your arm, slow and deliberate. “Tell me what you need, princess.”

Your breath hitched. You could give in—lose yourself in the warmth of his touch, in the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

"I need you." You finally mutter under your breath, leaning closer to kiss Maverick.

Maverick smirked against your lips, his hands tightening around your waist as he pulled you closer. “You sure about that, princess?” His voice was teasing, but there was something deeper in his gaze—something that looked like he actually cared.

You didn’t hesitate. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pressing yourself fully against him. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I need you.”

The moment your lips met, the rest of the world blurred into nothing. His hands roamed your body, his touch firm yet careful. It was different from the past—there was no rough possessiveness, no silent competition of control. Maverick kissed you like he wanted you, but not like he owned you.

And for once, you didn’t feel like someone’s possession. You felt like a person.

But as his hands traced over your skin, as the heat between you both intensified, a flicker of doubt burned in the back of your mind. Because no matter how much you tried to forget… the ghosts of Yunho and Jongho still lingered.

Maverick pulled back slightly, studying your face. “You're thinking about them, aren’t you?” His voice wasn’t angry. If anything, he sounded… understanding.

You opened your mouth to deny it, but he just chuckled softly. “I don’t need to be a mind-reader to know. You don’t have to lie to me.”

You swallowed hard, looking away. “I just…” You sighed, unsure of how to explain it. “I want to move on.”

Maverick tilted your chin back up, making you look into his eyes. “Then let me help you,” he whispered, his lips grazing yours once again. “Let me make you forget them.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you let yourself believe it was possible.

For a moment, you let yourself believe that Maverick was enough to erase the past.

He asked if you wanted to go back home and take it to one of your bedrooms or find a private place here.

"I rather do it where its quiet and in our rooms." You sigh, he nods, and you both immediately left to the apartment again, not wasting any time.

"So... How do you plan to keep me quiet, so my father doesn't hear me?" You hum as he places you softly on the bed. You softly cup his cheeks before he leans in for another quick kiss.

"Oh, that would be fun, letting your father hear us having fun in my bed." He smirks at you, grabbing your hand softly before kissing it.

"He will mount your head on his office wall Mav..." You laugh softly. He only smirks laughing alongside with you.

"Just to let you know, I don't usually sleep with my coworkers." He hums as you caress his face.

"Ain't I special?" You tease. He kisses your lips again.

"You are." He exhales as you laugh softly again. Your face heats up automatically and you look deeply into his eyes.

The mood switches up fast as you both start kissing and undressing each other.

After your heated session with Maverick, you both were laying in his bed holding each other.

"I don't think I will be able to sleep." You laugh wrapping your arm around him leaning your head against his chest softly.

"Well, I am. You can stay here and sleep with me if you want or get tired." Maverick smiles. You look at him and kiss his lips softly.

"I don't want my father catching me sleeping in your bed." You tease. He rolls his eyes.

"I can handle your father" He scoffs.

"Oh, you are so full of shit." You laugh punching his shoulder softly.

Maverick chuckled, rubbing his shoulder where you playfully punched him. “What? You don’t think I can handle your father?” He smirked, pulling you even closer.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “I think you think you can handle my father, but I’m pretty sure if he walked in and saw me in your bed, you’d be the one running.”

Maverick scoffed, shaking his head. “Please. I’d just tell him I was keeping his daughter warm. You know, looking out for my partner.” His grin was nothing short of cocky.

You laughed, shaking your head at him. “You’re impossible.”

He nudged your forehead with his. “And yet, you’re still here.”

You sighed, letting yourself relax against him for a moment. As much as you joked, it felt nice—easy—with Maverick. He didn’t pressure you, didn’t try to claim you like you were a prize to be won. He just was, and right now, that was enough.

“You really aren’t gonna let me go to sleep, are you?” he teased, his voice dipping lower.

You smirked. “Nope.”

Maverick groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the bed, dragging you down with him. “Fine. But if I fall asleep, it’s on you.”

You giggled, resting your head against his chest again, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

You honestly felt reminded of Jongho... Maverick reminded you so much of Jongho...

You got up and sighed. "I am going to go to my room, I think I will stay up tonight just wandering." You smiled softly.

Maverick held onto your hand before you leaped off the bed and went to your room.

You wandered through the quiet halls, the distant hum of the city filtering in through the windows. The night felt heavy, filled with thoughts you didn’t want to entertain but couldn’t seem to shake.

Jongho.

Maverick reminded you of him in so many ways. The way he held you, the way he could make you feel safe without needing to say much. But Jongho… he had been different. More possessive, more intense—like he needed you in a way that made your heart race and your breath hitch.

You ran your fingers along the cold railing as you reached the balcony, looking down at the city below. It was quiet at this hour, the neon lights flickering in the distance, and your mind drifted back to the past.

Did Jongho ever think about you? Did Yunho?

Or were they truly over you?

You sighed, shaking your head. You had Maverick now. He was stable, kind, and he didn't come with the chaos and destruction that Jongho and Yunho had. But why did it still feel like something was missing?

Leaning against the railing, you stared out at the city, hoping the crisp night air would clear your thoughts.

Maybe deep down, you never really wanted to let Yunho and Jongho go.

As you just listened to the city, you went on your phone and took a photo of the city. You posted it on social media for once, which you haven't used in a while. You got distracted scrolling through online.

As you scrolled absentmindedly, your thumb hovering over the screen, a notification popped up.

Liked by wooyounggg__ and yunou._.u

Your breath hitched.

Your heart pounded against your ribs as you stared at the screen, the familiar usernames sending a wave of emotions crashing through you. They saw your post. They acknowledged it.

Had they been watching you all this time?

Your fingers trembled slightly as you clicked on Wooyoung's profile first. Too scared to even open or look at Yunho's page. His last post was from tonight. Just a casual picture of him at the bar, Jongho in the background with a glass in his hand smiling.

Your throat tightened. Were you just looking too much into it? Was it meant for you?

You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the message button. Should you say something? Should you pretend you never saw the notification?

Before you could decide, another notification popped up.

@ Yunou._.u sent you a message.

Your stomach flipped.

With shaky hands, you opened it.

(A/N: Help LMFAO)

It was simple, casual even. But you knew Yunho. You knew this wasn’t just small talk.

Your fingers hesitated over the keypad.

Should you respond? Or should you ignore it and pretend none of this ever happened?

But deep down, you already knew your answer.

You left him on read and looked around wondering if he was watching you on the balcony.

Your eyes scanned the streets below, the buildings surrounding you, the shadows that stretched across the city.

Was he out there somewhere? Watching? Waiting?

The thought sent a shiver down your spine—not out of fear, but something else entirely. Something you weren’t ready to name.

You clutched your phone tighter, your heartbeat steady but fast. You finally looked at the messages again and started to chat with him.

You sighed after sending that last message. It was quiet for a second until he finally typed. "Your right." You read in your mind. You felt your heart break at the response and just turned your phone off looking into the distance.

So, he really doesn't care about you anymore. It is true. But why would he even text you, or like your post.

You turned your phone back on not accepting that as an answer and immediately started scrolling through Yunho's page.

You noticed a very recent picture, only 1 hour ago posted. You looked at it and saw the picture being him and Mingi at a bar party. You recognized the party. It was the same party you and Maverick were at.

You looked into the picture seeing Yunho looked empty in his eyes. Looked like he was drinking his problems away and this was an outcome. The caption caught your attention...

"Some things never change."

Your heart clenched as you stared at the words. The picture—the emptiness in his expression—everything about it felt like a silent message, one meant for you to see.

He had been there. The same party. Breathing the same air. So close, yet neither of you had spoken.

Your mind raced. Had he seen you with Maverick? Had he been watching from afar?

You hesitated before clicking on the comments. A few of the guys had left teasing remarks—Mingi included.

"Man, you look miserable. Loosen up a little."

"Drinks on me next time. Try not to kill someone over them this time."

Your throat tightened.

This wasn’t just drinking for fun. Yunho was drowning himself.

And now, you were left wondering… was it because of you?

You felt bad for hurting Yunho and Jongho now... You knew they loved you so much... Or at least they told you that, but you actually now started believing it...

You swallowed hard, gripping your phone tighter. Maybe you had convinced yourself that moving on was the right choice—that you had to let them go. But now, looking at Yunho like this, seeing him unravel the way you once had…

Maybe you never really moved on at all.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, hesitating. Should you message him? Would it even make a difference?

Before you could second-guess yourself, you started typing.

You sighed annoyed. Stubborn Yunho. Always deflecting.

It was silent after you said that. No response. Just left on read.

A minute passed, still no response. Maybe that was his answer. Maybe this was a whole mistake. You felt stupid for trying to go back and crawl back hoping for a second chance.

But just as you were about to shut your phone off, another message came through.

"Come outside."

Your breath hitched.

Outside?

You immediately looked down from your balcony, scanning the street below.

And there he was.

Yunho.

Standing there, a whiskey bottle in his hand, watching. Waiting.

For you.

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared down at him. He was barely illuminated by the streetlights, his expression unreadable, but you could see it in the way he stood—tense, unmoving, waiting.

Waiting for you.

He took a giant gulp of the whiskey bottle.

Your heart pounded. You shouldn't go down there. You shouldn't give in. Especially to drunk Yunho.

But your feet were already moving.

Grabbing a hoodie to throw over your nightclothes, you slipped quietly out of your room, moving through the hallways as if you were a ghost. You didn't know why you were doing this. Maybe it was closure. Maybe it was curiosity. Or maybe… maybe you just needed to see him.

The moment you stepped outside, the cold night air bit at your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Yunho barely moved, only shifting slightly as his eyes locked onto yours.

You crossed your arms, keeping your distance. “What are you doing here, Yunho?”

His gaze flickered, scanning you, before he let out a quiet chuckle. “You came.”

“You told me to.”

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair before looking at you again, something unreadable in his eyes. “You shouldn’t be here...”

You huffed a humorless laugh. “Oh, now I shouldn’t be here? You’re the one who showed up outside my place in the middle of the night.”

Yunho stepped forward slightly, almost stumbling over, and you stiffened, but you didn’t move away.

“I don’t know why I came,” he admitted, voice low. “Maybe I just wanted to see you one last time. Maybe I needed to hear you say it to my face—that you’re really done with me.”

Your heart clenched.

“Are you?” he asked, his tone softer now. "Are you really done with me, Y/N?"

Your lips parted, but nothing came out. Because you didn’t know the answer. Or maybe… you didn’t want to admit it.

Yunho smirked, but there was no amusement in his eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

He turned, as if to leave, but something in you snapped.

You grabbed his wrist. “Yunho—”

He moved fast, spinning back toward you and closing the space between you before you could even process what was happening. His hand cupped your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t do that,” he murmured, eyes dark. “Don’t act like you don’t still feel it.”

You swallowed hard. “Feel what?”

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, his touch featherlight. “This. Us.” You smelt alcohol in his breath. He was completely drunk...

You knew you should pull away. You should walk away. But instead, you stayed frozen under his touch, your body betraying you.

And Yunho? He knew.

“Tell me to leave,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears.

And you couldn’t say it.

Because it would be a lie.

"Yunho... I am worried about your mental state. Look, you are completely drunk..." You took a whiff of his strong breath and felt dizzy after it.

"You need to go to sleep... I don't really think you mean these things." You were really trying to tell yourself that... That he didn't really mean it, he was just drunk. Like you were drunk and didn't mean to hurt their feelings...

Yunho let out a low chuckle, his grip on your jaw loosening just slightly. “You really think this is just the alcohol talking?” His voice was rough, but there was something painfully raw beneath it.

You swallowed, trying to steady yourself. “I think you’re hurting,” you murmured, your fingers tightening around his wrist. “And I think you’re looking for something—someone—to make it stop.”

His jaw clenched. “And what if that someone is you?”

Your breath hitched.

Yunho’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. “I don’t care if I’m drunk,” he whispered. “I don’t care if it’s stupid. All I know is that I can’t stop thinking about you. About us.”

You wanted to believe it was just the liquor making him sentimental. That when the morning came, he’d shake it off and act like this never happened.

But deep down, you knew better.

“Yunho…” You exhaled, forcing yourself to look at him. “If I let this happen—if I let us happen again—what then? What about Jongho? What about Hongjoong?”

He stilled for a moment. His brows furrowed, like he hadn’t even thought that far ahead.

And that was what upset you the most.

“You need to go home,” you whispered, stepping back, breaking his hold on you. “We’ll talk when you’re sober.”

Yunho’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t move.

“What if I don’t want to wait?” he murmured. “What if this is the only way I know how to say it?”

You hesitated.

He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours, his voice barely above a breath.

“I still love you, Y/N.”

Your heart nearly stopped.

"I don't believe you do. I am sorry." You looked down trying to not look him in the eyes.

“Tell me you don’t love me back,” he whispered. “Tell me, and I’ll leave.”

Tears burned at the edges of your eyes.

You should say it.

But you couldn’t.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Yunho didn’t move, didn’t let you escape the weight of his words. His hands curled into fists at his sides, his entire body tense, waiting for an answer you weren’t ready to give.

You opened your mouth—just say it, just tell him—but the words wouldn’t come.

Yunho exhaled sharply, his breath shaky. “You can’t, can you?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried so much weight, so much desperation. “Because you still love me too.”

You turned your face away, biting your lip, fighting back the tears threatening to spill. “Yunho, this isn’t fair.”

“What isn’t fair?” His fingers brushed against your chin, forcing you to look at him. His eyes were bloodshot, exhausted, raw. “That I still love you? That I can’t move on? That I hate seeing you with someone else, pretending like what we had meant nothing?”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is.” His grip tightened just slightly, enough to keep you from running. “You’re just scared to admit it.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs, the war between your mind and heart threatening to break you apart.

“Tell me you don’t love me,” he whispered again, searching your face. His voice cracked, just slightly. “Say it, and I’ll go.”

You clenched your fists at your sides, your breathing uneven.

This was your chance.

Your chance to let go.

To end this.

To walk away before the damage became irreversible.

But when you finally parted your lips, the words that left your mouth weren’t the ones you had planned.

“I still love you,” you whispered.

And just like that, you felt everything you had tried so hard to bury come crashing back.

