#but because of everything i just said here you will never guess the scene

[oshinohoshi]

Oshi no Ko chapter 166 thoughts - the end of all things

So uh... the only positive thing I can say here besides the beautiful Ai art is that I felt sad reading the page where Miyako was hugging Ruby. Everything else left me completely empty

This chapter is either:

A) A self-aware ending meant to show that life is suffering and the idol industry will suck out your soul if you let it

B) Outsourced to someone who skimmed OnK for 30 seconds on Wikipedia before putting pen to paper

It has to be A, right? You can't tell me that the same author wrote both of these pages without the right being ironic

But I don't think so because big brained Akane is the one clumsily narrating this crappy montage masquerading as a real ending

Aqua died for nothing. His sister is now a soulless cog in the idol machine

Ruby is mimicking Ai's speech - "Lies are an outstanding kind of love... We pile on the lies and no matter how hard things get, we sing and act happy onstage. It's a fun job!" But she forgot the rest of it: "Only, I'd like the 'being happy' part to be real. Nobody notices, but we have hearts and lives of our own. Happiness as a mother. Happiness as an idol. Normally you'd have to pick one, but I want both. Ai Hoshino is a greedy girl"

Ai wasn't only a misunderstood girl who worked hard to please her fans. That was a big part of her story but she also broke the rules to create her own family, her own happiness

Ruby, on the other hand, seems to have no real desires anymore, she's just following a path she believes her mother and Aqua paved for her. Never mind that Aqua only wanted it in the end because she wanted it and Ai just wanted her kids to be happy

You can tell that Akasaka is patting himself on the back for making a cyclical narrative where Ruby becomes Ai 2.0 by being commodified, scrutinized, and idolized like Ai was

But it's such a flimsy parallel when it comes to the theme of lies because lying to hide your grief =/= "lies are love" which was the only way Ai knew how to frame her genuine desire to love

And Ai's "I love you" to her kids was true whereas Ruby has swallowed her own lie that being an idol is fun even when you're just doing it to outrun your pain

What this chapter showed us is that the meaning of Ruby's life is to be Ruby of B Komachi and she was put on Earth to sing pop songs. Because that's what Ai did, right? If I remember correctly, her final words were "I'm so glad I got to be an idol #blessed"

My God was the Dome concert soulless. Miyako and Ichigo crying happy tears is a punch to the gut. Doesn't Miyako know her daughter is still hurting?

The last scene is so fucking depressing

Ruby, are you okay? Blink twice if you still remember your life outside the idol industry!

The last two pages work really well as horror. She has a brilliant smile but you can tell that she's dead inside. She's got more merch on her table than photos. Why doesn't she have a corkboard of family photos? Although I more or less have this Ai plushie and it's pretty cute so I'll give this a pass because it's hilarious

I guess the takeaway here is to live for others and life is painful so just grin and bear it. Oh yeah, and inspire other young women to join an industry where they get to act happy and lose their humanity. Cool

I mean I get that it's supposed to be about moving on with your life even while grieving and that's a good message, sure, but Aka's insistence on using the word "lies" multiple times as if saying it makes it make sense ruins the whole thing

The most insane part is that this chapter is a wholehearted endorsement of the lies sold by the entertainment/idol industry

I haven't even said anything about anyone besides Ruby because what's the point? Aka didn't have time to do justice to any of the characters I grew to love

It's clear something went wrong with the timeline of wrapping up OnK. No artist wants to execute a final chapter like this. I'm convinced the film reel edges are Aka and Mengo's way of telling the reader, "we know this is a shitty clips show so don't @ us on Twitter about it"

But it's so much worse than that. Aka really decided to tear to shreds everything he worked so hard on for 4 years. Damn

This is my favorite manga and I'll always love that it gave me Ai, my most beloved character of all time, but this leaves an extremely bitter aftertaste. It's really hard to believe that the same person who wrote vol 1 wrote this.

OnK has been pretty important to me. Reading weekly, chatting with fans, and reaching dangerous levels of Ai brain rot has actually been a helpful distraction. TBH I've been a little too invested in it but sometimes you need escapism. So it's crazy that I'm kind of glad it's over.

But this is why fanfic, fanart, and your own headcanons exist. In another universe, this manga wrapped up beautifully and I was depressed for weeks because I couldn't look forward to it anymore. In this universe, at least we're all suffering together here at the end of all things.

And at least the little Hoshino family is still adorable. Too bad Ai is dead, Aqua is dead, and Ruby desperately needs grief counseling. But NEVER MIND. Look at Ai's smile and the twins' faces. This was the Oshi no Ko I really loved.

[iguessitsjustme]

i'm rewatching that show you're taking a poll on and taking notes and you know it's deeper than i thought it was, which is a nice surprise? like. oh, there's real substance there. despite the fact that i have to blush my way through the entire thing, haha

Oh my dear anon. Hello. I put that poll under a read more and I said "don't ask questions you don't want the answer to" twice for this very reason.

I stopped watching only about 2 weeks ago so I haven't missed out on that much so far and you've kind of hit on the main reason I dropped it in the first place: the show is not as deep as it thinks it is.

I'm very glad that you found depth and substance in that show. But what I see when I watch it is a puddle disguising itself as a lake.

(I thought about writing every single reason why I think that but decided to spare you the dissertation because I don't want to ruin anyone's enjoyment of the show. I am happy to expand if asked but I will reiterate not to ask questions you don't want the answer to. If you're super curious, I did also already write a tiny bit about my problems with the show here.)

