#I don’t own the mermaid trope

[skumhuu]

Hello! So I'm in the making of creating my own sort of universe that's inspired off of your vampire AU! Of course it's only inspired, and that I only took a few aspects of it, and I'm planning on posting stuff on it soon! I just feel as if you may see it and think it's copying...so I was wondering if you were okay that I took a few inspirations from your own AU? - Silly Creator Anon

Oh ye vampires are a trope I can’t claim a trope and I don’t wanna claim it either 😂 I don’t like Claiming culture, especially since it’s a basic vampire thing.

Some of my boundaries are: don’t make adoptables based off of my designs, or use my aus to promote your adoptables. My aus are not for anyone to sell :/ and also don’t bash my ideas and fun times to prop your own ideas up. This is a sandbox, an ‘yes and’ situation, pls have fun 💚

[beiasluv]

grid of in-laws | o. piastri (81)

a/n: im thai, so definitely not self-inserting here 🤭

yn_albon

liked by oscarpiastri, lilymhe and 86,107 others

yn_albon mum and dad 🤷‍♀️

view all 14,186 comments

lilymhe my baby 😘

yn_albon 🫶🫶

alex_albon remember I always have the pictures

yn_albon 😔 I’m sorry my dearest brother

username hello?? What pictures??

username don’t be shy, tell usss

username Oscar, what are you doing here??

username he’s trying to rizz her up or what?

username im praying that they are dating

username BROTHER what are you high on?

username TELL ME YOU DONT HAVE TWITTER

username yall think that if they’re not dating, oscar’s gonna be a creep and like all of her pics for nothing?

username MOST men do that. Oscar’s my pookie tho

username yeah, exactly. dating.

yn_albon’s private story

reply

alex_albon: don’t you think it’s time for a public story? 🙄

: im going to combust from embarrassment

alex_albon: please, when lily posted me-

: you jumped around the room and kicked your legs. I know 😔

alex_albon: yeah, time to think about it. also, call mum tonight

: mkayy

lilymhe

tokyo, japan

liked by yn_albon, alex_albon and 127,041 others

lilymhe the albons’ lost in tokyo!!

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yn_albon we’re all lost 😔

alex_albon says the one with your own japanses translator

yn_albon yeah, can’t hear you

username EXCUSE ME??

username OSCAR???

yn_albon 🫶🫶

alex_albon back off🤺🤺

lilymhe she’s just my baby 😔

username EXCUSE ME? Who can speak japanse in the gird? Oscar mf piastri

username exactly what I was thinking!!

username yuki rn 🧍‍♂️

username didn’t oscar and lando went out in tokyo today as well???

username FUCKING HELL YES HELLO? I’M HAVING AN ASTHMA ATTACK

landonorris

tokyo, japan

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landonorris lost in japan 👊

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alex_albon copying each other’s pose kings

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landonorris tbf, it wasn’t taken by the same person 🤷‍♂️

oscarpiastri i called that pose first

georgerussell63 nice food mate 👊

landonorris nah, they didn’t get me

username THEY WHO? Oscar and who??

username tell me SOMETHING i DONT know

username so we’re all here from lily’s post huh 😭

username yn liked the post 🤷‍♀️

username wait, YN AND LANDO FOLLOW EACH OTHER??

username she’s pretty close with the 2019 rookies ig

yn_albon

chinatown, bangkok

liked by oscarpiastri, alex_albon and 76,127 others

yn_albon we ate ✌️💅

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alex_albon thanks for copying my pose, be original 👊

yn_albon lily come get yo man please

lilymhe right away 🫡

landonorris good food 🙌

yn_albon still can’t make you try fish 😔

landonorris sorry, it’s never happening 🤷‍♂️

username please tell me yn brought oscar with her 😭

username white boy getting dragged to asian street food by his gf, my favorite trope

username *and traumatizing him

yn_albon I swear I fed him the right food 😔😭

username SHUT UP GUYES ITS CONFIRMED

username yn feed my boy pad thai

username naur that’s basic asf 😭

alex_albon

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and 510,418 others

alex_albon back home with my favourite person and some thai local i guess 🤷‍♂️ (jk, love you both)

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yn_albon yeah, love you too 🤺

lilymhe you don’t play mermaids with us 👎

yn_albon right??? I’m sorry for not training him harder 😔✊

alex_albon i apologise 😭

username boooo, alexxxx

username oscar has been real quiet since the bangkok post??

username SO lando went with them which only makes sense if oscar ALSO went with them yk??

username I KNOW what y’all are thinking

oscarpiastri

phuket, thailand

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 751,168 others

oscarpiastri thanks to a local guide 🇹🇭

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username ITS FUCKING OFFICIAL OSCAR POSTING

username sad day to be an oscar fan 😔

username GOOD DAY to be an oscaryn shipper

username shut UP is that yn??

username YES‼️ where have you been???

username alex just posted them going to phuket, so 2+2 🤷‍♀️

username i mean he already went out to tokyo with the albons, so what’s the chance

yn_albon

liked by alex_albon, lilymhe and 282,156 others

yn_albon golfing or we balling‼️

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landonorris Oscar is literally 🧍‍♂️

yn_albon exactly

oscarpiastri I am not a professional golfer 🤷‍♂️

alex_albon who won??

yn_albon you😔

yn_albon only because lily is not playing 🤷‍♀️

username PUT HIM BACK SIS!!

lilymhe

liked by yn_albon, alex_albon and 96,267 others

lilymhe serious dinner…

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alex_albon very serious indeed…

yn_albon what are y’all on about? 😭

username PLEASE IS THIS THE IN-LAWS DINNER WE WERE BEGGING FOR

username ‘serious dinner’ my ASS 😭

yn_albon

liked by georgerussell63, landonorris and 396,691 others

yn_albon race week dump ig 😦

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alex_albon ITS HAPPENING

landonorris WHAT IS HAPPENIF

landonorris WHY IS OSCAR JUMPIN

landonorris OH.

username george, blink if you’re the third wheel

username NAH LOGAN AS WELL 😭

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, logansargeant and 627,182 others

oscarpiastri guess we did have a dinner..

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yn_albon’s story | oscarpiastri’s story

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alex_albon: THANK GOD

the longest one yet. it took me so long because I keep undoing and editing (perfectionist af)

request is open-ish because I’m done with exams!! jenson dilf incoming?? 😬

anyways, hope y’all enjoyed it. like, reblog, COMMENT, or anything if you liked it. If not, y’all better lock yo door.

today’s a good day to take care of yourself!!

[rrezshifts]

𝓻𝙚𝙖𝖑𝙞𝙩i𝙚𝙨 𝙞’d 𝙡o𝙫𝙚 t𝙤 𝙛𝙞n𝙙

this is a list of realities i compiled from three lovely people’s dr ideas posts: ellysdreamworldd, deminetly, & lalalian. this post is a way for me to clear out my likes without having to keep track of the realities i’m interested in shifting to in a notebook i’ll lose or forget about . . .

a retro high school/college reality. this could be a reality from any decade where retro still fits. the original poster wrote 70s-00s. i feel like i partly already have this with my twilight reality, it’s set in the early 2000s. but it’s definitely something i could be interested in shifting to outside of that reality

2000s victoria’s secret angel reality. see this is weird because i am a trans man. and like . . . the parts of my body that are inherently feminine and ideal for an angel, i don’t like. however, it can be what i like so put my ideal masculine but twinkish form in some lingerie and call it a day!!

professional tourist reality. a reality where i have all the money in the world and travel the world with no responsibilities seems SO fun! but like an ideal and bigotry free world. and also i get to bring someone with me!!

vampire reality. tbh i already have a few of those . . . but i’m not in love with them. that and they’re from pre-existing media, and i want one that i can really play with and make my own and just fall in love with my own mind and life through it, yk??

royalty reality. this could be so so incredibly fun. but i fear the way i view and picture a royalty reality in my mind at the moment . . . it’s off putting. i’d need a new perspective to look at these type of realities from before trying any world building or i may genuinely give up immediately

summer camp reality. as the counselors of course. like imagine being a counselor with other hot people your age and just bouncing from counselor to counselor all summer as we all sneak around camp after curfew and just go crazy!! though i technically have a reality like this already . . . my the quarry reality is basically this because i removed all the horror game elements. i should think about it more though for sure, that why i put it here

mermaid reality. like genuinely the way the original poster described it as a the little mermaid kind of romance plot almost makes me not scared of the deep ocean aspect of this reality. but i love marine biology and marine animals so like i would realistically love this too. this is another one though, that i would need a perspective shift because right now the idea of this reality is off putting to me as well

magic university reality. quite literally just hogwarts in my marauders reality. but i haven’t scripted shit and i need to get on it. so i’m adding it in hopes that’ll change. it won’t lol

small town shop owner reality. the original poster said it was a flower shop. but the idea of it being like a small business of my choice, for example a metaphysical shop, and falling in love with the small business next door’s owner?? bonus points if it’s a tattoo artist i fall for, because why can’t fanfic tropes come to life!!

planetary romance reality. described as exploration of different planets with romance specifically with aliens. and you know what . . . i’m not gonna lie. the romance with aliens is what sold me!! call me what you want! (it’ll probably be true) but this genuinely seems like such a fun reality to get to workshop!!

eco-metamorphosis reality. described as a world being colonized by aliens but instead of rejecting them you welcome them with open arms. and i was thinking this could be so fun to imagine a world that has coexisted with aliens for generations now, a good many years after, and how that looks and what daily life would be like

that’s all of them!! please look at their posts if you liked any of these and want to see what else they have shared!! i’ll tag them here so they know i used their posts for a sort of form of content @ellysdreamworldd , @deminetly & @lalalian !! thank you for the great ideas 🙏

[blackswan0613]

Of Salt & Shadow | myg

yoongi has always been the embodiment of salt and shadow—a creature of the deep, shaped by the weight of tides and secrets, masking his wounds behind icy detachment and a stoic facade. But then there’s you, a flicker of warmth in his endless gray. You stay when others drift away, your words like whispers of sunlight breaking through his storm. Slowly, you unravel the delicate threads of his pain, exposing the fragile heart beneath his hardened exterior. Yet, the question lingers like a distant tide: can he rise above the currents of his past, or is he destined to drown in the cycle of his own making?

→ Pairing: yoongi x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au → Trope: strangers to lovers → Genres: fluff, smut, ANGST, drama → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 9.6k → Warnings (general) + triggers: mention of childhood trauma, FEELINGS, ANGST, brokenness, love, hope, healing, yoongi has a fuckboy attitude, and he really just needs a hug, insecurities, abandonment issues, mention of past suicide (it’s a very minor characher, not one of the tannies), emotions. → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex, mention of multiple orgasms, oral, creampie, it’s just very light, poetic and sweet. →  Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note: 🫣🫣🫣 Yes, it’s me—Lissa (formerly known as kingofbodyrolls, may it rest in peace 😭). This story is for all of you I had to leave behind, not because I wanted to, but because I needed to. To every one of you who reached out, checking in on me, making sure I was still breathing and dreaming—I’m doing okay. Not amazing, not terrible—just somewhere in between, like a song stuck on a bittersweet chord. I’ve been on a break from Tumblr (RIP again, kingofbodyrolls) and writing fanfiction, but then it happened—one ordinary day at work, inspiration hit me like lightning. The final piece of this story clicked into place, and I knew exactly how to make it ache. Sad and raw, angsty enough to sting, but with the kind of happy ending you’ve all been hoping for. This one’s for you—for caring, for asking, for being such breathtakingly kind humans. I love you. I adore you. I hope this story brings you something—a spark, a feeling, a tear, or maybe even a little healing. Fair warning: it’ll probably make you cry, but I promise, it’s beautiful. The smut? Oh, it’s feather-light, soft and poetic, just what my heart wanted to write right now. And please, when you meet this Yoongi in the story, wrap him in the biggest, warmest hug you’ve got, okay? He needs it 🥹

[s.masterlist] → this is part of a collection of series that are stand-alone one-shots, but all of them are set in the same universe. They are slightly connected though 🤭

Life feels like a washed-out canvas, smeared with ash and shadow, even as the bass thrums through his veins, loud enough to shatter silence but not the emptiness. The cup in his hand is an elixir of forgetting, filled with fire meant to scorch his senses and cauterize the wounds of what he’s about to do tonight. Again.