"Then come back to me..." He hiccupped. You sighed and told him to go home.

"Why are you here anyways?" He slurred his words now stumbling. You sighed, grabbing your phone. You immediately texted Wooyoung to come get Yunho.

"No." He tries grabbing your phone once he saw the message. You slapped his hand away and that's when he shoved you down on the ground but ended up tumbling on top of you.

You let out a soft gasp as Yunho's weight pressed against you, his body heavy from the alcohol. His breath was warm against your cheek, the scent of whiskey lingering in the air between you.

His hands gripped your wrists, pinning you gently beneath him, but there was no real force behind it—just desperation, just longing.

"You don't get to push me away," he mumbled, his forehead pressing against yours again. "Not after what you just said."

Your heart pounded, your mind screaming at you to shove him off, but your body remained frozen. Because despite everything—the pain, the time apart, the mistakes—you still craved him.

"Yunho..." you whispered, voice shaky. "You're drunk. You don't even know what you're saying right now."

"I do," he insisted, his grip on you tightening for a second before loosening. "I do know. And I know that letting you go was the worst mistake of my life."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but before you could respond, you heard footsteps.

"Get the fuck off her," a familiar voice growled.

You turned your head just in time to see Wooyoung storming toward you both, his face twisted in frustration.

"Yunho, what the hell are you doing?" Wooyoung grabbed his arm, pulling him up off you. Yunho barely resisted, his body swaying as the alcohol clearly took its toll on him.

"She said she still loves me," Yunho muttered, blinking heavily as he tried to regain focus.

Wooyoung shot you a glance, but you quickly looked away, brushing the dirt off your clothes as you sat up.

"Yeah? Well, that doesn’t mean you get to throw yourself all over her like a damn idiot," Wooyoung snapped, slinging Yunho’s arm over his shoulder to steady him. "Come on, we’re leaving."

Yunho’s eyes never left you, even as Wooyoung dragged him away. "Don’t forget what you said," he murmured, his words slurred but filled with something raw, something real.

You hugged your knees to your chest, watching them disappear into the night.

You had finally admitted it.

You felt like you were going to regret saying that... But you knew that you were slowly starting to regain that feeling towards Yunho... And Jongho.

But at what cost?

•

A/N: Okay Now I got to move, sorry this was a goofy shitty chapter lmfao.

E/N: Imma miss her :( She is moving away from me. MY WIFE IS MOVING AWAY. I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL YUNHOOOOO

A/N: She is also drunk.

E/N: Wow.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

What about something to do with reader previously fighting back against/killing an abusive parent and a case comes up with the bau which brings it all to life..?

Hiya, hope this is okay! I didn't go into too many sad emotions lol, but hopefully this is okay :)

Description: reader gets dragged back to his hometome, but reunites with his younger brother.

Warnings: child abuse, abuse, murder, alcohol mentions, assault, previous arrests, custody battles, death of a parent

“This week’s case my fine furry friends, you are all heading to Oregon. The homeland of the one and only (Y/N).” Penelope said, pointing the bippy at you. You give a small smile, not having the heart to tell her you were hoping to keep that particular cat in the bag. “So this unsub is targeting unsavory individuals, first, this man. Robert Davis, 42, father of three. Total slime ball, an abusive drunk who is particularly fond of driving under the influence.”

You all looked at the photos now on the board. “Now, up next, same thing. Derek Harris. Father, this time 53, abusive, drinks on occasion.”

“Okay, so he’s got a type.”

“How long between victims?”

“Only four days.”

“How long does he keep them alive?”

“Only a few hours, before he dumps them on the door of their house.”

“He dumps the bodies at their house?” You asked, frowning.

“Why?”

“It’s like a gift.” You theorised, “I know what he was doing so I took revenge for you.”

“Some gift.” Prentiss said, turning back to the file.

Not long after, you were all on the jet on your way to Oregon. The briefing didn’t take long, just a few rough ideas exchanged and Morgan asking if you were excited to go home, you were not. 

“Hotchner.” Hotch answered the phone before the end of the second ring. “You’re sure? Okay. We’ll make sure to send some agents there when we land. It’s alright, I’ll let him know. Thank you.” And with that, Hotch hung up again.

The air was a little tense, to say the least. “Another body turned up?” Rossi asked. Hotch just gave a nod.

“Already?” Reid’s eyebrows furrowed. You watched your boss closely for a few seconds.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Is all you ask.

“Yes.” Is his response. “The ME just identified him.”

“Who found him?”

“(Y/N)…”

“Hotch, who found him?”

“Your brother.”

You sighed, looking away. “He okay?”

“He’s alright. Paramedics checked him over, he’s at the station waiting for us to land.”

You give a small nod. “He’s okay?”

“He’s okay.” Hotch said, voice a little more gentle now. The team watched you cautiously, all concerned.

“Who was the latest victim?” Reid asked, frowning slightly.

“Er, Lee (L/N).”

“(L/N)?” Morgan asked, turning to face you.

“My dad.” You gave a small nod. 

“Which means we’re going to have to dive into your life,” Hotch explained, his face was his usual stern expression, but you could see the understanding in his eyes.

“I know.” You gave a small sigh. “I was arrested for assault when I was eighteen - I just broke his nose. No charges were pressed or anything.”

“What happened?” JJ asked.

“Er, I saw him hit my brother.” You gave a small nod. “And he didn’t press charges on the condition I moved out. So, I moved out. I tried fighting for custody but with that arrest, the courts weren’t having it.”

“They wouldn’t let you have custody?”

“Nope, not even with our medical records.” You gave an awkward shrug, “I tried multiple times, Declan ended up in the hospital once or twice. I lived in a small town, and everyone just… turned a blind eye to it.”

“That’s horrible…” JJ said. “They turned a blind eye? Just like that?”

“Yep. And then after the second custody battle and I was doing a food shop and I saw my dad hit Declan again. That time, I landed my dad in hospital.”

You were silent for the rest of the ride, preferring to sit inside your own head than interact with the outside world.

As soon as the jet landed, you, Spencer, and Hotch headed to the police station, the others dividing themselves between the different crime scenes. You follow the secretary’s vague motion to a room at the back of the station. It takes you thirty seconds after to realise she was in your grade in school. You purposefully ignored that and gave the door a light knock before opening the door. 

“Declan…” You had prepared for the worst. You were expecting him to hate you, you had left the day you turned eighteen. Granted, it wasn’t exactly a voluntary leave, but you still left.

“(Y/N),” Declan looks up, smiling a little when he sees you. His eyes are bloodshot.

“Hey.” You said softly, "How are you feeling?"

Declan gives a small shrug and you give a quiet sigh, taking a seat next to him on the couch. "Come here," You said, opening your arms. He stares at you for a moment before letting himself lean against you.

You wait until you've both calmed down before speaking again. “We need to talk, kid…”

“I know.” Declan gave a small tight lipped smile. You sit down next to him, sighing slightly as you did. “They don’t think you’re involved, do they?”

“Nah, I’ve got an alibi I cleared with my boss.”

Declan nods, “Good. So I’m assuming your team know?”

“Yep.” You sighed, turning to face him. “Look, Declan-”

“You don’t need to apologise.”

“Yes, I do. I left.”

The teen rolled his eyes, “You’re actually thick. You didn’t leave, dad basically kicked you out.”

“I should have fought to stay.” You argued.

“Yeah, and he would have killed you.” He said. “Besides, I was fine.”

“Were you?”

“Yeah. Most of the time dad was too caught up in his drinking to care.” Declan gave a small shrug. “So… what’s going to happen to me?”

“Well, if you want, I’ve got a spare room that I could let you have. I suppose.” You said, a small smile tugging at your lips. 

“Yeah, I guess. If I had too.” Declan grinned slightly. 

“Sounds good.” You gave a nod, “We can sort everything else out later. And, if you want - since our house is sort of a crime scene, you can bunk in my hotel room.”

“Perfect, free hotel room.” Declan smirked.

“Yeah, yeah.” You rolled your eyes. “I gotta go talk to my team, you okay in here?”

“Yes, old man. I’m fine.” 

You placed a hand on your chest dramatically as you left. 

“Everything okay?” Hotch asked.

“Yeah. I think so.” You said, giving your boss a small smile. “As well as it can be right now, anyway.”

“He seems resilient.”

“He is.” You gave a small nod. “You don’t mind if I stay for a while after the case to sort everything up here out, do you?”

Hotch shook his head, “Not at all. Take all the time you need.”

[gayelderstourney]

OLD MAN YAOI BRACKET ROUND 1

Propaganda:

Bob Zanotto/Helmut Fullbear:

THEY LITERALLY MADE MR CRY THE FIRST TIME I PLAYED THE GAME. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH AND THEY FINALLY GET TO BE HAPPY TOGETHER. YOU DONT UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO ME.

they are married in canon and are epic and amazing. they had sad canon events where bob thought helmut was dead for like 30 years or something but helmut WASN'T dead his brain was still alive and they are reunited in the game first by way of stealing an evil dictator's body and then later on they put helmut's brain in a ball as a temporary fix while they go out to find his body which has been frozen in ice. the game forces you to walk through bob's memory of saying his vows at their wedding ceremony and it's seriously some of the most romantic and heartwarming shit i've ever heard, especially "just when i thought i was turning to seed, you made me bloom again" like my god. i love them

they're gay and old as hell!!!! there's a level dedicated to their wedding!!!

Helmut is voiced by Jack Black and is currently a brain in a ball, and Bob knows him so well that the mental image of him in his drunken mind says things Bob KNOWS the real Helmut would never say. Also Helmut is temporarily in the body of a guy voiced by Elijah Wood-

Craig Cuttlefish/DJ Octavio:

well you see they used to be friends but were on opposite sides of the great turf war. cuttlefish gets a 14 year old to go stop octavios army. also they argue in splatoon 3 which is just part of the 100+ year divorce arc BUT AT THE FINAL BOSS IN THE JAPANESE VERSION THEY SHARE THE ICONIC LINE THAT CUES THE CALAMARI INKANTATION AND IN THE ENGLISH CUTTLEFISH TELLS OCTAVIO TO "HIT IT" AND START THE MUSIC AND MUSIC IS SO IMPORTANT TO THE SPLATOON UNIVERSE YAAAAA ik its grasping but its lovers to enemies

Literally I have seen so many people call this old man yaoi.

Old men divorce!!!

They're old men who made their divorce the problem of every young person in their lives <3. 100 years ago during the Great Turf War between inklings and octarians, Craig and Octavio were the chosen ambassadors of their respective species. They got along well, but unfortunately found themselves on opposite sides of the war. During one of the battles Craig shot Octavio in the heart. The inlkings won the war and the octarians were forced underground. For years afterward both men grew bitter towards each other, and eventually Octavio attacked the new Squidbeak Splatoon (a group of secret agents recruited by Craig). Octavio lost both times and got imprisoned in a giant snow globe (and Craig calls him cute). In the latest game Octavio got over his hatred for Inklings (Craig's species) and used his flying mech to help defeat the BBEG of the game. After the final fight, Craig said something to the effect of 'that old rascal turned out to be not so bad!'.

Alright ok hear me out! These two old men have fought in wars for their races against each other and have the craziest pathetic old man homoerotic tension ever. They like, went from at least respecting each other before the war and then they were forced to fight each other and then when Cuttlefish's side won, Octavio went underground like a pathetic lil wet cat and later on he kidnapped Cuttlefish because of game related reasons and both of them still have way too much homoerotic tension!!! And then Octavio gets owned and then in the second game Octavio decides that "Hey actually, lets kidnap Cuttlefish's granddaughter" and the old man isnt even there cause hes busy being a pathetic old man in the under-underground!!! And in the third game they go fron rival/enemies to reluctantly working together to save the world from actual extinction bc some durry bitch wants to cover it in fuzzy ooze and like, both of them have so much old man ship potential and just- theyre still pining for each other even after over a 100 years man,,,,

I personally headcanon Cap'n Cuttlefish as homophobic, but I see the ship a lot and think it's funny.

They’re both at least like 125 probably a bit older, they are so divorced, like peak lovers to enemies back to lovers, Cap’n Cuttlefish calls Octavio cute in Splatoon one immediately after you rescue him from Octavio kidnapping him? So dysfunctional, so gay, so old

They fought in the Great Turf War which was said to be over 100 years ago, Capn Cuttlefish was, well, a captain I believe (he had some sort of rank even if he wasn't a captain, like he led a battle that's singled out in the sunken scrolls of the first game). they act so divorced in the singleplayer mode like they cannot stop insulting each other specifically but octavio always comes back and like kidnaps or insults captain cuttlefish it's so. and when the great zapfish gets stolen in splatoon 3 captain cuttlefish is like "it's the octarians again i know it" like divorced behavior. also it wasn't this time and octavio gets super weird about it. maybe you should stop using children as props in your drama though.

my favorite war crime divorcees <3

They basically are friends to enemies to lovers. Both of them fought in a war that hurt DJ Octavio so bad he can’t become an inkling.

friends -> enemies -> lovers. what more is there to say

they are soooo divorced

they were so gay their breakup ended a war

Craig Cuttlefish got sucked dry by a bear

they got divorced but then they got remarried . they fuckinf hate eachother but they also make out sloppy style and i do not know how that works because neither of them have mouths in their swim form which they are both permanently stuck in. love wins but also loses at the same time with these fucking losers

they are sooo divorced omg. istg they were dating when they were younger and then war n shit happened and now theyre bitter exes who probably still make out sometimes. Makes it so much funnier that theyre old ass men (both over 100!) and Cuttlefish has grandkids

They were on opposite sides of a war and still fell in love

[eatingoutmen]

⌜ 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍 ⌟

💌 : 𝜗𝜚 author’s note : please keep in mind that these stories may or may not be released in the order I put set it on, and that each of them are all separate stories and do not have a connection to one another; I will decide for myself in which story should I work on first and then so on and so forth. 𝜗𝜚

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊˚ STORY 1 ˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“ A SINFUL REDEMPTION . ”

𖦹 IDEA BY : @hornydilfsinyourarea

𖤍 SUMMARY : You have committed a grave sin and went to ask for the priest for redemption, but in order to get it, you must give him something first in order to be forgiven.