[tuiyla]

i don’t know how else to tell people that the problem with Leighton’s story isn’t Leighton’s story, for which I would love to be so proud of her, but that it simply wasn’t written well

i’m sorry y’all can’t “Tatum was meant to represent this!!!” and “Leighton has realized that!!” your way out of this when the writing simply did not put in any of the effort. also lmao you wanna know why I’m salty over Tatum’s treatment? cause how she ended was literally not what they’d been writing for 3 episodes. not once did Leighton look like Tatum was reminding her of bad parts of herself, not once prior to the fundraiser was Tatum anything but chill, supportive, and into Leighton for exactly who she was

it just feels so cheap and like I’m still happy for Leighton and happy for y’all if you can run with poor writing but I simply cannot tolerate it, I have to hold the show to higher standards than Leighton kissing any girl at any given moment in time

[aashi-heartfilia]

The hypocrisy of Jinshi and MaoMao

*light novel spoilers*

I just love how hypocritical MaoMao's nature is. She yells at Jinshi for being a 'Masochist' and yet we see that she's no different. Now, by definition Masochist is a person who drives sexual gratification from their own pain and humiliation, plus it relates to Jinshi's tendency to do self harm (like burning his skin with a brand)

And what is MaoMao's most favourite thing in this world?

POISON

She literally takes pleasure in consuming it and no one can convince me otherwise. Plus she uses dangerous plants and animals and snakes whatnot in the name of her so-called experiments. Her dad may call her a 'mad Scientist' but that is a direct indication of self harm.

And she calls Jinshi a Masochist.

I mean, think about it! The amount of anxiety she gives to Jinshi! She came prepared with a vomit inducing medicine but even she had no idea whether it would work or not. She was just hoping it would work in the salt chapter.

And the same goes for her hand, on which she has conducted countless experiments. One flower even burned her skin and its marks never left her skin. She said it was all for her hobby. What kind of weird hobby is that? Maybe, our little adorable mad scientist is just like that.

One brands his own skin, while the other takes heavenly pleasure in consuming poison.

So my point is, Jinshi and MaoMao are not that different as one might think they are and that's why their dynamic works so well.

Let's look at the excerpts from volume 5:

She didn’t know how long they sat that way. All she knew was that Jinshi was looking down at her with a faintly triumphant expression, as if he saw that the breath had reached every corner of her body now. He wiped away the tears that had sprung to her eyes as she struggled to breathe. It was then that Maomao felt a flash of intense anger. “I said that if you were going to kill me, you should do it with poison,” she told him. “I refuse to let you poison yourself,” Jinshi said, his fingers tracing her lips. “You can’t pretend you didn’t know that you were one of the candidates. As much as I’m sure you’d like to.” He wasn’t done, either: “Who was that man, anyway? I’m sure you’re not a dancer.” So he had been watching them! “I was just paying for my drink,” Maomao said. “It didn’t cost much.” She tried to look away, but with his hand on her head, she really couldn’t.

Jinshi just choked her and yet he refuses to let MaoMao poison herself. A lot of people misinterpret this scene, and don't like it all that much, saying it was just fanservice stuff but this is how I see it: Jinshi wasn't trying to kill MaoMao, he was just trying to make MaoMao submit to him for once (even if the way he did it was very wrong, but guess he's kinky like that). MaoMao is actively trying to harm herself and Jinshi loves MaoMao a lot, he cannot just let her kill herself.

It was more about him trying to exert his dominance in their weirdish - complicated relationship and that also backfires on him as we see in the next volume that MaoMao escapes Jinshi's grasps using Pairin's techniques.

And then they both continue to avoid each other in the entire next volume! Because they both realised that they have crossed boundaries.

They both are hypocrites.

And they both refuse to accept their feelings.

In one of the later volumes, she gives Jinshi a piece of her mind on how he should tell her everything clearly, unequivocally, what he feels, and he literally declares that "he will make her his wife", which is nice and all but look at the wording MaoMao used here....

Excerpts from LN Vol 7, chapter 19 called "A man and a woman play the game"

"You’re forever telling me I need to use my words, Master Jinshi, but are you in any position to criticize? Everything you say to me, everything you do, it’s like it’s calculated to save you from ever having to actually say what you mean! To make me figure it all out! You know, you remind me of someone. You act exactly like a man who used to come by our brothel all the time. He was in love with one of the girls, but he would never just come out and say it. He thought it should be obvious from the way he acted. He was so sure he had a good thing going with this woman that he never sent her so much as a letter. I remember how forlorn he looked when someone else swooped in and snatched her away! He kept coming to the brothel after that—to get drunk and whine to the ladies. Well, in my opinion, he could have avoided all that heartbreak if he’d told the woman how he felt. Clearly, unequivocally, so that she knew where they stood. It was the least he could have done!”

Everything came out in a torrent. She felt like she’d said it all in one breath. It was strange, she thought, to hear so many words come out of her own mouth. She was mystified. Jinshi was no less startled, but the shock soon left his face, replaced by something else. He got up off the bed and stared down at Maomao.

Shit. Now I’ve done it. She’d given him a piece of her mind, and he was about to give her one back.

“So I should be clear, should I? Unequivocal? I should say what I mean? If I did, would you actually listen to me? Is that what you’re telling me? I’m going to hold you to that! Right this minute. I’ll say it all. Don’t plug your ears—listen to me!” He grabbed her hands as she was in the process of trying to put her fingers in her ears. He took a breath. He was looking at Maomao, but somehow he seemed almost embarrassed. Finally he managed, “Now listen to me, y—I mean, Maomao! Listen close! I am going to make you my wife!”

It's one heck of a chapter and I suggest you give it a go! The title of the chapter says "A man and a woman play the game" as if to emphasize the very fact that both Jinshi and MaoMao are playing the game.

Jinshi has never confessed his true feelings before this chapter and only implied that he wanted to make MaoMao his wife.

The implications were heavy though on Jinshi's part, and as smart as MaoMao is, anyone would have guessed that MaoMao was one of the candidates for Jinshi's consort. Even the clothes she received (the ones she wore to the banquet) were also provided by Jinshi along with the hairpin. It is never stated outright but seeing as the hairpin was from Jinshi, the clothes are also implied to be the same.