He exhales, the weight of the world dragging him down like chains, his shoulders curving inward as he sinks against the cold, indifferent embrace of the bar stool. His eyes sweep the crowd—a kaleidoscope of strangers: glittering, laughing, unknowing. The usual suspects. Painted lips, swaying bodies, secrets exchanged between half-hidden smiles. But then there’s you.

He sees you. And then he doesn’t. He forces himself to look past you as if you’re a ghost, a memory he refuses to resurrect. But your presence has a gravity of its own, pulling at him like the moon calls the tide. Against his better judgment, his gaze drifts back, and when it lands on you, he feels the punch of it, sharp and breathless.

Your eyes—damn them—look so raw, so fractured, as if you’ve been waiting for him to glue the pieces together. Don’t look at me like that, he thinks, biting down on his bottom lip until the metallic tang of blood blooms on his tongue. The taste is grounding. It reminds him of who he is, of the rules he’s made for himself.

He takes another slow drag of his drink, the burn a welcome distraction from the ache clawing at his chest. He tells himself not to care, not to notice how you linger, how your fingers tighten around your glass like it’s the only thing tethering you to the room.

Why can’t you see it? The warning etched into every move he makes? He’s a tempest—beautiful to watch, but fatal if you step too close.

No. He can’t do this. Not again.

The decision is made before the thought fully forms. He drains the rest of his drink in one defiant gulp, the liquid fire smothering whatever ember of guilt still glows within him. His eyes catch a flash of gold in the crowd—a blonde, smiling, unaware—and he latches onto her like a lifeline.

He moves to her with practiced ease, whispers into her ear words he doesn’t mean, words that make her laugh as if they’re true. Her hand slips into his, and together they disappear through the pulsing haze of neon light.

He doesn’t look back. He doesn’t have to. He knows you’re still there, still watching. He knows your expression, the same way he knows the sting of regret that waits for him in the quiet hours of the night. But regret is a demon he’s learned to live with, and tonight, it won’t be you who haunts him.

“Hyung!” Jimin’s voice cuts through the shimmering expanse of water, desperate and unyielding as he surges forward, his limbs slicing through the waves with frantic determination. The ocean is a mirror of emotions—ripples distorting the light above, casting fleeting patterns over the seafloor.

Yoongi slows, his movements fluid and effortless, a predator at ease in his domain. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t speak, simply lets his younger friend close the gap between them. Silence is his armor, but it also leaves room for the currents to carry truths neither of them want to face.

“I’m sorry for what Tae said,” Jimin gasps, his voice heavy with guilt as he treads water beside him. His eyes glisten—not with the saltwater, but with something far more fragile.

Yoongi huffs, the sound rough, like the grind of a stone against the seabed. “Don’t apologize for someone else,” he mutters, the words carrying the sharp tang of dismissal.

Jimin’s lips curve into a wry smile, but there’s no humor behind it. “Fine,” he says, exhaling. “But you’ve got to see it from his point of view too.” His tone is coaxing, like someone trying to tame a storm, but Yoongi doesn’t want to be tamed. He doesn’t want to see anything. Not now.

The accusation still clings to him, stinging like brine in an open wound. Fuckboy. The word slithers into his thoughts, unwanted and cruel. Yes, he sleeps around—he won’t deny that. But somehow, hearing it aloud, weaponized, leaves him hollow.

“I don’t want to explain myself,” Yoongi says, his voice dropping into something quieter, something broken. “I don’t need to.”

“I know,” Jimin says softly, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “He didn’t mean it.”

But as if summoned by the apology, Taehyung swims into view, his silhouette framed by the flickering sunlight above. His arms are crossed, his expression thunderous.

“Oh, I meant it,” he spits, his voice cutting through the water like a blade. “Yoongi just likes to get his dick wet and doesn’t give a damn about the girls he leaves behind. It’s pathetic.”

The words hit their mark. Yoongi flinches, his composure faltering for a fraction of a second before he tightens it again, a coil wound too tight. Anger blooms like ink in water, dark and suffocating.

Jimin, ever the peacekeeper, senses the shift. He moves quickly, placing himself between them, his hands raised as if to hold back a brewing storm. “Tae, stop—”

But Taehyung isn’t done. “Hobi told me everything,” he presses, his voice relentless. “How every night it’s a new girl. Don’t you ever feel it? The emptiness? The loneliness?”

Yoongi’s blood surges hot, his patience snapping like a frayed rope. He surges forward, his presence suddenly immense, like a shadow swallowing the light. Their faces are inches apart now, the tension crackling like lightning.

“Listen to me,” Yoongi growls, his voice a deadly whisper, his teeth bared. “I don’t owe you, or anyone, an explanation. We’re friends, Tae, but if you don’t shut the fuck up, I swear—” He gestures sharply toward a jagged underwater cave in the distance, its dark maw gaping like a warning. “I’ll make you regret it.”

The threat lingers, cold and sharp. Taehyung swallows hard, his bravado crumbling under the weight of Yoongi’s glare. “Fine,” he mutters, backpedaling. “I’ll go. Whatever.” He turns and swims away, his retreat quick and graceless.

The silence that follows is heavy, the ocean itself seeming to hold its breath. Yoongi exhales, his chest tight with anger, frustration, and something he can’t name.

“Yoongi…” Jimin’s voice is quiet now, careful, as if speaking too loudly might shatter what remains of his friend’s resolve. He stays close, his presence a tether to reality. Yoongi wishes he wouldn’t—wishes Jimin would let him drown in his own anger, his own choices.

“We just want you to be happy,” Jimin says, his hand finding Yoongi’s shoulder. His touch is grounding, warm.

Yoongi laughs, but it’s a hollow, bitter sound that leaves a sour taste in the air. “Sleeping around makes me happy,” he says, trying to sound convincing. But the words betray him, falling flat, stripped of all conviction. Even he doesn’t believe them.

Jimin doesn’t push. He simply pulls Yoongi into a brief hug, a silent reassurance, before swimming back toward the others.

Alone, Yoongi sinks lower, his tail brushing the sand. The seafloor stretches endlessly before him, littered with clams, kelp, and scattered stones. Tiny crabs scuttle past, fish darting in pairs—happy, connected, alive.

He stares at them, his chest tight with the crushing weight of solitude. He is surrounded by life, by warmth and light, yet it all feels so distant. He is an island, untouchable, unreachable. And though he tells himself it’s by choice, deep down, he knows the truth:

He has nothing. And no one.

You’re back at the bar again, the air thick with smoke and music that throbs like a heartbeat, and there he is—Yoongi. The man with skin pale as moonlight and hair dark as obsidian, a creature carved from the night itself. His presence is magnetic, an otherworldly pull you can’t resist. Yoongi. His name echoes in your mind, a soft whisper that lingers like a spell cast two weeks ago, when you let him into your bed and, briefly, your soul. He told you then that he doesn’t do relationships, his voice cold, his eyes distant.

And yet, here you are, back at the club every night, hoping for a fleeting glance, a flicker of acknowledgment. But Yoongi doesn’t see you—not anymore. He lets other women take him home instead, their faces blurring together in the low, shifting lights of the club. His detachment should disgust you, but instead, it hurts. Not because you love him—you don’t. Or at least you tell yourself you don’t. But there’s something about him, an unspoken ache that calls to you, as if you were meant to carry part of his burden.

He seems so lonely. So unbearably sad. His face, stoic and cold, masks something deeper—a raw, unhealed wound buried beneath layers of indifference. It makes your heart ache, not because of his beauty or the ghost of his touch, but because he looks like a kicked puppy, or a man drowning in an ocean of his own making. You see through the cracks in his armor. You feel it in the way he avoids your gaze, in the heaviness of his sighs when he thinks no one’s watching.

There’s more to Yoongi; you know it as surely as you know your own name. And you’ve made up your mind—you’re going to find out what lies beneath. It doesn’t matter how many girls he lets lead him away into the night. This isn’t about jealousy. It’s about the way his sadness haunts you, the way you can’t help but want to see him smile, even just once.

A few days later, you’re back at the club. The air feels heavier tonight, almost electric, and your eyes immediately find him—Yoongi. But this time, he’s not alone. A man with fiery red hair sits beside him, his smile warm and radiant, a stark contrast to Yoongi’s storm-cloud demeanor. If Yoongi is the night, this man is the sun, shining unapologetically.

For weeks, Yoongi hasn’t looked at you, hasn’t acknowledged your presence. But tonight, you’re done waiting. With determination in your step, you weave through the crowd, your heart pounding with every beat of the bass, until you’re standing at his table. Without hesitation, you pull out the chair across from him and sit down.

Yoongi’s eyes snap to yours, startled and—yes—a little annoyed. His lips press into a thin line, while his friend looks at you with an amused grin.

“Hi, Yoongi,” you say softly, offering a smile that doesn’t waver under his glare.

He grunts in response, his gaze flicking away from you.

The red-haired man leans forward, his grin widening. “Hi, I’m Hoseok,” he says, his voice bright and inviting.

“Yoongi told me about you,” Hoseok adds, laughter dancing in his tone when Yoongi rolls his eyes dramatically.

You blink, surprise coloring your expression. “He did?”

“Not in detail, or many words,” Hoseok chuckles. “But yeah.”

Your lips curve into a small, almost shy smile. “I know Yoongi’s a man of few words,” you tease, leaning forward slightly. “You’re more the listening type, right?”

For a fraction of a second, Yoongi flinches—barely noticeable—but you catch it. He recovers quickly, his expression hardening. Another grunt escapes him, which only makes you and Hoseok laugh.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” you say lightly, though your voice softens as you add, “But I’d love to hear more about you.”

“There’s nothing to learn,” Yoongi replies, his tone flat and unyielding. “I told you before—I don’t do relationships.”

The words sting, but you push the feeling aside. You lift your chin, meeting his cold gaze with calm resolve. “Who said I wanted a relationship?”

Yoongi scoffs, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t sleep with the same person more than once.”

“Who said I wanted sex?” you counter, your smile unwavering. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Hoseok hiding a laugh behind his hand.

Yoongi freezes, his expression momentarily slipping into something vulnerable, like a crack in ice. He looks at you as if he can’t decide whether to be insulted or intrigued.

Taking your chance, you lean closer, your voice lowering just enough to draw him in. “Listen, I won’t deny that you were amazing in bed. But this isn’t about that.” You pause, your gaze softening. “You seem… broken.”

The word lingers in the air between you, heavy and raw. Yoongi’s reaction is immediate—he stiffens, his eyes widening like a cornered animal. For a moment, you think he might run. You reach out, gently placing your hand over his, grounding him.

“I know it’s not my business,” you say softly, “but you can tell me. I can be your friend.”

His hand retreats from yours, his movements abrupt, his walls slamming back into place. “It’s not your business,” he says, his voice colder than ever. Then he stands, turning away from you without another word.

You watch his shadow retreat, your heart sinking as you lean back in your chair with a sigh. Beside you, Hoseok lets out a chuckle, his eyes sparkling with something between pity and admiration.

“If it’s any consolation,” Hoseok says, “that’s exactly how he treats his friends.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head.

“But,” Hoseok continues, his voice more serious, “you should try again. Yoongi’s got a hard shell, but sometimes, the ones who seem the most unreachable are the ones who need someone the most.”

He slides a drink toward you, his smile kind, and you take it with a grateful nod. As you sip, your thoughts linger on Yoongi, on the mystery of him, and on the ways you might find the cracks in his walls.

Yoongi is trying to fill the void again—just like every day. The club, with its pulsing music and flickering neon lights, has always been his preferred poison, a place where the noise drowns out the silence inside him. But lately, it’s been harder. Harder to find someone, harder to slip into his usual rhythm.

Because of you.

You’re always there now, sliding into the booth across from him with a brightness that’s almost jarring in the shadowy haze of his world. You talk—about everything. Your life, your friends, your work, your family. At first, it was all surface-level chatter, the kind of words people throw out to fill silence. But over the days that stretched into weeks, the conversation deepened. You’ve started sharing your dreams, your struggles, your quiet hopes for the future. And still, Yoongi listens in silence.

He doesn’t mind. In fact, he hears every word, even if his eyes occasionally drift to the dancefloor, to the swirl of bodies moving to the beat. But something has changed—his heart feels heavier, more unsettled, every time you speak. It’s as if your words are planting seeds he doesn’t know how to nurture. And he doesn’t understand.

Why do you keep talking to him, when he offers you nothing in return? When every night ends the same, with him slipping away, letting someone else take him home? He can see the flicker of hurt in your eyes, the way you mask it with a soft smile, as if you’ve already accepted his nature. But Yoongi isn’t blind—he knows he’s hurting you.