𖤐 PAIRINGS : Father Sal Tedeschi x Male Reader

⚠︎ CONTENT WARNINGS ; mentions of murder, mentions of family abuse, sex inside a church, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, praise kink, humiliation kink, slow and sensual to fast and rough sex, creampie, porn with plot.

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊˚ STORY 2 ˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“ EAT ME OUT , FUCK MY STRESS AWAY . ”

𖤍 SUMMARY : The Professor, or rather your secret boyfriend has been so stressed out from the heist and the chaos from the battles of the law, so he calls you into his office in need of something. You, an oblivious but obedient man decided to pay your boss a visit, little did you know that you were gonna be his personal fuck toy stress reliever.

𖤐 PAIRINGS : [FTM] Sergio Marquina x Male Reader

⚠︎ CONTENT WARNINGS ; cunnilingus, blowjob, handjob, teasing, fingering, slight mean/bratty! reader, punishments, brat taming, exhibitionism, p in v, pussydrunk reader, praising, oral sex (both receiving and giving), slow and teasing sex, fast and rough sex, creampie, bondage (BDSM), dom/sub dynamic, porn with plot.

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊˚ STORY 3 ˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“ MAKE ME , DETECTIVE . ”

𖦹 IDEA BY : @hornydilfsinyourarea

𖤍 SUMMARY : You have been interrogating Berlin for hours on end, you tried everything to get some information on where the next heist is going to be out of the cocky man but nothing worked, so you decided to finally take matters in your own hands, by pleasuring persuading him with your skillful ways of seduction.

𖤐 PAIRINGS : Berlin/Andrés de Fonollosa x Male Reader

⚠︎ CONTENT WARNINGS ; oral sex, handjob, blowjob, throat fucking, penetrative sex, cock warming, bondage (BDSM), teasing, edging, overstimulation, brat taming, degrading kink, humiliation kink, fast and rough sex, orgasm denial, creampie, porn with plot, plot twist in the end.

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊˚ STORY 4 ˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“ MY HEART’S TORN BETWEEN TWO SOULS . ”

𖦹 IDEA BY : @hornydilfsinyourarea

𖤍 SUMMARY : You have had feelings for Raquel for a long time now while working with her on capturing the Professor, but when she joined the other side, you were left heartbroken and now tasked to hunt her down and possibly hurting her. In the end of all of that chaos, you left the law and now live alone in a peaceful and quiet life away from the world. But what happens when the woman you still love finds her way back into your life with her new fiancé asking for help?

𖤐 PAIRINGS : Raquel Murillo x Male Reader x Sergio Marquina

⚠︎ CONTENT WARNINGS ; mentions of Sergio & Raquel being engaged, mentions Reader still not moving on from Raquel, Reader getting jealous of Sergio, pussydrunk Reader, slow-burn, angst, fluff, smut, kissing, making out, cuckholding, dom/sub/dom dynamic, oral sex, blowjob, handjob, cunnilingus, threesome sex, spit roasting, anal penetration, vaginal and anal, pegging, cock warming, body worship, praise kink, fast and rough sex, creampie, porn with plot.

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊˚ STORY 5 ˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“ LA COMPETENCIA . ”

𖤍 SUMMARY : Berlin and Professor, or rather; Andrés and Sergio, set up a competetion on which one of them manages to sleep with you.

𖤐 PAIRINGS : Sergio Marquina x Male Reader x Andrés de Fonollosa

⚠︎ CONTENT WARNINGS ; Reader goes by the codename “Seoul”, alcohol, sub/dom/sub dynamic, blowjob, deepthroating, teasing, brat taming, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, cumplay, fast and rough sex, penetrative sex, oral sex, creampie, cock warming, porn with plot.

ʚ all works belong to @eatingoutmen do NOT steal, copy or repost anywhere without my permission from ME personally; reblogs and interactions are fine. ɞ

[cheynovak]

Complicated

Characters: Soldier boy x Y/N Female character     

Summary: Y/N, a young personal assistant to Soldier Boy (Ben) and Crimson Countess, is caught in a whirlwind of events that shatter her sense of stability. After accidentally witnessing an intimate moment between Ben, Crimson, and another woman, she’s left shaken and unsure how to process it. The following day, Crimson casually invites her to join them, which only adds to Y/N's confusion.

Warnings: 18+ smut, fight, spice,

English is not my first language 

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

part 4/?

Ben had been back from Herogasm for a few days, but everything felt different. He hadn’t mentioned the event, and the silence stretched between us like a chasm, leaving me feeling increasingly isolated. I tried to shake off the irritation that simmered inside me, but it was hard to ignore.

I was at the front desk talking to Suzy when Kevin walked in—just what I needed. The air turned tense, and I could feel my heart rate spike. He wanted to talk, but I flat-out refused. “I’m not going home,” I stated, my tone sharper than intended.

Kevin stepped closer, determination etched on his face. “You need to come home,” he insisted, his voice low and demanding.

I laughed, a bitter sound that echoed in the lobby. “Home? With you? No thanks.”

He glanced down at my clothes, the ones that Ben or someone at vought had gifted—stylish, flattering, everything Kevin never understood. “So, you’re with another man? Thats fast!” His tone shifted, dripping with disdain. “A man buys you things, and now you’re his cheap whore.” He gripped my arm.

I felt my blood boil at his words, but before I could retort, Ben appeared, a powerful figure cutting through the tension like a knife. “You again... Let her go,” he commanded, voice low and dangerous, like a predator ready to pounce.

Kevin turned to face Ben, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Ah, so you sucked him off and now he’s buying you shit, is that it? Those late nights, Y/N weren't just for work, were they? And you blame me for looking elsewhere? If you’d been home more, you’d be taking care of your husband instead of fucking your boss like a cheap whore!”

Ben’s fury flared, his eyes darkening with rage. “What did you call her?” he growled, his tone deadly.

I stepped forward, desperate to defuse the situation. “Ben, wait!” I shouted, feeling the heat of the moment escalate. Kevin’s words had struck a nerve, but I didn’t want Ben to resort to violence, no matter how much Kevin deserved it.

“Just—don’t,” I urged, placing a hand on Ben's arm. The tension crackled around us, and I could see the internal struggle within him, the need to protect me battling against the urge to unleash his anger on Kevin.

Kevin scoffed, undeterred by my plea. “You think you’re better than me because you’re with him? Newsflash: he’s just another guy trying to fill you up. And when the thrill fades, what will you have?” His voice dripped with scorn, trying to claw his way back into my head.

Ben’s eyes narrowed, the muscles in his jaw clenching. “She deserves better than you, you piece of shit,” he shot back, his voice firm and unwavering.

I looked between the two of them, feeling the weight of their animosity. “This isn’t helping anyone!” I pleaded, but the men were locked in their own battle of wills, and my words barely registered.

Kevin took a step forward, invading my space. “You’re making a mistake, Y/N. You think this is real? You think he’s going to stick around when things get tough? He’s just using you, like every other man in your future. You’ll be back to me, you’ll see.”

His words stung, but I shook my head, determination rising within me. “I’m not going back to you, Kevin. I don’t want that life anymore.”

“Then you’re just a fool,” he sneered, looking at me as if I were a stranger.

“Maybe, but at least I’m not living a lie,” I shot back, my voice stronger now. “You don’t get to judge me. You lost that right the moment you decided to cheated."

Ben stepped closer, a protective presence beside me, his voice low and threatening. “Back off, buddy.”

Kevin’s face twisted in anger, and for a moment, I thought he might lash out. But instead, he took a deep breath, a smirk creeping back onto his face. “Fine. Enjoy your little fling. But remember, when he’s gone and you’re left with nothing, don’t come crawling back to me.”

With that, Kevin turned on his heel and stormed out, leaving the air thick with tension and unresolved emotions. I let out a shaky breath, feeling both relieved and exhausted.

Ben’s gaze softened as he looked at me, concern etched on his features. “You okay?”

I nodded slowly, but the sting of Kevin’s words lingered. “I am now,” I replied, though I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over yet.

Ben followed me into my office, the door clicking shut behind us with a finality that sent a shiver down my spine. “What do you want, Ben?” I asked, bracing myself for the conversation I knew was coming.

He stepped closer, the tension crackling in the air. “I know why you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’m not,” I replied, but my voice lacked conviction.

He closed the distance between us, roughly turning me to face him. His hand gripped my chin, tilting my head up to meet his intense gaze. “Don’t lie, sweetheart.”

“Well, I haven’t seen you around either,” I shot back, trying to maintain my composure.

A smirk tugged at his lips, the corner of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly charming way. “You’re jealous.”

I ripped his hand away from my face and turned my back to him, trying to regain some semblance of control. “I’m not. I just don’t like you smelling like sex when you crawl into bed next to me.”

“Okay, not jealous” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Prove it.”

Before I could react, his hand moved to my breast, fingers brushing over me in a way that sent a rush of heat through my body. His lips found my neck, trailing soft kisses that made it hard to think straight. “I want you… now,” he murmured against my skin, the words igniting something deep within me.

It was too much, and it got the best of me. My body responded instinctively, heart racing as desire washed over me. I could feel the walls of my resolve crumbling as I turned to face him again, the air thick with unspoken tension and longing.

“Ben…” I started, but the protest died in my throat as he captured my lips with his, and everything else faded away.

He pushed me flat against my desk, the cool surface contrasting sharply with the heat radiating from my body. I felt his hands moving my legs, the intimacy of the position making my heart race even faster.

His fingers teased along the curve of my thigh, slowly moving higher, exploring with a deliberate slowness that drove me wild. I gasped as his lips trailed along my back, kissing a path that sent shivers down my spine. Every touch was electric, igniting a fire within me that I couldn’t ignore.

“Ben,” I breathed, the name escaping my lips like a plea. I was ready for more, ready to let go of everything else and embrace this moment.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my skin. “You want this,” he murmured, his voice low and intoxicating. The way he spoke made it feel like he knew exactly how much I craved him.

With a sudden movement, he pressed his body against mine, his weight pinning me down just enough to heighten the thrill. I felt his fingers dance teasingly, a tantalizing promise of what was to come. “Tell me how badly you want it,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear, sending a rush of heat through me.

“I want you,” I gasped, the urgency in my voice clear. “I want you now.”

That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed.

He knelt down behind me, his lips brushing against my thighs as he took his time exploring, teasing. I gasped as he pressed a soft kiss to my skin, the sensation sending waves of anticipation coursing through me.

Then, he surged forward, his tongue swirling against me, igniting every nerve ending. I moaned, the sound escaping my lips unbidden, the pleasure overwhelming. His hands gripped my hips, anchoring me in place as he worked his magic, sending shockwaves of desire through my entire body.

“Ben,” I gasped, my voice breathless as I pushed back against him, craving more of the delicious sensations he was creating. The way he moved, so confident and skilled, made me forget everything else.

He responded with a low growl, the sound reverberating through me, driving me further into the depths of my desire. “You taste so good,” he murmured against my skin, and I could feel him smile against me, savoring every moment.

I felt the heat pooling inside me, the urgency building as I lost myself in the rhythm of his movements. I was ready, ready for him to take me to that next level, to show me just how good this could feel. “Please,” I urged, breathless and desperate. “I need you.”

He seemed eager to please me, his desire palpable as he positioned himself behind me. The moment he entered me, he was hard, rough, and fast, each thrust igniting a fire deep within. I gasped, my body responding instinctively to the intensity of his movements.

His hand covered my mouth, muffling the sounds that threatened to escape. “Don’t hold back,” he whispered in my ear, his voice a low growl. “I want to hear you.”

Every thrust was a perfect mix of urgency and need, pushing me closer to the edge. I could feel him filling me completely, and with each movement, the world outside faded into oblivion. All that mattered was him, our bodies entwined in this heated dance of passion.

“Let go,” he urged softly, his breath hot against my ear. “Just feel.”

I surrendered to the pleasure, losing myself in the moment as I let go of all my inhibitions. His pace quickened, driving me wild as I felt every sensation amplify, drowning in the whirlwind of ecstasy.

After my first orgasm, I kneeled before him like he had taught me, my body still trembling from the intensity of it all. He finished quickly, groaning as his hands gripped my hair. Once it was over, he leaned down, brushing a kiss across my forehead, and promised with a smirk, “I’ll swing by tonight.”

I felt a strange sense of relief, like things were slipping back to normal, as if I could handle this arrangement. The tension of the last few days had vanished, leaving me feeling somewhat content. I showered, got dressed, and prepared for the evening, expecting Ben to keep his word.

But when night fell, and I was in the penthouse alone, I heard voices from outside—his voice. Ben was flirting, his deep, smooth tone unmistakable. My stomach twisted, jealousy surging like a wave I couldn’t contain. My mind raced, my blood boiling as I recognized the unmistakable lilt in his voice that he used when he was charming someone. He wasn’t just talking, he was seducing her.

I flung the door open without thinking, my emotions taking control. There he was, leaning against the doorway with the maid giggling, all too eager. When he saw me, Ben’s eyes flickered with amusement as if he was expecting me to react. He straightened up and dismissed the maid with a casual wave, his focus entirely on me now.

“You jealous, sweetheart?” he teased, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming as always.

My lips parted to speak, to call him out on it, but before I could, his hand was on my waist, pulling me to him. His touch sent a jolt through me, my anger dissipating as his thumb brushed over my lower lip.

“Ben…” I whispered, my voice faltering as I tried to hang on to my frustration, but the second his lips touched mine, it was like my thoughts dissolved.

He kissed me with that same intensity he always did—commanding, fierce, and impossible to resist. Every flick of his tongue, every press of his body against mine, made me forget what I was angry about. My jealousy melted away under the weight of his desire, and I found myself surrendering once again, wrapped up in the heat of his touch.

Whatever plans I had to confront him were gone the second he had me in his arms.

--

Ben seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood that night. The second we were inside, his hands were on me, pulling me close as his lips crashed against mine. There was something different in the way he touched me, an urgency, a hunger I hadn’t seen before. He pushed me down onto the bed with a predatory glint in his eyes, like he couldn’t wait another second.

Without a word, he knelt between my legs and buried his face there, his mouth working with a ravenous intensity. He devoured me like a man starved, his tongue and lips sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. I gasped, my back arching off the bed as I clutched the sheets, his name escaping my lips in broken breaths.

