#I just feel privileged for being allowed to witness it

[subtle-as-an-earthquake]

Things I have done today:

worked

had lunch

lay on the floor and cried because I got overwhelmed by how beautiful and precious and special alex and miles' relationship is and how intense and brilliant the bond that they share and how perfectly the stars aligned the day they met each other and formed their unique connection

[cloudwisp]

✮ sylus x wife!reader

contents: fluff, suggestive. arranged marriage au. hints of slow burn. you like playing hard to get and he loves calling you his wife. 1.4k wc.

꒰ note ᰔ I had to deposit my messy thoughts somewhere and this headcanon post was the result.

part two here. ꒱

⭒ Arranged marriage with Sylus where he prefers to call it a “strategic partnership” as a means of appearances to flaunt that he has it all—an empire, riches, strength, influence and now a darling wife who waits for him at home. You’re not so much as a random choice, Sylus had been watching you from afar for a while and in exchange for his protection in the N109 zone he strikes a deal with you to play a simple role. You have every reason to be wary of him and know to keep your wits about yourself, but even you acknowledge that your chances are better with him. Though, if you asked him how he was so certain you’d agree to his proposal he’d admit that he wasn’t but he knew you’d consider it if he had an advantage over you.

⭒ He sets his terms and conditions—you reside in his humble abode, wedding ring always worn on your finger, and attend events with him as a pretty accessory on his arm to contribute to his image. But he’ll never admit that he actually enjoys your company at business functions that often feel dull to him. You are more than welcome to spend your days as you please so long you don’t cause him trouble, and that also means you have his black card privileges to spoil yourself rotten. Of course, he accommodates most requests you may have like sleeping in separate rooms if that’s what you wish (and redecorating because his furnishing decisions are quite bleak).

⭒ Luke and Kieran can sense that their boss feels something for you despite his nonchalance toward this little arrangement. It starts off small, it always does—Sylus takes note of your morning and night routine, your picky eating habits and has the chef make adjustments to your preference, how he sees you out in the gardens and come back with spring tulips to brighten the space and the next week he already replaced the slowly withering flowers with fresh ones. The twins whisper among themselves that he’s often less annoyed and irritated when you’re around, and their boss wouldn’t go through the trouble of being considerate unless he cares for you. It’s almost exciting for them both to witness a budding romance unfold before their very eyes and they do offer a helping hand here and there to keep things interesting.

⭒ Sylus thinks it’s adorable how you keep trying to resist him and that’s precisely the reason he loves seeking you out just to watch your resolve crumble under his touch. He finds you in the kitchen preparing a snack and cages you from behind with his hands planted on either side of you against the counter. “Hey kitten, I thought I’d find you in here.” You feel his hot breath down your neck as he pushes your hair aside just enough to lay a soft kiss on your shoulder. He chuckles when you comment that he’s being awfully touchy with you, and he purposely moves closer so that his chest is pressing against your back. “Perhaps I just can’t keep my hands to myself where you’re involved. Besides, you’re my wife now. I think I have the right to touch you whenever I like.”

⭒ You remind him that you’re his wife in title only, but that doesn’t discourage his flirtation and teasing as he allows you to nudge past him. He follows you into the common area and takes a seat on the couch, spreading his legs wide and taking up a lot of space. His gaze is settled on you as he pats his thigh and his lips curl into a smirk. “Come here, wife.” You naturally scoff meanwhile you place the plate of seasonal fruits on the side table and situate yourself closest to the armrest, taking a bite into a juicy red strawberry as you ignore his piercing stare.

⭒ For someone who always gets what he wants, Sylus isn’t used to being defied like this. And had it been anyone else his patience would wear dangerously thin, but he supposes that you’re a special exception because he seems to enjoy the chase and claiming its reward. With one small gesture, he drags you across the couch by a gravitational pull and you squeal when the swirling red easily turn and maneuver you so you’re forced to straddle him and your hands prop on his shoulders for support. “There, much better. Comfy? This is the best seat in the house.” His gaze locks with yours, and he thinks you huffing and frowning at him is simply cute. He firmly grabs your wrist with the bitten strawberry in your hand and lifts it to his mouth for a sweet taste.

⭒ “No fair… using your Evol against me like this.” You grumble under your breath as you gently trail your thumb from his chin to the corner of his mouth where the strawberry juices began to spill. Then an impulsive thought takes over and you pinch his cheek between your fingers, creating a sticky mess on his face. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself. That’s for treating me like a sack of potatoes.” He chuckles once more, his hand falling on your hip and he gives you a light squeeze. “Oh, I do have every intention of fully enjoying my wife tonight.” And by that, he means taking you out for a joyride on his motorbike and feeling your arms wrapped around him tightly as the engine roars through the streets under the night sky and sinking moon. Sylus would never engage in any intimate acts you weren’t ready for, but he loves seeing you fluster at his suggestive remarks.

⭒ As the weeks cross over into months, you never imagined that you’d be spending so much time with Sylus outside of your agreed terms. He’s everywhere in every waking moment of your life even when he’s not there physically. You’re learning new things about him each day and you (begrudgingly) like being around him—even when he can sometimes be a playful bully toward you. When he’s gone for long stretches of time to deal with negotiations and other important matters in the N109 zone, you can feel your heart yearning for him but you’d never say that you miss him out loud when you think he's still toying with you. But with the way he cares for you like you’re both in a real and genuine relationship, it’s hard to know his true intentions and keep your feelings buried deep inside your chest for long.

⭒ You accidentally confirm that Sylus does harbor romantic feelings for you when you carelessly bring up your replacement in a lighthearted joke. You’ve never seen his face falter so quickly at your words as he averts his gaze for a moment to collect himself—a hint of vulnerability in his crimson hues. “I wouldn’t have found a new wife.” He shakes his head and tells you, his voice a little rougher than before. You don’t know what to say, but you manage a soft “No?” that reaches his ears. “No. I wouldn’t have been able to replace you, kitten. You’re it for me. The only one. No one could fill the void you’d leave behind.”

⭒ You and Sylus have kissed before, but this is the first time you’re initiating it. As you brush your lips against his, there’s a softness you never noticed. His hand slips around the small of your back and he pulls you close against him, returning your kiss with the same tenderness as though savoring the taste of you. You lean back after a moment, your palm meeting his cheek in a sweet embrace. “You know, I'm still getting used to the idea that I’ve fallen for you.” You can see him returning back to normal when he offers you a cocky smirk. “And yet here you are. In my arms, with your lips on mine. I think you’re not being entirely honest, my beautiful wife.” Sylus has waited a long time to hear those words from you but you don’t need to know that right now.

[readwritealldayallnight]

Part 3 of ‘Bird Watching’ aka hot construction worker Simon x single mom reader

He thinks your favourite colour must be yellow

It’s the first thing he notices when he walks into your flat, or rather, the first thing his brain registers as existing around you, because in actuality he’s unable to let his eyes stray from your form for even a second

From the corner of his eye, he spots a yellow rain jacket hung up by the front door as he kicks his boots off, sees yellow mugs drying next to the empty baby bottles by the sink, notices yellow pillows and blankets laid out across the couch next to a laundry basket, tiny onesies and burp cloths left half folded inside, notices an arrangement of drooping yellow tulips in a vase that have seen better days, and in the midst of all the sunshine scattered across a flat evidently well lived in, well loved, is you

You, in a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt that definitely doesn’t have dried spit up on it, bags beneath your eyes betraying the exhaustion that your smile refuses to divulge, and with a tiny baby cradled against your soft chest, you’re nothing short of a vision Simon feels unworthy to be bearing witness to, the epitome of everything he thought he would never have, would never deserve, pure and unabashed domesticity at its finest

He thinks you’re the most beautiful sight he’ll ever see

As privileged as he feels to have been invited inside your flat, inside your home, invited to take a glimpse into the four walls that keep you and your baby bird sheltered from the outside world where things aren’t all sunshine, another part of him wishes you’d never extended the invitation in the first place

When you’d answered the phone last night, he could tell immediately that he had called at an inopportune time

The sound of a baby’s displeased shrieking in the background was impossible to ignore, even over the sound of your sweet ‘Hello?’ coming through the line, but how was he meant to ask if this was a bad time, when you let out the most delighted, tantalizing little gasp when he’d said it was Simon calling

“Oh, Simon! It’s so nice to hear from you! How are you?” You’d asked him, voice sweet as a candy and addictive as a drug. How was he? Well when you said things like that, he felt like he was on the verge of either a heart attack or a relapse into something he was sure would leave him feeling high for the rest of his days, but he managed instead to tell you that he was fine, not that you’d heard his reply

Talking on the phone while holding a newborn who demanded her mum’s undivided attention proved to be a feat easier said than done

“Sorry, could you say that again?”

“Asked how you girls were holdin’ up?” He’d repeated for you, voice a little louder for you to understand over the noise

“We’re alright. Better now that you’ve called, we’ve been lookin’ forward to hearin’ from you. I mean- I don’t mean to get ahead of myself here but, I’m guessing you’ve called with good news? I hope?”

Simon couldn’t help but let the small chuckle that built in his chest and slipped past his lips, knowing that there wasn’t a single alternate reality out there where he’d allow himself to ever give you anything other than good news, give you any reason other than to smile

“It is good news.” He confirmed, smile widening when he could practically hear you grinning on the other end of the phone. “Though there are a few uh- kinks we might have to sort out.”

Whatever reply you might have given, Simon was unable to hear over the sound of tiny cries on the other end growing louder, more insistent

“Sorry, I think she’s ready for another feeding.” You’d explained to him after the interruption, unaware that the mental image you’d just painted in Simon’s mind, of your aching breasts being suckled on while you spoke to him over the line, had his heart skip a beat, shaking his head and willing himself to stay focused. “Feels like the little lady never stops eating.”

“Would it be easier if I met you somewhere? Might be able to give you all the details tha’ way.” He thought about how he’d have to thank your baby bird one day, for giving him an easy excuse to see you in person again

“Think you might be right.” You’d giggled softly through the phone, a deep blush creeping up Simon’s neck up to the tips of his ears at the sound

Now, Simon wasn’t overly thrilled at how easily you offered him your home address, in spite of him offering to meet you at a cafe, or a park, anywhere that’d be convenient for you, you’d explained to him that getting yourself and a newborn out of the house was more time consuming than the actual outing, and that you’d be happy to offer him a cup of tea for his troubles

As infatuated as he’d become with you since your last conversation, and as much as he’d hoped there was a sliver of a chance you’d been thinking of him too, he wasn’t keen on you so willingly giving your address to someone who was still more or a less a stranger, even if the stranger was doing you a monumental favour

But Simon couldn’t fault you for being sweet, for being kind, for being so trusting, for still looking at the world and seeing good where others saw nothing, for finding the sunshine in the darkness

On top of that, he could tell how exhausted you were, despite your cheery disposition over the phone, the sleep deprivation was clear as day, certainly playing a part in your willingness to invite a stranger into your home, no questions asked

And that had Simon’s heart aching the entire drive over to your flat, thinking about how you were taking care of this new little life, so dependent on you for everything, but who was taking care of you? Who was making sure you were looked after? You’d mentioned how it felt like she never stopped eating, but who was there to remind you to eat enough too?

That train of thought led to a small pit stop along the way, sweet and savoury treats sat in the display case of the bakery reminded him of how little he knew about you, how we wasn’t sure which ones you’d prefer, until finally he was walking out with a box tucked under his arm filled with one of everything

As he’d knocked on the door to the flat, part of him had even wondered if he should’ve gotten some groceries for you as well, remembering how you’d said getting out of the house was especially tricky now, but he had to reign himself in, not wanting to overwhelm you too early, to come on too strong. You’d soon enough discover how willing he was to help, it would only be a matter of time until everything settled into place, for now he would have to pace himself

For now, he could allow himself to enjoy the sight of you licking your lips as you pull a chocolate croissant out of the to-go box, let himself appreciate the comfortable silence of a meal shared between two- as you’d insisted he had to have something to eat as well- two mugs of steaming tea sat cooling on the table as the tiny bird snuggled in her wrap sleeps peacefully against your chest

He hadn’t been able to get much of a glimpse at her last time, tucked away under layers of blankets in her pram, and granted her mum had been holding most of his attention. But now he’s able to get a slightly better look at her as she snoozes on you, her body as tiny as he remembers his nephew having been once. She’s got her mouth open in a slight ‘o’, her petite little hand curled up against the top of your cleavage, she slumbers without a care in the world, knowing she’s in the safest spot she could ever be, listening to her mum’s heartbeat beneath her ear

And you, every time your hand rubs gently against her back or softly pats her little bottom, eyes glancing down to check on her and eyes beaming with intangible love and devotion, well, you appear to quite literally glow before him. The two of you look like a perfect puzzle, the pieces fitting together seamlessly to reveal a most beautiful image

Simon only hopes that there’s perhaps room for a third puzzle piece in the mix, a chance to discover an even more complete picture, one that maybe includes him

“Part of me wants to insist again that you didn’t have to do this, but I think I actually really needed it.” You say, wiping crumbs off the corner of your mouth with a finger, Simon’s gaze inevitably locked on the movement, mind wandering towards thoughts of licking chocolate remnants off your lips with his own tongue. “So I’ll say thank you instead. Again.”

“You’re welcome.” He replies with a soft chuckle reverberating through his chest, shoulders unconsciously straightening with the pride he feels swell within him, knowing that such a simple gesture could so easily please you. “Really, no need to thank me.”

“I just um-” you add, shifting slightly in your seat, fidgeting with your fingers as you avoid his gaze and look at the box of sweets instead. “I just would feel bad taking all of these if someone’s waiting on you at home that would like them too. Should we save some for ‘em?”

You’re cute, Simon thinks to himself, trying to get an answer to a question you don’t want to ask directly, tip toeing around it

“There ain’t no one at home, love.” He confirms, the term of endearment slipping out intentionally this time, feeling emboldened by being in your home, in your orbit, in your gaze, and apparently being on your mind too. “They’re all yours.”

The treats are all yours, yes, but what he doesn’t dare say yet is that so is his time, his attention, his focus, they’re all yours now birdie, if you’ll allow him to give them to, that is

The blush that creeps up your cheeks has his own blood rushing south, your shy smile imprinting itself to the front of his brain for safekeeping. You’re as sweet as any of the goods they made in that bakery today, and so he decides he’ll let you in on the other question you’ve been dancing around since you’ve been sitting here chatting

“So is the nursery spot. It’s yours, I mean. Or, rather hers I suppose.” He adds, jutting his chin towards the bundle laid across your bosom, noticing how your face stills at his words for a second, before blooming into the brightest expression he’s seen on you thus far

“Really? Oh my gosh, are you serious? I- okay hold on, let me try and lay her down in her crib. I’m too excited, I’m gonna wake her up.” You say, the pure joy evident in your voice as you slowly rise from your seat, a palm cradled against the back of her head as you excuse yourself down the hall towards what must be your bedroom, Simon’s eyes following your every move until your mismatched socked feet are padding back towards him a few minutes alter

“Simon, you- you really mean it? What did- how did you- what’s- just tell me everything!” You laugh, pulling your kitchen chair closer towards his side of the round table, sliding your mug across the wood towards you as you settle in, beaming eyes locked on his

He has to fight to reign in the grin threatening to stretch across his face as well, your excitement contagious as he angles his body towards you, not missing the way your eyes flit towards the flexing muscle of his arms for a split second, before returning to his face

Now, Simon’s had ample time between meeting the daycare’s director and walking into your flat, and each second has been spent wondering how he would go about this… situation he’s put himself into, considering what he should do about the little white lie he didn’t correct when the owner presumed Simon was inquiring about a spot for his child, a child she presumed he shared with his wife, rather than the woman he’d started falling for only days earlier

And yet with all that time, and as skilled as Simon once was at making life or death decision in the blink of an eye, not having had the luxury to consider actions and consequences when in the heat of the moment in what feels like a lifetime ago, he hasn’t been able to bring himself to a decision, hasn’t been able to convince himself that it’s worth bringing up at all, so long as no one tugs too hard on the loose string and unravels everything he’s working to seam together

After all, if Simon has it his way, the owner’s assumption won’t be wrong for too much longer, and so as he sits across from you, waiting for his answer, he decides that no one is being hurt if he omits the truth just a little while longer

“Easy ‘nough to find the owner, after all.” Not entirely true. “Turns out she’s a friend of a friend, who would’ve known?” Not true at all. “Told her I needed a favour, and she was happy to oblige.” A lie. “They had exactly one infant spot left open, and it’s yours now.”