And yet, you stay.

You should run, he thinks to himself, over and over. But you don’t.

And he doesn’t understand.

He’s not special. He’s nobody. Just a hollow shell drifting through life, alone.

“Yoongi?” your voice cuts through his thoughts like a bell, and he blinks, realizing he’s blanked out again. The sound of his name on your lips pulls him back into the present, and he takes a sip of his drink, stalling for time.

“That’s why you’re like this, right?” you ask softly, your eyes searching his face with an intensity that unnerves him. Yoongi stares at you, his mind scrambling to piece together what you said before. He feels his pulse quicken, feels the weight of your question pressing on him like a heavy stone.

“Someone hurt you?” you ask again, your tone quieter this time, sadder.

He huffs a laugh, low and bitter. “Nah, darling. No one hurt me,” he lies, his voice rough and strained, as if the words have clawed their way out of his throat.

You tilt your head, your gaze piercing, and he feels like you can see straight through the facade he’s spent years perfecting. “You and I both know that’s a big, fat lie,” you say with a knowing smile, taking a sip of your drink. “But okay.”

Yoongi blinks, caught off guard. How do you know? How can you see the pieces of him he thought he’d hidden so well?

As if reading his mind, you add with a grin, “Don’t worry, I can’t read your thoughts. I’m just trying to figure out why you’re so… cold.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off, leaning across the table with a gentleness that takes his breath away.

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “You don’t have to tell me. Not until you’re ready. I don’t want to force you.” And then, without hesitation, you reach across the table and take his hand.

The touch is soft, grounding, and yet it sends something blazing through his veins—something foreign and unnameable.

Since that moment, things have shifted. Yoongi still shows up at the club every night, but now, he doesn’t leave with someone else. He stays. He lingers. He sits with you, and for the first time, he talks.

At first, the words come slow, halting. But as the nights go on, he finds himself sharing bits and pieces of himself, fragments of the person he’s hidden away.

“My friends wouldn’t believe me if I told them I’m actually talking to you,” he says one night, a faint chuckle escaping his lips.

“Why?” you ask, leaning closer, as if the world beyond the booth has faded away.

“Because,” he replies, his voice tinged with self-deprecation, “like you said all those weeks ago, I’m more the listening type. Actually, I’m not really a ‘people’ type of guy.”

You stare at him for a moment, your gaze steady and understanding, before nodding.

After a beat of silence, you speak again, your voice softer now. “Do you want to meet me at the pier tomorrow?” you ask, a shy smile gracing your lips. “Maybe we could hang out somewhere else for a change. Somewhere… quieter?”

Yoongi leans back, his lips curving into a small smirk. You’re right—the club is loud, chaotic. How the two of you have managed to hold any kind of conversation here is a mystery. “Sure,” he says, the word slipping out before he can overthink it.

The smile that lights up your face sends something bubbling in his chest, something he doesn’t have a name for yet. And though he tries to push it down, to keep the walls around his heart intact, he can feel them beginning to crack.

Yoongi awakens to yet another day, the soft, golden sunlight filtering through the water, its gentle rays cascading down to the room he shares with his younger brother, Jimin. The light dances across the rippling surface above, a delicate ballet that makes their underwater world shimmer like a dream. Yoongi stretches, his body arching fluidly like the waves outside their window.

Beside him, Jimin stirs, his sleepy voice breaking the tranquil silence. “Do you have that date thingy today? With that human girl you’ve been talking to for weeks?”

Yoongi freezes for a moment, the question catching him off guard. He almost blushes—how ridiculous. Him, blushing? And in front of Jimin of all people? There’s no point in trying to look tough. Jimin sees through him anyway.

“Yeah,” he stammers, his voice barely audible. He feels his skin grow warm—uncomfortably so, like the temperature in their room had suddenly risen.

Jimin’s lips curl into a soft, knowing smile. “I hope it goes well.”

Yoongi just grunts in response, his tail flicking in irritation. He doesn’t want to say he hopes so too—doesn’t want to jinx it. But Jimin already knows. He always knows.

With a slow sway of his tail, Yoongi swims to prepare himself. He’s never put this much effort into anything before—not like this. He’s never even had a date before, if this can even be called that. You didn’t call it a date, after all, but to Yoongi, it feels like one. Just the two of you, meeting under the open sky in the middle of the day. Why, then, is his heart pounding like this? The unfamiliar sensation makes him clench his fists, trying to will it away.

Languidly, Yoongi swims toward the surface, the sunlight growing brighter and warmer as he ascends. When he reaches the shore, he finds a hidden spot, the transformation from tail to legs smooth and practiced. Behind an ancient tree, he retrieves the clothes he’d stashed away: simple sneakers, faded jeans, and a hoodie to ward off the sea breeze.

The pier stretches out before him like a bridge to another world. Small boats bob gently in the water, seagulls wheel lazily above, their cries sharp yet soothing. Yoongi sits on a weathered bench, his gaze tilting upward to the endless expanse of sky.

How free they are, he thinks, watching the gulls soar effortlessly. Free to roam wherever the wind takes them. Are they happy? He wonders. He is as free as they are—free to swim the vast, sprawling kingdom of Naraeum. Yet, for all its beauty, it cannot take him to the place he truly craves.

His throat tightens as unwelcome memories rise like shadows from the depths. He tries to push them back, clenching his hands against the swell of emotions threatening to drown him. Not now. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about them. About what they did. About what you lost.

“Yoongi… Are you crying?”

The soft voice pulls him back to the present, and his head snaps down from the clouds. There you are, standing before him, radiant in a summer dress that flutters gently in the breeze. The sunlight catches in your hair, and for a fleeting moment, you look like something out of a dream. Your smile is warm, but your eyes are filled with concern as you step closer.

Before he can respond, you sit beside him, your arms wrapping around him in a gentle, unexpected hug. He stiffens, caught off guard, but doesn’t pull away. He can’t. He doesn’t know how.

He says nothing. He doesn’t think he can.

The tears he tried so desperately to hold back slip free, falling silently onto the strap of your dress. And still, you hold him, your voice soft and steady. “It’s okay, Yoongi. Crying isn’t bad.”

He scoffs, a bitter, self-deprecating sound. “I don’t like to cry,” he murmurs, his voice so quiet it’s almost lost to the wind.

You hear him anyway. “I think it’s a sign of strength,” you say thoughtfully. Then, after a pause, you add, “Or maybe… maybe you’ve been strong for so long, you’re finally breaking.”

The words hit him like a tidal wave. Time seems to freeze. How? How can you see him so clearly when everyone else only ever looked through him?

You smile, a little awkwardly, and say, “Or, you know, maybe the wind just hit your face too hard.” You laugh softly, but Yoongi doesn’t. As much as it stings, he prefers the moments when you’re real, when you say the things that cut to the core.

“Maybe I am breaking…” he whispers, the words so soft they feel like a secret shared only with the breeze.

Without warning, you shift the conversation, your voice light and curious. “Have you slept with anyone lately?”

The abruptness catches him off guard, his head snapping toward you. “No,” he says, his brows furrowing. What does that have to do with anything?

But when he sees the way your lips curve into a gentle smile, he realizes. He hasn’t sought out anyone else’s touch since he started spending time with you. He hasn’t tried to fill the emptiness with fleeting nights and hollow embraces. He hasn’t needed to.

You rest your hand on his knee, your touch grounding him. “Maybe you’re healing,” you say simply.

Healing. The word lodges itself in his chest, unfamiliar yet strangely comforting. Could it be true? Could you—you—be the reason he’s beginning to feel something other than the ache of emptiness?

He wants to tell you this, to share the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind, but before he can, you speak again, your tone soft and hesitant. “I actually wanted to tell you something.”

He turns to you fully now, his eyes locking onto yours. “What is it?”

You look up to the sky, your eyes tracing the same infinite blue Yoongi gazed at just moments before. The breeze tugs at your hair, a playful reminder of the world’s ceaseless motion. You inhale deeply, as though trying to draw courage from the air itself, and then your gaze lowers, heavy with hesitation.

Yoongi’s sharp eyes catch the way your fingers curl around the hem of your dress, twisting the fabric like you’re wringing out your thoughts. He wonders what storm you’re holding back, what truth is weighing you down, and if he’s ready to hear it.

“I don’t have many friends,” you begin, your voice quiet, fragile—like a single note trembling in a vast, empty room. You turn to face him fully now, and Yoongi watches the weight of the words settle in your expression. “Actually… I don’t have any friends,” you continue, your voice cracking under the strain. “Not since my best friend… took his own life.”

Yoongi feels the breath hitch in his chest. He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t move. He knows what it’s like to tread these waters, the ones that pull you under no matter how hard you swim.

“I guess…” you pause, looking down at your hands as you push a strand of hair behind your ear, “maybe I saw some sadness in you, and it scared me. I wanted to be there for you, even though I didn’t really know you. Maybe I still don’t.” Your voice dips into something softer, more uncertain. “But…” you trail off, running a hand through your hair in frustration. Yoongi notices the way your cheeks flush slightly, and somehow, he finds it endearing. You’re endearing.

You exhale shakily. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess.”

He surprises himself by laughing—low and soft at first, then louder as he fails to hold it back. You stare at him, bewildered, your expression a mix of confusion and irritation.

“Sorry,” he says, trying to smother the sound with a cough. “But if anyone’s a mess here, darling, it’s me.”

You blink at him, and your lips curve into a tentative smile. “I just wanted to tell you… you matter to me. Since that day we—” You hesitate, the memory flickering in your eyes before you look away. “Since that day we slept together. I know it didn’t mean the same to you, and that’s okay.” You shrug, but Yoongi sees through it. The slight tremble in your shoulders, the way you avert your gaze—it’s all there, laid bare for him to see.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice quieter now. “But you shouldn’t care about me so much.” His words are a shield, one he raises instinctively, though he knows it won’t stop you. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Why?” you press, leaning forward, the intensity of your gaze almost unbearable.

“I just don’t,” he says flatly, crossing his arms over his chest like a child refusing to admit they’re wrong.

“But why don’t you think you deserve friendship, or love?” you ask again, your voice softer now, the sadness in your eyes like a dagger to his heart.

Yoongi says nothing. He stares at the ground, his jaw tightening as memories rise unbidden to the surface—memories he’s spent years burying beneath layers of denial and indifference.

“I just don’t,” he repeats, his voice weaker this time, like the weight of his words is dragging him down.

You take a deep breath, your next question as gentle as a whisper. “Because you lost someone?”

His body stiffens, his tailbone aching with the ghost of a movement—the urge to run, to dive back into the water and escape.

“A sibling?” you ask. “A friend?”

The ice in his chest spreads, freezing him in place. The world feels too bright, too loud, and too heavy all at once. But for some reason, he doesn’t run.

“My parents,” he says finally, the words breaking free like stones tumbling off a cliff. His hands are trembling now, damp with sweat—or are they wet from something else?

“Oh, Yoongi,” you breathe, and before he can react, your arms are around him. He freezes at first, but then he feels the warmth of your embrace, the way it softens the edges of his pain.

The tears come without warning, spilling down his cheeks and onto your shoulder. “They left me to die,” he chokes out, the words raw and jagged. “They didn’t want me. They didn’t love me.”

Your hand moves in slow circles across his back, and though you don’t say anything at first, your presence speaks volumes. For the first time, he lets himself feel the depth of his loss.

“I’m so sorry, Yoongi,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. And that’s when he realizes—you’re crying too.

“Please don’t cry,” he says softly, the sound barely audible over his own sobs.

“It’s okay,” you reply, dabbing at your tears with the back of your hand. “I feel sad for you. And it’s just feelings. It’s okay.”

He nods slowly, his tears ebbing like a tide retreating from the shore.

“Thank you for telling me, Yoongi,” you say, your voice steady now, though your eyes still glisten.

He looks at you, his heart aching with something unfamiliar—gratitude? Hope? “I’ve never told anyone before,” he admits. Then, after a pause, he adds softly, “And… I’m sorry about your friend.”

You smile, though it’s bittersweet. “I always feel like I didn’t do enough for him…”

Yoongi shakes his head gently. “I’m sure you did everything you could. You’re doing it now—for me. And you don’t even have to.”

You huff, crossing your arms in frustration. “Will you stop thinking so low of yourself? I do care about you, and before you try to argue, let me just say this: You are a lovable person, okay? Got it?”