He didn't stop. He didn't even slow down. The first orgasm hit me fast and hard, leaving me breathless and trembling, but Ben didn’t seem satisfied yet. His grip tightened on my thighs, pulling me closer as he continued to feast on me, driving me higher and higher until the second wave crashed over me, leaving me dizzy with pleasure.

I could barely think by the time the third one hit, my body shaking under his relentless attention. It was overwhelming, but I didn’t want him to stop. My mind was a haze of need, and the more he gave, the more I craved.

“More,” I gasped, barely recognizing my own voice, raw with desperation.

He pulled back, his lips glistening, eyes dark with lust as he stared down at me. “More?” he echoed, a dangerous smile playing on his lips.

Before I could answer, he stood up, pulling off his clothes with the same kind of urgency, but he didn’t touch himself. Instead, he climbed back over me, pressing his body against mine, the heat of his skin searing into me as he positioned himself.

"Careful what you ask for, sweetheart," he whispered darkly, his voice low and gravelly. His fingers dug into my hips as he pushed into me, hard and rough, exactly the way I needed it. Each thrust was powerful, overwhelming, pushing me past the limits of pleasure. I gasped, meeting him with everything I had, feeling every inch of him as he took control.

The intensity of it, the way he moved, left me trembling and breathless, but still, I begged for more.

And Ben, with that dangerous smile, gave it to me.

Ben’s grip tightened on my hips as he thrust harder, deeper, his pace relentless. "You're mine," he growled through clenched teeth, his breath hot against my neck. "Only mine. Kevin was a fool not to fuck you the way you deserve."

His words sank into me, each possessive claim igniting something deep inside. My mind was a blur of sensation, his voice pushing me closer to the edge with every thrust. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—all I could do was feel. And everything he said, the way he claimed me, made me want him even more.

"You belong to me now," he growled, his voice rough, dark. "No one else. Just me."

I moaned, my body trembling beneath him, the pleasure overwhelming. His hands dug into my skin, and with every movement, every word, he marked me as his own. I didn’t care about Kevin anymore. Not in that moment. Ben owned me, and I craved it.

I needed it.

His rhythm grew faster, more intense, and I could feel him getting close. "You're mine," he repeated, the possessiveness in his voice sending me spiraling into another orgasm, my body arching against him as I shattered beneath him.

Ben wasn’t far behind, his pace becoming erratic as he followed me over the edge, but it was different this time—quicker than usual, like he couldn’t hold back. His growl of satisfaction filled the air as he buried himself deep inside me, shuddering as he came, gripping me tightly as if he never wanted to let go.

For a moment, the world was still. His body was heavy on mine, both of us panting, spent from the intensity of it all. He kissed my neck, slower now, the fire dimming, but the weight of his words still lingered in the air.

“You’re mine,” he whispered one last time, softer, almost tender now. And for some reason, it sounded like a promise.

My mind swirled, still reeling from the intensity of his touch and the weight of his words. “You’re mine,” echoed in my head, over and over, like an endless loop. The way he claimed me, the possessiveness in his voice—it had ignited something inside me, something I hadn’t realized was there.

But as the moments passed, and the adrenaline started to fade, the doubts crept in. I thought about Herogasm, about the things he had done there. The whispers I had heard. The threesomes with Crimson Countess. Was I really his? Or was I just another in a long line of women he claimed in the heat of the moment, only to forget the next day?

The room suddenly felt too quiet, the space between us too heavy. I was still lying beneath him, his body pressed against mine, but I felt distant, like I wasn’t really there. My insecurities gnawed at me, clawing their way to the surface.

What did I mean to him, really? Could I even trust anything he said? Or was this just another game, another conquest to pass the time until he got bored?

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. The questions were too loud in my head, drowning out everything else. I felt my body stiffen slightly beneath his, but I stayed silent.

Very, very quiet.

Ben noticed, of course. He always noticed. His arms, which had been holding me so possessively moments ago, loosened slightly as he shifted his weight, looking down at me with a raised eyebrow.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low but not without a hint of curiosity.

I nodded, but it wasn’t convincing. Not even to myself.

He watched me for a second longer, his gaze searching, but I kept my face neutral, not wanting to give anything away. I didn’t want to ask about Herogasm. I didn’t want to know. But the jealousy, the insecurity, was there, lingering, and no matter how hard I tried to push it down, it was suffocating.

I turned my head slightly, biting my lip, trying to focus on anything but the storm brewing inside me.

--

Please like, share or comment when you liked the story. If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

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[miniaturesketches]

Skyeward Fic Recs

Here's a new list including both old and recent works! I'm always on the hunt for beautifully written fics with great plots and compelling characterization - or you know, just enjoyable and quick fixes, that too - so this list will be updated from time to time. (Note: some fics are abandoned or incomplete.)

The Head & The Heart series by Poetgirl925 is my all-time favorite long fic, featuring a non-HYDRA Agent Ward who ends up planning and working on operations with Skye at the Triskelion. It's the lesser-known sister of the famous Under Your Skin fic by the same author.

the death of peace of mind by hellfxres involves a Hellfire! Ward working as a firefighter. That is, until Agent Daisy Johnson shows up at his station. I haven't finished reading this, but the premise is so interesting that it's on my list.

There is Nothing Special About Grant Ward by NezumiPi is one of my only two bookmarks. That's how good it is - a complex and absorbing exploration of Grant Ward's childhood as the son of a mob boss, his abusive relationship with Garrett, and his subsequent crimes. In custody at the Playground, Ward slowly is allowed to participate in operations again. (Note: this is not for the apologists and while there are interactions between Skye and Ward, they are not romantic in nature.)

You Know You're My Saving Grace by GreenEyedStone is historical fiction set in WW2. Unapologetically Skyeward, it follows the life of Skye, the daughter of the United States Air Force Major Phil Coulson, as she gets married to the soldier Grant Ward and has a child. She works on the frontlines in Europe as a journalist. (I'll admit I'm biased as I beta'd some of it, but I think this fic is criminally underrated.)

How to Keep Your Distance, Unsuccessfully by miniaturesketches, aka me, is an old two-shot. Set in Season 4, Daisy Johnson is on the run as a wanted vigilante, hunting down the Watchdogs. When she's severely injured, there's only one person she can call - Grant Ward, her old partner at S.H.I.E.L.D. (Note: "Ward Is Not HYDRA" fic.)

Four Bullets and A Dirty Smile by thefrenchmistake is one of the most popular Skyeward fics of the early 2020s. Not S.H.I.E.L.D-friendly, it's a classic Grant Ward redemption story. But my personal favorite from this author is the oneshot Maybe in One of Those, We Can Win It All, involving the multiple tragic universes in which Skye and Ward meet. So much angst.

I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day by go_astray_with_me, who is the queen of fun-to-read Skyeward. I'm always excited to read her oneshots (and PWP) when they turn up on the Skye/Grant Ward tag. This one is pretty much as the title says.

The Fine Dimensional Line by Kylia has one of the most exciting plots I've read. Grant Ward and Kara Palamas, desperate to escape HYDRA! Skye, take a gamble on one of Fitz's mad ideas - and end up in an alternate world, one where the fine line between loyalty and treachery, love and hate, worked out completely differently.

Real or Not by DrawntoDarkness is a classic oneshot. After being tortured, Skye has trouble differentiating truth from her implanted memories. She spends a day with each member of the team.

The Persistence of Memory by Eienvine is a "Ward goes through T.A.H.I.T.I." fic. James Shaughnessy is a respectable but average person living a respectable but average life . . . except for the dreams. Except for the scars on his body that he can't explain. Except for Daisy, the beautiful girl who comes to his restaurant sometimes and looks at him like she knows him.

The White Silence by starshine is a beautifully written oneshot. After they crash in the Canadian mountains, Ward must get an injured Skye to Providence. The fact that he is an enemy of SHIELD is of little importance in the face of hypothermia threatening to set in.

A Spy Like Me by colormeblue. After the Battle of New York, Grant Ward decides that he no longer wants Hydra to win its war with SHIELD and becomes a triple agent. Nick Fury gives him orders to work with Coulson's team in order to get valuable intelligence on Hydra but Grant finds his triple status and working with a team quite difficult.

Shades of Grey by imadetheline is another slowburn, Grant Ward redemption fic (unfortunately, abandoned). It was one of the first SW fics I read and I still have fond memories of it!

More coming soon!

[inspirationallybored]

Hi! Finally publishing my first short story over here. It's kinda weird, but Let me know what you think!

@afantasyoffiction @inknrivers @everflowingriver @write-with-will @seastarblue @carb0n-m0n0xide @sunflowerrosy

Content warnings: Horror, supernatural elements, death, a really creepy guy (let me know if I missed any)

"Would you like to play a game?"

The girl stared at the voice. She couldn't see his face, hidden by a black top hat, like a true gentleman in the 1800s or so, and the rest of his suit was in a similar fashion. His cane had the head of some animal, but she could not make it out clearly. He stood like a magician, or rather a sorcerer. He stood out from the crowd, yet no one seemed to be bothered by him, or even notice him, for that matter.

Well, except for two people besides her.

The gentleman didn't seem to address his words to any of them in particular, yet it felt as if he had. He spoke airily, as if addressing three random women like that was completely normal and definitely not creepily out-of-the-ordinary.

"Are you mad or what? What is that even supposed to mean? Play with you, it seems. Who do you think I am?" One of them snapped. She had an air of self-imposed superiority to her, her sequined dress and neat hair contrasting the shopping bag in her hand. Something not too uncommon in wealthy landladies, those who did not have to gruel under a boss or sacrifice their sleep to bring food on the table.

Well, it wasn't like she had to, either. All she had to do, could do, really, was study, while both of her parents battled for their lives For the sake of the family, they said.

The other woman stared at her, unsure whether to ask her to be polite or not. The gentleman didn't seem to pay heed either to the lady nor to the girl's distracted mind. "Join me, and I can assure you one wish in your heart will be fulfilled. But only if you win, that is."

The landlady wasn't impressed by the offer. She scoffed as she walked away. The other woman, however, seemed to be mildly interested. It was obvious, with the bag in her hand and the bags under her eyes, what she would ask for: the rest of her life to pass in leisure, without the worry of money. The gentleman smirked, amused at the sudden change in interest in the two remaining participants.

Well, not exactly a change, in the girl's case. She was looking for something to break the monotony anyway, to stop the voices in her head, and the blood from her skin just wasn't cutting it. A wish granted just ended up being a bonus to her. The two participants nodded, simultaneously it seemed.

"Very well then. The rules are quite simple. All you have to do is head to the gate that leads outside the city, and then back. There are a few rules for both the journeys. However,be warned, if you dare to walk off from the game, or break the rules, the result will be...", he pointed at the landlady.

For a moment, everything seemed fine.

Then, a crash.

The tomatoes rolled from the shopping bag, and the neat hair formed a maze on the road. The middle-aged woman yelped. Not the girl though. A chance of death, it was. She wasn't sure if she smirked, but her mouth had twisted.

"Oh, I didn't mean that. Or did I? Just kidding. Anyways, are you still in?"

What a cruel question. And only one right answer to that.

"Oh, you're still in? Let's go then!" The gentleman sounded too cheery for the situation, but oh well, the girl thought. Let's just get it over with.

The three began the game.

It was a rather quiet walk at the beginning, with the only sound being the gentleman's whistle. Nothing like the adventure she had hoped for. It might have been an hour, or more, the girl couldn't tell, when suddenly the gentleman broke the silence.

"Oo-kay! Are you two ready for the surprise rule? Ready or not, here it is!

Do you two see that man out there? He will be your new companion now. Oh, but he doesn't know that. Do you get what I mean? Oh, you don't? Just follow him without him knowing of your existence. Gah, you lot are so boring. Anyway, off you go now."

It took the girl's entire willpower not to roll her eyes. Still, they had to continue, their lives were on the stake. So they began being on the man's heel. There was nothing that would warrant the little espionage they were committing though. The man was bald, bald as a man could be, and hid his shiny head with the most ridiculous hat she had seen. And short, shorter than even the teenage girl. He would occasionally sneeze, or complain to himself about the 'horrible state of the world'. She would much rather have had the strange gentleman's company.

The woman with her interrupted her thoughts. "I know the man doesn't seem to notice us, but two people following someone warrants a lot of eyes on us. So, can we hold a conversation, to break off the suspicion?" And the tension, the woman's eyes said.

The girl agreed. There wasn't much she could do anyway. Besides, the woman appeared to be better than both the companions she had heard so far. Rejecting her didn't seem fair. "Uh, what would you like to talk about?"

"Oh well, I...I am not so sure, really. Maybe you could start with, say, what brought you here in the first place?"

"Huh. Ok, uh...I was bored. Yeah, that's it. I was bored."

"What about your parents, then? Surly they would be worried about you. And what if something happened to you?"

"Father's off for war, and mother's battling an illness. I doubt either will survive long enough to worry about me. Not that they plan to either."

"What in the heavens does that mean?"

"Seriously? Well, if you must know. Mother told the doctors to let her pass on instead of becoming a burden. Euthanasia, she said. However, father plans to sacrifice himself, as families of martyrs get compensated much handsomely. Funny, isn't it? So much sacrifice, lifting off the burden from the other's shoulders, yet so selfish so as to end it all, never bothered for the other person's feelings, never bothered about the burden they leave on the people they claim to love. Don't they think, or don't care?"

Silence hung between the two, as the girl realised that she might have said that last part a little too loudly. Not that it mattered. The man was yet busy in his monologue, and the passing crowd seemed more annoyed at the display of emotions.

The woman finally spoke, "If you do manage to win, what will you wish for, then?"

Such a simple question. Yet it stumped her. She hadn't planned to win, only to live the thrill of beating someone. Then what?

She thought, and finally, barely whispered, "I'd wish my parents understood, that they communicate their heart and mind." Then, feeling impolite, she asked, "And what about you?"

The woman simply smiled. "You already know the answer to that, do you not? Oh dear. Well, I would like the luxury of a purpose. It is exhausting to work for the future, yet never truly have a goal."

That was not what she had expected.