“Oh, Simon, I- I don’t even know what to say! I was only expecting you to find me a phone number, or a name, or- I can’t believe you would do all of that.” You practically gush, pulling your knees up so you’re facing him entirely now. “I thought I was going to have to beg whoever was in charge for a chance, no one in the city is accepting infants right now. I just- Simon I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful I am, truly. But, why would you even do all of this? Even if you’re down playing it, it sounds like you went through a lot of trouble for us.”

Simon decides he’ll try a little honesty for a change

“The truth?” He asks softly, and you nod up at him, gaze wholly enraptured by whatever reply he’s about to offer you. “Haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ ‘bout you. Either of you. But, you especially.”

“R-really?” You practically whisper, the blush on your cheeks as dark as ever, though your smile is anything but shy this time. He would dare say you look almost relieved at his words, a sentiment that has his heart skipping another beat.

“O’ course.” He answers easily, wondering how he’s gone all his life without this feeling stirring in his chest, the rush of chemicals to his brain addictive to say the least, wondering why he’s denied himself this joy for so long. But then again, it was you he was waiting on all this time, wasn’t it? “The director would like to meet you first though, she said there’s enrolment details to sort through or something, and she wants to meet- erm-” He trails off, motioning in the direction of the hall where you’ve laid the baby bird to rest

“Rosie. Oh my gosh, I can’t believe how rude I am, you’ve done all this for us and I haven’t even introduced you to her properly!” You say, a hand unconsciously smoothing over your stomach where she once grew, as though that would always be the place you considered her first home, as being within you. “Her name’s Rose, but she’s my little Rosie.”

“Tha’s beautiful.” He says, following your gaze as you look lovingly down the hall towards her, as though you could both see her through the walls.

“Thank you. I had no idea what I was going to name her, all throughout my pregnancy. I was literally in the hospital bed pushing her out and still unsure what I’d call her.” You reminisce with a small laugh, Simon hanging onto your every word as you offer him a glimpse into your reality a few months prior, the time before you’d turned his world upside down, a time when the foundation of your own world was being rocked.

“I was uh- I was by myself for it. Didn’t have anyone there, and this one nurse was so kind to me. She made me feel like I wasn’t alone, stayed with me for all of it, even after I’d delivered. Afterwards everyone kept pressuring me to come up with a name for her already, one doctor even told me I should’ve been able to look at her and just know. That mothers are supposed to know these things when they look at their baby. But there was so much happening- I just couldn’t decide, nothing felt right for her. Anyways, a few hours after I’d given birth the nurse came into my room and she’d gotten me flowers, probably from their gift shop. But it was a bouquet of roses, it was- it was the nicest thing anyone had done for me in a long time and I knew right away, that my girl was going to be a Rose.”

Simon can’t help but to sit in comfortably silence for a moment, letting that information sink in. You’d told him in your first meeting that it was just you and the baby, that much he knew. And walking into your flat, it was evident that there wasn’t a trace of a man living here with you. But to hear this, to know that you were alone as you gave birth, the fucker who’d had the downright honour of putting a baby into you nowhere to be found, has Simon’s blood boiling. He’s seeing red, but he steels himself with a deep breath and files that information away for another time.

“Rose is perfect. Just like she is.” He says without hesitation, watching the far off look in your eye as you told your story change instantly into one of pride, your eyes meeting his again with gratitude brewing behind them.

“Thank you.” You whisper, a timid hand slowly reaching to rest on his forearm for a moment, the small gesture having Simon’s heart beat so rapidly he’s worried you’ll be able to hear it. “Anyways uh- you said she wants to meet us?”

“Right, just details she needs to iron out, nothin’ for you to worry ‘bout. The spot’s yours love, I made sure of it.” He affirms, knowing that he’ll be replaying this moment in his mind constantly as he shows up early to work in the mornings and leaves entirely too late at night in order to finish the job he’s promised would be completed early, all for you. “I think it’d be best if I went you girls, to the meeting. Don’t think anyone would give you a hard time but, just want to be there to be sure.” He also wants to be there to filter any questions that might arise about your relationship to one another, keep the thread from being pulled

“Oh, of course, okay.” You say, pulling your hand back as you go to reach for you phone, pulling up your calendar. “Do you know when she was hoping to meet? We’ve got an appointment with the paediatrician on Wednesday morning, but if she gives us enough time we could be on the tube and there by-”

“You’ve been takin’ the tube with her?” Simon cuts you off, more abruptly than he meant to, but the image of you and your baby bird stuffed into the tube with all the delinquents and criminals that frequent London’s underground instantly has the hairs on the back of his neck raising

“Well, yeah of course. Used to have a car but, selling it made more sense when- well you know.” You shrug, clearly not wanting to linger on your dwindling financial situation since bringing a baby into this world

“I’ll pick you girls up.” He declares without hesitation

“Oh, Simon you really don’t have to! Seriously, you’ve already done so much for us. I can’t ask that much of you.” You try to reason, though Simon can tell there’s not much fight behind those words, a mothers instinct to protect her baby stronger than your need to insist on independence at this moment, especially if it means not having to navigate a pram through the tube

“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, love. Like I said last time, I want to, so I will.” He replies simply, because to him it really is that simple. Give him the chance to prove himself, and he’ll give you everything, anything you need

“Well, if you’re sure.” You smile softly at him, placing your phone back on the table, worries dissipating already.

“I’ll reach out to ‘er and confirm a date and time.” He tells you, pulling his own phone out this time, preparing to shoot off a text to the owner right away, though your next words have him stilling, certain that his heart is going to give out soon

“Great. Then it’s a date.”

He’ll be sure to bring you yellow roses next time

But first, he’s got an infant car seat to go buy for his truck

Ladies and gentleman, part 3 of Bird Watching 😇😇😇

I am having entirely too much fun writing this series, and it really does mean the world to me that you all have been so into this story as well!!! Hope part 3 lived up to your expectations! Simon’s lies surely aren’t going to catch up to him, right?

- M 🫶🏻

Tag List:

@puppydollgstar @strawberrygato @heletsmelovehim @404creep @just-lilita @desiretolive @marigold-morelli @robinfeldt98 @gojos4evrluvr @afanofbeans @br3nt-12 @sleep101 @scaleniusrm @bbygirl9 @elysianightsss @spidersuneee @mihoonz @ungodlydilf @nicolebarnes @kentuckyhobbit

[kyri45]

A final letter

Hello Everyone!

The queue is paused and everything is scheduled, which means we are ready for the finale!

I know that, in the end, this was just a silly side project for me, with everything else going on in my life. But for this occasion, I wanted to drop some words here and hope they make sense.

I started watching LMK only because a friend told me there was a "Sonadow-coded" ship. I ended up consuming the entire thing in one sitting on July 10th, 2024. At the time, I was still recovering from a bike accident that had left me with a broken right forearm—unable to draw for a little over a month. (I did try drawing with my left finger, but it wasn't exactly fun.)

Not only that, but it was summer, and I couldn’t enjoy the season or practice my main sport, windsurfing. To say I was feeling the blues is an understatement. I remember being in physical pain just from not being able to draw my sillies. But then, watching LMK did something to my brain chemistry that my little undiagnosed autistic self had never experienced before. It hit so hard that I’ve been physically unable to rewatch the show SINCE that very first day. (And y’all still call me the CEO of this fandom. Bro, I just work here.)

A lot of you have asked what inspired me to start this comic or to draw LMK fan art in the first place. While my usual answer is, "I saw Shadowpeach and thought MK could be their lovechild, given his appearance," the moment that actually started it all was THIS ONE—

(I HAD TO REWATCH THIS SCENE TO MAKE THE GIF AND IT HURT ME ON A MOLECOLAR LEVEL)

I have… a thing for characters who discover their entire identity was something else all along. It consumes my thoughts, my dreams, my every waking moment. I live for identity crises, for characters who thought they knew who they were, only to be forced to rediscover themselves, their existence, and their place in the world. If you give me a story where a character has to go through that, I will like it—regardless of how bad the rest of the story is.

Pair that with loads of trauma, daddy issues, the pressure of a legacy, and world-ending stakes, and congrats! Now I’m obsessed, and I will not stop thinking about it for the rest of my days!

At first, my brain just wanted to release some of that energy with a small, four-panel post about the monkeys discovering that MK was technically their kid.

That was supposed to be it.

But since I never seem to learn my lesson, it didn’t stay like that. Because once I started drawing, I just... continued.

And

I

never

stopped.

A lot of you have also asked how I found the motivation to draw so much, to never take a break. Well, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it one last time: I am my number one fan. No matter how much you laughed, cried, screamed, or went feral over this story, I did all of that and more. Because I got to think about the chapters months before they released. I got to daydream about them. I got to watch them come to life—first through sketches, then line art, then dialogue. And finally, I got to witness your reactions and see the incredible creations you made, inspired by my story.

So yeah, in a way, it was almost an addiction. A good addiction. Because, for the first time in my life, I actually understood what loving art means.

I’ve been drawing for ten years, working professionally for five, but I never loved art before. I just liked it because I happened to be good at it. But creating this comic made me understand why artists say, "Oh, I’ve loved drawing since I was a child!" This was the first time I allowed myself to create purely for my own enjoyment. Something I hadn’t had the privilege to do for a long time.

Other than making me feel even more single than I already was, this story somehow also helped me a little with my own family relationships. So yeah. Crazy how the gay monkeys changed my life.

Of course, I never could have predicted how much traction my AU would gain. Man, y’all were really starving to latch onto something this silly. /j

But yeah—thank you. Thank you for sticking around until the end, for having the patience and trust to follow the story even when I made you rage with angst and cliffhangers. (The statement in my bio still stands: I am not responsible for any physical or emotional damage my art has caused.)

I’m absolutely shit at thanking people, or at writing, or at talking in general, honestly. I’m the furthest thing from being good with words, so I hope the final chapter will be enough to show you my gratitude.

Through this story, I met so many wonderful, talented people. I watched as fans across different platforms found each other through memes and fanart of the AU. I saw artists start their own AUs inspired by mine, growing their own communities. I witnessed an explosion of creativity and collaboration through our takeovers. And I laughed along with you all.

And yeah—at its core, this story has always been about love. Whether it’s platonic, sibling, parental, romantic, or whatever the hell Mac and Wukong had going on for millennia.

At its heart, it’s a story about family.

And maybe, in the end… the real family wasn’t just the one in the comic, but the one we’ve found together along the way. 💛

See you all at the finale.

Love you all, freaks /affectionate

Jade

[trivia-yandere]

ending two to "beast of busan"

second alternate ending to "beast of busan" @sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @investedreader @minshookie29 @chimmy-licious @bangtans-momma @yunhoswrldddd @whipwhoops @curse-of-art @annafarrr

word count: 9.491

warning: obsessive behavior, yandere themes/elements, smut, unprotected sex, stockholm syndrome, creampie, dirty talk, non-con/dub-con, manipulation/mind-manipulation, character deaths/violence, blood, public sex, jungkook's a real yearner, shower sex, oral (f/m), fingering, squirting,

valentine's day masterlist | alternate ending (one)

As patient as Jungkook was, you were stubborn. But, it took merely 3 months for Jungkook to break you. The privileges you once held were stripped away from you. 

Jungkook was serious about breaking you the old fashion way. If you weren’t going to listen then so be it. 

Jungkook had locked you in another bedroom - one with no windows or lights. He decided when you would come out and it was only to bathe. You ate in the room alone and you often spent your own time in said room. 

Jungkook hadn’t spoken to you often, either. He would only say simple sayings - “shower time”, “dinner time”, “bed time”. 

As time went by, you realized just how cold the room was. How lonely. You would hear Jungkook right outside the door whenever he cooked or strolled by. You pondered what he was doing most days as it wasn’t spent around you. You could hear the faint sounds of the television or even music. At times, you would hear Jungkook’s melodic voice as he sang.

The third month - unbeknownst to you -  was when you cried pure tears of sadness and despair. You were lonely. You’ve gone to human interactions to none at all. The sane part of you would have told you to stand up and fight your ground, but you were weak now. You don’t know when the last time you saw the sun or breathed fresh air and it was driving you crazy. 

Jungkook had gently patted your head when you fell to your knees and begged him to take you out of the room. It hurt him to have to punish someone he loved, yet you weren't much of a listener. You had to go through such a heinous punishment for you to realize how privileged you once were.

“Feel better?” Jungkook asks as he allows you to sit underneath the sun. It’s hotter than you once remembered it being. There isn’t a cool breeze like last time you were out - naked and determined to run away. The breeze is warm, flowers blooming around you and Jungkook.

“Yes.” you nod in agreement, eyes darting around the scenery. The tree’s are a brighter shade of green, vibrant. There’s bushes and flowers that now formed as winter has ended and spring has arrived. 

“My Y/N…”

Jungkook takes your hand and places a kiss on the back of your palm. 

“Isn’t it peaceful out here? Nothing to worry about.” Jungkook mutters.  “No loud cars or people to ruin the scenery. No drama. Nothing but you and I.”

Your eyes blink a few times at Jungkook. He grips your hand in his own and the sane part of you is saddened that you missed his touch. 

Yet, you’re unsure just when that part of you was going to return. You didn’t want to return to the cold, dark room. You didn’t want to be alone with your thoughts anymore. You wanted to feel the sun on your skin and inhale the fresh scent of spring. You wanted to savor the human touch Jungkook provided.

Jungkook witnesses the shift in your eyes and slowly, he begins to smile. Not just because he managed to break you exactly the way he intended to. But because now you truly understand. Your mind is processing that all you had to do was be submissive to Jungkook. Do as he says and in return, you’d have it all. You’d eat well. You’d be treated well. You’ll get to feel the sun on your skin and inhale the fresh scent that the outdoors provides - but not if you disobey him.

“I’m sorry.”

Jungkook’s ears perk when he hears your voice - meek and soft. Slowly, his attention turns back to you fully and he tilts his head.

“You don’t need to apologize, my love.” Jungkook squeezes your hand in his own, satisfied with your willingfulness. His heart jolts a bit with anticipation. “As long as you know now that this is our life.”

You’re silent, your eyes roaming around the spring scenery. There’s a breeze in the air that isn’t like the cold one that you felt prior to being locked into the room. Time had carried on while it appeared to go excruciatingly slow in the bedroom. It causes your mind to break along with your heart. You didn’t want to go back in there and miss out - even if it was just you and Jungkook, at least you wouldn’t feel lonely.

Slowly, your eyes turn back to Jungkook and you nod your head, breaking out into a small grin. It appears, on Jungkook’s end, like a grimace - but he was alright with that! He understood your concerns entirely and knew that eventually, you’d grow to love him just as much as he loved you.

“It’s beautiful out here, right?” Jungkook inhales a bit. “Right through there,” Jungkook begins, jutting his head to the sight where there was an opening between the trees. “I like to go and sit by the lake. It’s a bit of a walk, but I can take you.”

Your curiosity peaks and you nod your head without much thought. “I’d like that.” you murmur with ease. Whatever it took to continue to inhale the fresh scent of freedom.

“Good. Wait here.” Jungkook’s eyes zone in on your face and he lets go of your hands. He wouldn’t call this a test to be exact. He was sure you wouldn’t run away if he went into the home for a moment - because that meant you would only be found and forced back into the locked bedroom for another three months.

Jungkook was right when he returned to find you waiting for him in the same spot. When you hear his footsteps creep back onto the wooden porch, your attention turns to him. 

“Here, my love, hold this.” Jungkook holds out what appears to be a lunchbox for you to carry, while he’s holding a black duffle bag around his shoulders. “I thought we’d have a picnic.”

Jungkook’s bright-eyed stare and thin-lipped smiles causes you to smile in return, a warm feeling going throughout your body. Slowly, you nod your head and take the lunch box. It is only a bit heavy and you ponder what Jungkook had to pack in such a short amount of time. Maybe it was already packed - he stated he goes to the lake often. 

Without thinking, your hand finds Jungkook’s and you entangle your fingers with his. You stand close to him as he leads you through the tree’s. As you and he venture deeper, you notice just how tall said tree’s were. How close together they begin to feel as you and he strolled deeper within them. Eventually, you note that there isn’t much of a path and Jungkook travels through memory - one you aren’t familiar with in the slightest.

“Are you alright?” Jungkook asks. “You’re squeezing my hand.”

“Sorry.” you mumble. You hadn’t realized you were doing that and immediately loosen. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“Of course I do.” Jungkook lifts both of your hands and kisses yours. “I know this area like the back of my hand. I know where to avoid and where it is safe.”