More or less she's always deliberately ignoring the possibility of having anything to do with him, that is more than professional. Some may call it denial, I call it dense. Maybe, to some extent, she herself is not aware of her feelings because she never lets herself feel anything.

Even Suiren pointed it out pretty early in the manga, that maybe it's MaoMao's way of being reserved. We need to keep in mind that MaoMao is an unreliable narrator and it's more of what she does, rather than what she says that makes a difference.

Even in the chapter that I have quoted above, she had every reason to leave Jinshi, she wasn't working for him after all. But she stayed to make tea for him, even after the fact that she had a long day too. She was almost just as exhausted as Jinshi and yet she was there preparing medicinal tea, so that he could get a better sleep.

Maybe she herself is yet to realise just how deep her feelings run. Till vol 12 she seems to have accepted them, but she still is yet to acknowledge their depth. Maybe it's because of her childhood.

It's not a traumatic backstory but MaoMao had a sad childhood nonetheless....

She was raised by her grand uncle and her real father was eccentric, who scared her. Her mother must also appear to be kind of demonic to her, since she was desperate enough to cut MaoMao's Pinky finger and send it to Lahan. So it's safe to say that MaoMao never received proper parental affection. And adding to the fact that, a brothel is not exactly an ideal place for raising a child.... especially when the birth of MaoMao was the one thing that brought the brothel to its knees...even if being born wasn't her choice.

Plus MaoMao stated it herself that when she was a baby, no one would come to sooth her until their work was finished, implying that even if MaoMao and her brothel sisters are close, they are not that close. A mother's love is different and she never received it. No one can love you more than your mother and MaoMao was deprived of that. She soon realised that no one was coming. Life is hard and she has no choice but to face it!

So, she got interested in poison.

Maybe she doesn't love herself or her life as much as she says / pretends she does. She's always like "yeah, I would very much like my head to be with my body" and "if I stay low profile maybe I can survive here" etc but maybe deep down that's not the case. Maybe that's why she loves poison so much. The implications are crazy.

And to break MaoMao's shell, Jinshi has no choice but to be a bit more forceful at times? At least that's how I interpret that choking scene. Jinshi was angry at MaoMao because she deliberately suggested him to marry consort Rishu and danced with Rikuson.

Even if Jinshi never said it outright, he was giving hints the entire time.

But well the tables turned and MaoMao topped him instead, lol (vol 7) and later we even see that our little stray cat has accepted Jinshi and she's ready to be in a relationship with him (vol 12).

Plus she is intrigued by the process of birth (she wants to eat her baby's placenta, it's kind of uggghhh.... but anyways, that MaoMao we're talking about, she's just weird that way)

Maybe not after too long she'll realise that if she has to give birth, she can only have it with Jinshi and no one else.

~Sunshine

[mynicosensesaretingling]

When the Snow Falls

a Lando Norris x reader story

Request: Can you write me Christmas market date with Lando including first kiss? 🙏🏼Childhood friends to lovers, I always got dragged to karting racing by my dad and that's how we know each other.

Warnings: none , written in my notes app

Note: I guess I am officially kicking off the christmas season with this one. It’s my first time writing for Lando but I most certainly hope you enjoy it <3

——

The year was slowly but surely coming to an end, with Christmas just around the corner you found yourself on your way to your first Christmas market visit of the season. For as long as you could remember, Christmas markets had always been your favorite part of the holidays, and this year, it felt even more special—because you were going with Lando.

You’d known Lando Norris practically forever. Your dad had dragged you along to karting races when you were both kids, and you’d quickly bonded over the long hours at the track. Back then, you didn’t care much for racing, but you did like hanging out with him. Already as a child, Lando had managed to make everything fun—whether he was sneaking you snacks from the paddock or teasing you about how bored you looked while your dad obsessively watched the races.

Even years later, when Lando’s career took off and he became a Formula 1 driver, things between you didn’t change. Sure, he got more famous, busier, and a lot harder to keep up with, but whenever you saw him, it was like nothing had changed. Well, almost nothing.

Lately, things had been… different. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something between you had shifted. There were moments now where he looked at you just a little too long, where his jokes seemed to hold a new kind of meaning or where his hand lingered on your shoulder, sending chills up your spine. You’d always been close, but lately, you found yourself thinking about him in a way that friends shouldn’t—like the way his smile would make your heart swell with joy or how the sound of his voice made your chest tighten just a little.

And now here you were, approaching the Christmas market bundled up in your favourite scarf and a thick coat, with snow lightly falling around you. Letting your eyes wander over the scene in front of you, you could easily tell that the market was packed, the sound of music was mixing with the lively chatter of the people, various colourful lights were twinkling overhead and the winter breeze carried the smell of seasonal treats and mulled wine. The whole place looked like something out of a Christmas movie.

You spotted Lando waiting for you near the entrance, hands shoved in his pockets, his breath fogging in the cold air and snow flakes adorning his wild curls. When his searching gaze found you, his face lit up with a grin that sent warmth all the way to your toes—despite the freezing weather.

“About time!” Lando called out with a teasing smile. “I was starting to think you ditched me for someone more fun.”

“Like who?” you shot back, chuckling as you walked up to him. “I’m only here for the free hot chocolate.”

“Harsh,” he said with a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. “But understandable.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. That was the thing about Lando—he made everything easy. With him, you didn’t have to try too hard to be funny or smart or interesting. He just got you. Always had.

Lando bumped his shoulder lightly against yours, a playful spark in his eyes. “Come on then, let's see what else we can find to complain about.” he teased. But his words held a warmth that wrapped around you like the winter chill never could. You knew he wasn’t just talking about the market—it was his way of reminding you how comfortable everything felt when it was the two of you.

As you linked arms and wandered into the market, the festive lights twinkling overhead, you felt that familiar feeling of comfort settle over you, the kind that only ever seemed to come when you were with Lando. Despite everything—the years, the fame, the distance—it still felt like it was just the two of you against the world, like it had always been.