Pause, for what felt like a second, and an eternity. Then she continued, " It was never always like that. I used to have someone I wanted to give the world to. He was lively, yet so inspired. He would solve the greatest puzzles with no resolve. He was alive, yet wished for the sweet release of death. Well, he got what he wanted, after all. And so cruelly, so naively, he asked me to live with purpose, for him. He was just as old as you are now, you know? My child, you would have been such great friends."

She couldn't comprehend the woman, after all. She could only nod and smile back, though her heart ached with the shared pain of loss. Had they known each other before, would it have changed anything?

They shared that moment, of understanding, of bonding, before the gentleman stole it from them again. "You two, you look weird following him for so long. Can you just walk in front of him? You have the same destination, you know?"

He had quite the nerve to call them 'weird', didn't he? But orders were orders. They discreetly crossed the bald man, though they still maintained some proximity. The girl would glance at any reflective surface she could find to make sure he was still there. Can't take any chances, she assured herself, as creepy as it may sound.

Yet, she couldn't get her mind off of the woman. She wanted to talk to her, to know her, what she felt and how she thought. It was all fascinating to her. As such, she had an idea. Anything to keep the conversation going. "Miss, what did you want to say to that other lady? Did you know her."

The woman almost froze. "Why...why do you think I knew her?"

"Well, you looked at her like wanted to say something when she snapped on the man, but couldn't speak to her, out of guilt, perhaps? Or maybe consciousness?"

The woman stared as if she was a mind reader, before barely composing herself, and replied, "We were friends in school, nothing more. Though I doubt she even remembered me. Pity, I was there when she lost her first friend. Crashed into a car, just like she did." She didn't seem too keen to elaborate further.

Well, it didn't matter, as they had almost reached the city gates. Half of their journey would be over now, and the road back home would be far easier and more familiar. A guest of cool wind blew, almost as if nature herself celebrated the victory. And in an act of mischief, it also took the bald man's hat, who promptly chased after it.

She wasn't too interested in sharing so much as a glimpse of the man. Let it fly away, it will have its new life, she mused. Luckily for him, the woman caught the hat and rushed towards the man. "Here", she offered it back to him with a smile. The man, however, simply huffed and snatched the hat. Not an ounce of pleasentaries in him, the girl thought. It won't be surprising if he tripped over his ego for being such a huge pumpkin head.

Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the gentleman, who looked disappointed, but also amused, all while shaking his head knowingly. She remembered part of one of his rules: follow him without him knowing of your existence. Surly it wasn't that serious. He barely saw them, in all of his rudeness. Besides, they had followed him for what, two hours? He knew nothing of that. Surly a simple exchange of a hat would not be breaking any rules, right? Surly it didn't warrent a punishment.

How wrong she was.

As soon as they reached the gate, chaos struck. Policemen rushed out of their hidden places, and promptly with assistance from the guards, arrested the rude man, as well as the woman.

It was all so sudden that the girl barely had time to process it, as she instead tried to defend the woman. "Why are you arresting her, sir?", she asked, calming herself as much as possible, though she couldn't stop shaking

Most of them were unbothered by the girl's cries, but one officer explained, " This man has been accused of embezzlement of government funds, and we have reasons to believe that the woman his accomplice."

She couldn't believe her ears. The sweet woman, committing such a crime. "But I know her! She can't do anything like that. Please, let her go!" She wanted to sob. Instead, she stayed rooted in her place, unable to save the woman who was so kind to her.

The officer simply announced, "If you know her, that makes you a suspect too. We have to bring you in for questioning too."

She couldn't speak a word, and would have been led to her doom, had the gentleman not stepped in. "Oh my dear daughter, where had you strayed off? Pardon me, she is so naive, she's worried about everyone. Thank you for your service. Good day!"

The man's eyes seemed to widen at the sight of the gentleman. He began screaming incoherently at him, as he was knocked down and dragged into the van.

The girl stared at the van as it drove off, the woman not meeting her gaze. The gentleman was stern. " What were you thinking? You were so practical, until you decided to lose it all for that wretched, emotional woman."

The girl suddenly realised something. "The man, he saw you. He recognised you. He had played this game too, right? And, and he must have failed. They both failed. And now you're punishing them for such a simple act."

The gentleman let off the slightest smirk. "You're smarter than you let on. Now, they will be brought to justice. Either at court where they will be sentenced to execution, or in a surprise attack where both of them tragically die. Either way, their crime was disobedience , and their punishment is death."

She couldn't bear it any longer. "How could you do this? She hadn't done anything wrong! They haven't done anything wrong! Why did you doom them? ANSWER ME!" She lurched forward, with no real plan, except to somehow beat the smirk off of his face.

She was no match for him though, who caught her immediately, and pulling her close, whispered in her ear, "Did you yourself not wish the man be punished for something as trivial as impolite behaviour? And did you not let the woman be taken to her own death? Did you try to save her? Tell me, are you any better than I am?"

The girl could not stop sobbing. He was right, he was so right. And she hated that. She wanted to say something, do something that would stop all of this. The gentleman comforted her, let her cry her heart out before she would see reason.

After she could shed tears no more, he asked her, "My dear, you are far too weak right now. Let me make this easier for you. Since you are the only one left, and you followed all of my instructions, you have two choices. Either you can stop the game and I will let you in on the complete secrets of my world, but you forgot your wish; or you can continue and fulfill that one wish of yours, but you will remain ever so ignorant l. What do you choose?"

She was left speechless. Of course, she did not want to ever be associated with the wretched gentleman, but knowing what exactly was going on felt strangely tempting. Maybe she could use it to her advantage, maybe a weakness she could exploit.

Ah, who was she kidding? She wasn't even smart enough to face her own situation, how would she even use any knowledge to her advantage? Besides, she still wanted her parents to live, to love again, even if it meant her own life be taken away.

"I'll continue.", she decided. The gentleman looked disheartened, as he always did, but agreed.

"Very well then. This challenge is simple enough. All you have to do is walk back home, without ever looking up. It is nighttime, so you may use this torch to navigate your way, but remember, do not, under any circumstances, look at anything but the ground. Wait till you hear my voice and my voice alone."

The girl all but rolled her eyes. "Anything else, sir?"

"Oh, yes. If you see the shadow of a crocodile, you should run away as fast as you can, for they are the souls of the damned. Or something like that, something about haunting. Too scary for you? Enjoy the thrill! Now off you go. Oh, the final part has already started, don't look up. You will not find anything that will save you now."

That didn't sound so bad. As long as she looked at the ground, all was well. At least, that's all she could hope.

The journey back home was much simpler. Sure a few ladies, those who called themselves the friends of her mother, asked her why she wouldn't look up. "Won't you be so polite as to stop for a chat?"

"I wish I could stop, but I've lost something too precious along the road, and I must look for it," she would excuse herself. They would engage in their own idle gossip after that. Good for her.

Just like that, she reached the safety of the walls of her house. Even the door opened too eagerly for her, as if welcoming her to finally rest. She almost jumped as she entered. Finally, she was free. Free from the torture she had to endure throughout the day. All she had to do was wait for that gentleman's words. Can't take any risks.

Then, she would make her one wish. Then, she would finally, finally save her parents. Or maybe she would wish for the safety of the kind woman, at least she wanted to live. They could live together. It wasn't like she never was cared for, but her parents were too obsessed with their ideas of sacrifice.

Maybe her parents could learn a thing or two from the kind woman. Maybe the four of them could live together. Maybe they would be a happy family, like all the ones she had seen across the street.

All that was left was the gentleman's words.

The words, telling her it was over.

Tell her she could make her wish.

Her wish would be fulfilled.

But there was no fulfillment. There was no voice.

The gentleman never came.

Her chest twisted in a knot. Why hadn't he come yet? Why hadn't he knocked at the door? Or perhaps he would have already met her at the door. But he couldn't know her address, could he? How could he not? He controlled their lives. Surly he would know something as trivial as where she lived. What was going on? Was this a test? She was tired of these tests. Why couldn't she end the game, break the stupid rules and end the game, end it all, why...

"Dear, are you home?"

Her heart stopped. Mother? At home? How was this possible? Unfortunately for her, at that exact moment, the lights went out. So what if she couldn't see? She followed the sound of her mother's calls, which came from the bedroom.

"My goodness, where were you? Have you seen the time?", she continued. "I have been waiting all day. You had me all worried, girl."

It couldn't be her. No, it wasn't her. Yet, there she was, her voice trembling, but gentle. She almost rushed to the room, unable to contain herself, her mother finally safe, her eyes almost ready to search for her-

-Do not, under any circumstances, look at anything but the ground.

But, but that was her mother, wasn't it? Damn with the rules. How does it matter now?

What about your wish? Do you not want to save them? Will you be so selfish as to abandon them, abandon her like that?

Fine, just one confirmation.

She reached the room. Her mother's voice was ever so clear, "Come here to me, my darling."

She lifted the torch at the general direction of the voice, eyes fixated on the ground. There was nothing but the yellow light.

After all, humans, like most objects, cast their shadows. However, spirits were a different story.

"Why would you do this to me, to your own mother?" The voice shifted, distorted. The ghost of her dreams.

She ran as fast as she could. Away, away from the house. Somewhere, anywhere. She reached the door. By some dance of fate, it was stuck. The door was jammed. And the voice was approaching.

She hid in the nearby closet. Heaving breaths, a racing heartbeat, the futile attempt to be quiet and still.

She had no choice. She would die, then and there. She was going to lose, she was going to fail. She would never save her parents, never save the loving woman, she couldn't help anyone. She was never meant to win. No one was meant to beat this game. There was no end to it, only unfulfilled dreams that were snatched from them. Promises that were meant to be broken.

But now, she wanted to win. Not for her dear ones, not for a wishful thinking, but something else.

She wanted to break the game. Break that cruel man's smile, by hook or by crook. She would win, and make her final wish.

No one should ever suffer by the hands of the gentleman. No one would dance to his strings of fate again.

Even if the cost was her own life.

She steadied her breaths, setting the torch down. The flames had almost died down, but it didn't matter. She had to focus on the task at hand. Something that assured her safety.

Do not, under any circumstances, look at anything but the ground.

Fine then, she decided. She would never look at anything again.

Her hands trembled as she searched for a cloth, any cloth. She caressed every corner of the closest, before finding a large handkerchief. That would suffice the purpose. All she had to do was blindfold herself using the cloth.

She grabbed the dwindling fire before stepping out of the closest. She lifted her head, and called out, "Mother?"

The was no response.

Maybe, she was finally safe.

Her body finally gave up. She could search for the gentleman in the morning. Anyway, if he was not meant to be found, then looking for him in the darkness would be a fool's gamble.

All she wished for was to somehow end the game.

She closed her eyes, and drifted off to a faraway land.

She didn't remember waking up ever again.

Somewhere, the gentleman tapped his cane, illuminated by the overhead street lights. If one were to look at his face, they would swear something was wrong. But there were no scars, no blemishes on the smooth skin.

After all, spirits are a different story.

The gentleman let out a chuckle. That girl truly was something, smarter than anyone he had ever encountered. It was only a pity that she was too naive, too emotional to truly understand his true self. If only she would join him instead of hating him so.

The gentleman walked away.

The shadow of a crocodile followed his trail.

Synopsis: A girl gets dragged into a game with her and the other woman's lives at stake in exchange for a wish. After she realises the game is unfair, she tries to break it. The idea was good, but the man was a petty person, so he ended the game.

[drippingviolets3]

Here’s a hot take for the helluva boss fandom (please don’t hurt me—)

I didn’t like episode 11: Mastermind.

Allow me to explain

I feel like the entire episode was just so….forced? For lack of a better term, I’ll say forced. When I saw clips of it I was so so SO excited to see all the sins, the Goetia, Vassago, and the music (mostly Vassago though). But then the episode dropped and it just…didn’t live up to the hype I guess.

Andrealphus’ plan was stupid from the beginning. He tried to frame Blitzø as a 🍇-ist and attempted murderer against Stolas, a Goetia.

Imps in hell are known for being weak, small, MAGICLESS. In the second episode of season one we can see that Stolas is easily capable of defeating imps on his own because they can do little against his magic. Andrealphus was pushing this narrative that Blitzø acted as an aggressor, overpowered Stolas, and then tried to get rid of him.

The first red flag, which Vassago pointed out himself, was that they didn’t invite Stolas to the trial. The excuse was flimsy as best, claiming they “didn’t want to hurt Stolas” by forcing him to see his abuser, but that is literally the first rule of court. The victim, assuming they’re alive, needs to be there to testify and tell their side of the story. Satan didn’t see anything wrong with this somehow, allowing himself to be fooled even though he claims to be the “mastermind” and how he is the law and blah blah blah. The irony isn’t lost on me, but it’s just so stupid to watch.

Second of all, shouldn’t Stolas’ appearance to intervene say something? Maybe make a few heads turn? Have Satan ask “Is there more to this than they’re letting on?” Stolas didn’t need to claim to be the mastermind, he just had to give his statement and say that HE was the one who brought Blitzø to bed, and they both consented. Their affair isn’t a well kept secret, Stella bitches about it whenever she can in front of witnesses, Stolas openly flirts with Blitzø, the entirety of episode 7 was of word getting out that Stolas was sleeping with an imp even though he was married with a kid! Yeah there would be degradation, looks of disgust, visible judgement, but that would be an easy way for Stolas to clear up Blitzø’s name without slandering his own!

And finally, this isn’t necessarily a complaint but a personal opinion….The song was a flop for me.

The song is another issue though. Stolas didn’t need to claim to be the mastermind, and when he did claim to be it, he didn’t explain WHY he “did” what he did. He didn’t give any motive, or excuse, he just said “Oh yeah I made that imp do all that shit hahaha y’all really thought you were onto something” and then followed up with nothing except the one scene that made me want to actually like the song. The scene where Stolas is having an internal battle because he DOES regret stepping in to save Blitzø because Blitzø hurt him, but at the same time he CAN NOT STOP LOVING HIM ANYWAY. Blitzø realizing that he also loved Stolas but saying he realized it too late, and the both of them realizing they don’t want to be without the other, it made my heart CRY.