You nod your head a bit. Your head lifts up to see that even though it was the middle of the day, the tree’s cause only little light to shine through them. 

You swallow back your nerves, your mind wandering back to months ago when you attempted to escape and just what would’ve happened if you came into this area. You wouldn't have known where to run - unsure where the safe haven.

“Here we are.”

The lake comes into view. The large body of water appears to be still from afar, the surrounding land and tree reflecting off of the water. Jungkook stops about ten feet away from said water and drops the duffle bag and your hand. He turns towards you and offers a short wink. “No one else comes here, so we’re good.”

Jungkook seats himself onto the grass and you do the same. It itches against your skin, but it was a feeling you needed to become accustomed to.

You looked out into the lake, finding that it was enjoyable to just stare - even at nothing. The surroundings were quiet and calm, a relaxing aura surrounding you and Jungkook.

“Do you want to paint?”

Your attention turns back to Jungkook. He had opened the duffle bag and you notice that it’s full. Your eyes catch on several types of paint brushes and paints; all used. Some paint jars are covered with dried paint around them and the brushes are cleaned, yet stained with old paint. 

“You…paint?” you asked with a blink.

“Yes?” Jungkook couldn’t help but chuckle at the expression on your face. “Murdering people isn’t my only hobby.”

You try not to look shocked by his idea of a joke and slowly you nod your head. “I-I like to paint.” you say softly. “I’m not very good at it.”

“At what? Painting?” Jungkook questions, gathering all the supplies out from the duffle bag. He has several small canvases and you couldn’t help but ponder where all of this came from. You didn’t see him travelling to any stores or shops to get them and did he even have actual money?

However, you find that things were easier when left unsaid. You never questioned how the food appeared to be endless. How the water was always functional and hot and the electricity continued to work. This would be another mystery.

“Yes. I’m not very good at art.” Your hand grasps the canvas Jungkook hands you. “It was one of my least favorite classes in school.”

“What?” Jungkook snorts with a shake of his head. “Art is…well all around us.” he says, waving his arms around to the scenery. “Art doesn’t have to be conventionally beautiful. It’s whatever you make it.”

You blink at Jungkook once more. He appears to be happy to talk to you about…art. You hum, nodding your head. It was weird to think that someone like him enjoyed art.

This is how you found yourself for the next few hours; sitting besides Jungkook as you and he painted. He was better than you and made little to no mistakes. If he did, he would fix them easily. While you and he decided to paint the forested mountain and lake before you, his was amazing - something out of an art exhibit.

Yours…you were sure a child could do better. 

But, dare you say, you found yourself having fun with Jungkook. The atmosphere was calming, a light breeze in the air. The sun was high in the sky, but didn’t radiate harsh heat. The birds chirped around you, even if you couldn’t see them anywhere. Nature was beautiful - and you enjoyed it with Jungkook.

“Why do you kill people?”

It was a random question that slipped out as you and Jungkook ate. The strawberries he packed are fresh and the sweetness causes your taste buds to jump. Jungkook fed you, of course, but he made sure not to spoil you. He wanted you to understand that the sweets and snacks were a luxury that you were only allowed to have whenever he saw fit.

Jungkook blinks. He stops chewing on for a bit as he processes your question. He’s silent for so long that you think he’s only choosing to ignore you.

“I haven’t killed anyone since the day I broke out of that hospital.” Jungkook states, swallowing before grabbing a bottle of water and downing at least half of it. 

“I know.” you say, but you don’t really. You haven’t asked about the nurse and you could only hope she was alright. You’ve been locked in that room for months and you barely know what day it is. He could have slaughtered anyone and you’d be oblivious.

Jungkook hasn’t, of course. Missing people in an area like this would only cause suspicion.

“It’s the reporter in you that wants to know, huh?” Jungkook questions with a twitch of his lip. “You don’t believe what I said in the interview, my love?”

You inhale deeply. Jungkook had said a lot but also nothing at all. You didn’t get to the route of why Jungkook was a serial killer. Everyone had a starting point, right?

“I believe there’s more to the story.” you finally respond.

“Is that so?” Jungkook hums. “Are you afraid of me?”

The question is followed by eerie silence. The lake is unmoving. No birds flying high above in the sky nor are there any sounds of hiding insects in the wind. 

“I’m afraid of what you could do to me.” you murmur. “...Like locking me in that room.”

Jungkook leans forward to come closer to you. “As long as you listen, baby, you’ll have freedom. We can come here whenever you like.” he says. His hand reaches out to touch yours. His is warm and on the back of it has a splat of dried acrylic paint. “If you continue to disobey me, Y/N, I have no choice but to punish you.”

Your mind replays his words over and over again. As long as you listened…as long as you didn’t disobey him.

“There isn’t a reason you kill, is there?” you don’t remove your hand from his, nor do you go to push yourself away to be rid of his intense stare. “You…most people they kill to see what it’s like to take a life.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “I suppose you’re correct.” he states.  “I’ve killed this kid that was a few years older than me…I was around 11.”

Jungkook’s eyes zone onto you to witness the reaction you’d give. Your breath hitches a bit, but you’re unmoving.

“He was an asshole.” Jungkook continues. “He bullied everyone. He…” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “I grew up with two parents and a brother.”

Your brows furrow. You didn’t look into Jungkook’s background much as that was never the focus. His crimes were.

“I was a happy kid with a happy life.” Jungkook speaks again. “He wasn’t. He didn’t have a family. No one was going to miss some kid in the system, right? So I killed him.”

Still, though your heart is pounding, you’re still. You allow Jungkook’s fingers to entangle themselves with your own.

“He would harass anyone he saw fit and that day was my turn. I lured him into these woods behind our school one day. My brother had practice after school was over. He played the clarinet.” Jungkook could still remember the awful way in which his brother would blow into the instrument. “I ran as fast as I could and hid because I knew he would come and find me.”

You swallow.

“I found this big rock. It was heavy, but it’d do the trick was what I was thinking. So…” Jungkook lifts your hand to his lips to kiss it. “...I bashed it against his head. Over and over again. You know…only then did he ever apologize for picking on me.”

Jungkook chuckles with a shake of his head. He doesn’t think about that moment often and sharing it with you now is something new. Refreshing even.

“I won’t say I became a killer because I was bullied. Quite the opposite, my love.” Jungkook says. His eyes flicker to yours, reading your expression. Your eyes are wide with shock and he doesn’t expect them not to be.

“I…became enthralled with the act of violence. After basking his head in, I went home. I did my homework. I ate. I went to sleep and lived my life as if I hadn’t done anything at all. I found that I enjoyed it. It got my blood pumping. I never felt so alive.”

Jungkook’s truth was entirely insane. He was insane. He admits to such heinous acts with little to no remorse. He laughs as if it’s a funny joke - a cherished moment in his life that is so child-like and carefree.

Jungkook has been a monster since a young age and now you’re trapped alongside him for who knows how long. And yet, you don’t move a muscle. You don’t pull yourself away with disgust and attempt to free yourself from him.

“People feared me. Even if they didn’t know who I was…it was their fear that kept me going.” Jungkook lays himself onto the grassy ground and tags you to do the same. You and him are side by side, eyes staring right up into the cloudy sky.

“You weren’t one of those people. No matter how hard I tried to get to you…you didn’t break.” Jungkook murmurs, the memories flowing through him. The pictures he’d take of you, the bloodied messages he’d leave for you. Each night, you’d go back and document his crimes live while the remaining reporters had all quit.

“Eventually, killing became…a way to express myself to you.”

“Why?” you finally speak up, voice soft.

“Killing wasn’t the only thing making me feel alive anymore.” Jungkook answers. “I allowed myself to be caught.”

“That’s insane.” you scoff, turning your head to look right at him. 

“It is, isn’t it?” Jungkook snorts. “I’ve been who I am since a child yet I haven’t been caught. I was already estranged from my family and what else did I have to lose? I allowed everyone to see who the Beast of Busan was. I wanted you to see me.”

Your heart jolts again and you’re unsure why.

“I saw you as a murderer.” you say, now turning your body fully to face him. The grass is itchy against your skin, but you’d prefer this over the cramped, dark bedroom any day. “I wasn’t one of your fangirls.”

“I know.” Jungkook turns your way, as well. “That’s what I liked about you. I could have lied to you. Present myself as a good guy and go to you that way. But I’m no liar.” Jungkook states. 

“You risked your freedom just to not be a liar?” you’re unsure why you’re smiling. Maybe because Jungkook’s words are insane just like him.

“Nothing else to lose.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “Am I not free now with you beside me?”

Jungkook had a point.

“I’ve never lied to you. I’m a murderer, yes. I’ve killed dozens.” Jungkook’s hand reaches out to touch you. He’s happy when you don’t flinch away. “I don’t have to kill anyone else. You captivate me in ways that not even I understand, you know? You outweigh the bloodlust.”

The sane part of you would have told you that Jungkook’s words were lies. That a murderer would always be just that. This was a manipulation tactic - “as long as you’re here as my hostage, I wouldn't kill anyone else”.

Yet, you find that your heart is pounding outside your chest so rapidly. Jungkook’s hand caresses your cheek gently. They’re soft - not hard or calloused like a murderer's hand should be.

Footstep sounds that causes Jungkook to immediately become alert. He sits up instantly, his eyes snapping to the sound of the noise. About ten feet away, an older man steps into view. He’s holding fishing gear and whistling to himself. He doesn’t notice you or Jungkook until he makes himself closer.

“Hello.”

The man is old. White hair on top of his head. Thick glasses that sit on his nose and a bear so long that it touches his chest.

The old man voices cracks as he speaks. He places the fishing gear on the ground and waves slowly, his actions showing his old age.

Jungkook blinks. “Hello.” he calls back, on alert. 

“I didn’t know we had young people around here.” the old man laughs. “Young love…”

Jungkook watches as the man, slow as ever, begins to prepare to fish. His eyes dart to the lake and he furrows a brow.

You watch, as well, unsure what Jungkook was going to do next.

“Are you two staying for spring break?” the old man asks. “I have grandchildren around your age. A shame they don’t visit often…” he begins to murmur under his breath.

The old man doesn’t know Jungkook. He doesn’t know that he’s speaking to a murderer.

Jungkook releases a breath through his nose.

“Yeah, spring break.” Jungkook nods his head slowly. “My parents own a cabin not far from here. My girlfriend and I are only visiting.”

The old man smiles. “Young love…chivalry should never die!”

“Want to go for a swim?” Jungkook had asked you one warm night. It was random - completely out of thin air. He and you had been watching a movie he put on when he asked.

“Now?” you ask, lifting your head from his shoulders to look at him. “It’s…nighttime.” you deadpan.

“I’m aware.” Jungkook snorts. “It’s warm, though. The lake is just as beautiful at night.”

You didn’t need any more convincing. As weeks dragged on, you and Jungkook visited the lake nearly every day. He would show you different methods of painting all the while answering whatever questions you had. He would prepare lunch for the two of you and even sometimes the old man would make an appearance. You and Jungkook realized that the man wasn’t much of a threat and he was genuinely kind. He spoke of his children and many grandchildren and you and Jungkook listened.

“Are you sure we won’t get lost?” you murmur, your hand tightly grasping Jungkook’s as he leads you through the dark forest. A duffle bag is on his left shoulder as you basically cling the right side of him. 

“Positive. I told you, I know these woods like the back of my hand.” Jungkook assures, bringing you closer to him. 

Jungkook loves how dependent you’ve become of him. You freely grabbed his hands or arms at times without him initiating it. You cuddled closer to him when the two of you sat to eat, or to watch whatever was on tv. At night, you would even lay yourself onto his chest and doze off almost immediately.

Trusting Jungkook wasn’t not an option. You didn’t know where you were at and the act of being free from him has become foreign to you. You never asked where the groceries came from, but you understand enough that Jungkook leaves and comes back with enough to last weeks and that was alright to you. He has assured you had all the right necessities you needed - feminine products, soap, body washes and more. The sane part of you, wherever she was, is probably screaming at you to be weary.

“We’re here.” Jungkook sing-songs as the familiar path you and he took leads you right to the large body of water. The moon is full and high in the cloudless, dark sky. Its light illuminates off of the soft, rippling water of the lake, causing it to shed a bit of light to the dark area.

You hum, your eyes dancing around the lake in slight awe. Jungkook had been right again - the lake was beautiful at night, as well.

Jungkook lets go of your hand to drop the duffle bag onto the ground. He has a large comforter and a few throw blankets inside. He takes it all out to spread it across the grass. “You should probably get undressed.”

“Undressed?” your brows furrow. 

“Yes, silly. We’re going swimming.” Jungkook turns to you, a small grin on his lips. He removes his pants, socks and shoes then his shirt. He’s left in his underwear and he stands a moment as he awaits for you to do the same.

Your eyes roam Jungkook’s chest for a moment, before scanning his sleeve of tattoos.

“You don’t have any tattoos on your chest.” you say matter-of-factly.

Jungkook blinks. “I do not.”

You suppose you got your long awaited answer. You too begin to strip. Your sandals tossed aside and the checkered pajama pants with a loose fitted top. You, like Jungkook, leave your own underwear on, your chest already bare. You cross your arms, a bit chilly.

“Come,” Jungkook holds out his hand for you to take and you do. He leads you towards the water that you find to be surprisingly warm. The water splashes as you and Jungkook go deeper into it, until it’s right up to your chest.

Jungkook immediately goes under and you watch in slight amusement when he reemerges, hair slick down.

“The water feels good, doesn’t it?” Jungkook questions. 

“Yeah.” you nod your head. You aren’t sure the last time you actually went swimming - but you know it was never in a lake. At night. With someone like Jungkook. “Jungkook?”

“Hm?”

Jungkook halts his movement when he hears you call him. He floats on his back, eyes casted towards the moon. 

“You said this home belongs to a friend, right?” you question.

“That’s correct.” Jungkook dips underwater once more, this time reemerging right beside you. “Why do you ask?” he says, wiping the water from his eyes. Droplets of water fall from his hair onto his cheeks.

“Who is the friend?”

The lake isn’t as deep as one would expect. He’s able to easily place his feet across the ground and tilt his head your way.

“Why?” Jungkook questions. “Do you want to meet him?”

You shake your head. If you had to guess, you were positive whoever this friend was had to be like Jungkook. You’ve grown to like Jungkook and you’re not sure you could handle more than one of him.

“It's just…you seem to know this place like the back of your hand.” you shrug a bit. “And we never seem to run out of anything.”

Jungkook allows himself to grin. He makes his way a bit closer to you, grabbing your hips beneath the water to keep you close.

“Is there something more you want to ask of me?” Jungkook murmurs. “You’re dancing around the question.”

Jungkook brings you closer to him. He awaits for you to speak - to say what you were trying to say without coming right out and doing so.

“Did you have help getting out of prison?” 

Jungkook’s arms are around you, an act you don’t mind in the slightest. 

“Help? I would say no.” Jungkook’s finger taps the low of your back underwater. “I, however, did tell someone my plans and that’s how we’re here now.”

You nod your head, a bit surprised with Jungkook answering your questions. He didn’t appear to be lying, yet you wouldn’t know if he was or not. 

“In due time, you’ll meet him.” Jungkook leans forward to press his lips to your forehead. They’re soft to the touch, and he softly trails them down your temples to your cheeks. “The countryside is much better than the city, isn’t it? It’s so loud in Busan. It was hard to even think at times.”

“Yeah.” you nod your head, fully aware that now Jungkook and you are so close. Your hands are on his chest and slowly, your left hand trailing towards the tattoos on his arm. You trace them, eyes wandering with the amount he has. “Did your tattoos hurt?”

“Nah,” Jungkook murmurs against your cheek. “I have a high pain tolerance.”

Jungkook’s lips go from your cheeks to your chin and jaw. His kisses leave a tingling feeling behind as he goes lower, reaching your neck.

“Do you remember what I said months ago?” Jungkook questions, lips against your neck.

“No?” you tilt your a bit, silently enjoying the way his lips feels. 

“Back when you fought me.” Jungkook quips. “When you punched me nonstop? Declaring that I’d have to kill you to get you to stop?”

Your eyes close for a moment as Jungkook’s kisses come up your neck to your ear now towards your cheeks once more. He holds you tighter, hands rubbing up along your spine. 

Your mind flashes back to that moment, attempting to remember what Jungkook had said - he said, a lot. As did you. You recall how angered you were; mainly because you were becoming accustomed to Jungkook. You hated yourself for enjoying the way he was making you feel - so you attacked him. You took out whatever frustration you had on him and he allowed it - an act that only pissed you off even more.