“So,” Lando said as you passed a stall selling Christmas ornaments, his breath visible in the cold air. “You still remember how much you hated coming to the karting track back in the day?”

You laughed, gently shaking your head at the unexpected throwback. “I didn’t *hate* it. I just wasn’t obsessed with it like you were.”

“Liar,” Lando teased, nudging you playfully. “You looked absolutely miserable every time I saw you.”

“Yeah, because my dad was way more invested than I was,” you shot back with a grin. “But you made it bearable. I could always count on you offering me an escape from the racing madness.”

He smiled softly at that, and for a second, the teasing glint in his eyes vanished, replaced by something else—something that made your heart skip a beat. “Well, you were mine too, you know. It wasn’t all about the karting.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a brief moment, the bustling market seemed to fade around you. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Lando pointed toward a stall up ahead. “Come on, let’s get you that hot chocolate you came here for in the first place.”

You followed him through the crowd, the energy of the market buzzing around you, but your thoughts kept circling back to that look in his eyes. There had been something different about it—something that made the air feel just a little heavier between you.

Whilst you had been lost in thought Lando had bought two steaming cups of hot chocolate and you only found yourself snapping back to reality when the driver carefully handed one to you. “Here. This should keep you from freezing to death.”

You took it gratefully, cradling it between both of your hands, a satisfied hum leaving your lips when you felt the warmth seeping through your skin . “You’re the best.”

“I know,” Lando said with a cocky grin, but there was a softness in his tone that made your heart flutter.

As the two of you wandered deeper into the market, sipping your hot chocolate and chatting about everything and nothing, the playful banter flowed naturally. It always did with Lando. But even between all the sarcastic comments and dry jokes you could feel something unspoken hanging in the air between you, a tension that had been building for months.

The festive stalls blurred together as you walked, but then something caught your eye. You stopped in front of a small wooden stall, the soft green of mistletoe sprigs hanging from the awning, each tied with delicate red ribbons. You stared at them for a moment longer than you meant to, your stomach doing a little flip as the realization of what mistletoe symbolized hit you.

“You know what they say about mistletoe…” Lando said, his voice suddenly becoming a little quieter, a little softer. He was standing close—closer than usual—and when you looked up, his eyes were fixed on you, not the mistletoe.

Your breath caught, heart racing as you noticed the change in the air between you. Trying to steady yourself, you gave a small smile and raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what exactly do they say?”

He took a moment to reply, his gaze still locked on yours. “Apparently, you’re supposed to kiss under it.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The noise of the market, the lights, the people—it all faded into the background. It was just you and Lando, standing there in the middle of the market, the snow falling softly around you.

Your senses where overwhelmed with how close he was now—so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, could see the soft, nervous flicker in his eyes. For a split second, you thought about backing away, about brushing it off with a joke like you always did.

But you didn’t. Instead, you stepped forward, almost closing the space between you. “I guess we should follow tradition then,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sounds of the market.

Lando’s eyes flickered to your lips, the desire in his eyes as clear as day before all of sudden his lips found yours. It was soft and tentative at first, like he was testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened. His hands gently cupped your face, pulling you closer as the years of secret longing were finally revealed in his every touch.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and a little dazed, Lando was smiling that familiar smile, the one that never failed to make your heart race. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” he admitted, his voice low and a little nervous.

You smiled back, your heart still hammering loudly in your chest. “Me too.”

Lando let out a breath of relief, his forehead resting gently against yours. “Good. Because I was starting to think I’d never work up the nerve.”

His confession coaxed a soft laugh from your lips, your hands resting on his chest. “You, nervous? That’s a first.”

“Only with you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper and eyes holding his heart. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead before readjusting and pulling you into a warm embrace. “I guess we’re not just childhood friends anymore, huh?”

“Guess not,” you whispered back, not trusting your voice as a feeling of warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the hot chocolate or the twinkling lights above.

And as the snow continued to fall gently around you, you remained in Lando’s embrace, your head resting against his chest as you found comfort in the rhythm of his heartbeat. Your eyes followed the sparkling snowflakes and the world around you seemed to slow. With his arms wrapped securely around you, you felt a sense of calm wash over you, like all the chaos and uncertainty that had been swirling in your life had finally come to a halt. You couldn’t help but contently hum as you felt like everything was finally falling into place. The way you fit against him, the warmth you shared despite the cold, and the quiet peace between you told you everything you needed to know.

[l-in-the-light]

Trafalgar Law on touching and being touched

It won't be a perverted post despite the title lol. But I won't stop your imagination, be free!

There's this funny theme going on with Law and Luffy in particular that picked my interest.

Luffy touched him first.

And he later returned the gesture, much more awkwardly.

Again, Luffy grabbed him angrily first.

Law made sure to return the gesture. (btw he also does it with Zoro, who was the first one to wrap an arm around him at post-Dressrosa feast. In Wano Law has no problem grabbing Zoro and shouts at him angrily. Again, it was Zoro who initiated the touch first).

Law grabbing Luffy to teleport them makes Luffy react in a curious way, you wanna know why?

Because it totally feels like this moment. Both Law and Ace, right after getting uncuffed, grabbed Luffy in same way to get him to a safer place. Ace-Law parallel in relation to Luffy kills me. The whole Dressrosa arc's plotline between Luffy and Law is just Marineford Went Well This Time. Ngl I kinda hated Oda at first for that. Now i dig it.

He didn't seem to like that. Luffy says "Let's all get along well!", but Law thinks alliances don't have to "get along".

Mistranslation here. What Law says here, being so surprised, is "nakayoshi ka?!" which means "you two get along?!" or "you two are buddy-buddies?!". It's a callback to Luffy declaring that Law and Strawhats crew should get along (he uses same word then, nakayoku-get along), Law learns here that Luffy's crew indeed "gets along well". You can interpret it whatever way you wish, but I will use it this time to put this scene into context:

The same gesture Luffy did to him before, but Law didn't return it to Luffy - that's because they're not crewmates. But he takes the lesson to heart and "gets along" with his own crew. Omg I can't believe i'm writing it, I make Law sound like this completely awkward adult who doesn't know how to be friends with people.