The sheer conviction in your voice startles him, and he can’t help but smile. It grows into laughter, and soon, you’re both laughing—soft, genuine, and unrestrained.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” you ask through your laughter. “To hang out, nothing else,” you quickly clarify, your cheeks turning pink.

Yoongi feels his own face warm at the memory of the last time he was there, but he pushes it aside, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide his sweaty palms.

“Sure,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, though his heart is racing again.

It’s been weeks, and Yoongi feels it—feels the shift in his chest every time he looks at you. It’s in the way his breath hitches when you laugh, how his heart steadies when you sit close, and the way his walls crumble entirely when he’s tangled with you in the quiet sanctuary of your bed. You both promised this wasn’t what your friendship was about—something deeper, something purer—but somewhere along the way, it happened. Your body became his solace, your presence a balm to wounds he thought would never heal.

He wonders if this is what love feels like: to be seen—not for what he can give, not for his strength or his silence—but for the person beneath it all. The boy who’s carried too much for too long. With you, he’s slowly unraveling the stoic mask he built to shield himself. You’ve coaxed out the softness he buried long ago, showing him that vulnerability isn’t weakness—it’s courage.

You’re the good kind of different, the kind he never believed could exist. His friends tease him mercilessly for it, saying he’s “whipped,” calling him “domestic,” but he doesn’t care. Not when being with you feels like this—like the world could break apart, but so long as you’re with him, he’d survive it.

He’s always treated intimacy like a bandage for his fractured soul, a fleeting comfort to dull the ache. But with you, he’s learned it’s more than that. You’ve shown him that the most profound intimacy doesn’t lie in physical connection alone but in baring the parts of himself he once kept hidden—the pain, the doubt, the fragile hope. You let him shatter in your arms without judgment, kiss the tears from his face, and remind him, again and again, that he’s strong. Strong for carrying his burdens for so long, but stronger still for letting them go.

And to Yoongi, there’s nothing sexier than the way you cradle his fragility, whispering that it’s okay to break, to be human. It’s a new kind of addiction, this trust you’ve built together, and one he never wants to let go of.

On a warm summer morning, the world outside hums with life—birds singing, the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze—but Yoongi’s world is here, with you. The sunlight filters through your window, casting golden streaks across your skin, and he’s utterly mesmerized. His lips trail down your body, worshiping every curve, every scar, every piece of you, until he’s between your legs, breathing in your scent like it’s air itself.

“Yoongi, oh—right there,” you gasp, your voice raw and unrestrained, fingers threading through his hair like you’re anchoring yourself to him. He grips your thighs, spreading you open as his tongue moves with deliberate purpose, savoring every sweet taste of you. The way your body arches, the sounds spilling from your lips—it’s a symphony, one he never tires of hearing.

“I’m close,” you pant, your voice trembling, and Yoongi hums against you, the vibration making your whole body shudder. He doesn’t stop. His tongue traces the places he knows will drive you over the edge, lapping and sucking with a devotion that borders on reverence. He’s not in a rush. This is about you, about giving you the pleasure he’s memorized in his mind like scripture.

When you finally shatter, your body trembling, a soft cry slipping past your lips, Yoongi feels the heat of your release like a wildfire burning through him. He watches as your chest rises and falls, your face glowing with the aftershock of bliss. It’s beautiful, and it’s enough to make his own need surge to the forefront. But he holds back, his focus still entirely on you.

He doesn’t say it—not yet—but in the quiet moments after, as he rests his head against your thigh and listens to the rhythm of your breathing, he knows the truth: he’s falling for you. He’s already fallen. And for the first time in years, he doesn’t feel afraid of what that might mean.

“Yoongi…” You moan his name like a hymn, your trembling hands caressing his cheeks, now slick with your essence. His dark eyes meet yours, and in their depths, you see something raw, something reverent. Your own gaze is weary yet soft, radiating warmth, like the flicker of a hearthfire on a cold night. He licks his lips, leaning in to taste you once more, but you halt him, your thighs squeezing gently around his head, urging him to pause. You sit up, your skin glowing with a sheen of sweat, and the words that leave your lips are unguarded, crystalline in their sincerity.

“You’re incredible with that tongue of yours,” you murmur, voice tinged with a teasing smile, “but I want you inside me. You must be so hard, Yoongi. Why don’t you fuck me real good?”

A low chuckle rumbles from his chest, and he sits up, pulling his sweatpants down with one swift motion. His cock springs free, thick and aching, slapping against his abdomen, and for a moment, his breath stutters as he strokes himself, a groan spilling from his lips like honey. You recline again, spreading your legs, inviting him in, and he aligns himself with your entrance. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he pushes inside, your walls clenching around him, drawing a strangled moan from his throat.

“Shit,” he breathes, his hands gripping your hips as if to anchor himself. Your moans spill into the air like a prayer, and the tightness of you has his mind spiraling, clouded with a pleasure so consuming it feels otherworldly. He begins to move, his thrusts growing deeper, harder, until your bodies find a rhythm, a harmony that feels eternal.

Yoongi has never been one for positions like this—too vulnerable, too raw—but with you, it’s different. Everything about you makes him different. Your chest heaves, your breasts bounce with every snap of his hips, and you’re radiant, glowing in a way that makes his heart ache. You’re unafraid, unapologetic, giving him all of yourself, and he doesn’t know if he’s ever felt more alive.

“Shit,” he gasps, his pace faltering. “I’m not gonna last long.”

You chuckle, even as your breaths come short. “Come inside me, Yoon,” you whisper, your voice like velvet, and it’s all he needs. His thrusts grow erratic, and with a deep, guttural moan of your name, he spills into you, his entire body trembling as he finds his release.

“You didn’t come,” Yoongi pants, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath.

You smile, stroking his flushed cheek. “I don’t have to. You already made me come three times. And feeling you come inside me is the best feeling ever.”

His cheeks flush a deep crimson, and he averts his gaze, embarrassed but touched. Slowly, he pulls out, his softened cock glistening, and a mixture of your shared pleasure trails down your thighs.

“Maybe we should take a shower,” he murmurs, chuckling softly as he admires the beautiful mess you’ve become.

Flustered, you laugh. “You go fill the tub. Add some bath salts if you want.”

“And you?” He leans down, stealing a soft kiss, his lips lingering against yours.

“I’m cleaning up. The sheets are a disaster,” you tease, shoving him lightly toward the bathroom.

He grumbles in mock protest but obeys, making his way to the bathroom. Inside, he turns the faucet, steam curling up as water fills the tub. He finds a jar of lavender and chamomile salts, sprinkling some into the water. The scent fills the air, calming and warm, and for a moment, Yoongi pauses, catching sight of his reflection in the mirror.

He looks… happy. Happier than he’s ever seen himself. There’s no trace of the shadows that once haunted him, no lingering ghost of his past. Just him—content, smiling. He enters the tub and soaks in the water that wraps around him like a familiar blanket, warm and soft, and he sighs, relaxing into it. But his smile falters as a familiar, unsettling sensation ripples through him.

“Babe!” he shouts suddenly, splashing water as panic creeps into his voice.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?” Your voice comes from the bedroom, growing closer.

“Nothing!” His voice cracks, betraying his discomfort. “But… uh… was there sea salt in those bath salts?”

“Yeah, why? Don’t you like it?”

Before he can respond, you enter the bathroom, naked and holding fresh clothes that tumble to the floor as your gaze locks onto him. Your mouth falls open, and your eyes widen, taking in the sight of him in his true form.

“Yoongi…” You say his name softly, stepping closer to the tub. Your gaze is transfixed on his tail—glossy black scales that shimmer like obsidian, the translucent fins catching the light. It’s otherworldly, beautiful.

He flicks his tail nervously, water spilling over the edge of the tub. “I… I should’ve told you sooner,” he murmurs, his voice thick with uncertainty.

“Can I touch it?” you ask, your voice quiet but filled with wonder.

He nods hesitantly, watching as you kneel by the tub and run your fingers along the smooth, cool scales. His eyes flutter closed at the gentle touch, and for the first time, he lets himself relax.

“Aren’t you afraid?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Why would I be?” You meet his gaze, smiling. “You’re still Yoongi. That’s all that matters.”

Your words make his chest ache in the best way. When you tell him to scoot over and climb into the tub beside him, he’s stunned. No one has ever stayed—not like this. Not when they’ve seen the truth of what he is. Not that a human has ever seen his true form, but as soon as he’d shown how fragile he really is, people tend to leave.

“So, you’re… a merman?” you ask, your voice soft, curious, like a whisper carried by the tide.

He nods, a faint smile curling at the edges of his lips, though his eyes glimmer with something unspoken, a secret weighed down by the ocean’s depths.

“And your parents… they’re merpeople?” you venture cautiously. But the flicker of pain in his gaze stills you, and your words falter. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about them if it hurts.”

He exhales a sigh, long and heavy, like the pull of a distant current. “It’s okay,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with bittersweet acceptance. “Yes, they are merpeople.”

Silence stretches between you, a pause as vast as the open sea. You hesitate, unsure if you should ask the question weighing on your mind, but finally, you gather your courage.

“Are they still alive?”

Another sigh escapes him, deeper this time, carrying the ache of a wound long scabbed over but never truly healed. “I think so,” he murmurs. “I don’t really know. They left me when I was three years old.”

The words fall like stones into the still waters of your heart, rippling outward. He takes a steadying breath, his gaze drifting as if he can see it all again, playing out before him like a dream fading into a nightmare.

“They told me we were going on a trip to another city. I was so happy, so excited—I’d never been away from Naraeum before. That’s the name of the city I’m from,” he adds softly, a faint smile flickering for a moment before it’s swallowed by the tide of his memory. “We swam for hours, far from the coral spires and glowing reefs I knew as home. Eventually, we stopped at this cave to rest, to sleep. But when I woke up, they were gone.”

His voice wavers, and you see the boy he once was—small, scared, alone. “I waited for them. Days turned into nights, and I tried to search, but I wasn’t strong then. I was tired, hungry, terrified. I didn’t eat. I didn’t sleep. I just… waited.”

You feel your chest tighten as he pauses, swallowing hard. “One day,” he continues, his voice quieter now, “I heard something outside the cave. I thought it was them, finally coming back for me. I swam out, desperate to see them again, but… it wasn’t them. It was someone else—another pair of merpeople from our cove. They had a baby with them, Jimin.” His lips curl into a faint, bittersweet smile. “They took me in, made me their son. Jimin became my brother. And that’s… that’s how I survived.”

You reach out, your hand trembling as it finds his chest, resting over his heart. Beneath your palm, you feel the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat—proof that he’s here, that he endured.

“You’ve been through so much,” you whisper, your voice breaking with emotion. “And yet, you’re still here. You’re so kind, so gentle, despite everything you’ve suffered. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

Your words are a balm to his aching soul, and as you move closer, your arms wrapping around him, he feels something shift inside him—something that feels a little like hope. Your skin presses against his, warm and tender, your embrace like the tide itself—gentle, enveloping, unyielding.

The softness of your chest against his makes his breath hitch, not with desire but with something deeper; a feeling that he is no longer alone, that for the first time in his life, he doesn’t have to tread water to stay afloat. Your warmth seeps into him, filling the cracks he thought could never be healed, and he closes his eyes, letting himself be wrapped in the sanctuary of your love.

“I told you he’s head over fins for this human,” Taehyung says, rolling his eyes in dramatic flair, his tail flicking against the current.

“He’s in love,” Jimin retorts with a huff, crossing his arms. “Don’t judge him.”

Yoongi wonders—not for the first time—why he bothers letting his friends meddle in his life. Don’t they have better things to do than dissect his feelings like fish in a net?

“I think it’s great, hyung,” Namjoon says, his voice warm, his smile kind. “She’s good for you. And now that she knows you’re a merman… maybe it’s time you show her Naraeum? Show her your world.”

The idea lingers in Yoongi’s mind like a whispered tide. Show you Naraeum. The city of his origins, a place of glowing coral spires, shimmering schools of fish, and seas that held as many memories as wounds. It makes sense, doesn’t it? To take you to the other half of his heart—the one that doesn’t belong entirely to you yet. But how? How can he merge these two pieces of his life, these two homes, when they feel as distant as the stars above the waves?

Mark’s voice cuts through his thoughts like a jagged reef. “Don’t you think you’re just going to hurt her? Do what you’ve always done?” His tone is sharp, indifferent, like a hook slicing through flesh.