“I said I’d never kill you, of course.” Jungkook and you are now nose to nose as your eyes blink open. “But I also said that your attacks excite me.”

Now you remembered, your body heating up underneath his intense gaze. That was right before Jungkook had told you to choose what you were going to do - continue to defy him or accept your fate. You months hiatus you spent right in the dark, lonely bedroom indicates exactly what decision you took.

You begin to ponder what life would have been if you weren’t so headstrong. That if you would have just accepted your fate and understood that there was no leaving Jeon Jungkook unless he allowed it. Would you and he be…happy together?

You press your lips against Jungkook’s without much thought, and even if he himself is a bit shocked, he gets over it instantly. He deepens the kiss, more than happy to finally feel you give into him.

Jungkook, of course, would have rathered you do this months ago. He hated having to treat you like a prisoner in a home that is supposed to belong to the both of you. He had missed waking up besides you every morning and cuddling against you every night - but it’s a lesson you sadly had to learn.

And now, you have. You were determined to make the most of your situation, your sanity slowly slipping away as kissing Jungkook didn’t repulse you like it initially would months ago. You legs wrap around his waist and he holds you effortlessly, your body appearing light as a feather underneath the water.

“You don’t hate me anymore.” Jungkook states between kisses. 

You think about his words. Did you hate him?

Jungkook, no doubt, was a terrible person who turned your life upside down in a blink of an eye. He’s killed so many people and has willingly admitted to it - going as far as stating that it excites him. He’s broken out of prison and dragged you far away from your home and forced you by his side.

But, he hadn’t hurt you, you think selfishly. Sure, emotionally, mentally and spiritually, you are drained. You gave up trying to fight the man but you were fed. You had cleaned clothes and bathed every day. The country life was better than the one in the city. You always felt like you were being watched by those who despised you for your connection to Jungkook.

Was being here with him truly this bad?

“I don’t.” you respond, pressing your lips back against Jungkook’s, this time your tongue finding its way inside his mouth. The action is lewd and it just shows you how desperate you have become for a man's touch. Or maybe it was his touch, as weird as it sounds.

Your tongue dances against one another, your arms now wrapping around Jungkook’s neck to hold him close. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, your nipples hardening.

To Jungkook, having you so close to him (willingly) sends jolts of electricity throughout his entire body. His hands roam down to the curve of your ass, groaning against your tongue.

The next few minutes blurr past the both of you - so much so that you two somehow manage to get out of the water and lay against the large comforter Jungkook had set out on the grass. Goosebumps erupt onto your skin at the cool breeze in the air, but Jungkook’s warmth right on top of you makes it better.

Jungkook’s cock grinds against your clit, both of your underwear equally drench with lake water. He halts the makeout session to release a low groan, his lips swollen red.

“You’re so beautiful.”

You roll your eyes at the compliment. There was no way you were any sorts of beautiful now, drenched in lake water and pieces of your hair sticking to you. Jungkook was a man and said whatever he thought sounded good.

“Shut up.” you grumble, one hand on Jungkook’s bicep while the other trails down his side to reach the hem of his underwear briefs. “I want you…”

Eyes dark, Jungkook licks his lips. His thrusting hips cease for a moment. 

“Right here?” Jungkook questions, though he isn’t exactly opposed to it. It’s dark and no one is around - yet he wouldn’t have thought you would be the one to suggest it. 

“Yeah,” you nod your head hastily. “I don’t care, I just…I-I just want you.”

You were turning into the person your sane self didn’t want to be. Desperate for any form of human contact that you settled for that of a serial killer.

“Ok,” Jungkook huffs. He allows you to pull down his underwear until it’s around his knees. “fuck, ok. Ok.”

Jungkook wants to treat you with delicacy - to show you the ultimate pleasure that only he could provide you. But now it’s evident that the both of you need one another now.

Your panties are next, being ripped off of you by Jungkook and tossed aside. Only a small percentage of you is worried about losing them.

Jungkook wraps a hand around his cock, stroking it a bit before he slides them through your folds. You’re wet, allowing his cock to slide easily across your clit. It causes a shiver to rise up his spine at how good it felt.

You lick your lips just as you feel Jungkook at your entrance. Your hand grips his tattooed bicep, digging your nails into it as he begins to enter you. Your head pushes back towards the comforter as he inches deeper and deeper inside of you.

“You feel so good.” Jungkook stammers, both of his hands onto your hips. “So, so good.”

Your legs wrap around Jungkook’s waist to keep him closer to you.

Jungkook takes it as a sign to pick up the pace, his hips buckling and cock sliding in and out of you. You’re fully unaware just how long it’s been since you had someone - anyone. In Busan, you felt as if the only person you could trust was Jimin, and that was fully platonic. You didn’t trust getting close to anyone after feeling watched due to Jungkook's…friends? Followers?

Jungkook’s mind swirls with you. His heart pounds rapidly as his thrusts pick up, adrenaline flowing through him. He finally has you - all of you. It took longer than he expected but it’s alright but now you submitted to him like he wanted. Your moans fill his ears, a tune that he was going to have ingrained in his mind forever. 

“I love you so much, baby.” Jungkook groans, eyes darting from your bouncing breast to your face drawn in pleasure. “You don’t even know how much I adore you.”

You swallow back another moan, walls clenching around Jungkook’s pounding cock. You had an idea of his sick version of love - you were dragged out of your home and brought here because of said love.

However, with your sanity slowly subsiding, your mind was telling you that this was love.

“I love you, too.��� you groan, tightening your grip onto his bicep. 

Jungkook shudders, leaning away from you so he can force your legs apart further. He pounds into you, both of his hands underneath your knees. His head hangs low to watch you, water dripping from his hair. 

“I knew you would…” Jungkook grumbles, eyes clouded. “I knew eventually you’d come to appreciate everything I’ve done for you. For us.”

The forest isn’t quiet anymore. Your moans and Jungkook’s grunts dance off of the trees, mixed with the aggressive skin slapping. 

“For months I sat and thought about what I should do to you while in prison.” Jungkook huffs, his right hand sliding up from your hip to grip your neck. The act causes you to yelp at the rudeness of it, but you’re more than willing.

“I thought about…hurting you.” Jungkook grumbles, his cock plunging in and out of you. If he’s scaring you, you don’t show it. “But then I realized that it wasn’t your fault for what you’ve done. You were just scared.”

Your stomach churns, the hand gripping his bicep going to place right over his hand around your neck. Your eyes blink a few times, fluttering to look at Jungkook’s dark ones.

“I’ll never hurt you, Y/N. You know that, right, baby?”

“Yes,” you nod your head, somehow managing to speak over his hand onto your neck. “I-I know.”

Jungkook removes his hand from your neck and you suck in a deep breath. A rushed hand reaches out to grab the back of Jungkook’s neck and you crash your lips right onto his. Jungkook is a solid man and later you’d ask yourself how you manage to flip him onto his back, but you do. Your legs are on either side of his waist and you begin to grind onto his willing cock.

Jungkook, in this new found position, marvels at you. His hands greedily roam your body, gripping your breast then sliding past your sides to steady on your hips. You were so beautiful that he’s unsure where he should settle. 

Your hips rise and fall eagerly, your hands holding onto his shoulders for support. It’s insane to think how willing you’ve become in Jungkook’s world - all of an act of survival, surely. But even now you’re not so sure if it’s just that.

“You’re so beautiful, my love.” Jungkook’s hand grips your breast, meeting your hips halfway to fuck you deeper. “Everything I’ve done to get here was worth it.”

Nails digging into the skin of his shoulders, you feel the familiar clenching in your stomach. 

“The killing…the infection. I would do it again if it meant I could have you, baby.”

Your eyes squeeze shut, the bouncing you’re doing only becomes strained. Your arousal leaks along his thighs and it’s obvious you were cumming - Jungkook’s yearning words only dragging you there a lot sooner.

“You’re so obsessed with me.” you murmur after a short breath. It was only a joke, but when Jungkook presses a thumb onto your clit and twirls in with that look in his eyes, it drags you deeper into a state of bliss.

“I am obsessed with you.” Jungkook grumbles, now thrusting his cock into you as you hover above him, your pussy clenching around his so tightly. “I’ve killed for you, baby, there’s nothing more obsessive than that.”

There was something wrong, you think. Jungkook’s words cause something to flow through you. A sick sense of satisfaction that someone would claim to kill for you - the lack of sanity flowing through your mind that it had to be the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard. Mixed that with a bit of stockholm syndrome and possible delirium of being locked in a dark room then…

You were cumming, head pushed back. You release a struggle cry, giving Jungkook full access and control while you tremble above him. 

Jungkook isn’t too far behind and he never intended to last this long. He had waited for months for you to come around, distancing himself no matter how much it pained him. He missed you to his core, sleeping on your side of the bed with your pillow just because it smelt like you. He bathed with your body wash just to feel closer to you - even going as far as masturbating with his eyes closed, pretending that it was you there with me.

“I love you so much, baby.” Jungkook breathes, sloppy thrusts pounding into you while his fingernails dig into your skin so harshly, but neither of you notice.

Jungkook’s cum is warm when it releases inside of you and it begins to pool out even before he has the chance to pull out himself. His breathing begins to slow, his chest rising and falling in rushed patterns. His grip on you tightens when he releases his cock from inside of you.

Sex with Jungkook became constant - especially after coming from the lake and taking a shower. As time went on, sex became passionate; sensual. You and he couldn’t be bothered to stay away from one another nor did it ever truly matter. 

Now especially as you and Jungkook bathed, hot water poured down on both of you. Your right hand is wrapped around the shaft of his cock and your tongue swirling on the tip. Over time, you’ve enjoyed pleasuring Jungkook just the same as he does you, finding that his handsome face is drawn in pleasure mixed with the grunts and groans coming from his lips.

The tiled shower wall is cold in contrast to the water pouring down, but to Jungkook all he can think about is the way your mouth takes him so lovingly. 

It all happens so fast. You on your knees, cock in your mouth to you and Jungkook, tangled in the sheets. He has you in a hold, thighs spread apart while his tongue suckles onto your clit, working its way between your folds. The once silent home is full of passionate moans from your end, and slurping from his. It’s overwhelming as Jungkook, as a lover, was extremely tentative. He didn’t stop until you came each time - now no different.

One hand grips Jungkook’s hair as his tongue devours you. Dark, lust-filled eyes stare up at your face and the action only encourages him to continue. His head rapidly jerks back and forth, tongue laid flat onto your clit.

“I can never have enough of you, baby.” Jungkook disclosed, going to enter two fingers inside of you. His tongue, teasingly as he pumps his digits in you, flickers against your clit.

Your moaning increases. No matter how many times you find yourself in this position for Jungkook, the man always causes you to squirm. His fingers scrape your walls in just the right way, stamina unmatched. One of his favorite things to do is watch you come undone right before him, juices pooling around you and onto the palm of his hands. 

Just right now, your chest heaving as he pounds his fingers into you does your arousal pool out of you messily.

“Oh, fuck.” Jungkook chuckles. “You’re making a mess all over me, baby. Your pussy can just never get enough.”

Your thighs are quivering when Jungkook removes his fingers. He places them into his mouth, tongue swirling over them to savor the taste of you - a groan coming deep from his chest.

“You always taste so sweet.” Jungkook shakes his head. It was so hard not to be obsessed with you as to him, you were far too perfect in every way.

Jungkook stands, hands moving quickly. He flips you onto your stomach and arches your back and pulls you aggressively towards him. His cock is painfully hard and he needs to fuck you.

Your fingers dig into the sheets as Jungkook’s cock plunges into you with one quick thrust. Jungkook had two sides to him - the passionate lover that dotted onto you. And this side; the aggressively possessive man that took what was his.

Either side of Jungkook you enjoyed.

It doesn’t take long for you to be squealing loudly again as Jungkook fucks you. His thrusts are demeaning, both hands keeping you in place and shoves you right into the mattress. His movements are quick, rough and nonstop, eyes unblinking.

“Fuck, baby. Your pussy keeps squeezing around me.” Jungkook grunts. “You’re such a whore, Y/N, you can never get enough. Your pussy’s so greedy.”

You had become a whore, you think. You wanted Jungkook at any moment - no matter the time, day or what you were doing. It’s as though you forget a few months back the hatred and fear you fett for the man and just what he had done to bring you here.

“K-Kook,” you gasp, your cheek pressed firmly against the sheets. 

“Yeah, baby?” Jungkook snaps his hips deeper at the sound of his name from such sweet lips. “You’re going to cum again already?”

You nod your head pathetically, unable to form words at the moment. 

Jungkook snarls. “Such a good slut you’ve become, Y/N. You open your legs for me all the time and allow me to fuck you with no consequences.” your ass bounces off of his abdomen and Jungkook finds the sight utterly perfect. “You must want a baby, don’t you? Of course that’s what you want.”

A baby wasn’t ideal - not when he was an escaped prisoner hiding out. But, it was something that excited him. Out here, he could keep you and him safe from anyone as there was no one that lived for miles. That old man wasn’t a threat and overtime, said old man wouldn’t be around. Maybe a baby wouldn’t be wrong…

“Fuck,” Jungkook’s hips snap even harder at the thought of you carrying his child - or children. You being round with something that is just as much as him as it is you.  Someone he could love just as much as he loves you - it causes Jungkook to burst right inside of you, milky seed splattering your spasming walls.

The entirety of the day you and Jungkook find yourself entangled in the same way that it’s exhausting.

“Where are you going?” you ask Jungkook after another shower, your body wrapped in a robe. Your eyes watch as he begins to dress.

“I have to meet my friend.” Jungkook says vaguely. “I won’t be long, though.”

“Oh.” you say. You blink a few times, eyes roaming around the bedroom. 

“Is everything alright?” Jungkook tilts his head to look at you. 

“Yeah. It’s just…getting dark.” you shrug your shoulders.

Jungkook’s lip twitches upwards. He makes his way towards you. “You don’t have to be concerned about my safety, Y/N.” he says with a laugh. “Have you forgotten who I am?”

It’s a rhetorical question. Of course you haven’t, and the thought that you were a bit concerned about Jungkook causes your body to grow warm with embarrassment. He was more than capable in taking care of himself.

“Will I ever meet your friend?” you question, a hand on Jungkook’s chest. You smooth out the small wrinkle in his shirt. 

“Of course.” Jungkook takes your hand from his chest and kisses your fingers. “In due time. We just have manners to speak about before you do.”

You nod your head slowly. “I can start dinner.” you insist.

“Yeah?” Jungkook smiles. “I’d like that. Don’t watch anything until I come back. We both need to start the new season.”

It was only ten minutes later when there was a knock on the cabin door that jolted you back into reality. You had cut vegetables and were steaming them when the knock sounded. The kitchen wasn’t far from the living area and majority - if not all - the lights were on. 

Jungkook never knocks - he didn’t have to. 

The floorboards creak beneath your feet as you make your way towards the wooden door just as another knock sounds. The window right beside the door had the curtains drawn and you peek out to see a man - young. College age possibly. He’s holding a medium, shaped tupperware in his hands and appears utterly uninterested.

Jungkook wouldn’t have wanted you to open the door - right?

No one is supposed to know that you’re here.

You open the door a crack and look out. “Hello?”

“Oh.” the young man says. His attention is on you. “Um, I have bread.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “Bread…?”

The young man lifts up the container in his hands and shakes it a bit. “Yeah. My grandfather said you’d probably want some.” he says.  “He didn’t tell me the walk would be half an hour.” he proceeds to mutter beneath his breath.

You release a short breath. This was the old man's grandson - he talked about them not visiting often.

“I, uh, have to take the bus back home.” the young man says. It was a hint for you to get the bread so he can leave. It was obvious he didn’t want to be here. “It’s already another half an hour walk and-”

“Thank you.” you say quickly, opening the door to take the container. 

The young man nods his head as he places it in your hands. “No problem. I didn’t know my grandfather had neighbors…” the boy trails off. “Can I use the restroom?”

You blink a bit, straightening your shoulders. 

“It’ll be quick.”

It took five minutes. Five agonizing long minutes with you looking down the hall to the bathroom to outside. You didn’t want Jungkook to come and see that you allowed someone to enter the cabin for fear of how he’d react. Your hands are trembling as you begin to cut potatoes just as the boy enters.

“Thank you.” the young man murmurs, his eyes on his phone.

“No problem.” you stop cutting to avert your attention towards him. “It’s getting dark and I don’t want you-”

“You’re Y/N.”