But bear with me, the shit is only starting. If you don't want to have feels I reccommend you just laugh at it and stop reading here. I digged up a feels landmine by accident. In-depth study starts below!

It's also a possible callback to the "reassurance" Law got from Cora-san. "I'm counting on you to escape" and Law did. He counts for his crew to steer the submarine well in similar manner.

Law's family didn't seem very touchy-feely, so please keep that in mind as well. He's got limited experience with touches and the few touches he did get familiar with were either taken away from him or brutalized.

Law getting patted on the head lovingly by his parent.

Next time this loving gesture happens, he gets thrown from like two-floor building into a pile of garbage.

And then he gets lied to that everything will be fine. We all know it wasn't.

Do you still wonder why he hates being touched on the head?

The sister touches his face gently while showing child Law support and compassion, reminding him not to despair, someone kind will help him.

Corazon doing the same gentle touch to the face while crying for him, thinking of all the pain Law had to experience. Indeed, the world sent Law someone kind. And Law lost him and blames himself for that.

Law holding Lammy's hand while lying to her that it will be alright. He never does that gesture again to anyone.

The sister holding Law's hand.

"Don't come closer! Don't touch us! We will get infected!" even doing the barrier gesture (I guess that's why Law doesn't get along with Bartolomeo). I used only few examples, there is much more, I just couldn't bear posting them all. Anyway, Law's got the message, his touch is unwanted. The body and mind remembers this.

Similar shit said at the auction in Sabaody about Fishmen, we don't see Law's reaction to that, but we can guess already that it was for sure triggering. Those people talking are sitting not that far away from him.

Ever wondered why Law throws people when teleporting? Besides the fact he avoids making contact with anyone unless they initiate it first, because that trauma is still strong in him ("Stay away! Don't come closer!"), there is one other possible reason:

Wonder no more! He does it to people because that's how people treated him as well, even people who apparently loved him.

Now that I have ruined the "Law is just an awkward unsocial nerd" joke for you, let me offer something to warm your heart a bit in exchange:

Corazon made sure to touch Law a lot and hold him in his arms, despite being often clumsy about it. I think he understood Law's trauma about being touched and his fear to touch or approach anyone, and tried to help him overcome it.

Being hugged and trying to return the gesture. Corazon's efforts did bring some results! But it only works for very few people, Law is still wary of people he doesn't know well. He expects to be unwanted and acts uneccessarily cold, distant and unapproachable because of that. But if you scroll back to the beginning of this post, you can see that he is trying his best to overcome it as well, one step at a time. Some things just can't be rushed.

And hey, at least he seems to be actually relaxed and almost like he *enjoys* being carried around. You think it makes him look uncool? Definitely. But suddenly it feels like Something Important, kinda intimate in a way and not just a silly comedy moment. It's a sign Law relies on people when he lets them carry him and that's why he doesn't protest.

Sanji is like "Why are you relaxing like that?! Get off!!" Finally, it makes sense why Law makes such a sour face here. Sanji should be grateful for the rare privileage after all! Anyway, this is anime-only extension, in manga Sanji actually doesn't tell Traffy to get off and Law chooses to scramble by himself, which doesn't taint the fragile trust those two just shared.

For those who made it to the end of this post, have I ruined Law's comedy moments for you forever? Because I sure just did that for myself.

I could also add one more cute thing from One Piece World Seeker Law's dlc, but I will let those interested to discover it by themselves!

I'm also amazed by the consistency of this theme. Both manga and anime never forget that touch is seemingly a big deal for Law.

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒏𝒆 𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒔 — 🥂

𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒙 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. unprotected sex, mutual feelings, mutual pinning, public sex, kissing, etc.

divider by the talented @anitalenia 🎀

𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒋𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

This was your first official movie. You’ve been filming for it non stop, the scenes needed to be redone and you just couldn’t keep up anymore. The stress has gotten to you, and you needed to rewind. Hugh has been nothing but supportive, always praising how good of a job you did on the day and how proud he was of you. Today… it’s been different. It’s been only you and hugh and the filming crew. It was a bathroom scene where your character has been crying and Hugh’s character as your ‘boyfriend’ he was going to come in and comfort you. Hugh improvised on the scene, offering that the characters could get closer. The script originally said that the intimate parts should’ve happened at the beginning of the movie but you two changed it a little bit. As your character started to break down in the bathroom, your official feelings and emotions came to the surface and those tears which streamed down your cheeks were not only because of the camera in your face. It was real… you needed a break from the shooting. Crying out loud, heavily you wiped your tears away letting the tap run so the water could cover up your sobbing. The director was so happy with your acting that he even showed you thumbs up— you saw that in the mirror in front of you but you didn’t care. Hugh’s character entered the bathroom shortly and his strong arms coiled around you– you couldn’t help but that hug was needed. You were saying your scripted lines looking at each other in the mirror as he wiped your tears away with his thumb, the look on your face softened and you couldn’t lie. The hug felt like heaven.. the way his towering body brought you close and held you from behind meant everything. God knew you needed the hug so much. Suddenly he turned you to face him, cupped your cheeks and his mouth was on yours. The kiss was nothing but consuming your very soul. You moaned into the kiss cupping his face in your hands not caring you were in front of the rolling camera. Hugh’s tongue slipped past your lips, and you accepted it and it was like you forgot everything around you. When the director shouted ‘cut’ you pulled away and you could see the longing gaze on Hugh’s face. Your gazes lingered a moment more before breaking away and this time you both didn’t burst into laughter. You both separated away from each other, part of you already missed him but you needed a real break. So you spoke to your boss and he gave you a day off. You quickly grabbed your stuff and sped off to your trailer to change and leave the set. Your manager booked you a room in the city in the sunset plaza, and you informed your girlfriends about a night out. You were applying makeup after shower when a knock on your trailer distracted you.