The words hit Yoongi harder than he expects, making him flinch. His chest tightens, his mind spiraling. Hurt you? Leave you? The thought feels foreign—and yet, uncomfortably familiar. Because once, that was who he was. He’d flee at the first sign of intimacy, drowning in his fear of vulnerability. And if he’s honest with himself, a small part of him is still scared. Scared of you leaving him. Scared of not being enough.

His heart pounds like a storm-tossed sea. The doubt, planted by Mark’s careless remark, takes root. It twists through him, a dark, creeping thing.

“Don’t say that, Mark,” Jimin snaps, his voice sharp as breaking waves. He pushes Mark back with an annoyed flick of his tail.

“Yeah, how can you be so inconsiderate?” Taehyung chimes in, his glare cutting through the water like sunlight through the shallows. Namjoon nods, his silent support steady as a reef.

But their words can’t reach Yoongi, not when his mind is a whirlpool of insecurities. His throat feels tight, like the ocean itself is pressing against him. He wants to believe you love him—you stayed when you found out he wasn’t human. You didn’t run. But what if you’re just tolerating him? What if you think he’s too broken? Too weak? Too… unlovable?

“Hyung,” Jimin says gently, trying to pull him back to shore. “Calm down. Don’t listen to him.”

But Yoongi shakes his head, the weight of his fears pulling him under. “What if he’s right?” he whispers, his voice cracking like fragile glass. “What if she doesn’t really love me? What if she’s going to leave me?” He pauses, his words trembling with raw vulnerability. “I don’t deserve her.”

Jimin’s face twists with frustration. “You’re not making sense, hyung. Of course, you deserve her.”

But Yoongi’s voice drops to a hollow murmur, barely audible over the rushing tide. “I don’t deserve to be happy.”

And with that, he turns, his tail flicking once, twice, before he swims away, leaving his friends behind. Jimin calls after him, but the sound fades as Yoongi dives deeper into the sea.

He doesn’t stop swimming until he reaches the cave—the place where his pain began. It’s here, in the shadows of jagged rocks and the soft hum of the ocean’s lullaby, that he lets himself break.

He screams, the sound raw and guttural, muffled by the water. He cries, tears lost to the sea that surrounds him. The words Mark said play on an endless loop in his mind, each one carving a deeper wound. Is it only a matter of time before he hurts you? Or worse—before you hurt him? Everyone else has. Why would you be any different?

Days pass, and Yoongi is a shadow of himself, a ghost haunting the waters of Naraeum. He avoids you, thinking it’s for the best. But as the days stretch into lonely nights, a part of him stirs. You deserve closure, he thinks. You deserve an explanation. Even if it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done.

That’s how he finds himself at your door, long after the world has fallen silent. His hand trembles as he knocks, the sound soft but resolute.

When you answer the door, your emotions collide—a tempest of fear and relief swirling in your chest. You step aside, letting him in, though his presence feels heavier than the crashing waves of an approaching storm. He enters with a sigh, already cloaked in guilt. Guilt for being away, for the words he’s about to deliver, words that taste bitter even before they leave his lips.

You greet him with a soft, trembling smile, one that doesn’t reach your eyes. Both of you settle onto the couch, the silence between you taut as an unstruck harp string.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your voice gentle but laced with unease. He flinches, your concern cutting through him like shards of glass.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he says, the words escaping him in a broken whisper. He can’t meet your gaze—if he does, he knows the dam will break, and the flood of his own emotions will drown him.

Your breath catches, fear rising like a tide threatening to pull you under. “What do you mean?” you ask, voice quiet and fragile, as though afraid the answer might shatter you.

“I can’t be with you anymore,” he says, his hands clenching tightly, his lip trembling as he bites down on it. He tells himself this is the right thing to do—leave before you have the chance to hurt him.

Tears spill down your cheeks, glistening like liquid starlight. “Why?” you choke out.

“I wasn’t looking for love,” he lies, each word a dagger he twists deeper into both your hearts. “I was just looking for some fun. I told you I don’t do relationships.” His voice is sharp, cold as the abyss, but you both know it’s a mask. He clings to it, his last line of defense, because if he lets the truth slip through, he’ll unravel.

“How can you say that?” you cry, your voice raw, your tears falling faster now.

“I don’t love you,” he says, the words tasting like poison.

Your sobs grow louder, shaking your frame, but you press on, your voice breaking with desperation. “How can you say you don’t love me? After everything we’ve been through? After everything we’ve shared?”

His resolve falters for a moment, your words piercing through his armor. Damn it, he does love you. He loves you so much it terrifies him. But he’s too afraid—afraid of the pain you might bring, afraid of the inevitable heartbreak he’s convinced himself will come. To survive, he has to end this now, even if it means destroying himself in the process.

“You were just a good fuck, that’s all,” he says, forcing himself to look up. The moment he sees the agony on your face, he feels his heart crack, fissures spreading deep within him. You believe him now, and it’s killing him.

You’re crying so hard it’s difficult to breathe. “I’m not crying because you don’t love me,” you manage to gasp, your voice trembling with pain. “I’m crying because I still love you, even though you don’t love me.”

The weight of your words crushes him. He feels like a monster, a wretched creature unworthy of the love you so freely offer. He can’t take the words back now. He’s too far gone. He feels hollow, a shell of himself, and every beat of his heart screams that he’s made the worst mistake of his life.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice breaking under the weight of his regret. “I told you I wasn’t good for you.”

You sob into your hands, and he watches, helpless, broken. Slowly, he rises from the couch. He knows he can’t stay, can’t bear to see the pain he’s caused you. He’s fractured, and now he’s fractured you, and he tells himself it’s for the best.

Through your tears, you cry out, “Why do I always fall in love with people who want nothing to do with me?”

He freezes, your words slicing through him like a harpoon. He knew you carried your own wounds, scars you never fully revealed, and now he’s only deepened them. He feels like the worst kind of coward. He thought he was protecting himself, but he’s only destroyed something beautiful.

Still, he runs. It’s what he does best. The sound of your cries follows him, haunting him, but his heart is a storm, drowning out everything else. He doesn’t turn back. He doesn’t dare.

When he finally returns home, his body trembling, Jimin wraps him in a firm embrace, whispering, “You’re so stupid, hyung, but you’re loved. You’re loved even when you don’t think you deserve it.”

Seokjin, ever the voice of reason, glares at him. “Go back to her. Apologize. Tell her you were wrong and scared.” His words are sharp, biting, but laced with truth. Yoongi knows he’s right.

But he can’t. Not yet. Not when he feels like he’s drowned in his own guilt. He’s afraid—afraid that you’ll never look at him the same way again. And that fear keeps him paralyzed, even as the longing for you claws at his heart.

It’s been almost a year since Yoongi disappeared—since he ran not only from you but from himself. You’ve replayed those moments endlessly, searching for clarity, clinging to the truth you both felt: what you had was real. It thrummed between you like a shared heartbeat, too raw, too wild to ignore. But fear has a way of stealing even the purest things. You’re certain he left before you could leave him—though you never would.

Not a day has passed without you searching for him. You’ve wandered to the edge of the sea, his home, calling his name to the waves. The ocean, vast and unyielding, has given no answers. It feels cruel, as though it conspires to keep him hidden from you. And now, summer has returned, and with it, the town’s festival.

The streets are alive with lantern light, laughter, and music that spills into the air like the hum of magic. You move through the crowd like a ghost, drifting past merchants hawking trinkets and sweets, their cheerful cries fading to a dull hum in your ears. You don’t belong here—not without him.

Then you see him.

Or you think you do.

A man with raven-black hair stands in the distance, his profile soft beneath the golden glow of festival lights. Your heart stirs to life, pounding wildly against your ribs. Could it be?

Your feet move before your mind catches up, weaving through the crush of people, breath hitching as you near him. You’re running now, every step a prayer whispered into the night. And then, finally, you’re there. Your hand reaches out, trembling, and taps his shoulder.

He turns.

Wide, startled eyes meet yours, and the world stills. Time seems to ripple, folding in on itself, carrying you back to the moment he left, the hollow ache he carved into your soul. But now he’s here, flesh and bone, and you feel as though the universe has just exhaled.

It’s him.

The regret in his gaze hits you like a tidal wave, his anguish laid bare in the depths of his dark, glassy eyes. Your breath catches as you bite your lip. What were you thinking? He left. He doesn’t want you.

This was a mistake.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, his voice cracking under the weight of unshed tears. His hands curl into fists at his sides as if bracing to run again, and your heart splinters all over. But just as you’re preparing for the inevitable—the shattering of hope—he moves.

He collides with you, his arms wrapping around you with an urgency that takes your breath away. The softness of your summer dress flutters around you both as his body presses into yours. You feel his heartbeat thundering against your chest, frantic and raw, as if trying to prove he’s real, that this moment is real.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking as he buries his face into your shoulder. His tears warm your skin as his body trembles against yours. You wrap your arms around him instinctively, pulling him closer, your fingers tangling in the soft strands of his black hair.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his own eyes shimmering with vulnerability. “I won’t run anymore,” he says, his voice like a solemn vow, a plea carried on trembling lips. “Do you still want me?”

And in his words, you hear the echo of every moment you spent missing him, every wish cast into the sea for his return. You press your forehead against his, the answer trembling on your lips, carried by the truth you never stopped feeling.

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle @pjmxxjm @ajoonniice @kookiewithluv @mikrokookiex @rapmonjoon94 @parkitrighthere

→ Taglist: @allie-in-the-moon @jeonsbabygirlsworld @bangtannie7 @suker4angst

→ Author’s endnote: I don’t really know what I think—just that I’m proud I wrote it, that I finished it. One less mermaid tale to tell, with just one more left swimming in my mind. And yes, I’m going to write that one too—because I owe it to you. I’m sorry for the way I disappeared, like a ghost slipping through a locked door. I’m not back—not really—but something sparked in me, and it felt like a crime to let it fizzle out. So here we are. There are still three stories waiting in the wings, three restless works-in-progress that will meet the page when inspiration decides to knock. Will they be any good? Who knows. My writing feels like a mess, like a tangled net that catches doubt instead of stars. Maybe that’s why I wrote Yoongi this way—because, surprise, I’m Yoongi in this one. Hahaha, the plot twist no one asked for! Trauma makes excellent fuel for fiction, doesn’t it? (For the record, no, my parents didn’t abandon me—this story has truth, but not all of it belongs to me). Anyway, this little corner of Tumblr is my new blog, but I won’t use it much. I’ll post the final mermaid story when it’s done (+ the rest I mentioned above), and after that, the curtain falls. If you’re looking for my old work or want to dive into the rest of the mermaid tales, you’ll find them tucked safely on my AO3. Thank you for reading—for caring enough to stay, even when I didn’t. And hey, in case no one has told you today: you’re extraordinary, you’re seen, and you matter to me🫂

© @/kingofbodyrolls 2025 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it 🥰

[momma3sunflowers]

I don’t think I’ve ever really introduced myself ☺️

Sadie - 28

I am bisexual 🫶🏻

I love metal core/ alternative metal. Bad Omens and Sleep token are my top played right now

I am a huge reader, I have shelves full of books and my own little reading corner that we have nicknamed the Whore House, due to the amount of smut on my shelves 😂 I love dark romance and hockey tropes 🫶🏻

Hockey is my favorite sport. Vegas Golden Knights all the way 😍

I have probably about 17-18 tattoos and counting, because I’m going to keep adding.

I love Halloween and spooky things. Fall is my absolute favorite season.

I’m part mermaid, love being in the water and swimming.

I am a baby stoner 😂😂

I’m sure there is so much more to know, so feel free to ask ☺️

[nikalaeva]

Mates, arranged marriages, from enemies to lovers, etc.

For a long time I didn’t understand why I don’t like relationships between FMC and MMC in various books. I mean, I looking for something, but find nothing but dissapointment. And one day I suddenly saw the light and was even surprised that I had not realized this before.

No matter how hard the author tries to show FMC as a strong, cool, independent woman (you know, in a la medieval society), she is always classically feminine in relationships. And if she is not, the author makes the man extremely masculine, a kind of wild beast that this girl tamed. If she is a poor peasant girl, he is a prince. If she is a princess, he is a king. If she is a queen, he is a god or ancient creature such as death, space or, idk, the primeval void.