Your mouth clasps shut as the boy speaks. He turns his phone to you, a picture of you shining back at you. “You’ve been missing for almost six months.”

Your heart pounds.

“My grandfather said you were with a man…” he says, voice low. “...is that man…forcing you to be here?”

You had hoped that your appearance had changed drastically from the last time anyone saw you. Your mouth goes dry and you’re truly unsure of what to say.

“Look,” the boy comes closer to you, hands up. “You’re here alone, right?”

Slowly, you nod your head.

“Okay,” he nods his head. “We can go together. My grandfather’s cabin is just down the hill. It’ll be a little walk but-”

“I’m not sure when he’ll come back.” you murmur. “He said he won’t be long.”

His eyes widen a bit and he swallows. “You’re…far from Busan, Y/N.” he whispers. “If you want to escape we need to go now.”

Now.

Escape.

Now.

Escape.

Escape…now…

“Come,” you boy takes your free hand and tugs you a bit. Your feet and his paddles along the wooden floor as he begins to take you down the hallway and out of the cabin door.

The cool evening air hits you just as you and he get onto the porch. Your other hand, still clenching the knife, strikes before your mind can tell you not to.

You sink the knife right into the young man’s lower back. A shriek releases from his throat and he lets go of your hand as he stumbles forward.

“W-What?”

The knife drips with crimson blood, your eyes looking between him and said knife.

“I…I can’t go back.”

The man eyes you as if you’re crazy.

“Jungkook he…he loves me. He…” you think back to Jungkook's words. He’d kill for you. He’s protected you all this time.

“You shouldn’t have come here.” your voice cracks. 

You raise the knife again, this time jabbing it into the boy's stomach repeatedly. Over and over again, your eyes glossy with fresh, hot tears and it blinds your vision. The young boy's squelching soon stops but even then can you not hear him over the sound of your own sobbing, the slicing knife digging into flesh just another background noise.

Your breath hitches when you feel arms embrace you and the knife falls onto the ground beside you. You blink away the blinding tears.

“Y/N.”

Jungkook’s voice fills your ears and again, you begin to sob.

“Come,” Jungkook gets you to your feet and brings you into the house. You’re covered in blood and it trickles down the hallway as he takes you towards the bathroom. 

“I shouldn’t have let him in the house.” you begin to say rapidly. “I-”

“It’s okay, baby.” Jungkook sits you onto the toilet as he turns on the water. “It’s okay-”

“He, uh…the old man.” you have to get your breathing under control before you can continue to talk. “...his grandson came and gave us bread.”

“Bread?” Jungkook furrows his brows. He slowly nods his head. “Okay…”

“And he…he asked to come use the bathroom and I-”

“It’s not your fault, baby.” Jungkook places both hands onto your cheeks. The broken look in your eyes causes his heart to jolt.

“He told me to run away.” you hiccup. “And…and escape while you were gone so I…I…”

The running water hits against the bathtub floor and the hot water steams up the bathroom. 

“...I didn’t want to go. You love me, right?”

Jungkook answers immediately. “Of course I do!” he says, pressing a kiss to your bloodied forehead. “Of course. I. Do.”

Jungkook isn’t upset at you. You’re a wholesome person who decided to see the good in people.

“Take a shower. Get cleaned up.” Jungkook murmurs your way, his hands sliding down your cheeks to your shoulders. “I’m going to get rid of our problem.”

You exhale a shaky breath. You were suddenly exhausted and didn’t want to do anything but curl into a ball and cry.

“Okay.” you sigh.

Jungkook closes the bathroom door as he walks out and down the hall. He makes his way out the front door and lets out a sigh.

“Well,”

Jimin is standing above the bloodied body of the young man. He glances up at Jungkook as he makes his appearance.

“It appears that Y/N doesn’t want to leave.”

“Are you going to help me or not?” Jungkook groans, motioning towards the body. 

Jimin furrows his brows. “No.” he scoffs with a jerk of his neck. “Are you dumb or just fucking stupid, Jungkook?”

Jungkook knits his brows with a snort. “What the hell are-”

“You aren’t supposed to be here, Kook.” Jimin hisses, pointing a finger at the cabin. “I said a month tops then you go. Leave the fucking country but do you listen?”

“Jimin, I-” Jungkook sighs. “I didn’t have time for that. Y/N...she wasn’t ready-”

“Who the fuck is this?” Jimin hisses, pointing at the corpse. “And bullshit. You’ve been fucking her for months-”

“No one comes out here!” Jungkook hisses back. “He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the old man.”

“Old man?” Jimin questions. “He’s still alive? Damn.” he blinks a few times. “Did he recognize you?”

“Not at all.” Jungkook shakes his head. “Not as the Beast of Busan  or as the one of the kids who used to come by and help with his garden.”

Jimin nods his head. “He probably has dementia,” he murmurs. “Who’s to say he even remembers sending his grandson here?”

Jungkook hums. “Probably not at all.” he murmured. “What should we-”

“I’m not getting dirty with you.” Jimin raises a hand. “I’m wearing valentino. If I would’ve known you’d turn Y/N until a little killer-”

“She’s not-”

“-I probably would’ve worn something less expensive.” Jimin waves him off. “Put him by the bear den.” he shrugs. “People would find some type of trace of him there if anyone comes looking. They’ll think it’s just natural selection.”

Jungkook was thinking of cutting his body into pieces and possibly burning them - but the bear den was possibly better and it was further from here. No one would come snooping around.

“Yeah.” Jungkook nods his head hastily. 

You sit in the room, towel around your body when Jungkook appears. You’re positive dinner is ruined and you feel even more terrible. Your mind replays the events over and over in your head.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook questions from the doorway. “Did he hurt you?”

“No.” you say, answering both questions at once. You inhale deeply and sit up onto the bed. “Is…he gone?”

Jungkook nods his head slowly. “He is.”

You look over Jungkook’s appearance. His clothes are muddy and you contemplate asking if he buried him, but you decided against it. You didn’t want to know.

“What you’ve done, my love, is not your fault.” Jungkook allows a smile to form onto his lips. “You did it out of love. You’ve killed for me the same way I would've done for you.”

Your heart jolts. “You aren’t mad?” you have to ask, even if he stated before he wasn’t. You added more stress to an already stressful situation.

“Of course not.” Jungkook steps into the bedroom and kneels down by the edge of the bed. He takes your hands in his own. “No one is ever going to find out about him or us.” he says in a whisper. “We’re safe here. You and I.”

Slowly, you nod your head. “Just you and I.” you repeat, your own lips twisted upward to copy his smile.

[midnight-bay-if]

Romanced!ROs reactions to the MC telling them (sweetly, earnestly, lovingly), "I wish my dad could have met you."?

Your story gives me brain rot 💚 I just love how vibrant all the characters are!

(Thank you! It always makes me happy to hear people connecting with the characters :D)

S: The topic of parents was a source of tension between the two of you. They avoided discussing theirs due to a lifetime of unfulfilled expectations and disappointments leading to estrangement, while you… well, that much should be obvious. It’s not that you have ever explicitly warned them against mentioning James, but they dare not insert themselves where they are not wanted. They always understood that should you wish to share more about your father, you would do so on your own terms.

“I wish my dad could have met you.”

The whispered confession came amidst wonderfully inane ramblings and general chit-chat. They always enjoyed hearing your train of thought as you mapped out your day with every strange occurrence and benign encounter. Just being with you was enough to soothe their busy mind. Every moment like this feels irreplaceable. Yet, their ears catch the words at the same time they take in your demure expression, and somehow, the already irreplaceable becomes utterly invaluable.

They immediately reach out, taking your hand in theirs and holding it as if it were the most delicate and precious thing in the entire world, bringing it to their lips to press a gentle kiss against each individual finger, one by one.

“Would you tell me about him? I would love to hear anything and everything you wish to share.” And they listen. And listen. They hitch a ride on the rollercoaster of your emotions as you weep, laugh, and everything in between. It’s a beautifully awful thrill, and they feel privileged to have been invited to witness the end. “He sounds wonderfully eccentric in all the best ways. It would have been an honour to have met him.

Rain: Hearing about you has always been endlessly fascinating. Getting you to open up beyond surface details has been somewhat challenging, but when you did, knowing you trusted them enough to share the smaller details always put a massive grin on their face. It was a level of trust they had yet to extend themselves, and yes, they realise they are hypocrites for holding so much back. Their justification is that every new detail of your life they learn leads to a better understanding of you, which in turn allows them to take better care of you.

The topic of parents came up naturally after Rain convinced you to sit still through a watercolour. While they dodged every stray query in their direction, they parried with a barrage of their own.

“I wish my dad could have met you.”

They almost dropped their paintbrush. The words were heavy, but they were consumed with joy. They rush to you, almost tripping over their stool, and practically jump into your lap.

“Rain, paintbrush! You're still holding it.”

Too late. There’s a line of pale paint diluted with water running the line of your cheek. “Oh, sorry!” They quickly turn to grab a cloth before you pull them back into the embrace, undeterred.

“Forget it, I quite liked it.”

Rain relaxes, dropping the brush onto the floor so they can splay their fingers across your back. They struggle to express the reasoning behind their excitement for such a casual confession, but it has been so long since they considered themselves a permanent fixture in someone’s life. Sure, they had S and Taj, but the lines between colleague and friend blurred during missions, and the danger made everything feel temporary.

With you, everything feels safe.

“I know I would have loved him,” they agree, tucking their nose between your neck. “If he is anything like you, he had to have been wonderful.”

Taj: They were at a loss for words. No one could accuse Taj of being sensitive, and on more than one occasion since learning of your father’s demise, they had prodded you for details—sometimes out of genuine curiosity, other times to twist the knife. They feel ashamed of it now, but they didn’t believe you capable of true sorrow. More fool them.

So, despite Taj’s blunt questioning on more than one occasion, the words “I wish my dad could have met you” seem to come from absolutely nowhere. Taj feels their whole body freeze, their limbs stiffening to an almost comical degree. Your voice seems soft, as if afraid the words might offend them somehow; their answer matters to you, and that unnerves them. Because when it matters, they can never get it fucking right.

“I, um… yeah,” they begin awkwardly, running a hand through their hair, their ears twitching madly. “From what you’ve said… I mean, I don’t know much about human fathers or whatever; I’ve always pictured them as pitchfork-wielding madmen…” they grimace, cursing their clumsy tongue. “But based on what you’ve said… I think we might have gotten on. Or, well, I reckon we would at least agree that nothing matters more than your safety. So… yeah.”

It isn’t their most accomplished attempt at comfort, but they mean it. Every word.

N: They had lounged in your lap for what felt like hours, deep into the night. It was a rare moment of quiet that N had come to appreciate. Long gone were the nights of depraved debauchery; now, these moments of serenity had become far more practised. Not that you could consider them entirely innocent. If there were something they could say to make you blush, they would undoubtedly say it.

“I wish my dad could have met you.”

It seems it is your turn to evoke a reaction. “Pardon?”

“My dad,” you continue, a little more nervously twirling a long lock of their hair in your fingers. “I would have liked to introduce you to him.”

They laugh because they find the notion ridiculous. They had not intended to come across as cruel, yet the sound was mocking. “My dear, you do remember what I am, yes? I doubt daddy dearest would approve of their only child capitulating to a demon.”

They realise too late that it was the wrong thing to say. “Capitulating?” Your emotions are closing down; they see the shutters over your eyes shutting them out, and if they were not spread across your lap, they think you might have physically walked away.

“Forgive me, my dear,” they begin, desperate to salvage this moment if at all possible. “I was casting aspersions on my character, not your father's. I did not mean to sound dismissive.” They sit up, bring their face close to yours, smoothing over the creases with a gentle caress. “Here’s an idea: consider your most precious memories of him, and allow me to take a peek inside so I might get to know him as you do.”

Umbra: The words pierce their chest.

They had been enjoying a casual stroll by your side, their long limbs sometimes creaking uncomfortably with the movement, like a calf fresh from the womb as it stutters onto its hooves for the very first time. But you make everything entirely easy. You cannot help but explain memories that you believe are new to them, yet they remember just as readily. They wince a little at the pictures you paint when there is an obvious black blot in an otherwise perfect palette where the line between reality and imagination blurs.

But they push past it; their chest might ache, but you are smiling, so the rest can be buried. Then you say it: “I wish my dad could have met you,” and suddenly, every little stimulus threatens to overwhelm. You reach for them with open palms, and despite all their progress, they shrink from you like a child cowers from the cane.

What do they say? How honest do they dare to be? Too much. Your words are too big to be accepted by a heart so small. No. Not them. Not this. You don’t remember. They shouldn’t make you. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

And they clutch one hand with another to mask how they shake. “I’m sorry,” they whisper, although the apology seems malformed and misshapen, the words broken before you can mend them. “I waited too long, and now nothing fits. It’s wrong. I’m wrong.” You scowl with obvious concern. Their mind is scrambled, and explanations are hollow, yet there is little more they can offer. “I would have liked to have met him, too.”

Another version of them might have been braver.

(This is probably not my best work, but I've been feeling a little run down and working on little sleep recently. But I hope you find it satisfactory anyway!:))

[muletia]

I can’t cook for the life of me but uh, here goes (baby’s first ask off anon lmao)

Imagine the newly exiled Megatron (formerly D16) just being tired and stressed from all the hassle of establishing the new pecking order (while I figure the majority of the old high guard backs him, there are not too keen on this newer, younger bot taking command) and he finds comfort in resting with the reader. Like… he’s resting his helm on their chest, trying to keep it together, but reader is able to reassure him he’s what is best for the Decepticon cause as their leader and he’s worthy of his position.

Okay I’m gonna scurry away now under my rock like a little pill bug and not make everyone sad. :3

[tfo] megatron x human!reader

word count: 600

very short, took me way longer than it should cuz words weren't wording but I needed to write about tfo megs

Silence. Peace. When was the last time he had a chance to spend time in his habsuite? When was the last time he allowed himself intimacy with you? When did he last have time to catch his breath?

He doesn't remember. That's why he wants to squeeze every last nanoklik out of this fleeting privacy. Before the chaos returns, the conflicts resurface, and the venomous glares at the back of his helm return. Before the guilt over everything that happened in Iacon manages to catch up with him. Buries his mass-displaced helm deeper into your chest, as if trying to fuse the two of you together, shrinking the world around down to just you. Desperately trying not to break, not to scare you away with the turmoil reigning in his processor. Holding you close for as long as he possibly can, because you are the only being keeping him from breaking down and destroying everything in his path.

There’s so much he wants to tell you. About the chaos, the disorder. About how Starscream drives him to madness. About the expectations he still cannot meet. Wants to pour all his stress, frustration, and grief into words, feelings that claw at his glossa like wild animals begging to be set free. But he knows the walls have ears. A newly appointed leader cannot appear overwhelmed, let alone uncertain. Yet peace is a privilege, and unloading his emotional burden is a treasure he cannot afford. He must be strong. Resilient. No feelings. No stress.

“You’re doing great,” you say, stroking his massive helm, heavy with worry.

But he already has a weakness. The greatest one. Painful and unbearable, because the mere thought of losing you dims the spark burning within him with passion.

“You are a good leader. The best and the only one worthy of such a demanding and difficult position,” you add, placing the gentlest, most tender kiss on the top of his helm. That brief contact with your lips momentarily overshadows his suffering.

Wants to tell you how deeply grateful he is for your mere presence. How much he appreciates that you’re here with him, that you’ve stayed after the torment in the mines and, of your own free will, chose to join him. After everything he’s done, you witnessed his cruelty firsthand. Offer him comfort he doesn’t deserve. He isolates you, and separates from the rest out of fear that someone might use you against him. Knows he doesn’t deserve your affection, knows he causes you pain and suffering, knows he can be harsh and aggressive. And he hopes you understand that he has to be this way. Though he cannot fathom how you can greet him with open arms. Every time. Without a trace of hatred, always with a joyful smile.

“Only you can lead the Decepticons to the glory they deserve. You deserve,” you say, offering another kiss that melts his spark. Megatron slides his servo behind your back to gently caress it with his thumb, anchoring himself even further in this rare sense of comfort. “You are strong. Resourceful. Able to handle every challenge.”

He’s not yet sure of your words. They’re too raw, spoken too soon. They build confidence and reassure him — oh, how they comfort and soothe the urge to cry — but he wants to let them ripen because he must believe in them himself.

For now, he’s content with the closeness. With having his own corner where you always wait for him, with your delicate hands cradling his helm so tenderly, with moments when he can rest. Your presence is enough. One day, he’ll tell you everything. About the ugly and the messy, the most hidden and intangible parts of himself. But for now, this is enough. It has to be.