“Yeah? Come in!” You called still turned around guessing it’s your stylist but you didn’t tell her about your day off. “You leaving?” Hugh’s voice surprised you, he never stepped in your trailer in 8 weeks of shooting. Now he was here?

“Yeah, I’m just going out with my girlfriends. How about you? It’s our day off.” You smiled applying a light blush to your cheeks and crossing your legs. You were still in your pink robe, and part of your thigh revealed making hugh told his head and moisten his lips. “I- well, I was just going to tell you that.. I really loved your scene today. It’s, phenomenal. You nailed it, kid.” You chuckled. “Thanks, I can say the same about you. Our characters look great together” you nodded. “Who’s joining you again?” He asked again innocently observing the way you applied your lipstick. Your dress hung on your wardrobe, it was a small dress and matching stilettos. “My girlfriends.” You smiled noticing the look on his face you almost found it too cute. “Wearing that?” He arched a brow. You scoffed “Yes Sir, that. Don’t you like it?” He nodded “I do– it’s just.. it’s almost see through. And it’s short. Oh what the fuck am I saying– have a good time” he sighed getting out of your trailer almost annoyed with himself. “Hugh wait!” You called but he was long gone. You sighed heavily taking your phone, it was almost time to leave and your limo was waiting.

The night was a progress. You drank champagne, flirted with handsome men and had a good time. Your girlfriends were nothing but happy for you and your new upcoming movie so it deserved to be celebrated. You tried having a good time, you tried not to think about Hugh but it was almost impossible. The look on his face was almost disappointed when you told him you were going out. You’ve spend so much time together lately and you missed him. You became great friends, close friends. Right now he was nowhere to be seen, and you couldn’t help but think of him. “You owe me a dance.” A handsome man approached your vip section offering you his hand and you gladly accepted it, the music blasted and the bar quickly became overfilled with people after midnight. You drunk away your worries on a third glass of champagne. You danced, closing your eyes biting your lips when the man hand his hands all over your body feeling the stress leaving your body.

He was nothing but worried about you, he wanted to know where you went so he dressed and left. He couldn’t help it, he fell hard. After all of those years– he felt desire, want, real feelings to someone and it was you. It wasn’t just your friendship and the amounts of times you two spend together filming and hanging out. It was the way you both shared a meal from one plate, your late night walks and your shopping together, you attending stuff together. Even simple things like going to gym together. The shape of you caused his heart to pound faster, your smile, your pouts, your talent. That pulled him in. He wanted you so badly. But what he found.. was not to his liking at all. Standing in the doorway, he saw you on the dance floor grinding yourself against a certain man who had his hands on your waist tearing anger in Hugh’s chest. He snapped. He didn’t have to drink at all, he saw what you were after. “Fuck..” he sighed pushing past the grinding bodies to get to you. He yanked you by your arm away from the crowd, to the bathrooms. “What the fuck!” You groaned narrowing your eyes at him. “What are you doing?!” You adjusted your dress. “Saving you.” His nostrils flared as he gazed at you certainly annoyed. “You were getting into a situation there and I fucking saved you.” He added breathless locking the door on the bathroom. “What?! What situation! I’m an adult, I can do whatever I want.” You shot back angrily. “You can’t. Not like this.” He whispered under his breath “you gonna take your fucking things, I’m taking you away from here.” You scoffed crossing your arms. “I fucking won’t.” He arched a brow. “Excuse me?” You nodded “you heard me. You’re not my father. You’re just someone who I work with.” You boldly answered looking away. You then noticed what he wore, he wore a suit. Black dress pants with a white dress shirt. Fuck.. he had no idea how much you wanted him. Your pussy pulsated, hidden in your panties. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, his strong cologne hit you in your face. He let out a laugh “Excuse me the fuck.” You shook your head “What do you want?” Sighing backing yourself against the wall. His hands momentarily caged you in, he was giving you that look again. “I thought of you all day..” he whispered kissing your forehead. Even with your high heels on you were exactly to his chest. “Seeing him touch your body like that, I fucking lost it” he admitted breathing in your sweet scent. “Hugh..” you whispered your walls melting away slowly as he scooped you to his arms leaning down only to seek your lips. You kissed, no— you were not that drunk to dream this. It was happening. Your friend.. he was kissing you without cameras around. “Can’t stop thinking about you” you breathed on his lips letting him kiss your cheek, your jawline slowly biting the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You arms swung around his neck and you willingly grinded your pussy against his thigh. Hugh groaned grabbing your thigh. “Can’t forget your behaviour princess..” whispering softly on your ear you moaned running your fingers over his bearded cheeks kissing his lips tenderly. “Can’t be friends with you” you sighed “You know my answer to that..” he huskily replied groping your butt in his large hand. Where did the goofy man disappear? Who was this, making you feel this way. He was someone completely different- man driven by lust and love.

Three more kisses later he held you over the sinks and pounded into you. Eyes locked on yours in the mirror watching the fucked out expression “Couldn’t look at your slutty dress anymore..” he breathed holding your shoulder as he thrusts in and out of your slick heat. “You looked so fucking hot on the dance floor and here you’re, too fucked out on my cock.” You bit your lip eyes watering when his thrusts sped up, the squelching and claps of your bodies working as one could be heard in the empty bathroom. Your fingers grew white as you gripped the sinks watching him as he pounds you “wanted you, wanted you the moment we kissed in the bathroom” you whined pushing back against his groin fucking your self on his cock before he grabbed the back of your neck pulling you up. His arms snaked around your front as he started to pound you even faster “yeah? Now you got me sweetheart.” A breathless smile appeared on his face as he nuzzled your hair groping your bouncing breasts in his hands groaning and moaning under his breath “fuck.. you gonna cum sweetie? Lookatcha all whiny being filled with cock has you ruined” you reached behind to touching his pumping hips feeling his cock twitch in you and you let out a heavy cry “yess.. fuck.. yes..” biting your lower lip as your pussy pulsed and milked his cock, tipping him over the edge he snapped his hips twice and trice– before cumming unloading in you. His hand locked around your neck tilting your face towards him to kiss you with a smile “you’re good to do princess.. my limo. Not yours.” You smiled sated, kissing him back with a little tongue “I’d love to.”