I don’t mind reading about toxic, terrible relationships. I like possessiveness and jealousy in books IF IT'S MUTUAL. But in most cases (if not all) I see not hate/love, but the offender/victim. And the victim is a woman.

I guess that's why I almost idolize Jude and Cardan's relationship - they're both toxic. They both can hurt, use, deceive and frame each other, and they have successfully do it throughout story. Jude is considered even more dangerous than Cardan. And let's face it - marriage with Cardan doesn't change anything; Jude would have found a way to force fairies to recognize herself as the Queen if she had been obsessed with the throne.

Why can't a woman be powerful on her own? Why does her development and formation always happen thanks to a man? I don’t call myself a feminist, but I’m so offended when I want to read a story about a female character, her life, difficultes, doubts and worries about herself, but I see how she and the author jerks off to a man.

I already cringe when I see "enemies to lovers" trope in the annotation, because I don’t expect to see real enemies there, a confrontation between two vicious, cunning, powerful personalities. No, with a 95% probability FMC will be just a sassy hater of dresses, getting into trouble, and MMC will be Mr. Dark saving her ass so that he can first kick her and then fuck her.

Joan of Arc was young. Marie Skłodowska-Curie was married. Valentina Tereshkova, Clara Zetkin, Margaret Thatcher, and this list can be continued for a very long time - throughout history, women have climbed into male professions and achieved success. What, their lives and stories are not interesting, not inspiring, not amazing?

Can I have Mulan instead of Cinderella, Elsa instead of the Little Mermaid? Can I have a woman who is as dangerous to a man as he is to her? Can I read about a love where both partners are like mad dogs? Or am I asking too much?

[see-arcane]

Well. I just read the Robert Eggers Nosferatu (2024) script in its nascent 2016 form. Quick and haunted thanks to @nosferattusx2 for making me aware of its existence. It’s here on the Internet Archive if you want to give it a look yourselves.

I don’t know if it’s legit, but it seems precariously close to the trailers. Even if it is the real thing, it’s also an eight-year-old rendition of the script, so there’s no guarantee of it being an exact mirror of what will hit theaters. That being said?

It’s. A lot.

SPOILERS BELOW

I won’t regurgitate the whole thing here, just the main bits that stood out to me for better or worse:

For a guy who says he's very against the sexy romantic vampire trope, Eggers makes sure to have everyone getting scared and horny over Orlok at every opportunity. I will give him grudging kudos for not confining this strictly to Ellen or otherwise Just the Ladies~. The thing opens on Knock stroking himself to the concept of the guy and Thomas gets his own erotic/assault-flavored attack from Orlok at the castle with future allusions framing it in a distinctly sexual framework. Ellen is set up as the ~darkly tempted Eve to Orlok’s Adam~ but it’s not aggressively mega-hetero about it. Progress?

Thomas arrives in Orlok territory and immediately gets swarmed and pickpocketed by smelly-masculine Romani people (referred to strictly by the g word through the script) bar the one pretty young teenage girl one who we later get to see riding naked on a horse because only naked virgin girls can lead the group to hidden vampires for their destruction. Yeah.

…

Bobby Egg, I can get behind the VVitch using seductive evil weirdness and I see why mermaids would swim around topless, but. What the fuck? And also follow-up what the fuckery to the whole portrayal of these guys, period? On that note.

Here we see the first example of Thomas being Assigned Twink at Comparison to All the Other Men. Eggers frames him as insecure beside the masculine Romani and has a future character refer to him as a ‘dandy’ (despite that being a term reserved for men who were well-off, not just effeminate/less than manfully manful). To Bobby Egg’s slight credit, Thomas is not portrayed negatively or milksop-shaped because of this; it’s just. Kind of there. All the time.

Count Orlok’s description isn’t bad. Very ominous, very classic gothic-supernatural. I do appreciate that he’s explicitly given more corpse-like attributes, making him seem like a mobile cadaver more than anything else. And Eggers does keep him creepy—no stealthy Count Fuckula spit-shining on him.

Shovel scene sort of happens as an original Dracula nod, but with no payoff. An attempt was made and thrown away.

Ellen. Oh, Ellen. Such a double-edged piece of work here. On the one hand, this version of the script implies that she isn’t doing the classic bastardized Mina thing of deciding her lame lameo human husband isn’t good enough for her and she needs herself a REAL MAN. There’s a lot of the original Thomas and Ellen’s genuine love and regard shown in the couple…

…up to a point. Eggers writes them a very very ugly and basically wholly OOC argument to do with Thomas claiming he wed her out of pity and saying she ought to have been sent to a madhouse when she was young, which itself was a follow-up to Ellen yelling that Orlok’s work is all his fault in a weirdly victim-blamey way and a scene that felt less like a badly done seduction and more like she was trying to actually assault him. They seemingly both reconcile after this, but like…what the entire hell?

Okay, to get this out of the way—I think Eggers is trying to lean hard into the ‘well in the actual time and place of the story things would be so grimdark and depressing, so it has to be nasty even between the loving main couple, and it adds to the horror-misery of it all, and it makes Ellen’s dark temptation~ more reasonable!’ thing. We can see a lot of that in how he sets Ellen up to have a history of dark thoughts, a lot of stigma surrounding her sanity/insanity, and there’s some very cruel medical ‘treatment’ she gets subjected to during her fits while waiting for Thomas and/or Orlok to arrive. Naturally those fits are all sexual/orgasmically twitchy because of course. Eggers is very much trying to set Ellen up as sympathetic in her situation and as a kind of next evolution to the Francisified Mina character who wants to fuck Dracula/Orlok/Death so so bad~

And then we get to the Van Helsing stand-in, Von Franz, and he is…oh man. 90% of his bits are fun. Interesting. The last 10% would make Abraham van Helsing in every iteration punch through the fourth wall and beat him to death with their library books. Surprise, Von Franz and Ellen both secretly colluded to set up the sunrise trap that will inevitably kill Ellen via Orlok feeding on her into the dawn. Von Franz purposefully leads the vampire hunter crew astray, including Thomas. When Thomas discovers this—from Knock who he mistakenly staked in Orlok’s place due to a mix-up with the coffin—Von Franz laughs as Thomas and Dr. Sievers the pseudo-Jack Seward make a run back to the house to try and save her.

The climax comes with Ellen and Orlok playing out the original Nosferatu ending. She dies happily cradling Orlok’s carcass. Thomas reaches her bedside and collapses in despair. The script closes on Von Franz showing up with a lilac bouquet and putting his hand on Thomas’ shoulder as he grieves, still unmoved from the bedside. Close on Ellen’s dead face ‘at peace.’

Somehow the scene doesn’t end with Thomas wringing Von Franz’ neck.   

There’s a lot more to read in there, obviously, but those were just all the big lumps sticking out of it to me.

I will grudgingly say it is not the absolute worst-case scenario I was afraid of. It’s not what I was hoping for—but that is keeping in line with Dracula and Nosferatu-adjacent media, per tradition. I do still want to see the film, I do want to like the finished product, even with the worrisome second trailer and sundry interviews throwing up red flags. Like The Last Voyage of the Demeter, it is at least an earnest attempt at taking this vein of classic gothic vampire horror seriously as a horror story.

But also.

I would really like directors to stop turning the Mina-Ellen figure into the vampire-pining gothic blowup doll for the latest ‘Bold and Subversive’ take #1654237 of GIRL AND THE DRACULA DO KISSY SEXY ROMANCE TIMES. An impossible dream, I guess.   

[lady-ashfade]

★~*･ﾟFade’s Collab Event

Hello everyone. I have been invited to do a collab by @queenpiranhadon and I thought I would make my own- it just seems so fun.

A x reader event

I have a few tropes to choose from, and message me if you want to join. Only one trope is used, so if it is taken I hope you can find another to fit. A new fic to post, and only one chapter. Any fandom characters are welcome. Comment below or message me to get everything sorted.

The rules are just write about the trope!! You get to control everything else

*if it is crossed out and has a blog by the side of it, that means it is take *

Collab Event Masterlist Here.

Fantasy

Royalty Au by @breakdawn-avenue with shoto/ mha

Fantasy Bounty hunter au

Space Bounty hunter au

Pirate Au

Masquerade @hopelesswritergall with Aemond Targaryen

Romantic

Enemies to lovers

Fake dating @targaryenluvs with Clark Kent

One Bed @aphroditelovesu with Benedict Bridgerton

Vacation Confession

Random

Murder mystery

Found family @olympus-library with rhaenrya targaryen

Alien crashes into background

Friday the 13th @gulnarsultan with Jasson voorhees

Hybrid/Creatures 

Adopted Hybrid

Found hybrids

Mermaids @serxinns with yandere class 1A

Werewolfs

Going to take a few writers I love- don’t feel pressured just getting the word out. Anyone can join.@aphroditelovesu @madame-fear

[ryuichirou]

are any of the twst girlies embarassed of their tits? wether it's because they're too small or too big or too generally existing?

Continuing with our boob special weekend lol Let’s talk about them some more. Thank you once again for the most important prompts in the world, Anon!

For those who missed it, yesterday we talked about twst girlies’ attitude towards their partner’s boobs. And also, a while ago we had a post in which I talked about boob hcs in general… In the latter one I briefly talked about the girlies’ relationships with their own boobs, so this time I’ll try not to write too much (a task that is Ryu going to fail in 3, 2…)

Riddle – when she isn’t focusing on it, she isn’t insecure about it, but when people (mostly Ace or Floyd) tease her about it, she gets very defensive and says that her breasts are not done growing yet. I guess she does have a complex … she fits into the trope of flat girl being jealous of bigger girls too nicely. Maybe it’s because the Queen of Hearts was quite a busty woman herself.

Ace – she isn’t embarrassed at all, she actually considers herself lucky because her boobs aren’t really big and don’t bother her at all, but she also isn’t really flat. The existence of boobs doesn’t bother her either. Of course, that doesn’t mean that she won’t compare her size to Deuce’s all the time.

Deuce – for the most part she forgets about them and isn’t super bothered, even though wearing a bra feels like a chore for her sometimes, since she used to not wear it for a long time. Her breasts also get pretty tender during a certain time of the month, and it makes running more difficult, but that’s about the only complain that she has.

Trey – she isn’t really insecure; her breasts began to rapidly grow when she was pretty young, so she is used to being a big girl. They do get in the way sometimes though, especially in the kitchen (which is annoying) or in the lab (which is dangerous), so if asked, Trey would say that she would actually like to have smaller boobs. She also gets a big embarrassed when others comment on it.

Cater – she is pretty comfy! Sometimes she makes jokes about wanting to be bigger, being jealous of Trey and stuff like that, but she really feels pretty okay with her boobs being medium-sized (closer to smaller ones).

Leona – not really insecure, but kind of inconvenienced. She doesn’t like wearing bras, and she is pretty big+her nipples are dark, so it’s pretty obvious that she doesn’t. It’s not like she cares about what other think of her, of course… one thing that she hates it when she falls asleep in a bad position and squishes her boob. Ouch.

Ruggie – oh she’s very okay with where she’s at, she’s happy that she never really had to buy herself a bra, and that her boobs are so small she pretty much forgets she has them. There’s never been a moment in Ruggie’s life when she was upset about having small tits.

Jack – she is both one of the biggest and the most physically active girls of the cast, so she would love to have smaller breasts. It’s pretty okay when she’s skiing or snowboarding because the layers of clothes compress her boobs very neatly, but when she’s running, she is having a very hard time. She has to get special types of sports bra, otherwise she wouldn’t really be able to run… In her ideal world, she is a B, in reality though, she is at least a D and growing.

Azul – there are moments when she is annoyed with her boobs, and she complains about them being big on a very rare occasion, but in general she enjoys being between C and D (she should be more of a C but I keep drawing her significantly bigger lol). She thinks that her boobs are one of her many assets and she is proud of this asset. A girl with a face this cute and boobs this nice can’t be not-trustworthy, right? She also puts them on a table when she works a lot, but that’s just a habit.

Jade – having big boobs isn’t something unusual for a mermaid, but having them underwater and on land makes a lot of difference because gravity and all. Plus, she and her sister are pretty big even by mermaids’ standards… so she is inconvenienced sometimes, but not too much. For the most part she doesn’t care. Her boobs do bother her when she is hiking though, she can't help but feel it would be much easier to walk, climb and even wear her backpack if she had boobs that are somewhat smaller than her enormous ones.