[effieotto]

Effie was canonically the most human (games related) person in the entire Capitol, and i don’t think we give her enough credit for that.

When the Quell was announced, the Capitol filled with tears. People cried, fainted and shouted so that everyone could see how they felt about the unfairness of it all, while still gathering to bet and cheer for the Games just like they did in any other year. Meanwhile, Effie refused to react at all -in the books, when the prep team had no problem in showing how sad they were for having to watch Katniss and Peeta going back to the Arena, with no real sympathy whatsoever for her as a human being, Effie maintained composed into her professional persona throughout the whole week of preparation, hiding her feelings behind her Escort mask of false cheerfulness and pragmatic detachment. Although she showed up for breakfast with red eyes and a puff face from crying herself to sleep, she always left the room when she felt truly emotional, not enabling anyone the privilege to witness her tears. Unlike the others, her sadness was real. Her feelings were genuine, and she would not allow other people to trivialize her pain by turning it into a dramatic display

In the movies, when Katniss was getting ready for her interview in the backstage, she asked Haymitch if anyone was buying Cashmere’s act, and he pointed to all the other Escorts and Prep teams sobbing in front of the Tv. Effie was also there, but she wasn’t crying. She clapped instead and said “she is really good” -because she knew it was all an act and she wasn’t willing to join the fake tears game

So yeah, Effie might had been a dramatic character from the beginning, wining and complaining about frivolous things while kids were literally being slaughtered, but the feelings she wasn’t fabricating for her Escort persona were powerfully real. She cared, and loved, and grieved with such strength and honesty that she only did it in the privacy of her own heart. She was not a rebel, her actions were not guided by a greater purpose. She wasn’t trying to play with the odds or foment a rebellion…all she ever wanted was for her Victors to get the greatest life they could get. Her actions were motivated by love -pure and genuine care for her children…

and this is the most human thing she could do

[aventurineswife]

A Safe Cocoon

Summary: In the quiet lounge of the Astral Express, you reflect on your inner turmoil and past struggles, feeling disconnected. Sunday, sensing your pain, offers comfort. As he shares his own feelings of being bound by the past, you find solace in his presence. Enveloping you in a protective embrace, silently assuring you that you don’t have to carry your burdens alone.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Comfort, Inner Struggles, Emotional Healing, Gentle Embrace, Connection, Vulnerability.

Warnings: Mentions of Past Trauma, Emotional Vulnerability, Mild Angst, Sunday's back wings are out in this.

You sat in the dim light of the Astral Express’s lounge, your legs tucked beneath you as you leaned against the cool window. Outside, the stars passed in a blur, distant and unreachable. But inside, there was a warmth. A subtle hum of life and motion, a quiet serenity that had become your anchor since joining the crew.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a soft sound, the familiar flutter of wings. Sunday appeared beside you, his hair catching the light like a fleeting whisper. He was draped in his signature tailcoat, the gold ornaments reflecting the faint glow of the ship’s lights.

"Are you... waiting for something?" His voice was gentle, but there was an underlying curiosity in it. It was typical of him to ask, his perceptive nature always seeming to sense the smallest shift in your energy.

You smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Just... thinking."

Sunday’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes gleaming like twin suns. He could always read you, more so than anyone else, and you knew he sensed your turmoil. The weight of your past, the unknowns of your future, and your current struggle to belong—all of it clung to you, a shadow only he could see.

He sat beside you, close enough that his fingers brushed against your back, the soft touch sending a calm shiver down your spine. His presence, though ethereal, was strangely grounding. You found comfort in it, in him. His warmth, his stillness.

"Do you ever feel..." You hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. "Like you're not fully here? Like part of you is still somewhere else?"

Sunday’s eyes softened, and he let out a breath, the halo behind his head flickering like a distant star caught in a breeze. "All the time."

You glanced at him, surprised. For all his composed demeanor, Sunday’s vulnerability was something few had the privilege of witnessing. His voice grew softer, almost a whisper as he continued.

"We live in a world of contradictions, don't we? We dream of peace, of harmony... but we are bound by the pain of the past. Even I cannot escape it."

His words hung in the air between you, their weight not lost on you. You reached out, almost instinctively, brushing the edge of his sleeve with your fingertips.

Sunday turned his gaze toward you, an unreadable expression in his eyes. Then, as if drawn by some unseen force, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. His wings shifted, enveloping you in the warmth and softness of his feathers. The gesture was gentle, almost protective, yet there was something in it—a quiet yearning, a subtle longing—that spoke louder than words ever could.

You didn’t resist, nor did you speak. You simply settled into the embrace, feeling the gentle rhythm of his breath as he held you, his body a comforting weight against yours. His wings fluttered softly, the motion almost imperceptible, but it felt like a silent reassurance.

In that moment, there was no need for words. No need for explanations or justifications. It was enough to exist together, to be in the quiet understanding that bound you both. His embrace felt like the safe cocoon you had longed for—a refuge from the storms within, the chaos of past lives and future uncertainties.

"You don't have to carry everything alone," Sunday murmured, his voice warm against your ear. "Not while I'm here."

And for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe it. To let go of the fear, the guilt, the burden. To trust, even if just for a moment, that you didn’t have to be alone in this world, lost in the swirl of past lives and forgotten names.

Sunday held you closer, his presence a gentle reminder that even in the vast expanse of space, you could find a place of warmth. A place of rest.

And for now, that was enough.

[immoralimmortals]

I READ THEM TAGS OFFER EM UP MY LEIGE I NEED MARRIAGE HEADCANONS FOR THE AKATSUKI

(EDIT: this is by far my most popular post! If you like this, I have a longform akatsuki x reader fic pinned on my blog and linked here!)

You water my crops and put the stars in the sky. I'm madly in love with you. I'm bringing this post to your feet much like a cat does their favorite toy. I have caught it. Be proud of me, mother.

Even if it's less about the whole life of being married and more about the actual act of marrying, hope that's ok!

Akatsuki Marriage Headcanons, for real this time:

Pain:

I am a huge proponent of the popular fanon opinion that if this man takes you so seriously as to express a label for it (love, spouse, etc.), he is at the brink of worshiping your feet. Don't get me wrong, in terms of the arrangement of proposal and marriage ceremony, the leader is still in charge; however, he is dictating with every detail painstakingly about you. If there is decor, it is your favorite color. If you expressed you like a certain gemstone, he tracks it down for proposal and gets the finest cut upon your finger. You don't want an actual wedding? No problem, you're just going to come home to several thousand lit candles and a profession of commitment as deep from his heart as a corpse is in the grave.

The idea is that it is necessary for this bond to be formalized, at least for his own sake. Pain would refer to it as something you need to hear. If he is nothing else, he is serious about whatever he experiences emotionally; that goes for both his immense suffering and his most delicate of joys. He declares you his, neigh: commands...but only after you assure him yes.

If a traditional proposal is done, it must be in private. He dares not be too exposed. It's already so much that he has become vulnerable to you.

It is a hard privilege to earn. And so, the Akatsuki leader pays you back in kind. As long as you both shall live, you are his deity. You will never want, not as long as he is allowed to bask in you.

Pain kisses you firmly, one hand on your wrist and one on your back. You are to feel both his presence and his commitment.

A wedding song for you: Take me to Church by Hozier (yes I am a sucker for this song, yes yes and yes) or Ship in a Bottle by fin

Konan:

All at once, her heart aches in the best and worst ways, as it is such a curse of the Akatsuki to have had their loves taken too soon. Up till this point, she has been passive, letting you lead the relationship, but now- despite how much she yearns for the same- the angel stands her ground.

"Why?" you ask her in retaliation. She's thin-lipped as she refuses the real answer. It takes a couple tries over a few, staggered moments in private for the truth to tumble out:

She does not want another person she loves to die because of her. It's irrational; your death is not predetermined by the commitment. And yet it remains. She is scared, and the closer you get the more she stings.

But you have to press closer. You have to assure, promise, fight your way back into her heart as it tries to close you out in self protection. You succeed, thanks to one of the reasons you adore Konan: her capacity to hope, no matter the circumstance. Reminder her of that, and she can only be yours.

The wedding is small, the two of you and whomever you deem precious enough to witness. (I imagine probably not even a full handful). It is twilight and the color of the world is shaded blue. Blue as her hair, blue as she feels whenever you're away, blue in the same way the purest of whites are to the human eye. You are pristine. The paper that folds the bouquets that drape around you are spotless and glow in the moonlight in such a way they're almost lanterns. Their starkly pale and crisply folded nature surround as if it is her prayer that everything that is good may stay that way.

Konan kisses you in such a way that no part of you but your lips touch one another. It is chaste, it is soft, it is a seal.

A wedding song for you: Saturn by Sleeping at Last (I cry every single time I hear this in full. I sincerely think there are few songs that have so viscerally touched me like this one has.) or Soul Meets Body by Death Cab for Cutie

Obito:

You cannot get his single-mindedness off of Rin. There is no way around it, and anything meant as distraction will not only fail but backfire on you. Therefore, if you are this deep into a partnership, you are there not in spite of her but thanks to her. You will be compared and contrasted to no end; this is not cruel, it is merely how he shapes his worldview in regards to goodness and love. You are his second chance. You are his solitude.

You don't get opportunity to propose. He will tell you first.

It is every definition of a ceremony, almost ritualistic, almost like they're crowning a king/queen. The ceilings are tall and decorated with the visage of ancestors and gods. Incense is lit and the setting sun sets the room on fire with orange and red. You are presented to him, ornate in the way he demands. A masked face cannot hide the lust and satisfaction in his voice. His hand reaches out, and you take it. For perhaps the first time, the mask is tilted to hide from their audience while still showing his scarred face to you.

His kiss is hard. Not sloppy, but hard. His hand is on the back of your head, and he going to press you into him until your soul enters his body.

A wedding song for you: Come Along by Cosmo Sheldrake or Sick of Losing Soulmates by dodie

Bad relationship songs because I can't control myself: Anybody Else by Dom Fera (THE song of all time for me, I love it) or Sex with a Ghost by Teddy Hyde

Zetsu:

Marriage? That's a fascinating concept. He's never had the desire for this kind of relationship before, but as you talk more and more of it, the more he grasps. In the end, it is a concept that matters to you, and he can appreciate the sentiment of it.

The weirdest part, honestly, is that you reserved such a thing for him.

Though he follows along (you must guide the entire arrangement), he quietly, curiously doubts the whole time. But your guiding hand is so soft as you take him and lead, so nice onto his skin as you select two rings and slide one on each color of hand. You make no mistake: it is both you are marrying. It is both you are committing to. That recognition is his first step into a hesitant acceptance of your eternal love.

When the time comes, you walk him to the first place you met, beside a large tree in a clearing with no human settlement in sight. None of the "don't see the bride/groom" tradition, it has no room here. Any amount of people you want are there, regardless of if it is everyone or no one. (He would prefer no one, but this is all for you, after all). As you're about to kiss him, he makes one request. It is the only thing Zetsu has asked for in all of this time:

Let him taste you.

How can you tell him no?

So his bi-colored lips part, taking your bottom lip into his first, and then rounded teeth gently drag the flesh into his mouth. Pressure is applied and you taste your blood, though fleetingly as he drinks it in. In all the time you've known him, this is the closest Zetsu has ever been to you. In this symbolic action, you have finally gained his full and complete trust.

Zetsu's kiss is metallic but it is not cold. It is pensive, meditative, doing his best to understand that which you crave, and so he does his best to crave you. He cups your face in both of his ringed hands so he need not focus on anything but your taste.

A wedding song for you: & by Tally Hall or Yes to Err is Human, So Don't Be One by Will Wood

Hidan:

At first he's going to make fun of you. He's going to tell you that this is the dumbest idea he's ever heard. And when you go quiet and don't bring it up again, he is going to pin you down and demand to be told why you changed your mind.

This man wants you so much, he can't fathom it. What is marriage if you must slaughter your neighbor? Well...a lover is a step above neighbor, isn't it?

Thank Jashin he doesn't need to kill you to get married.

If you do a traditional wedding, he will drag his feet but he will do it. It's to your detriment alone, really, how obnoxious he'd be. If you pin a flower to his lapel, he'll rip it off. He'll spit to the side in disgust at any mushy gushy talk done in front of others in this bastardization of another religion's ritual. This isn't a real ceremony. Let him show you what a wedding really is:

It's going to end up with your blood on his body and his blood on yours. He makes you straddle his lap, in the middle of the symbol of his lord that he's drawn upon the floor. The same sigil is dangled from a chain, his necklace held between you, from your view right between his intense violet eyes. The metal is cold as it plays a barrier between your lips and his.

Hidan's kiss is reverent. If this Jashinist is marrying you, he fucking means it. Do more than tolerate the cut a knife makes into your palm; pray to it.

...And then he will pray to you.

A wedding song for you: I Wanna Be Your Slave by Maneskin or Misanthrapologist by Will Wood

Bad relationship song I can't help but add: This is Love by Air Traffic Controller

Kakuzu:

Despite popular belief, this is not a man who fusses over money the way Scrooge does over every last coin. By the contrary, it is that he is a man that does not have much to give. This is in every sense, it turns out. Kakuzu is a man that has had all hope in humanity and for himself beat the hell out of him, so it's a shock to him if you hint at a desire for marriage. A mistake, that's what you're trying to make, here. At first he'll rebuff with few words but still sure, but it'll hitch onto him like a tick. A traditional man at heart, you know best to let him propose himself.

And so he does. It is the only time you've ever seen him doubt himself, but of course you tell him yes. As you throw your arms around him, that's when reality hits in the best of ways.

He does not wait, not if you don't oppose him. He takes you to a temple, middle of nowhere with no one either of you or your nations will know. For an old man, it's such a romantic, young man's task to arrange to elope. The priest marries you, as you sit side by side at the break of dawn upon his stoop. He wears his mask, still wears long robes to cover his stitches, but his silky brown hair drifts so beautifully with the wind; he will say this compliment is one he had of you and yours, when he looks back upon today. You are his world, intertwined in an immortal and mortal life.

Kakuzu does not kiss you at the wedding. That comes later, when no one else is there. He pulls down his mask and takes your mouth upon his, tangled until one of you can't breathe anymore.

A wedding song for you: Vanilla Curls by Teddy Hyde or Budapest by George Ezra

Deidara:

A flirt he may be, but a guy of commitment? Hell no. At first he's really flattered, chuckling and letting a large smirk trail up one side of his face. It falls when he realizes you're being serious. "Wait, really?" You nod, and his always-intense stare seems a bit closer to concerned.

"My dear...you're getting carried away, aren't you?" he offers like a second chance to not embarrass yourself.

Everything, as it always has for Deidara, has happened so fast it hits him before he recognizes what it is. Love is included, even and up until the point he's in this deep. Honestly? It terrifies him. He'll laugh and walk away, but it'll fucking haunt him.

A couple days of flying on a bird, all by his lonesome, and he returns with a bit of a different view. Life is short, beauty is fleeting: the opportunity is here and damned if he don't take it. He offers your hand- both in marriage and for a ride- and you soar into the sky.

There's no such thing as a traditional wedding, no need for it when the most beautiful things in the world are you and his art. Explosions and fireworks alike light up the night sky and he leans over to whisper his dedication upon your lips.

Deidara's kiss is, of course, bombastic. It's intense and with tongue and repeats, over and over, never lasting too long as he can't keep his love-drunk words to himself for longer than two seconds. Streamers and confetti flutter around your heads, grander than any parade for any newly wed prince or princess.

A wedding song for you: The Cult of Dionysus by The Orion Experience or Fear and Delight by The Correspondents

Sasori:

Only someone who knows him as well as you will pick up the subtlest shifts of the scorpion's expression, the way brown eyes barely widen. You bring it up, nearly like a dream you had, nearly like you're talking to yourself in your sleep, but he hears it. Sasori continues with his work, the monotony of woodwork allowing him to chew on the idea. A marriage isn't necessary, of course...but he also will lie to himself about how downright alluring the symbolism of a wedding is.

If the most beautiful things are eternal, why not your love?

If you've gotten him so far that Sasori will consider whatever form of affection he can manage in his barely organic heart, then he will make every second of your life never-ending bliss.

He decorates you, almost like one of his dolls, in the finest patterns of fabric and sleekest of jewelry. He pains over every inch of skin on top of muscle and bone, the way the ring slips on your finger and the way your wrist bends to do it. The ritual is an art piece, and you gaze upon him so marvelously... Your lips part with such slight but sure poise...