-

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act III, Scene III: The Close Encounter)

The tension between you and Spencer finally snaps as you find yourself sharing the same bed.

Part warning: sexual tension and (finally) heavy kissing Words: 1.6k A/n: this is relatively short because I got really busy this week😭 i’m so sawry

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly why he kept that book on his lap the entire time. It just seemed wiser to pretend not to notice—not just for his sake, but for yours too. The less said, the better, especially when your own reaction had been anything but subtle. Because who the hell would moan at the slightest touch? Who would shudder and gasp from a mere brush of fingers across the skin?

Well… you, apparently.

You couldn't believe he managed to fluster you this much. This was Spencer. Spencer. Someone so complicated in your life, the same guy you swore you'd never let yourself get close to. Yet here you were, pulse racing and cheeks hot, all because of a few innocent touches that shouldn't have meant anything.

No, you were probably too caught up in this stupid situation. It was the only explanation that made sense, that had to be it. And now, you needed to pull yourself together. A reset, perhaps. A way to snap back to reality and remind yourself that everything was just a performance. Because there was no way in hell that these feelings were real—they couldn't be.

So you did what you did best: you kept your distance. Not completely, but just enough to keep the act while building an ever taller wall between you. You touched his arm occasionally, you even leaned on him when others were around. But whenever it wasn’t necessary to be by his side, you avoided being alone with him.

Until later that night.

You had been so focused on avoiding him that you completely forgot the dread nagging at you since this morning. You lingered with the girls, laughing over the last drops of wine until you somewhat felt the slight buzz of alcohol in your system. It was close to midnight when you finally made your way back to your room, only to stop dead in your tracks.

The bathroom door swung open just as you entered, and there he was—fresh out of a quick shower. His hair was slightly damp, carelessly flopping onto his forehead, and he was clad in a classic pajama set, stripes of soft blue and white that somehow suited him. Your gaze slowly drifted back to his face, catching his gaze just as time seemed to freeze.

Neither of you moved, neither of you spoke, and you wondered whether you could fake a fight and slip into Penelope’s room when he finally cleared his throat.

“I, uh, I’ll just grab a pillow,” he mumbled awkwardly, motioning towards the floor.

You watched him fumble with the flimsy pillow, his fingers clumsily adjusting its corners, and the sight made you feel bad. The thought of him all curled up on the floor while you sprawled out on a queen-sized bed felt downright ridiculous, but at the same time, the idea of laying so close to him was making your palms sweat.

“Wait,” you blurted out, surprising even yourself. “I…”

Say it. Just say it.

“You can sleep on the bed.”

You winced as the words left your mouth, but Spencer just looked at you, frowning slightly. “I don’t want to take the bed if it means you’re on the floor.”

You shook your head quickly, almost laughing at the absurdity of the situation. “I mean… we can share it?”

His eyes went cartoonishly wide.

“You want to share the bed?”

You nodded.

“As in… both of us?”

You nodded again.

His voice turned a pitch higher. "Together?"

“Yeah, just… you know, you stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine,” you added, trying to sound more confident than you felt. The room was suddenly too warm, too stifling. Or maybe it was just the heat rising to your cheeks. You waited for his response, but when he seemed to hesitate, you started to second-guess yourself.

“You know what, just forget about it—”

“No!” He quickly said. He cleared his throat again. “We can... we can share the bed.”

You held his gaze, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

One long second passed until you bolted into the bathroom with your change of clothes.

You slammed the bathroom door behind you, your breath catching in your throat. You quickly stripped yourself naked, a little more harshly than necessary, and pulled on your shorts and t-shirt. The fabric clung to your skin as if it too sensed the shift in the air.

It’s just one night, you repeated in your head like a mantra. You were just going to sleep. Sure you had history, and sure, sharing a bed would complicate things further. But the two of you had shared spaces before—late nights at the office, long stakeouts in cramped cars. This was no different. It had to be no different.

Finally feeling somewhat calmer, you unlocked the door and stepped out. Spencer was already under the covers, his back to you, the lines of his shoulders tense under the thin blanket. The mattress dipped slightly with your weight when you finally slipped under the covers, and you lay down on the very edge, as far from him as possible without making it obvious.

One minute turned into two, and then those minutes stretched into more, and you realized both of you were still very much wide awake. The quiet was starting to drive you insane.

“Reid?”

His voice was oddly quiet. “Yes?”

But what were you even trying to say? You scrambled for something, anything, but you couldn’t find the right words. Your thoughts felt tangled, a jumble of half-formed ideas that fizzled out before they could be voiced.

Spencer noticed your hesitation and turned towards you. “What is it?”

Feeling flustered by the way he was looking at you—especially when you caught him glancing briefly at your lips—you blurted out the first thing that came to mind, which wasn’t at all what you’d planned to discuss.

“When do you think we should fake our breakup?”

The question hung awkwardly in the air. You regretted it the moment it left your lips, but there was no taking it back now. His gaze changed subtly.

“Break up?”

You nodded, feeling suddenly foolish but too committed to stop. “Yeah, I mean, with how things are going… and how we’re supposed to be pretending, right? It just… it feels like something we should plan out, doesn’t it?”

Spencer watched you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to read your thoughts. Finally, he let out a slow breath, nodding slightly.

“Sure… we should have a plan.”

“Maybe we could have a big argument,” you suggested.

He shifted to face you, the bed sheets rustling softly under him. "What kind of argument?"