Aaaaaand then Satan butted in and claimed he was a mastermind too and that their plans looked “oh so small” compared to his. Again, the irony isn’t lost on me, it’s funny as fuck, but the problem is that Satan was supposed to be a big reveal. He was a major figure of power who was meant to be treated seriously, like an actual threat, like, I don’t know, A MASTERMIND?? But he just came off so arrogant and stupid that it physically hurt to watch instead because of the pure cringe.

This episode was supposed to show the power imbalance between imps and demon royalty, I know. But the final product doesn’t necessarily show me a society that’s biased towards the more powerful, but a society that has a leader who is a liar and a complete and utter fucking moron. Satan is so painfully stupid for falling for such an obvious ploy that he deserves his own dunce cap and and a chair in the corner of the courtroom.

Of course there are aspects that I DO like. Andrealphus’ subtle manipulation towards Stella for one, saying that she’s “lucky she’s hot” not to flirt with her, but to remind her that’s all she is (though it is funny to watch her eat it up like he’s actually complimenting her). Vassago stole the episode in my opinion, and I was excited to see that Blitzø made an impact on imp society by standing up for himself in court against demon royalty AND Satan himself. Not to mention we FINALLY got to see Luna be vulnerable with Blitzø and tell him that she loved him!

In those aspects, the episode was great, and it did a good job showing how oppressed imps are in comparison to other inhabitants of hell. But for the most part? I just couldn’t bring myself to enjoy the episode. It felt like there were too many glaring plot holes in the way.

If you feel like I missed a point or if you have anything to add, please let me know in a civilized way. I’d rather not let my blog or this post become breeding grounds for more toxicity within the fandom 😅

[jesteriajunovix]

Battleborn Ramble Before Bed. (No I will not be taking responsibility or criticism for anything I say in this post its 12 AM).

Sometimes I just put on battleborn voice lines in the background while I do stuff. It makes me think about what could've been...... Oh Orendi. Your annoyingly high-pitched voice and deeply 2016 voice lines will forever be left to the past.

Honestly lets talk about it. What if I lived in a world where they fleshed out Orendi and she had more traction in what would be a heightened battleborn fandom. Like she was kind of swaggin. I mean I'm already coping as hard as ever so I'll just say I REALLY REALLY wish I could grow more investment in this character through story and fanart. Like ya there are many other characters that fit her archetype better in present day while delivering more as a character already, but I feel like the character of Orendi is a dead chicken kind of just constantly rotting out of the corner of my eye. Like her design is cool. Her voice lines a lil cringe, but could be tempered with time and more story. She already had some stuff goin on with the other characters that seemed pretty cool.

Like it annoys me how overwatch killed this game considering how uninteresting recent overwatch characters have looked comparably. Its like comparing a Cybertruck to a Beetle Car almost.

Gearbox (Or Arc Games or whatever) and Blizzard both pretty shitty as companies so I won't argue anything on that between the two really.

Just specifically with the characters I feel like the fucky experimentation of battleborn was way more out there and less afraid to pull weird, but interesting punches that have been lost in overwatch due to like a shitty higher-up in staff cannibalizing another coworker or something and needing to cover it up by dangling keys via the Diversity Point giving Robots (Bosses/Managers) ability to hover over artist and tell them to make the most milk toast designs ever seen in FPS history, but with representation built in.

Not that anything is wrong with representation. Its just that an actual artist's and the abacus-fiddling dinosaur moneymen that are thinking of how to lay off and ruin more peoples lives at the company have different Ideas of representation and how it should be approached. One has soul and the other doesn't put simply.

"Oops! my anarchy Symbol"

Another thing that is more personal than it is critical is the fact that like..

Overwatch Character: "I am bathed in the sun of Ra!!! Death be up-"

I don't care being real. Like I get it. You're a cool mighty person on the side of good or "the syndicate" or you're homeless or your mentally disturbed or other by some dumb sci-fi research experiment shit. None of their lines I think i really fuck with, because the most fun they really have with it is maybe just a little cheekyness or other. It feels soft serve and generic marvel shit.

Battle Born Character: "Ew you're fucking poor. Kill yourself you FREAK!!! Your brokenness might rub off on me."

Lowkey I might be on some "Thing, Thing Japan" type timing, but with overwatch and battleborn. I just honestly feel like theres more heart when Marquis kills you and tells you to get your fuckin money up you POOR lowly InsIgnIfIcant weirdO AliEn FREAKAZOID.

Also Battleborns gameplay was more fun. It just had a confusing upgrade system that was actually pretty cool.

To end this ramble lets look at some more characters I wish had the time to get fleshed out and gain fandom momentum.

I love this corny nigga bro. Reminds me of like that one corny black coach/gym teacher you had in high school, but is still like a cool dude.

Marquis. Nough Said. He's a Poor Hating Robot made of gold with a silly lil sniper & he talks shit to you in a hammed-up German accent.....Literally perfect. Grow up.

Literally the most fun gameplay and across the board just cool as shit. If I had one criticism I wish he flew a little looser in game.

Proper British Representation. Tracer could never. I've seen at least 100 British people who look and sound exactly like this.

A lil more generic voiceline wise, but I like her energy and twang. More butch than any overwatch character I've seen. Lost Soldier.

Last, but not least I just want you to know the 7 other people wallowing in the ashes of the battleborn "Fandom" do not condone the words and actions of Ultra kid. Sick Fuck. I'm sorry and all the families affected you have our deepest condolences. We'll get through this.

[corvuscorona]

I want to talk about ff5 some more before we get too far into 6 & I become too full of Things To Say about it instead. spoilerz. I need to type sentences about narrative right NOW!!!

my wife mentioned 'less is more'-type writing in that post from the other day. you know what makes a really perfect awesome Genuinely Impressive example as to the way 5 does that? it's a perfect story, so the main villain would be a good place to look, I bet.

first: here is what I remember being told, textually, about exdeath, in the video game.

powerful evil warlock

exists because a tree had too many evil things sealed inside of it

can be put in a box on the high shelf temporarily, but he Will inevitably get out

wants the power of the void, to do various generalized things with

is overtaken by the void in the final battle

once overtaken by the void, the thing that he wants is to stop everything from existing, but mostly himself.

those are all of the items on the list. not a complicated guy. these 6 entire Things About Him, however, were selected by a genius, w/ a precision sniper rifle, very steady hands, & perfect technique. look:

the character I am about to reveal to you, represents Bad. and he has powers.

"where did he come from what's his problem" well, mankind did 'ritual of ignore my problems so I can pretend they went away' one too many times & entropy started taking it personally

(now that it has grown legs, btw, this walking problem has the means To Make Literal the idea that those types of things will come back to bite you in the end.)

having learned to demand that The Collective You contend with him, his goal is to Have More Power Over You. Being a nigh-unkillable Dark Warlock is NOT enough.

"so uh once he has that, what will he do next? like what does he want to use that power to actually do" ..............hey yeah that's a good qu

(at the end of the game, exdeath goes "haha I got the power!" & then, while the final boss fight is in the middle of happening, is like "oh actually the power got me! fuuuuck!" + the only context which follows this is a couple textboxes that say "hi I am The New Exdeath and I don't think any of this shit should exist actually." that is literally it.)

this is done sooooo elegantly. it makes so MANY other, similar stories look like Baby School by comparison. they don't glue human-readable motivations onto him. Furthermore I was not told that "see, dorgann knew that it was wrong to ignore such a big problem, but he was unwilling to face the many smaller problems that he would kick up on the path towards truly metabolizing and solving it, and now that he is dead the problem is back, as he surely knew deep in his heart that it would be, and so it is up to you to break that cycle." they do not. use. the word. "resentment."

game just. goes LOOK at our evil guy. here is what made him. here is what the previous generation did about him. here's that not working. ok? great. thank you. kill him now?

they let his motivations be total bobo nonsense.

BECAUSE!!!!!! THEY LITERALLY DO NOT MATTER. this ain't ABOUT him!! man!!! he's a metaphor that happens to know how to go "mwa-hahaha." the things that the story is saying are all routed through him, but the story is About everyone else. Exdeath is a decisively-designed embodiment of something the narrative proposes as a natural law: disengaging from difficult problems invites & perpetuates disengagement from the rest of life also. there is no separating these things—this is never once written out in a Text Box, but the game still states w/ a delightful definitiveness that doing The Work Of Maintenance on this world is perfectly equivalent to living in it.

[persona-brainrot-real]

a very long about haru because i love her and im upset about how the game let her story get overshadowed at every turn

its nearly 3am rn but i'm thinking about how genuinely insane it is for persona 5 to introduce Haru as a character who is struggling to find any of her autonomy and treat her the way that they do. her father is marrying her off to a man who makes it explicitly clear he wants to use her for sex and even Okumura, in his palace, is shown to understand this.

[ID: three screenshots of Persona five royal. In the first, Haru in her Phantom Thief outfit says "Father! You want me to be that mans plaything to satisfy your own ambitions?" the second is of Shadow Okumura, looking angry, saying "This is the only value you've had from the very beginning. The third image is before the boss fight against the cognition of Haru's fiance. He is saying "let's have fun! I'll play with you until I get bored!"]

even outside of the palace, in their daily life he makes it extremely clear that he has no intent on trusting Haru with company business (likely because he expects the company to be handed off to her husband after he dies) and he doesn't acknowledge her feelings or anything she says to defend her own autonomy (i know this is me reciting everything in the game i do have a point)

[ID: three screenshots of Persona five royal. In the first, Haru is upset as she says "So I'm not even allowed to decide where I will live, am I?". In the second, Okumura is saying "not only do you come home late, you've even stayed out overnight without permission..." looking disapproving. In the third image, Okumura is saying "I have my hands full right now with the company. Don't cause any more trouble for me." He is holding his phone.]

even when she first joins your team, she tries to insist on being useful and fighting, considering this is her request and her fathers palace, and morgana tells her she cant. i know its 'for her own sake' that she cant fight, but considering that Morgana was there when she first awakened and planned on using her to get through a palace alone, its really frustrating to then see him say shes not strong enough to fight in a team.

[ID: two screenshots of persona five royal. Both are taken in Okumura's palace. In the first, Haru is saying "I can fight too! Please, let me join you in battle!". In the second, Morgana is saying "Your persona is too weak to fight safely at the moment. Just leave that side of things to us for now."]

and this comes in AFTER morgana, while using her, gets her to insult his friends on his behalf because hes annoyed with them, even though she's visibly uncomfortable doing so, contradicts what morgana wants her to say, and is shown later to have no real malicious feelings for them - and all of the bitter feelings she DID have were because morgana told her that the PT's were mean and didn't treat him right or didn't need him, which wasn't true to begin with, and is why she has to ask him for direction on what to say,

[ID: Haru looks upset. She stands opposite the Phantom Thieves and looks at Morgana. She is asking him "What was it again?"]

and you bring all of this into a brilliant character of a girl who is so self-assured, so firm on what she wants and her own autonomy - i want to be a Phantom Thief, i want to be a hero, i want to have my autonomy but more importantly i want to earn it, i want to change my fathers heart myself so that he becomes a better person and a better business owner, i want to prove to him that i can be trusted with the company and that i have more worth than being married off - but never really gets to express that? Even when it comes to the fight with Okumura and her chance to have her moment - the moment where Yusuke tells Madarame he's a coward who lost sight of his passion, where Ann gets to tell Kamoshida that he's only alive because she wants him to live through all he's done (both in the palace and the real world), where Futaba gets to talk to her mom directly in a scene that always makes me tear up - Haru's moment to stand up to her father is overshadowed by her father speaking to Morgana instead!!!!!

i know that this could also be a huge meta moment - he sees his daughter standing up to him, defending herself, and dismisses her entirely to try and appeal to the next rational subject, a man, but . the man is a cat. it doesnt work as well if he turns to a cat to be like "well certainly you'll be more reasonable" and turns the focus to Morgana - who has already taken up a lot of time that Haru deserved to have recognised!!!!

i have issues with morgana, yes, and I believe a lot of that arc could have been really useful character building for him if it had been handled slightly better, given more weight and better pacing, but it really wouldn't have been such a big problem for me if it hadn't been pushed so heavily during Haru's character moments, because she is SUCH a good character!!!!

in her first appearance she makes for a really good subversion of what the PT's think that they are. her insistence on working for justice helps them work through their temporary doubt for what their purpose is and by having such a difficult situation happening in her life, she unites them all on something that they have to do. At least until they go to Okumura's palace for the first proper investigation, the intent to rescue Haru from her fiance is more important than the Phan-site and more important than any of Okumura's business practices.

she prioritises everyone elses happiness over her own to the point where she watches her father die on live television and tells the PT's to continue having fun at destinyland without her without considering that they'd want to be there for her. She has always suspected that people only wanted to be her friend for her money - and this seems to have affected her so much that despite being 'secretive about her history' at Shujin, she still doesn't mention at any point whether or not she has friends and is only seen speaking with teachers.

after her fathers death she has no real reason to trust any of the PT's - they were navigating with an unknown method, with no proof to show that what they were doing wouldn't cause a mental shutdown, they barely know each other, and yet she trusts them in spite of this and places her faith in the PT's regardless. even when faced with the person who DID kill her father, she understands that his death was a larger piece in a bigger plan and that it wasn't akechi's fault, it was the fault of Shido for ordering him dead, and in Shido's palace she's able to get the catharsis of killing the cognition of the person who aired her fathers death publicly on TV.

And what I think is a more frustrating part than any of that - where all of the Phantom Thieves, after their palace, get following story beats that increase their importance to make sure that you, as the player, can get attached to them, but the more PT's that join the team, the harder it is to juggle all of those characters and a lot of them have very vocal and prominent personalities that keep them involved. Yusuke's general quirks and behaviour keep him interesting, Makoto has an entire arc that's established ages before she's involved in Kaneshiro's palace, Futaba becoming navigator keeps her relevant, but where Haru's arc is taken over by Morgana in the palace where she's introduced, all subsequent story beats are entirely overtaken by Akechi.

Don't get me wrong, I love Akechi and he is in my brain 24/7, but it is extremely unfortunate that her fathers death immediately kickstarts the section of plot where the PT's realise that they're being tricked, meaning the plot suddenly ramps up, and during the school fair (something Haru is explicitly very excited about), Akechi's growing popularity and prominence in the story takes centre stage, especially as a day later he blackmails the PTs and joins their party.