The venue is silent and you both are alone. Not even a bird caws, no insect chirps. Pure, clear as glass silence. You are the only two beings in all of existence. You will ascend time itself. A single candle is lit as you sit in the deepest depths of this cave, where no one may interrupt.

Where no one can hear him confess to you.

Sasori's kiss is soft, far too soft. He holds both of your hands so delicately, like they're on a string. Lines of chakra help you move into him in a way that is just right, just utterly perfect.

A wedding song for you: Thumbnail by Louie Zong and Brian David Gilbert or Dark of the Matinee by Franz Ferdinand

Kisame:

Shockingly enough, this guy is going to be your hardest sell. Perhaps predictably, it isn't because he dislikes marriage, settling down, falling in love. Disliking and opposing are very different things.

He panics, at least just a little the first time you mention it. "I'm a shinobi, you know. You won't see me very much." Time passes on, and your desire appears again:

"I'm a rough guy. Just take a second to think about what you're asking for, alright?"

More time, and more desperation on his part with your persistence:

"I am meant to die alone," he finally tells you outright. "Don't bother with me. You could be spending your time so much better than fussing over someone who isn't going to last."

But you do, and he does last. Unfortunately, he does last. It gnaws him to the bone.

"Alright," he'll ask you, a long time since you first expressed your wants, "Are you certain?" You say yes, of course you say yes. Bittersweet, sharp teeth smile. "Very well," the swordsman concedes.

You marry traditionally, though very small. A hood drapes over him, hiding his face as the priest speaks the seal of marriage. His hand clings to yours, so very afraid of losing you. Or worse: making you lose him.

With the formalities out of the way, his own way begins. Finally alone, you both plunge into deep water, a loud splash quickly muting to flooded ears. He holds your face as your hair drifts past him in strands noses nearly touching. Kisame gets a good look at you before he changes everything forever, closing his eyes.

Kisame's kiss is a leap of faith. It tastes like lake water and seaweed and his love. He presses all of you into him like a shell holds a pearl, limbs climbing around you as you suspend in water and sink. Breathe into him, breathe deep. Every last breath in his lungs is just for you.

A wedding song for you: Against the Kitchen Floor by Will Wood or If I'm Being Honest by dodie

Itachi:

The implications of this circumstance are astounding. He loves you- yes, of course he does- but what's more is that he loves you enough to be so selfish as to gift himself to you, even knowing the fate he's reserved. It is both impressive and heartbreaking. Have hope, you ask of him. That is all you ask of him. Give it a chance. It is what he wants, isn't it?

Of course it is. But are you okay if the inevitable comes true?

You pause, and he studies your naive, innocent eyes. But you know more than perhaps Itachi has realized. You know it is okay to treasure. It is okay to enjoy. The journey matters more than the destination. Yes, it is okay, you tell him, you love to love him all the same.

Dark eyes close. Then he will give you what is desired.

Kisame is present, of course, as well as the ancestors of the Uchiha clan in spirit. You are radiant, and he tells you so. You return the compliment in soft earnest. A single hand cups your cheek as he approaches, pausing to feel and taste your breath as it drifts into his mouth.

Itachi's kiss is barely there, like he's afraid of breaking glass. If you want to kiss deeper, you'll need to go in and get it yourself. Just don't mistake delicacy for a lack of interest. This is the most of his body he has ever given in his entire life. Just give him time.

A wedding song for you: Herbal Tea by Velvet Moon or Here For You by Good Co

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐈’𝐦 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Angst, post-break up, Miguel’s heartbroken, he really shouldn’t be though, sexual frustration, innuendos, soreness from sex, male masturbation, sexual flashbacks MINORS DNI🔞

𝐀/𝐍: Hey, hope you didn’t forget about me🥹 it’s been a while. I saw this fan art of Miggy in the shower after I wrote this and thought it was pretty fitting

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s been over a year since you split up, but unfortunately for Miguel, things are still taking a toll. Even after going your separate ways, you still have to see each other everyday and it was affecting his performance. Meanwhile, your dual life as a loyal lover and as Spider-Woman is putting a lingering strain on your new relationship. The ripple effect of your breakup is coming back to bite you in the ass in the most unexpected way possible.

Things were already hard enough after you and Miguel broke things off. But having to be your boss while not allowing his heartbreak to get in the way of leading a group of Spider People, including yourself, was modifying.

He didn’t realise how much the aftermath affected him until his recruits had noticed his performance was lacking.

His combat skills were becoming sloppy making him prone to more injury. It was frustrating how much he was letting this get to his head— he couldn’t see what was right in front of him.

After the third trip to the Spider Medbay, it dawned on him that he had to accept things as they were now and move on. His job as a leader will be at risk otherwise.

Initially, he thought he was doing a decent job ignoring his pain. He was growing used to seeing you everyday without your affection, especially since he was accustomed to being alone before you got together.

But after the latest Spider meeting, Miguel was left with fresh salt on the wound.

As you sat down on your seat before he commenced the meeting, your face scrunched slightly from the ache between your legs.

An obvious sign that you’ve just been dicked down by your current flame recently. No one else in the board room had noticed but he definitely did.

And he hated himself for it.

If the situation were different, where you didn't feel any resentment towards him after he broke your heart, he wouldn’t pay any mind to it.

There was a time where he would’ve felt his ego soar after seeing you struggling to sit down like that — only because he knew it was him and his dick that was the cause of that. But now he was left with bitter pain and yearning.

Back then, he knew he could manhandle you if he wanted to. But he would never do anything that could affect your agility and performance as a crime fighter.

Albeit, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t fuck you good enough so you would get drunk from his dick and he got to witness your mind going numb.

But now he had lost that privilege. He couldn’t see your worn out face anymore after he made you come.

The mere notion of another man touching you like that, let alone seeing you in that state, was enough to send him spiraling. Not that he would let you be aware of that.

This new guy wasn’t even aware of your double life as Spiderwoman. He wouldn’t be as cautious and mindful when fucking you like Miguel would.

It was one of the convenient things in your relationship— why you were perfect for each other. Until it wasn’t. He had to force himself to continue like this wasn’t tearing him apart inside.

Eventually the meeting came to a conclusion and everyone made their way to the cafeteria for their lunch break. Miguel, on the other hand, headed back to his office in solitary.

Every muscle in his body felt heavy and it felt like extra labour just to walk back to his office. He didn’t catch you following behind until you called out his name.

“Miguel,” he turned to see you walk up towards him.

As foolish as it was, for a fleeting moment he thought you were going to comfort him; put your hands on his shoulders and give him a massage or peppered his face with kisses when everyone had left, just like you used to.

The fantasy vanished just as quickly as it came when you spoke your mind.

“I think my watch needs calibrating, it’s acting up,” you told him, gesturing to your watch. Of course.

You would only approach him when you need something from him. That was how it had been, he shouldn’t expect anything more.

“Alright pass it over, I’ll give you a day pass in the meantime,” he said as he fished out a day pass for you to wear.

You removed your watch from your hand and passed it to him before taking the wrist band and putting it on.

Once it was secure, you turned your heels to leave. He felt his adrenaline spike as he watched you and out of impulse, he opened his mouth to speak again.

“Hey um,” He started, making you turn back around to look at him. Your eyes bore onto his, something he thought he’d never witness again after you split up. Except this time, there wasn’t any warmth in your gaze as there used to be; instead, there was nothing but a void.

Shit

The room suddenly felt like it was getting hotter. Or maybe that was the heat rushing to his cheeks out of sheer discomfort.

Either way he felt like his inner thoughts were written all over his face and you could read him. You probably could sense something was wrong but you weren’t going to comment on it.

He wouldn’t blame you…

Now you had your full attention on him, even if it was only brief. He had to make sure he played his card right and tread through this carefully.

“How’s everything?” He asked meekly. He tried to keep his composure as controlled as he could, keeping a tight lid on his raw emotions.

“Fine.” The word came out so curt, it didn’t even feel like a proper response.

It hurt his pride knowing another man could make you sore like he can, just the way you like it. On top of that, he was treating you better and was making you happy. Something that he couldn’t do.

You deserved a partner who would be there for you, support you and nurture that mutual love. Not just someone who was good in bed.

Unfortunately he was so drawn into his train of thoughts about your man, his mouth moved faster than his mind before he could even stop himself, initiating a word vomit.

“Is he treating you well,”

Shit shit shit…

Why did he bring him up? Now he probably looked pathetic. He could see you drift your gaze away after he asked that. Obviously the topic was pretty sensitive.

“Mhmm” you hummed in approval. You were clearly not comfortable with sharing more. Judging by how you responded, you had moved on and healed from the pain he had caused you.

He shouldn’t shit on your new man; he never even met the guy (other than watching the surveillance footage of your dimension while monitoring the Multiverse like he always did)

So he had no valid reason to hate on him if everything was going well with you.

And he knew you weren’t going to willingly share about your current relationship. You were a private person and he always valued that while you were both still together.

But now it was working against his favour. Despite being fully aware that your personal life wasn’t any of his business anymore, he was still desperate to know everything.

There was a sense of antipathy that was growing in his heart towards your new life without him in it. No matter how much he would lie to himself and deny it was there, it only heightened as more time passed.

The silence that was shared between the two of you was making it hard to breathe. It felt like all the oxygen in the room wasn’t enough to fill his lungs with the tranquility he needed.

You should get going, don’t want to hold you back any longer than I already have.

Eventually, Miguel gave a subtle nod before shifting his attention to your watch in his hand. He wanted to end the premature conversation before he said something he will regret.

The last thing he heard was your footsteps getting quieter as you left his office, leaving him in his own thoughts.

Miguel felt some of the tension leaving his body, like melted candle wax, as he took the first step into his apartment— his confinement safe space.

But despite being surrounded by the comfortable air in his home, his muscles were still aching. Today was more physically demanding than usual as he was on his feet all day, containing not just one but three anomalies, all in different dimensions.

Fatigue seeped into his bones. But it wasn’t just the physical tasks that drained him. His mind was constantly running with relentless questions, though there was one that struck him the most.

Could he manage to lead the Spider Society without being consumed by his emotional turmoil? More importantly, without being consumed by the reminders of his loss. Gabriella.

You.

It has been a year since you both split up and he’s still unable to break free from the haunting memories of his past. Thinking about your breakup was making him dizzy. The overhead lights in his apartment suddenly felt too bright and sickening.

“Lyla, could you dim the lights please?” He called out before he headed to the bathroom. The lights dimmed just as demanded.

“Lights are dimmed now, Miguel,” Lyla’s digital voice chirped. Miguel’s thoughts remained on you as he made his way towards the shower.

He couldn’t stop himself from recalling the last conversation you both just had back in HQ. It was brief but your reluctant body language was enough to speak volume.

Part of him wanted to know what was going through your head when he asked about your current relationship, even if it was just a slip up. But at the same time, after seeing the way your demeanor shifted when he asked, he would rather stay clueless about it.

He stepped into the shower and twisted the shower knob, adjusting the water to the right temperature. Steam was released into the air from the hot water, creating condensation on the cold tiles.

The hot spray from the shower ran over him as he allowed the water to rinse over his whole body. He sighed as he felt his muscles instantly unwind from the hot water but the warmth also seemed to amplify his solitude.

He rested one of his hands on the glass panel that was fogging up from the steam. The shower continued to spray over his back and his mind continued to wander.

As much as he tried to forget about today, he couldn’t stop thinking back to the Spider meeting from earlier and how you were struggling to sit without the obvious sourness between your legs. Seeing you in that state gave him erotic flashbacks that he didn’t want to recrystallise in his head, especially now.

Suddenly, a memory that he had tried so hard to bury deep in his core resurfaced in his head, blaring at him. The image of you bent over in his shower; your hands and your bare tits being pressed against the same glass panel he had his hands on right now, while he was thrusting you from behind.

He couldn’t shake off the memory no matter how hard he tried. The thoughts continued to run through his head and just like clockwork, he felt himself getting bricked up.

How pathetic. He let his unwanted memories get the best of him and now it was affecting the rest of his body.

His cock was twitching and he could feel the subtle throb of his pulse from the sensitive areas. His free hand reached to clasped around the length with his mind conflicted from his aching predicament.

As much as he knew how bad his situation was right now, he couldn’t stop himself from caving into his own desperation. Out of impulse, he started to stroke at a steady pace with that image of you stuck behind his eyelids.

This was wrong. So wrong. Thinking about you in such an elaborate manner while getting off to it, especially when he was aware that you wanted nothing to do with him anymore. After everything he put you through…

But his head wasn’t thinking about any reasoning or morals anymore. At least no one could see the state he was in right now.

The grip from his hands could never replicate the sensation of your walls clenching around him— along with your wetness that would coat his dick.

He was drawn back to those memories of you in his shower again. You always used to take him so well, especially from behind. He would nuzzle his face into your neck while fucking you relentlessly.

The bathroom would be filled with the sounds of your pretty moans over the spray of the water that would echo over the tiles in the shower.

Each thrust would push you further against the glass panel. Your hands and tits would always be imprinted on the surface by the end of it, and every time he would be reluctant to wipe it away.

He increased the pace of his strokes just from recalling that memory, with his eyes bored onto the panel. His heart was pulsated in his chest as he was losing himself in the bliss of his own fantasies.

The memory of your breakup was now forgotten as he was reliving these memories. It was almost tangible, he could almost hear you moaning out fragments of his name in his mind. But it was probably just his auditory hallucinations.

He longed to feel you again, hearing you say his name just like you used to. Feeling your touch again would scratch the irritable itch that had always lingered. Even if he knew he’d never have you again, he still dreamt about you.

His climax was crawling up to him painstakingly slow. He recalled those moments where you would touch yourself afterwards, just to feel how much he had stuffed you with his cum.

The memory, along with the built up anger and longing, was enough for him to unravel and his orgasm came crashing down on him— it was almost overwhelming.

The evidence of his guilt spilled over his knuckles before getting washed away by the spray of the shower. But it wasn’t enough to erase what he just did.

The post-nut clarity disappeared once he realised what he got himself into and how far he fell into the rabbit hole of his own desires. It felt like every object in the bathroom just witnessed his own sin.

He shut off the water and stepped out of the shower before he wrapped a towel around his waist. Water was dripping from his hair and fell over his bare shoulders and back, but he paid no attention to it.

Everything that had just happened a few moments ago was sinking into him, and although he scrubbed himself clean from his own cum, there was still the unsettling awareness of his own mishap weighing on his shoulders.

It was making his stomach twist with nausea. Shame quickly settled over him, like a cloud hovering over his head. It continued to follow him as he made his way to his bedroom.

Miguel grabbed a set of clean clothes from the dresser and got himself dressed for bed. Even with the unease that was lingering in his head, his routine still felt mechanical and familiar. Nothing else seemed to change.

Once he was dressed, he slipped under the cool covers of his bed, shutting out everything that had happened today.

Part 2

Just lmk if you wanna be tagged

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @miguels-aranita @thealleydog @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @strawberryjuice9 @lazyjellyfish300 @ghost-lantern @what-the-jams @mcmiracles @monarchberrysblog @niyahwhoreworld @keigoloveminty @ewan-tef @ginanet @mrsoharaa @flowerlemonss-blog @shadowarchon @smartyren @famouscattale @stressed-cherry @hrhmimieucliffe @ultravioletrayz @grxnde-dwt @homewreckingwreck @your-antares-universe @crimin4llyins4ne @tojishugetiddies @miguel-ohara-wifey

Now I’m gonna log off for two days bc I don’t want to see ppls immediate reaction to this 😟

Btw, I will be interacting with your fics and reblogging from my second account @lmaoyouwhore (don’t pree the blog too hard, it’s still under construction lol)

Ayrus xoxo

[sunlighthroughthe-ashes]

this whole episode; i kept thinking of these lines by cameron awkward-rich: 'please—what’s the word for being born of sorrow that isn’t yours? for having a family? for belonging nowhere?'

families can be zones of so much buried violence: whether it's seokryu's 'eomma' and 'appa' projecting their own life experiences onto their innocent daughter; or seung-hyo's mother accepting the same necklace over and over again; because her son is too distant to even realize that he's giving her identical gifts. their relationship is too impersonal for him to even write anything on her card. episode 8 hurt so much — and it hurt because it's real. this is what families are like: swallowed hurts and silent resentments. pain fisted in your hands like a weapon as you fight to be heard — to be wanted as your own self; and not just a vessel for your parents' unfulfilled aspirations. this is the trauma that tons of us carry.

one of the first things they tell you in therapy if you're not an only child is that you and your sibling do NOT grow up with the same parents. both you and your sibling experience entirely different versions of your parents — because the circumstances which they're in differ so greatly during each of your births and subsequent growths — and it can feel so utterly disheartening and unfair.

seokryu is the standard: the model child; the person her parents pinned all their hopes on. as such; she's never allowed to be anything less than perfect. because he's a boy, because he was sick, because he's younger — dongjin is indulged and pandered to and doted upon — even when he's being irresponsible. all her life seokryu has been side-stepping her own needs and wants; just to keep her parents happy — sinking into her own sacrifice until there was nothing left but burn-out and broken dreams. it shattered my heart to hear her mother say she'd rather have seokryu back in the US and married even if she's unhappy there — because that would mean she would get to boast about her daughter and receive gifts from her. that's not love — that's entitlement.

seung-hyo is the only person who truly loves seokryu for seokryu — for who she truly is, flaws and all: and that makes it doubly hard to witness her keeping him at arm's length at the end of the episode. the way he says that the reason he can't be friends with seokryu isn't because she's a woman, it's because she's seokryu — is so simple and profound. he sees all of her and accepts it — loves it. and that is so, so, rare. the act of true witness is sacred — to be seen as you are is a privilege.