Floyd – she is way more inconvenienced than Jade, and the only one in the Octa-trio who actually complains about her boobs enough to ask for Azul to make a potion to make them smaller. But then she changes her mind and decides against it. She is very active, and she hates bras, so her boobs either bounce around too strongly or jump out of her shirt, and both are kind of bad. For the most part because everyone is acting so weird about it… it’s their problem though, not Floyd’s.

Kalim – happy girl, not a care in the world. She is also on a bigger side (similar to Azul), and it never really concerned her in any way. Of course it bounces a lot when she dances, but it’s like she isn’t even aware of that or really doesn’t care. She is pretty comfortable in her own skin!

Jamil – she is also perfectly fine, actually. When she was younger, she was kind of annoyed with Kalim’s boobs suddenly growing bigger when hers were much smaller, but she doesn’t care anymore; having smaller ones is more convenient anyways.

Vil – pretty comfortable, doesn’t really have any insecurities about it: she finds her small breasts aesthetically pleasing, plus it really works with her overall androgynous aesthetics. There are some clothes and looks she’d like to wear that are better for big-chested girls though, but it’s okay, even if it doesn’t look good on her, she knows someone who would look good wearing it.

Rook – she used to be very disconnected with her big boobs when she was younger because it actually caused a lot of discomfort to her during her hunts; she used to tie them up with bandages or pieces of cloth; she remembers being jealous of her brothers because they could run around the jungle topless and she couldn’t. But that was before; she is very comfortable with herself now and actually has a lot of appreciation of her breasts: Vil helped her to pick up proper underwear and support for them, and helped her a lot in general.

Epel – she hates her boobs, even though they aren’t even that big, but that’s already too big for her. Plus, they’re kind of round and perky, and she always feels like everyone’s looking at them (they’re not, no one’s looking). She is jealous of Ruggie…

Idia – for the most part she is very pleased with being one of the flattest girls in cast. There are so many headaches related to boobs, and she feels like she is excused from that annoying conversation entirely. She finds some comfort in deciding pretty early on in her life that she would never be busty and sexy and desirable (as if any of that has anything to do with having big boobs). Sometimes she thinks about what it would be like to have bigger boobs, but stops herself from thinking about it.

Ortho – ironically I think AI!Ortho would care about it more than real!Ortho. Real!Ortho is a little bit bigger than Idia, but she is pretty tomboyish and doesn’t really care about boobs at all (only other people’s boobs…). AI!Ortho, however, feels like this isn’t fair sometimes, and acts like a capricious child that wants something she isn’t really supposed to have. But overall, she just wants to be cute, so…

Lilia – the proudest flat girl in the world. Even more proud and even more flat than Idia lol Yeah there was never a moment in her life when she doubted herself because of that, even when she was mistaken for a boy. She has unshakable confidence and love for herself.

Silver – there are times when her boobs are in the way, but as long as she wears a proper bra or ties them up, it’s not an issue. She used to be a little concerned when she noticed that her boobs are growing (because Sebek’s didn’t start growing yet, and Lilia is completely flat), but that moment of panic was pretty short. She isn’t super big, but a bit bigger than Ace and Deuce, and she is pretty okay in her own skin.

Sebek – she is somewhat inconvenienced, and she also ties everything up when she’s training, but she also learned to live with her big boobs. She never felt like getting rid of them or never wanted to have them smaller; she is actually kind of proud of herself even though it is a pain in the ass to do everything that she does to keep them both healthy and not in the way of her activities. Horse-riding is especially difficult to her though, the bounce is too much sometimes.

Malleus – even though she is inconvenienced with how big and heavy they are, and with how much extra attention she needs sometimes because of them, she is pleased with her boobs in the same ways he is pleased with her horns, wings and tail – all of it is an indication of her being a Draconia. But also, when she gets tired of her big ones, she could just temporarily make them into smaller ones with magic! Just like she does with her tail and wings.

[ninadove]

Omg I nearly missed this HAVE SOME ASKS BELOVED 💜💖💙 3, 11, 17, 24, 34, 38

MWAH MWAH MWAH 💌

3. 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

I’ll give you the three pillars of my childhood!

First one is Tigger’s movie. My beloved. It has everything including the found family trope and a great sibling relationship and even identity fraud shenanigans. I rewatched it last year and then streamed it a few months ago for my Anarchist Gang friends and I was hit by how well the writers and animators conveyed the logic of a story invented by a little boy! Absolutely all the songs are iconic and I cried all over again.

Then you have two straight-to-DVD Disney sequels that are basically the same film: The Little Mermaid 2: Return to the Sea and The Lady and the Tramp 2: Scamp’s adventure. I actually didn’t see the originals until years later and when I did, I was sorely disappointed (DO NOT HATE ME. I KNOW NOW THAT THEY ARE GREAT MOVIES.)… They’re both stories about freedom and finding yourself and reappropriating your origins and what it means to be a family, and they filled me with neverending wonder as a little girl! ✨

11. What do you consider to be romance?

Ooooh what a big question… I expected nothing less from you 💌

I’m going to be so cliché: romance, to me, is healing.

Maybe you didn’t grow up in the best environment. Maybe the people around you made you feel like you were weird, or too much, or like you didn’t belong. Maybe a previous partner screwed you over… Maybe all you’ve ever known is sharpness, so that’s how you behave, without even realising it.

Romance is the arrival of someone in your life who knows exactly what you’ve been through, but experienced it a little differently. Someone who is both extremely similar to you and extremely different. Someone who forces you to rearrange your worldview and who rearranges theirs to include you… Above all, someone who is gentle with you, and a little bit crazy about you, and makes you a priority always.

I just described Feligami, and that’s not a coincidence. I think I didn’t realise exactly how much I wanted this for myself until I saw them onscreen… BUT ALSO!!!!! How much I literally didn’t want anything less than what they have, which was a huge revelation. I’m demiromantic, I could perfectly live my entire life on my own and be very happy: if I’m going to make room for a partner, they’d better draw hearts on my window and rescue me from exhausting social functions and be ready to cause a car accident to get me out of a villain’s claws.

Now if you asked me what love is, that would be a different story! 💌

17. Name 3 things that make you happy!

You, of course! 🖤🪶⚔️💌

Outside of the obligatory “my loved ones” response… Reading in a café, or in bed with the rain battering against my window. Waking up to the seagulls’ cacophony song. Re-reading something I wrote and being goddamn proud of myself. Also, I watched the new Miraculous episodes this morning (or rather only episode 2 so far, which is the first they aired, go figure), and THEY GAVE RYUKO LITTLE HAIR SPIKES. MY GIRL. SHE HAS LITTLE HAIR SPIKES. HOW DO YOU EXPECT FELIX (and me) TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS AAAAAAW ❤️🐉

24. What’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

I think I’m good at reevaluating when I’ve been wrong without wallowing in guilt. Critical skill, me thinks. You don’t actually learn anything from shaming yourself ad nauseam.

34. Any pet peeves?

MANY OF THEM BUT I SHAN’T SAY HERE. I’ve told you of the one that comes to mind first but I have not expanded on how weird I am about it. I’LL DM YOU

38. Fave song at the moment?

Would You Fall In Love With Me Again… This, too, is romance…

… But what if it wasn’t though. What if it was about siblings. @dragongutsixofficial and I have so many thoughts about this one let me tell you.

Thanks for the ask, beloved! Jasmine flowers be upon ye! 💌

[grainjew]

Nikaposting Pt 3: Joyboy was Shandian

This is the third of a series of posts about Nika & associated religious practice in the One Piece world. As I write and post the rest of the series, I’ll add links to this header.

Pt 1: Crypto-Religion | Pt 2: Symbology & Syncretism | Pt 4: Sun God Tropes

Enormous credit to @oriigami for being my discussion partner through all of this and having a substantial influence on the final product. Check out our ao3 series Joyful for a narrative rather than analytical take on the Nika tradition, and definitely go read her OP blog @kaizokuou-ni-naru for meta and translation fun facts.

-

Joyboy. What’s his deal?

Context note: This post makes the assumption that Joyboy was an awakened user of the Nika fruit. I don’t think that’s a particularly disputed take but I wanted to make sure we were clear on that to start with: To these posts, Nika is a mythical figure with a cult of worship and an incredibly potent wish attached to his name. And Joyboy, like Luffy now, was a user of the fruit created of that wish and harmonized enough with its nature to awaken.

We know basically nothing about Joyboy, but there’s just enough there for some really fun theorizing. This post will be shorter and more speculative than the rest of the series, but I think it’s a fun enough concept that I wanted to add it in.

So: Here’s why I think Joyboy was Shandian!

Let’s start with the obvious- Oda definitely re-read Skypiea while he was planning out the Nika stuff. It’s widely known that the Nika pose and the rhythm of the Drums of Liberation were pulled directly from the Skypiea dance scenes, especially the mid-arc one with the wolves. I’d add that the concept generally of Luffy being silhouetted against the sky in a pose & percussion instruments taking on a symbolic liberatory role (the bell and the drums) can also be traced back to this arc. The visual choice to have Who’s-Who’s imaginary version of Nika dressed stereotypically “tribal”—not a design choice I feel particularly positive about but a design choice Oda would make purposely—also evokes Shandora.

Skypiea was also the arc where we encountered the Shandora poneglyph, which is eventually revisited in the same arc we’re introduced to Nika and Gear 5 (that is, Wano), and which is the poneglyph pointing to the location of Poseidon, the Mermaid Princess, in Fishman Island.

We know from Joyboy’s poneglyph apology that he was a surface-dweller who was nonetheless a great friend of Fishman Island and of the Mermaid Princess of the time. His apology was addressed directly to her, for breaking a promise to her and her country. Similarly, the Shandians held the protection and eventual delivery of their poneglyph as a tenet of extreme importance until Robin took that burden from them onto her back. I doubt such a precious friend of Fishman Island would leave the location of Poseidon with anyone other than a nation he trusted absolutely- with his own people, the shandians.

Skypiea and Fishman Island are also arcs with a very pronounced thematic parallels/opposites thing going. Briefly:

They’re both set either 10 000 meters above or below the surface of the blue sea, in unfamiliar environments that require their own methods of fighting and navigating.

They feature longstanding conflicts the Straw Hats have sort of blundered their way into regarding oppression, power imbalances among cultures and classes of people, and very flawed but ultimately compelling depictions of real-world issues.

Their ruling parties are named after real-world religious figures (Skypiea’s God; Fishman Island’s King Neptune and Queen Otohime).

And silliest of all, Luffy has to be nerfed in both arcs because otherwise the final battle will be over in about one second lmao.

I think it’s safe to say they’re at least connected on a thematic level, and it’s my connection that once upon a time in the forgotten history, Joyboy, shandian friend of the Mermaid Princess, was that connection point.

It’s also notable that Shandora was a great nation back in the Void Century (indeed one of the three disconnected rays sun symbol nations, as well as a sun god-having nation - see pt 2 of this series of posts), and is the only nation other than the Ancient Kingdom that we have been explicitly told was brought to ruin during that time. Of course there’s infinite reasons the Twenty Kingdoms could have had to wreck the place, including “they were in a war,” but a strike at the home of that most problematic user of the Nika fruit seems particularly in-character.

And even if none of this convinces you that Joyboy was a child of Shandora, I sure hope you can agree that we should all be giving Skypiea some very close reads in the coming years!

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

Here’s a trope i don’t see NEARLY often enough (I don’t even know if it has a name): it’s a thing I’ve seen in some monsterfucking art where there’s a centaur (of various kinds, doesn’t have to be a horse per se, it could be anything from a giant spider to a dragon or a snake or a mermaid’s lower half) but instead of the human part there’s a big orifice kinda like a mouth. it finds human prey and swallows them up to the waist and ta-da! The two of them look like a regular centaur from a distance. This is usually the moment when the human struggles a bit to get free, only for the nerves at the base of their spine to connect to the creature’s. Suddenly, they can feel the half-taur’s (that’s what I’ll call it) body as if it were their own. Bonus points if the human host gets to experience having totally different sexual anatomy than what they’re used to 😊

People should respond to this with more info on it. For research purposes ❤️

.