Again, not complaining about Akechi, its just unfortunate that Haru's main story is clouded over by Morgana having a character arc and then the fan favourite comes in and immediately becomes the most prominent character for almost the entire rest of the game. It's sad because I love Haru but it wasn't until I romanced her that I realised how much I love her and how much there is too her - which ESPECIALLY sucks because it makes the section where you're reassuring her in the velvet room fall so flat compared to how you reassure everyone else.

ALL to say that i think it's wild to have a character whose entire arc routinely revolves around proving herself and reclaiming her autonomy from the men in her life, like her father and her fiance, and having her character arc so heavily influenced and even overshadowed by morgana, a male character. thank you guys for listening and if you disagree with me consider writing what your opinions are on your own post and not on mine :3

Anyway. huge rant post over. Haru is my wife and my girlfriend and my silly rabbit and i think she should be hyped up way more. ESPECIALLY for her showtime attack with makoto because that's fucking adorable. everyone must post one thousand haru okumura positivity posts right now

[ID: a gif of Haru Okumura, in her Phantom Thief outfit, holding her hat with one hand and pointing with the other. She says "I am no longer your subservient puppet!" while looking determined.]

[thebunnednun]

Whispers of the Heart Dracule Mihawk x Fm! Reader (Part 4)

I do not own the artwork its by: @xuchuan25 Tell them they're amazing y'all!

Chapter 4 in the building y'all!!!! I just needed to see my Buggy.

Part 1 can be found: Here

Part 2 is right: Here

Part 3: Right over yonder

Don't be afraid to send me any requests my loves and if you are waiting for the next installment I have another Mihawk story:

*Shadows of the Blade (Dracule Mihawk x Assassin reader)

If you like sexy swordplay and themes of overcoming trauma then this is the story for you!. If you wanna skip to the good stuff try chapter 3.

Backstory:

You've been Dracule Mihawk's personal maid and housekeeper for what feels like an eternity. Let's cut to the chase – you're a badass, sweetheart. Sexy, cool, and confident, with a reputation that precedes you. Been friends with the stoic man for eons by now.

Everyone knows you or knows of you, and it's not just because you keep Mihawk's castle running like a well-oiled machine.

So what happens when you develop feelings for your old friend and boss?

What does he do when he comes home to find you in his room without your panties?

Also, muneca-chan= baby doll

ON WITH THE SHOW!!~

________________Chapter 4: A Clown's Counsel___________________

"Everything is going to be fine," you murmur softly, your voice echoing faintly into the open air. 

Your heart pounds with a mixture of excitement and nervousness as you stand alone in the vast, empty waters of the ocean. With a determined expression, you whisper reassuring words to yourself, trying to quell the rising tide of anxiety.

"You've locked down the castle securely. You just need to make this quick trip and return before Mihawk, Perona, and Zoro even realize you're gone." Taking a deep breath, you glance around the dimly lit deck one last time before turning your attention to your bag.

With meticulous care, you rummage through its contents, double-checking that you have everything you need for your journey. Each item holds a significance, a memory of past adventures and encounters that fuels your determination.

'I am a pirate queen of all the oceans. I was raised on an island in the Grand line and chose to live a life of peace. I can fucking sail a boat!'

After hanging up with Shanks last night, you decided to get up and moving if you were going to make your trip in time. Mihawk rarely ever sent word of his return home, unless he wanted a specific dinner and wine waiting for him.

You knew you'd have anywhere from a few days to two months before you saw him again. With a long sigh, you held your face in your hands for a moment of calm. 

The weather had turned for the worst overnight leaving you to sail the nearby waters in the middle of a rain storm. But, you honestly didn't mind one bit. It reminded you of your home island and like the homesick tall-child you were, you stood there on your little boat without a jacket or umbrella.

Call you crazy, but you wished for it to rain harder so all the confusing emotions inside you could be washed away somehow. Looking behind you, your eyes caught the slight glimmer of two familiar objects looking out of the bag behind you.

"Mhm," walking over, you reached inside, allowing your fingers to grasp the handle of two familiar old friends. The golden ridges caught the light from your dimming lantern.

Two identical machetes gleamed back at you, a parting gift from your mother. Your native tongue etched into the blade, they possessed a soft hum, almost whispering out to you. The temptation to harness your belt on and feel them resting on your hips again was almost irresistible. But instead, you drew your bag closed over them and set it down once more.

Constantly fighting for your life and the life of your crew mates was not something you missed about the old life. Yes, battles of honor were fun and sometimes even lead to creating new friends, however, there were too many attempts of pure murder. 

As a caption, you very much followed Gold Rodgers example of what a pirate should be. However, you also believed in not looking for fights. Now, you weren't out of practice by any means, Mihawk would never allow that.

But you could feel yourself adjust instantly to this old way of living and it kinda bothered you. However, resisting the temptation let you know that you were still you. 

You really have come so far in life. <3

Satisfied that you are well-prepared, you make your way to the shores of a nearby island, your footsteps echoing softly in the silence of the night. As you reach the edge of the water, you pause, your gaze scanning the horizon with a sense of anticipation.

Knowing that discretion is key, you reach into your bag once more, retrieving a carefully crafted cloak. The rumors of your death would fool the general public, but not other pirates or worse- fame hungry pirate captions.

You disappeared under the deck for a moment to find an old mirror. Then with practiced precision, you transform your appearance, concealing your identity behind a clever facade. As you adjust the final details of your disguise, you feel a surge of confidence wash over you. A small smile reaches your lips before a giggle slips out.

'Shanks would love this.'

With your transformation complete, you set off along the shoreline, your eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of activity. This island was Buggy's last known location, and you are determined to find him. Every step brings you closer to your goal, your senses heightened with anticipation.

'Now or never.'

As you navigate the sandy shores, the salty breeze caresses your cheeks, invigorating your spirit with a sense of adventure. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a soft glow upon the landscape, guiding your way through the darkness.

With each passing moment, your anticipation grows, fueled by the promise of reunion and the thrill of the unknown. Your senses are sharp, attuned to the subtlest of sounds and movements, as you scan the surroundings for any sign of life.

And then, in the distance, you catch a glimpse of movement—a flicker of movement amidst the shadows.

A big top. 

Without a second thought, you take off running in that direction. Unworried about the rain, you can barely hear the sound of your feet hitting the muddy ground over your pounding heart. Your breath quickens with excitement as you draw closer, your footsteps quickening with each stride.

"No you fucking shit head, it's WRONG!"

"Found you!"

Finally reaching the tent, you poked inside to see where that lovable asshole was. Ducking under the bleachers, you watched as a tall familiar figure threw a barrage of insults at some huddled performers. Several freaks were passing and going throughout the chaos to practice their acts and hone their talents. 

Amidst a flurry of activity, stood Buggy, his presence commanding attention amidst the chaos. You pause for a moment, watching him rehearse with his performers, a fond smile playing at the corners of your lips.

"If you can't get the lion to dance by this Friday, I am going to eat him. I don't give a FUCK how chewy he is!"

There stood a timid man with an animal that cowered before the infamous caption of the East Blue.

Ever the drama queen, Buggy's appearance was as flamboyant and eccentric as ever. He stood tall and proud, his colorful attire adorned with sequins and feathers that shimmered in the light. His hair, a riotous explosion of bright blue curls, framed his face in wild abandon, adding to his larger-than-life persona. His eyes, usually twinkling with mischief and charm, were now almost bloodshot and darted around the room, taking in every detail with a keen sense of curiosity. 

You can't help but chuckle at Buggy's theatrics, a familiar warmth spreading through your chest at the sight of him. Despite his bombastic demeanor, you know there's a soft side to him that few ever see.

As the chaos around him continues, you take a moment to compose yourself before stepping out from your hiding spot. With a mischievous grin, you call out to him in a teasing tone:

"Now that's not nice and you know it." 

Buggy's head snaps up at the sound of your voice, "We're closed right now!"

"Oh, this dumbass." You roll your eyes under the hood before pulling it from your head. His eyes widening in surprise before a wide grin splits his face. Without a moment's hesitation, he strides forward, his arms open wide in welcome.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my favorite troublemaker," he replies, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. With a dramatic flourish, he strides over to you, sweeping you into a tight hug that almost knocks the breath out of you.

Finding yourself unable to keep your composer, you giggle into the chest of the shockingly 6'5 man and snuggle into his chest to quil the ache in your heart, returning his embrace with just as much intensity.

"How've you been, sis?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern as he pulls back to look at you, his hands resting on the apples of your cheeks.

You relish in the familiar comfort of his presence. "Oh, you know, same old same old," you reply, trying to play it cool despite the category 8 hurricane of emotions swirling within you. "Just thought I'd drop by and say hello."

Buggy quirks an eyebrow at your casual tone, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh really? Or is there something else on your mind?" he teases, giving your left cheek a playful pinch with his fingers.

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a laugh at his antics. "Maybe a little bit of both," you admit, your voice softening as you meet his gaze.

"I've missed you, Buggy. It's been too long."

Buggy's expression softens, his eyes reflecting the sincerity of your words. "I've missed you too, [Name]," he replies, his voice gentle as he squeezes your shoulders affectionately. "But something tells me there's more to this visit than just catching up."

You let out a sigh, knowing you can't hide anything from Buggy. "You know me too well," you admit, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

As Buggy's eyebrows furrow in concern, his gaze searching yours for any hint of distress, you take a deep breath, gathering the courage to confide in him. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You glance briefly at his performers, then lock eyes with Buggy again, a sense of urgency gripping your heart. "Got a place where we can chat in private?" you inquire, your voice barely above a whisper.

Buggy's expression flickers to something fierce, a glint of determination in his sea-green eyes as he analyzes you. Without a word, he stands tall, his shoulders squared, commanding the attention of his crew.

"Everyone is to keep performing," he announces firmly, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. "And when I come back, that lion better know how to tap dance or I'm making good on my promise!" His crew responds with a chorus of "Eye Sir's!" before Buggy ushers you away, leading you to a different part of the tent.

With swift efficiency, he pushes you inside a dressing room adorned with a star, the blue clown's symbol adorning the door. As you step inside, the door closes behind you with a soft click, enveloping you in a cocoon of privacy.

Taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you brace yourself for the conversation ahead, knowing that Buggy's keen intuition will leave no stone unturned. As you await his prompting, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for his unwavering support, even in the face of your deepest secrets.

The dressing room is a small, cozy space adorned with whimsical decorations that reflect the flamboyant nature of its occupants. The walls are painted a soothing shade of sky blue, with colorful streamers cascading from the ceiling, adding a playful touch to the atmosphere.

In one corner of the room, a vanity table sits adorned with an assortment of makeup and accessories, its surface gleaming under the soft glow of a dim lamp. A large mirror framed in ornate gold stands at the center, reflecting the room's eclectic charm.

Against the opposite wall, a row of hooks holds an array of costumes, each garment more vibrant and extravagant than the last. Sequins sparkle in the light, and feathers flutter gently as if caught in an unseen breeze.

In the center of the room, a plush red armchair beckons invitingly, its cushions adorned with polka dots in varying shades of blue. A small side table sits nearby, stacked with magazines and trinkets, offering a glimpse into the eclectic tastes of its occupants. The air is tinged with the faint scent of powder and perfume, a lingering reminder of the performers who call this space their own.

Despite its small size, the dressing room exudes an undeniable sense of warmth and camaraderie, a sanctuary where secrets are shared and dreams take flight.

Walking over to the vanity, you plucked a familiar red lipstick off the dresser before turning it in your fingers. "Ya know, I used to hate when you'd steal my lipstick," Buggy joked softly, crossing his arms over the swell of his chest. 

Upon hearing his words, your fingers instinctively squeeze the familiar red lipstick perched on the edge of the dresser. You hold it tighter, feeling its smooth texture against your skin, a sense of nostalgia washing over you. Looking up in the vanity mirror, you make eye contact with Buggy. His eyes sparkle with fond memories, a playful glint dancing in their depths.

You chuckle softly at his remark, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you remember the countless times you had playfully raided his makeup collection. "Well, you always did have the best shade of red," you tease back, your voice laced with affection.

Setting the lipstick back down on the vanity, you turn to face Buggy, the warmth of his presence filling the room. Despite the gravity of the conversation looming between you, his easy demeanor brings a sense of comfort, grounding you in the present moment. 

(You know shits bad when you gotta go to the crazy killer pirate clown for advice and comfort. Love and life advice at that!)

As you lean against the vanity, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm hue across your features, you find yourself lost in a moment of quiet contemplation. Memories of past adventures with Buggy flood your mind, each one a vibrant snapshot of the bond you share.

"You know," Buggy begins, his tone softening as he meets your gaze, "I've missed having you around. Things just haven't been the same without your antics to liven up the place."

His words stir something deep within you, a mixture of gratitude and longing intertwining in your heart. Despite the passage of time and the distance between you, the connection you share with Buggy remains steadfast, a beacon of light in the darkness.

"I've missed you too," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

"It's been lonely without you."

A flicker of sadness crosses Buggy's features, his gaze softening with empathy. "I know, sweetheart," he says gently, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "But you're here now, and that's all that matters." You gently grasp the back of his hand that cradles your face. Almost afraid that you'll wake up in that cold and empty castle again. The warmth of Buggy's palm anchors you to the human world.

In that moment, as you stand together in the quiet intimacy of the dressing room, you are reminded of the strength of your bond with Buggy. Through thick and thin, laughter and tears, you know that he will always be there for you, ready to offer his support and unwavering friendship.

No matter the situation, you'd always been there to defend Buggy and build each other's esteem up. Even Mihawk knew not to slip up when talking about the Flashy Jester if he didn't want to be shanked again. 

Speaking of Mihawk-

"So, you gonna tell me why you showed up all of a sudden instead of sending a letter or are we gonna stand here quietly together?" His voice snapping you out of your thoughts with the buzz of its low tone.

"Don't get me wrong muneca-chan, I love seeing you." He softly muses, stepping closer towards you until he pulled the stool from under the vanity out and sits you on it before dropping into his own red chair. 

"But something tells me there's more to this visit than just catching up."