(as far as the sickness storyline goes: i'm afraid to say i saw it coming. i wish the writers were more original; but i don't think seokryu will die. still, it doesn't sit well in my mouth. they could have come up with something better for conflict if they really had to.)

[goreandbunnies]

⛧☾༒︎ 𝔇𝔢𝔳𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 ༒︎☽⛧

Sukuna x Reader, Toji x Reader

Summary ๋࣭ ⭑⚝"Almost six months after meeting him, I had finally managed to escape. At least that's what I thought, hidden in that alley, holding my breath and waiting for the search party to get further away from my spot. But this city was his, he had eyes everywhere. I needed to leave as far away as I could."

Warnings ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Explicit language, sexual explicit scenes, sexual assault, drugs and alcohol, explicit violent scenes, gun violence, emotional and physical manipulation, dub-con, mentions of cults, blood and blood play, knife play.

Word count ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 10.5k (in progress)

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more & @cafekitsune

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1

Six months earlier 1.

The music was blasting through the club’s speakers as our group got inside, my friend Amy leading us all to the VIP booth she had reserved for us.

She had booked half of the fanciest, high end club in town to throw the most indecent bachelorette party humanity had ever witnessed. I didn’t know where to watch - the entire place was either shining or sparkling. Chrome, black and white all over the walls and floors, where the lights reflected on the mass of sweaty bodies dancing around us. The very long and exclusive waiting list to get in made the few people allowed in there feel privileged. Blessed.

“I can’t believe you managed to book that club, Amy,” another friend of ours gasped as she looked around as well.

“Ben is friends with the owner, when we said we wanted to plan both parties here, he offered to book it for us,” Amy replied, filled with pride. I smiled at her.

Amy had been my best friend since high school - she and I were polar opposites but somehow ended up inseparable. She was tiny, blonde, a social bee, always chatting with new people and making friends whereas I liked the quiet and the comfort of my inner circle.

I readjusted the pink “maid of honor” sash on my tight red dress and watched as Ben - the future groom - and his party arrived. They had decided to do a joint party to enjoy the lush club and I knew Amy wanted to keep an eye on Ben to make sure his cavemen friends wouldn’t hire a stripper for him.

“Hey there,” a voice said behind me, hands grazing my arms. I shivered and took a step away.

“Hey,” I gave Brad - Ben’s best friend and best man - a polite smile but took another step away from him just to be sure.

Brad and the rest of the party were in high school with us. We all grew up together. He used to bully me for being too tall, standing out in any girl group, only to hit on me constantly now that we were both adults. Except I had zero interest in the preppy looking guy in the slightest. Whenever he was around me, all I wanted was to run away.

“Looking good tonight, want me to get you something to drink?” He stepped forward to basically scream in my ear over the music. I placed a couple of fingers on his chest and kept him away.

“I’m not drinking anything you bring me,” I smiled again, this time struggling to stay polite.

“After all these years, really?” He laughed, as if it had been a fucking joke to him. “It was one time and you had so much fun,” he said as he sat heavily on the black cushioned seats.

“You fucking roofied me and I almost drowned in the pool at that frat party,” I spat at him angrily.

“Water under the bridge, baby. It’s in the past, you should move on,” he laid his arms out on the back of the seat as Ben and the rest of the guys sat next to him.

Sick of him ruining the night for me, I gave him the middle finger before heading for the VIP section of the bar where Amy was ordering shots for us girls. I dropped on a stool and sighed.

“Lemme guess, Brad?” Amy asked as she collected the shots and placed them on a tray. I nodded.

“I don’t know why Ben is still friends with that asshole,” she shook her blonde head, her curls bouncing around. “I mean everyone knows what he did and no one bats an eye cause his father is loaded,” she rolled her eyes before placing a shot in front of me and taking one for her.

Amy was the one who had driven me to the police station to press charges against Brad. She yelled at each and every officer until one sat down to take my statement. But one flick of Brad’s father's checkbook and the file disappeared into oblivion.

“As long as he doesn’t come near me, I can tolerate his presence,” I said before clinking my glass with hers and downing the shot in one gulp. Amy hummed in pleasure as she looked around before turning back to me.

“Don’t look but there’s a guy who’s totally checking you out over there,” she discreetly nodded over her shoulder. I chuckled.

“How can you tell, maybe he’s checking you out,” I made sure not to look as ordered but curiosity was getting the best of me.

“Cause of this,” she pointed at her plastic tiara with a veil, her short black dress and her “future bride” sash. She turned around again to peek and I followed her gaze to a gigantic, scary looking guy.

That man looked like every single red flag packed into a pile of muscles, bodyguard type, with a burning stare and a vertical scar on the side of his mouth. He seemed to be a couple of years older than us, early thirties, but he had nothing in common with the guys sitting a few feet away. He was violence incarnate and even from afar, standing still, arms crossed over his large chest, I could feel the anger coming off him in waves.

Amy was right, it wasn’t her he was staring at, but me. Quite openly. His stare lingered on me for a while, taking in the length of my bare legs up to the red dress I was wearing, the tattoos on my arms - my damn boobs and eventually, his eyes locked with mine. I raised an eyebrow before returning the favor and eyeing him down.

The black t-shirt he was wearing didn’t leave much room to imagination - his arms were the size of both my legs together and his chest seemed to have been molded in pure iron. When I looked at his lower body, I wasn’t surprised to find that his legs matched his arms - the thickest thighs known to man wrapped in tight black suit pants.

My eyes ran up to his broad shoulders, thick neck then up to his face, eyes dark partially hidden by slick dark hair falling in front of them. He sure did look scary, yet I couldn’t help but think he looked beautiful. The rage that vibrated off him was intoxicating.

Somehow, I got the feeling that he felt out of place, like a fish out of the water down here with the mass of bodies and loud music. The permanent frown on his face was pretty clear - he wasn’t happy to be here and he was not to be fucked with.

“Damn he looks scary,” Amy raised her eyebrows at me before a new song played, causing her to shriek like a banshee. “That’s my song! Let’s get on the dancefloor, where are the girls?”

She took my hand and dragged me away, not before I managed to give the stranger a small smile and for a second, I swore I saw the scarred corner of his lip rise.

Copyright © goreandbunnies, bitchcraft18 2024, all rights reserved, do not repost, use or plagiarize. Do not translate.

Taglist ♥ @sweetlandspos @tojislittleprincesss @paradisestarfishh @unheavenlypacked

[sapphic-agent]

Trios that would have been more compelling and less obnoxious than the "Wonder Trio":

Izuku, Tenya, Ochako: This needs no explanation

Izuku, Tenya, Shouto: Again, this really needs no champion vouching for it. The Stain arc and the subsequent character work that came with it will never be matched by any other arc in MHA.

Izuku, Denki, Yuga: These three all have self-harming quirks that can be really dangerous and inconvenient during a battle. It was truly a lost opportunity to see these three bond over their issues. Making Izuku and Yuga being close friends right off the bat would've have been really beneficial in sowing the traitor plot point early on and would've have also been far more devastating for Izuku during the reveal. And honestly, Yuga being formerly quirkless and having a self-harming quirk is a much better narrative parallel than the "Save to Win and Win to Save" bullshit that we got. Denki and Yuga just seem like they'd have really good chemistry.

Izuku, Tenya, Momo: These 3 intelligent specimens would've have been extremely overpowered if Hori actually cared enough to develop them. Also, Momo would get to shine because her quirk is powerful as hell (I actually head canon that she has the strongest/most versatile quirk in 1A and maybe enough the BNHA verse as a whole) and it's a crime that her intelligence and OP quirk went underutilized. Also, Momo and Izuku helping each other through their lack of self confidence would have been really touching and maybe have Izuku reflect on his life and how he was treated pre OFA. Momo and Tenya also seemed really no nonsense in the beginning when she ruthlessly criticized Bakugou, so this could help Izuku cut Bakugou off much earlier and allow him to grow.

Izuku, Tsuyu, Mineta: Yes I know, I know. Mineta sucks. But even so, these three were super compelling and interesting to watch during the USJ arc. The ways in which they used their quirks to escape death has way more charm and personality in their hair follicles than post season 3 ShoBakuDeku have in their entire bodies. Also, since Tsuyu was one of the first to call Bakugou out, I feel like her bluntness would be a really good reality check for Izuku to realize that the way Bakugou (and Aizawa) treat him is not okay. Also, Mineta already idolizes Izuku (which is actually sort of sweet) so this could have been used to develop his character rather than the awful and repetitive perv shtick that we're unfortunately stuck with.

Izuku, Shoji, Tokoyami: Like with the above trio, their forest camp sequence in trying to escape dark shadow has more personality and authenticity in their hair follicles than anything having to do with the stupid wonder trio. After all, the whole thing started because of Tokoyami witnessing Shoji being harmed by moonfish, which feels really raw and touching. Shoji also carrying Izuku on his back is super cute. These three also could've been used to address quirk-based discrimination, which is basically that backbone of BNHA's premise (even if it is always glossed over). Tokoyami and Shoji would've had to be victims of heteromorph discrimination (I think it was even confirmed in later chapters) which could drawn the three to each other. No offense to Shouto (and full offense of Bakugo) the two of them could never really relate to Izuku's trauma especially since Bakugou is responsible for 85% of it. They're both rich, they were both born with extremely powerful quirks. While Shouto is tragic because he was abused, he also benefits from the system of powerful quirks being favored which makes the two of them privileged. I also feel like Shoji and Tokoyami finding out about OFA and Izuku's previous quirklessness would just strengthen their bond and would motivate them to help and protect Izuku in any way they can unlike Bakugou who was a total nuisance the entire time.

Izuku, Mei, Ochako: Again, like with the last two, their admittedly limited time on screen together has more charm and personality than the stupid Wonder Trio.

These are the ones that I could think of from the top of my head. Feel free to add anymore.

These are all so cool! I especially liked Izuku, Denki, and Yuga. I always thought Izuku and Denki should have had more interactions anyway. And of course I love Izuku's scenes with Yuga. This is definitely a more unique one.

I would add Izuku, Momo, and Shoto to the list because I love the thought of Izuku being super intimidated by them only to be like, "Oh, oh no they're just isolated rich kids who have never talked to another kid their age and they're mine now" and adopts them.

Also, Izuku, Fumikage, and Shoto. I feel like they're fun.

It's not an Izuku trio but I'd also love Ochako, Tsu, and Momo just because they're best girls

[le-trash-prince]

Kenta & Pete pt 2

From the very beginning of their relationship, Pete used his status to establish himself as Kenta's protector. This is not uncommon for people living with an abuser, and this is something that really strikes me as a key part of Pete's character. He uses his privilege to help people.

When Babe left Tony's house, he did so after finding out that Tony had been the reason behind Babe's family falling apart, that Tony was a saboteur rather than the benefactor he posed as. Babe didn't learn about the other children being sold until Charlie told him about it.

But Pete finds out while he is still living under Tony's roof, and that is what prompts him to leave. He doesn't confront Tony about it, he simply leaves. Because this is something that he can't just stand by and watch happen. This goes beyond shielding someone from punishment. His status as an enigma won't help, it won't end the cycle, so he leaves. And as we know, he spends the rest of his life building up the power he needs to put a stop to these children being sold off.

But Kenta, who must know Pete so well at this point, sees it coming and tries to stop him. For Kenta, Tony's house is his entire world. Tony is the one who gave him life.

He wasn't even allowed outside without permission. He doesn't have any privileges, he's there as a mere accessory to the needs of others.

He's been conditioned to believe that he owes everything to Tony. He is part of this house, and this is where he feels he belongs.

But if Pete leaves, he takes the only good thing in Kenta's life.

What goes unsaid is that rather than Tony being hurt by Pete’s actions, it’s Kenta who will be hurt if Pete leaves.

I don't know yet whether or not Pete reciprocated Kenta's feelings, but I do think that the kiss is told from Kenta's perspective, and I think Kenta took Pete's silence as rejection. So when Pete leaves, he appeals to their brotherly bond instead. We will no longer be phi and nong.

And in Kenta's eyes, it wasn't enough. He wasn't enough for Pete to stay. Pete left to save the others, when he had promised to protect Kenta.

And how much abuse has Kenta suffered since Pete left? To him, he was abandoned and betrayed.

But for Pete, he wanted Kenta to make a decision for himself. Kenta views himself as a tool, an accessory. Objects don't make decisions.

But Pete views him as a friend, as a good person. Kenta is not the object that Tony treats him as. He has wants and desires, he has feelings, and Pete wants Kenta to understand that.

Kenta wanted Pete to stay, and Pete wanted Kenta to leave, and it is tragedy that neither of these things happened. This is yet another example of broken family that Pit Babe has given us.

Kenta thinks it is too late for him to change, even if he is constantly being torn apart by the things he feels he must do, and by the abuse he continues to endure.

But Pete thinks it is never too late for someone to change. He still hasn't given up on Kenta, and how that must burn—to have someone believe in you when you have never believed in yourself.

Kenta has spent years repressing his reactions to everything that he has endured and witnessed and taken part in. He is putting everything into convincing himself that he doesn't care, that he can even kill his childhood love as long as it is for the one person who has given him purpose.

But he does care, he cares so much, and he is closer to his breaking point than we've ever seen him before.

pt 1

[hisui-dreamer]

a letter never meant to be delivered

Characters: Riddle, Azul, Jade, Rook, Malleus, Sebek, Lilia

Synopsis: you find a letter left on his desk, and find his feelings for you have overflowed onto it

Tags: love letter, pining, period drama coded, regency-esque language, confessions, bot proofread

Word count: 393

Notes: pick your fav twst boi from above when you read this haha

i just rewatched pride and prejudice and emma so the period drama language has been infused into me haha

Masterlist

To my dearest and most esteemed prefect,

It may come as a surprise for you to receive this letter from me, yet, in this moment, I can think of no better way to express my innermost sentiments. Regardless of your response, I desire nothing more than to remain by your side, even if only as a friend.

I have fallen irrevocably, with profound ardour, for every facet of your being. Each passing moment, without exception, is adorned with the indelible presence of your image in my thoughts. Your essence lingers, casting an enchanting spell that intensifies my longing to be in your presence. This yearning within me knows no respite, ceaselessly expanding like a relentless flame, consuming my every waking thought and weaving its way into the fabric of my dreams.

I have attempted to restrain these sentiments, attempting to confine them within the chambers of my heart. Alas, their potency has surpassed all expectations. It is incredibly foolish and juvenile, I admit, but I cannot help but succumb to envy as I witness your interactions with others, fervently wishing to be the recipient of your attention. I long to be the one who witnesses your most radiant smiles, the one you rely on during your darkest hours, and the one who lingers in your thoughts when you smile so lovingly.

Yet, I must confess that this affection, while bringing me moments of incredible joy, has also become the source of my deepest torment. The perplexity of our relationship and the ambiguity of your feelings continue to elude me, and perhaps foolishly, I wish to put an end to this.

If it is that you do not reciprocate my feelings, then please speak it once and I will never mention my affections again and no longer infringe on our friendship. But, if you do find them my feelings so imposing as I fear, then please take care and I shall distance myself from now on. And I sincerely apologize that I may no longer be considered as your friend.

And if, by some stroke of fate, you harbour affections for me as I do for you, then I beg of you to hasten to my side without delay. Allow me the privilege of holding you close, that I may envelop you in the embrace of my ardent affection.

Signed,

Your most ardent admirer

Masterlist

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