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

This isn’t like the usual posts I make but, I played through Monster Prom Second Term’s True Calling ending, and what the fuck!!?? TToTT I’ve read before that the reason for the True Calling ending is to expand upon Miranda’s character, but why like this?? Why make fun of their own writing and ignore all they’ve already worked up to? :(

Miranda is heavily reliant on her servants and refuses pretty much all work, that much is obvious. She has her serfs do everything for her while she does whatever she ever desires on a whim, lost and aimless and without a clear purpose, but… wasn’t it always implied that she’s that way for a reason? That reason being her father spoiling her with gifts and money and royal privileges. Her parents already conditioned her to see torture, murder and genocide as normal things! I always figured that her talking about true love and romance and romanticising not-so-good-or-healthy fairytale tropes was a part of that, that her parents more or less raised her to be the perfect little princess whose only purpose is to be married off to a prince of another kingdom to strengthen ties or as a peace offering or something (or for political reasons overall? It is strange that a princess would find herself in a high school of a foreign land, hmm…). That would explain why she really has no aspirations, besides love! She was raised to be that way and she didn’t just decide to be selfish one day.

So, how come the game comes out of left field and has Miranda’s own sister yell at her for being selfish and vague??? Suddenly it’s her own fault that she's spoiled with serfs who’ll do whatever she says? Hello, who gave her those serfs???? Yeah, maybe her sisters are crown heiresses or high priestesses but clearly they were taught those roles! Those were roles that already existed, waiting to be filled! And now Miranda suddenly is the only one who needs to figure out what to be all alone?

Worst of all I can’t believe they’d insult their own writing and literally call Miranda flat :( I know that’s the fandom perception of her but this is your own damn game!! You know how you wrote her! Did you not keep track of all you wrote!? Maybe Miranda’s twist (“sweet mermaid princess is murderous”) is open and out for all to see but that hardly makes her flat. She loves tradition and finds it very important, she’s super into silverware and napkin-folding, she loves singing and water sports (water polo and gymnastics to name two) and fairy tales and stories and she dreams of romance and even though her family’s immoral and murderous ways have been hammered into her so hard she doesn’t know it’s not normal to torture and kill serfs, she’s still kind and worries for people and their well-being, even if they’re commoners! She’s not very “bright” in many things but in the Revenge ending we see her formulate and execute a blackmail plot without any serfs at all, which does require intelligence. Dare I say, just like how everyone has a twist in their personality, another twist of Miranda’s is that she can be cunning when she needs to be? I just can’t believe that they’d go and agree with the people saying that Miranda is flat and make a WHOLE SECRET ENDING TALKING ABOUT HOW FLAT MIRANDA IS instead of… I don’t fucking know. Making a route where they feel they’re actually giving her more depth? They’re just lampshading the issue! They’re talking about how they made Miranda into a flat character and how sad and awful that is instead of doing anything about it.

And they could’ve explored so much too. A character lacking direction in life is already a really interesting thing to explore. They could’ve surely done something with her basically being a tool for her family and kingdom! Alas… Maybe it’s silly to get so worked up about a video game but I don’t know. The game made me feel things. I love Monster Prom but sometimes it is a love-hate relationship :/

[prpfz]

🌹Hello!🌹

🌹Not replacing any existing partners! Hi, my name is Lex. I am 21 F, looking for a partner or two whom I can run some threads with! Long term preferred. I don’t have a fandom in mind, but we can definitely work with different things! I would like to do an oc x oc thing, we can definitely double up too if you’d prefer that. I would like to have an ACTIVE partner too, but of course, if there is something going on, let me know and please don’t ghost. I do like sharing music and art, and I consider myself friendly. My writing length varies between 2-3 (+) paragraphs, depending on the given scenario. I mostly roleplay on discord, but I am flexible with other options. Also LOVE plotting, brainstorming and sharing ideas! So anywho, let me get to the point.

So I thought of Oc x Oc, MxF pairing preferred, and I absolutely would love to add romance, angst, heavier themes probably, and darker themes to an extent, but that isn’t a must. I absolutely love possessiveness and obsessing, yandere themes, and I am not against fantasy au’s either! Also, I would love to include smut with a 60-40 ratio.

I have various interest and pairings, including slashers, demons,

🌹 Tropes and Pairings 🌹

Mermaid x Pirate

Demon x Human

FwB eventually turning to a relationship

Small band lead singer x “just a random person from the crowd”

Again, I am not against making up our own plot, but these are some things I would love to do. Anyway, if anything caught your eye, interact with the post and I will reach out!

give a like and anon will get back to you

[rphunter]

🌹Hello!🌹

🌹Not replacing any existing partners! Hi, my name is Lex. I am 21 F, looking for a partner or two whom I can run some threads with! Long term preferred. I don’t have a fandom in mind, but we can definitely work with different things! I would like to do an oc x oc thing, we can definitely double up too if you’d prefer that. I would like to have an ACTIVE partner too, but of course, if there is something going on, let me know and please don’t ghost. I do like sharing music and art, and I consider myself friendly. My writing length varies between 2-3 (+) paragraphs, depending on the given scenario. I mostly roleplay on discord, but I am flexible with other options. Also LOVE plotting, brainstorming and sharing ideas! So anywho, let me get to the point.

So I thought of Oc x Oc, MxF pairing preferred, and I absolutely would love to add romance, angst, heavier themes probably, and darker themes to an extent, but that isn’t a must. I absolutely love possessiveness and obsessing, yandere themes, and I am not against fantasy au’s either! Also, I would love to include smut with a 60-40 ratio.

I have various interest and pairings, including slashers, demons,

🌹 Tropes and Pairings 🌹

Mermaid x Pirate

Demon x Human

FwB eventually turning to a relationship

Small band lead singer x “just a random person from the crowd”

Again, I am not against making up our own plot, but these are some things I would love to do. Anyway, if anything caught your eye, interact with the post and I will reach out!

,

[miraculousstories]

List of my fav mlb fanfics no one asked for:

(this is a very long list btw, and all links are to ao3. I try to include as many warnings as possible, but I may forget some so please read the tags before reading the fic.)

Baby Boom by ShawnaCanon

It’s about an akuma that causes everyone in Paris to… do the deed… (not graphic) and every woman to get pregnant. It somehow evolves into a timetravel fic-

400,000 words- def recommend for readers who are okay with vague references to sex.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23034028/chapters/55083382

Dearly Despised (I Love You) by snacc-noir

Lovely fic. A nice take on the adrienette enemies to lovers trope, and it adds in some fake dating. Cn and Lb start out as (more or less) lovers in the beginning, and it evolves from there. It’s not a finished fic, but still, if you’re willing to wait then read.

73,000 words so far (I’ll update as time goes on) and 33 chapters- totally clean fic, I recommend if you love enemies to lovers trope.

(Last update on the fic was 10/20/2023)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28711611/chapters/70393941

Turn Loose the Mermaids by bookskitten

WONDERFUL. That is all I have to say about this. One of my personal favorites for sure- it’s a mermaid au where Marinette is a siren hellbent on dragging the captain of a ship (who just so happens to be Adrien- aka Captain Noir)down to the depths of the ocean… but you know it won’t end that simply.

64,000 words- WARNING- GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF SEX. I do not recommend for anyone not comfortable with that sort of thing. But if you are, go read! I promise it’ll be worth your time.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8238214/chapters/18879793

Cut My Life into Pieces, This is My Last Resort by Silver_fox_fyre

This was… an interesting one to say the least. In this, Marinette is at the end of the rope- struggling with being both Marinette and Ladybug. So, of course the logical decision would be to fake her own death. Well, Marinette’s death, that is. Be warned, some of the excuses are kind of a long shot (for instance, she fakes her own death by using the mouse miraculous- only she doesn’t actually have the costume, she just looks normal.)

114,000 words- completely clean- characters do fall asleep on each other like…once, but nothing happens. Some passionate kisses, but that’s all. Lots of violence though, and blood and gore are a given. Character death is included as well. I recommend for braver readers.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44353420/chapters/111546223

In Case You Don’t Know Me Tomorrow by thelibraryloser

This one is… an interesting one at best, a strange one at worst. The idea itself is that this is a universe where you can pay to have your memories erased. (No plot spoilers there) everyone is aged up in this, maybe around 20, 25. Non-magical universe as well.

56,000 words- a good fic, I’ll say, but it is a bit weird and I got bored of it at times. But stick around to the end and you’ll be rewarded, I promise. Clean as well, don’t worry.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41522079/chapters/104136594

Miraculous Magic: First Year by spetember

*gasp* Is this- it is! The mlb/Harry Potter crossover you’ve all been waiting for!! Marinette and Adrien are 11 year olds who have just received their Hogwarts acceptance letters. They receive magical artifacts- and are told by Headmaster Fu that they must strive to defeat the Dark Lord Hawkmoth. They are 11, so while Mari does develop a crush for Adrien near the end of the fic, there isn’t much love. But honestly? I didn’t miss it. There’s so much action- I loved it. I’m thinking of writing spin-off fics about the other years, so if I do I’ll post the link in the reblogs.

58,000 words- wonderful. Simply wonderful. Mild violence, but no worse than the actual Harry Potter. Nothing related to love, as I mentioned. They are 11 after all. If you are in both the hp and mlb fandoms, I def recommend.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11558436/chapters/25960689

Longest Night by P_Artsypants

Whump fic. Must I go on? Jokes aside, this fic is amazing. Marinette and Adrien are captured by some psychopath, and are tortured. I mean really tortured. Like I had to walk away at times it was so much- and this is coming from the person who regularly reads violence and smut. But if you can make it through, it’s a wonderful story. I don’t wanna spoil anything… but they do make it out alive. Well… kinda. I’ll let you read to find out.

210,000 words- Okay, I know I like to joke around a lot, but this time I’m serious. This is a very graphic fic which includes torture, and I mean real torture- not just the stuff you see on TV, but the stuff you see in R- rated horror movies. The fic actually references that the plot is similar to a horror film that actually got banned from almost every country in the world because it was so horrible. (The fic isn’t as bad as the film, but it is kinda horrifying.) Just for reference, here’s some torture tactics they use: Forced piercings, locked in a closet for a month, food loafs (a bunch of leftover food that’s baked with poison that makes you hallucinate) and.. well, there’s blood. I’ll just say that much. PLEASE use caution when reading, I will not say that again. For extremely brave readers only. Oh, and a side not- not completely clean. There is a sex scene at the end, which is skippable but if you are comfortable I would read it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19855210/chapters/47019550

The Strings of Fate by sailortwilightt

OKAY BACK TO THE NICE FICS. This is actually a two-parter, and it’s nail-biting good. It’s a soulmate AU, naturally, where an invisible red string takes you to your soulmate. Please note that this is an older fic written before the more recent seasons, so Emilie, for example, is not dead. This also evolves into an alternate dimension AU, and it has a great plot.

120,000 words- counting both fics. As warnings go, there isn’t much to warn. It’s clean as far as smut goes, and, while there is definitely some graphic violence scenes, nothing too bad. I recommend for the reader who isn’t too bothered by the canon-fanon differences.

https://archiveofourown.org/series/919836

Miraculous Moves Underground by LadyDi1980

Okay, so I’m sure you’ve seen the post about this fic floating around. It’s a dancing au, which features the clashing worlds of ballet and hip-hop. Non-magical, but I didn’t miss it. Wonderful au, really, and I def recommend.

104,000 words- clean fic. No violence (except for a few slaps initiated and recieved by none other than Gabriel Agreste) and no smut. There are some songs and images that don’t work attached to the fox. So be prepared for some disappointment in that department. Also, the music is mostly BTS.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7203476/chapters/16346582

Blanks by DipStick45

For those of you who stayed around until the end, you’re amazing. This is my favorite fox by far, and it’s absolutely incredible. It’s a zombie apocalypse au, but it’s much more sophisticated than the usual zombies one. The actual word zombie isn’t used once in the fic. Oh and by the way, this fic made me cry. I have never cried from any book, tv show, or other fic in my life, but I cried in this one. Why? You’ll just have to find out!! Oh and also, this is only 2 chapters. Apparently they were doing a one-chapter challenge, but ao3 has a word limit for chapters. READ. I WILL PERSONALLY FORCE YOU.

103,000 words- okay so despite what I said- here are the warnings: major character death. I won’t say more for now. Violence. As expected, only times 10. Someone gets beheaded, another gets themselves split in half. The actual zombie bite’s effects are also quite graphic. There IS one smut scene, but it’s not detailed. And Adrien was high anyways. Oh yeah, alcohol use, and… I mean… they do describe the human body in some detail, but it’s not that bad. Chloe is insane, by the way, so there’s that. I think that’s it. If you’re okay with that, then read. I beg of you.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43755576/chapters/110030079

And that’s it! I hope you enjoyed this very long list of fics! Lemme know what you think of them!