You let out a sigh, knowing you can't hide anything from Buggy. "You know me too well," you admit, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "There's something really important I need to talk to you about. Shanks already knows before he called me last night, stop making that face, and you can't tell anyone else under any circumstances!"

Buggy's eyebrows furrow in concern, his gaze searching yours for any hint of distress. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Taking a deep breath, you gather your thoughts before speaking. "It's about love," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I think I have feelings for someone, Buggy."

"I think I'm in love."

Buggy's eyes widen in surprise, his expression shifting from concern to understanding.

"Ah, love," he murmurs, his voice soft with sympathy. "Love can be a tricky thing, especially when it comes to matters of the heart."

You nod, grateful for his understanding. "I just don't know what to do," you admit, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "I'm torn between staying here and following my heart."

Buggy places a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you in the midst of your turmoil. "Listen to me, [Name]," he says, his voice gentle yet firm. "You can't let fear hold you back from pursuing what makes you happy. If you have feelings for someone, then you owe it to yourself to explore them, regardless of the outcome."

You take in his words, feeling a sense of clarity wash over you. "Thank you, Buggy," you say softly, your voice filled with gratitude. "I needed to hear that."

Buggy gives you a reassuring smile, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "Anytime, sis," he replies, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"Now, let's hear who the lucky one is!" 

Your smile stiffens before you whisper out quietly. Buggy frowns and leans closer from his chair.

"What's that, starshine?" 

As you gather your thoughts, the weight of your confession is lingering heavy in the air. Buggy's concern deepens, his brow furrowing as he leans in closer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

With a sigh, you summon the courage to speak, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's... it's Mihawk," you confess, your words hanging in the air like a delicate thread.

Buggy's eyes widen in surprise, his expression a mixture of shock and understanding. "Mihawk?" he repeats, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"As in, Dracule Mihawk?"

You nod slowly, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as the truth finally comes to light. "Yes, Mihawk," you confirm, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging within you. "I... I think I'm in love with him."

Buggy's initial reaction catches you off guard. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and for a moment, a look of concern flashes across his face. "Wait, hold on a second," he says, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Are you serious?"

You nod, feeling a pang of uncertainty creeping in. "Yes, Buggy," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know it sounds crazy, but... I think I might be in love with him."

Buggy's expression darkens, his features contorting into a mixture of shock and concern. "Are you feeling okay?" he asks, his voice laced with worry. "I mean, have you been feeling sick or something?"

You shake your head, a sense of frustration bubbling up within you. "No, Buggy, I'm not sick," you retort, a hint of irritation seeping into your tone. "I'm serious about this."

Buggy lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his wild blue hair. "Look, muneca-chan," he begins, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "This isn't something to take lightly. Mihawk is... well, he's not exactly the most approachable guy, you know? And besides, he's your boss, for crying out loud!"

You feel a surge of defiance rising within you. "I know all of that, Buggy," you say firmly, your voice unwavering. "But I can't help how I feel."

Buggy's frustration mounts, and suddenly he's popping his hands off in a fit of anger.

"Has he been trying to feel up on you? OW- OKAY! PUT THE PALLET DOWN THAT ONE WAS EXPENSIVE!" 

While you were holding his makeup hostage, the clown was now rubbing where his hair brush had struck his pectoral. Slowly, you sat back down in the chair as he regarded you like a wild hellcat. A pit of dread now knotted your stomach. 

"I'm not joking Buggy, I need thoughts!" 

"And prayers, you're gonna need them with that eagle- NOT THE FUCKING FACE!" You lobbed a jar of hair cream at him before breaking down in the vanity stool. "Don't be an ass okay! I didn't say anything about you and Shanks!" You gasped, hoping that your voice wouldn't crack any further. 

The weight of your words hangs heavily in the air, and you realize just how much you've been holding back. "I... I'm sorry," you stammer, guilt washing over you as hot, fat tears slip from the corners of your eyes.

Before you can even register it, Buggy has crossed the room in a few quick strides and scooped you up into his strong arms, returning to his chair and settling you onto his lap like a small child.

With your face pressed into his striped shirt, you let the dam burst, unleashing all the pent-up tears you've been holding back. Buggy's hand runs soothingly over your back, cradling your head to his chest as he murmurs comforting words.

Reaching into his sleeve, he pulls out a ridiculously long handkerchief, prompting some weak laughter from you despite your tears.

"You've been doing that corny ass joke since we were kids," you sniffle, gingerly wiping your nose before he tosses the hanky into the wastebasket.

"Yeah, well, it still gets a laugh outta ya, so I'ma keep on with it," Buggy replies with a soft smile. He gazes down at you with those piercing eyes of his, scanning your face with a mixture of concern and affection.

Buggy lets out another exasperated sigh, his frustration evident but tempered by genuine worry. "Look, muneca-chan, I get it," he says, his voice gentler now. "Love can make you do crazy things, feel crazy things. But you need to be careful. Mihawk... he's a complicated guy. He's got a lot of walls up, and he's not exactly known for being... well, open-hearted. I know you guys are friends and I was shocked he let you stay with him. But love is a whole different ball game."

You nod, feeling a bit more grounded by his words and presence. "I know he's complicated, Buggy," you say, your voice steadier now. "But I can't help how I feel. I just needed to tell someone, to get it off my chest."

Buggy holds you a little tighter, his grip reassuring. "Well, you've told me now, and we'll figure this out together," he promises. "Just don't go making any rash decisions, okay? Take your time, think things through. And remember, no matter what happens, you've got me in your corner."

His words, laced with both caution and encouragement, bring a small but genuine smile to your face. "Thank you, Buggy," you whisper, leaning into his embrace. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Anytime, starshine," he replies softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "We'll get through this, one step at a time." He wipes the tears from your face with his warm thumbs, "But promise me you'll be careful, okay? I don't want to see you get hurt."

You can see the genuine concern in Buggy's eyes, and it touches your heart. Despite his gruff exterior, you know that he cares deeply for you, and his protective instincts are kicking in full force.

You nod, grateful for his understanding. "I just don't know what to do," you admit, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "I'm torn between staying here and following my heart."

Buggy places a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you in the midst of your turmoil. "Listen to me, sis," he says, his voice gentle yet firm. "You can't let fear hold you back from pursuing what makes you happy. If you have feelings for Mihawk, then you owe it to yourself to explore them, regardless of the outcome." Your eyes glance over his right pec, knowing who's picture was hidden inside that pocket. 

"But here's the thing about love, [Name]. It's not always easy to understand, and it's certainly not always convenient. But when you find someone who makes your heart skip a beat, someone who makes you feel alive in a way you've never felt before, well, you'd be a fool not to hold onto that with both hands."

Buggy's gaze softens, his features morphing into a look of genuine empathy. "Love is a complicated thing," he murmurs, his voice filled with compassion. "But if Mihawk is the one who holds your heart, then you owe it to yourself to pursue those feelings."

He gives you a reassuring smile, his eyes reflecting the depth of his friendship and loyalty. "You'll figure it out, sis," he says, his voice filled with confidence. "And remember, I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

His words struck a chord deep within you, resonating with the turmoil of emotions that had been swirling inside you since Mihawk's departure. Suddenly, everything seemed to fall into place, the confusion and uncertainty giving way to a newfound clarity. Buggy gives you a reassuring smile, his eyes sparkling with warmth.

"Anytime, [Name]," he replies, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze.

You nod, grateful for Buggy's understanding and support. "Thank you, Buggy," you whisper softly , a sense of gratitude flooding your heart. "I needed to hear that."

As you stand wrapped in Buggy's embrace, you feel a sense of relief wash over you. His arms are strong and comforting, a reminder of the unwavering bond you share. But as he pulls back, a toothy grin spreads across his face, and you catch a glimpse of a familiar, sinister gleam in his eyes.

"And if he fucks up," Buggy says, his voice low and menacing, "there's gonna be one less Warlord in the sea."

The way he says it sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but chuckle nervously. Buggy's expression is a mix of protective determination and a hint of madness that you've come to recognize over the years. His blue curls frame his face, giving him an almost theatrical appearance, but you know better than to underestimate the seriousness behind his words.

His gaze sharpens, and for a moment, the room seems to grow darker as he continues. "I mean it, muneca-chan. Mihawk might be a badass with that big-ass sword of his, but he's no match for my flashy tricks. One wrong move, and I'll make sure he regrets it."

Buggy's eyes glint with a dangerous intensity, and you can tell that his big-brother instincts are in overdrive. Despite his eccentricities, you know that he would go to great lengths to ensure your happiness and safety. You reach out to place a hand on his arm, squeezing gently to remind him that you appreciate his concern.

"I know you would, Buggy," you say softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But let's hope it doesn't come to that. I just needed to talk to someone who understands."

Buggy's expression softens at your words, the sinister edge fading as he looks at you with genuine affection. "Yeah, yeah," he mutters, rolling his eyes playfully. "Just remember, I'm always here for you, no matter what."

With that, he pulls you into another tight hug, his embrace warm and reassuring. You know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you'll always have Buggy by your side, ready to offer his unwavering support and friendship—even if it means taking on a Warlord of the sea.

"I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably live a very boring and un-flashy life."

"Oh no~, what a nightmare, HEY!"

He flashed you a smile as you held your recently pinched side. 

"Now, let's get you set up to spend the night. We've got a lot to catch up on." 

______________________________________________________________

And that wraps up chapter 4 of this series. Oh I am going to make you all work for 'that' delicious chapter.~

Part 5 is now posted.

At the time of this being posted, 5/19/2024, there is a poll ongoing for what, you, the lovely readers, would love to be called. Be sure to cast your votes!!

Make sure you check out the a03 account by the same name. Everything I have posted here is there in chronological order. I also have a few Buggy the Clown x Reader's posted in the masterlist! Give it a read if you please!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

Seen you soon my loves!!~ <<33

[markerofthemidnight]

Abstracted Heart, Mind and Soul

Art I kinda pushed out of an AU/concept that I need someone to write for me because I have too many WIPs.

I call this the “Abstraction AU” (unrelated to the Amazing Digital Circus, but does share some similarities), and here’s how it works:

The Basics

Inspired by Core Suppressions from Lobotomy Corporation

Basically, whenever one of the three undergoes extreme stress, they “Abstract” into one of these forms

The Headspace basically stops working the way it’s supposed to until the transformation is reversed: the way it’s affected depends on who’s Abstracting

The transformation only wears off once the side passes out: which sounds like it would result in a big boss fight or something

BUT, luckily for them, since Abstracting is basically letting out all your emotions and strength and fighting with all you’ve got, it is EXHAUSTING

so once it’s happened they’re typically not conscious for any more than an hour

Contrary to what you might guess at first, the side is still “themselves” while Abstracting: it’s just difficult to tell since the stress that causes the transformation also makes them act irrational and overly violent

Despite this, post-transformation, the side typically doesn’t have memories of what happened during the fight… until a few hours after waking up

It can happen to the same person more than once, but to Abstract for the first time you have to be pushed PARTICULARLY far

After that it gets a bit easier for it to happen again, like you’ve given into your inner monster

To further emphasise that, they all get “battle scars” from their first time Abstracting that stay with them for the rest of their lives

And to go into what the first time abstracting was like for each individual:

Heart

Abstraction is usually caused by intense stress.

While this is still true in Heart’s case, since being emotional is his job description, he needs to be pushed further than the others in order to Abstract

(because if that wasn’t the case, he would Abstract all the time)

Anyways, his first time probably came after days on end of extreme trauma

Specifically, trauma that neither Mind nor Soul did anything to try and stop

He likely Abstracted out of view from the others, and they didn’t even notice until Soul was like “wait why isn’t my trident working”

As Heart is… the heart of the Headspace, when he Abstracts, magic stops working there

His design was obviously based off of biblically accurate angels, as well as a Beholder from DND but without eyes so it would look like a heart

You’d think he’d be biased towards Mind while like that, but no- he goes after Soul.

He expected Mind to ignore him, but Soul? It’s his job to make sure things are alright with him, so why’d he just abandon him?

Even without the benefit of the Trident, though, I imagine Abstracted Heart wouldn’t be all too difficult for them to take down if they really tried their best, so he goes down rather quickly

After he wakes up, his head’s basically just in one big blur for a while until the memories start to come back

Then he just starts shaking and hugging them while constantly muttering apologies (even though he still has EVERY RIGHT to be mad)

”Battle scars” take the form of purple(-er) wings, fangs and a halo

Mind

Mind’s is a pretty different case

While his was also caused by days of repeated trauma, as Abstractions tend to be, his problem is that he kept trying to bottle it up and only started to show even the tiniest cracks just before the transformation

(after all, I don’t think they’d take a chance like that again after what happened with Heart)

He likely Abstracted right in front of Heart and Soul

His design was based off of UFOs, obviously, as well as a brain and spine. The eyelashes are meant to look like the sun’s rays

When he Abstracts, all laws of physics in the Headspace basically stop working and the place gets even weirder than normal

Despite having the advantage of Soul’s trident this time, taking him down is a lot harder since he’s metal: the key is to tire him out

When he wakes up after the fact, he’s even more of an asshole than usual, but mainly because he’s still tired and stressed

He gets all quiet once the memories start to come back to him though, like he feels bad about attacking them so violently but doesn’t really know how to express it

”Battle scars” take the form of rhombus-shaped pupils and back spikes

Soul

If you’re a time loop fan, then Soul Abstracting is typically what restarts the loop

He was designed to be the most humanoid to show that he was the closest to Whole, with three heads because… you know why

When he Abstracts, he fuses with his trident, the Headspace becomes black and white, and starts slowly to fall apart

Heart and Mind do not stand a CHANCE in this fight, hence why his Abstraction is inevitably what restarts the loop

However, if by some chance they lasted long enough for things to go back to normal, I imagine Soul would be… surprisingly nice after going back to normal

It’s like finally letting it all out made him calm down a bit. He’s still pretty awkward around them, but better than you might think

Even when the memories come back, sure he kinda shuts himself in for a bit and avoids talking about it, but he’s not as closed off as Mind is

Battle scars take the form of his right eye becoming normal (as in not identical to his left eye as seen in the art), and the left side of his face being covered in black (to match his face in his Abstracted form)