"Something dramatic," you proposed, your heart beating a little faster as the distance seemed to close with his every subtle movement. "Something public where everyone can see it’s over."

“I don’t think we can handle something that intense."

“You’re right,” you agreed softly. “Something… simple then?”

Spencer unconsciously licked his lips, a brief, nervous gesture. Your eyes followed the movement, lingering just a second too long. “We could just say it isn’t working out.”

You drew your eyes back to his, and unconsciously, your foot brushed against him under the covers. He tensed for a moment. But after a pause that stretched a beat too long, he shifted slightly, not to pull away but to gently rest his leg against yours.

“You think that will be enough?” you whispered, your breath hitching slightly.

“Maybe,” he replied, his voice equally low. “We can say we want different things.”

You swallowed hard. “Different?”

"Different… paths, maybe," he suggested, his leg sliding against yours again and you felt a rush of heat spread through your body. You could hardly think when you were too focused on the sensation of his bare skin against yours.

"Like... we grew apart?"

He nodded slowly. “Seems believable.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it. The space between you seemed to shrink with every word.

“Believable,” you echoed.

He moved a fraction closer. “Yeah, believable.”

Your eyes locked, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop spinning. You could see the slight hesitation in his eyes, a question perhaps about crossing a line. But then he leaned in, closing the remaining distance, his forehead touching yours. Your eyes fluttered closed as his breath brushed against your lips… and then there was no space left at all.

You felt him everywhere. Your mouth, your waist, your thigh. Spencer Reid was kissing you, and it felt utterly surreal. Although this wasn't the first time you found yourself in this position, you chose to ground yourself in this moment, letting the past fade into a distant memory.

So you focused on the way his lips barely brushed against yours, his touch so soft and tentative at first before he slightly pulled away. It was as if he was testing the waters, trying to gauge your reaction. When you moved forward, closing the gap between you, he finally kissed you again, his lips moving against yours with a growing sense of urgency.

Everything around you started to blur, the edges of reality fading as your every sense focused on his touch, his warmth, his scent. When he carefully slipped his leg between yours, you sighed into the kiss, a soft, inviting sound that encouraged him further. He took it as an invitation, his tongue gently probing at the seam of your lips until you parted them.

The moment his tongue met yours, you were overwhelmed with a rush of sensation. You held onto him, tracing your hands along his back, feeling his body tense under your touch as you pulled him closer. His hands were just as busy, one cradling the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, while the other gripped your waist, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough.

You didn't know how long you stayed like that. When you finally pulled back for air, you were both breathing hard, your foreheads still touching. Your fingers lingered on the nape of his neck, tracing delicate patterns while his thumb gently brushed your cheek. There was a moment of stillness, a shared breath, before he moved again.

Spencer leaned in for another kiss, and as you pulled him closer to you, you knew this was no longer about pretending. What you felt was as real as the lingering taste of him on your lips, a reality that was impossible for you to deny.

[mononijikayu]

chapter (1) — rumours.

GENRE: alternate universe - actors/celeb au!

WARNING/S: not safe for work (nsfw), r-18 and above, singers au!, romance, fluff, minor angst, slow burn, humour, slice of life, will they won't they, light-hearted, flirting, playful, possessiveness, teasing, explicit content, possible, kissing, sexual content, innuendos, drama, feels, hurt/comfort, falling in love, love, happy ending, actor/singer! sukuna, actress/celeb! reader;

WORD COUNT: 3k words.

NOTE: this was a request by a good friend of mine here, midnight-138; honestly, this was fun to write but i realized it wasn't going to be fun without a series happening. since jjk ended, i like to think its just a tv show with actors and everything. anyway!!! enjoy it!!!

masterlist

hey lover! series

SOMEHOW, ITS VERY COMMON TO HEAR YOUR NAME IN ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING. Headlines are always buzzing about your on-screen chemistry with your beloved co-star Ryomen Sukuna in Jujutsu Kaisen.

The two of you are practically inseparable on set, sharing private jokes and glances that fans swear could only belong to people who are more than just co-stars. Every Instagram post and tag, every red-carpet, every bit of interaction sends social media into a frenzy.

A blurry paparazzi photo of the two of you leaving a restaurant together? Uproar. Sukuna’s hand on your back at a press event? Uproar. Matching accessories spotted in your latest selfies? Uproar.

Fans dissect every interaction, convinced that something more than friendship is brewing. Because why wouldn't they? Everything felt like a clue. Everythjng felt like it was a mystery that needed to be solved when it comes to you two.

But the worst part about it is that you and Sukuna remain silent. Neither confirming nor denying anything. When asked about your relationship during interviews, you both just smile—maybe even exchange a playful look, adding fuel to the fire.

You leave fans in a constant state of guessing, teasing them with cryptic posts that seem like inside jokes only the two of you could understand.

In the quiet privacy behind the cameras, though, whether there’s truth to the rumors or not is a secret only you and Sukuna hold close. And maybe that’s part of what keeps everyone so hooked.

As social media explodes with theories, fans take it upon themselves to become full-time detectives. Suddenly, every frame from behind-the-scenes footage becomes evidence.

"Did you see the way Sukuna passed her the water bottle? That’s definitely a boyfriend move." People zoom in on grainy images like they're solving a mystery for the FBI.

A single, innocent tweet of yours like, "Had sushi today!!! 🍣🥢" is met with immediate chaos:

"GUYS, DIDN’T SUKUNA POST A PICTURE OF CHOPSTICKS TWO DAYS AGO?? THEY’RE EATING TOGETHER, CONFIRMED!!"

"Sukuna wears black, she’s wearing black. THEY’RE MATCHING."

"Doesn't she live in the East Side and Sukuna has a shoot in New York too? I bet he slept at her place, that's why they're together!"

You can't even breathe without someone connecting it back to Sukuna. Once, you posted a picture of your mother's cat, and someone commented, "Wait, Sukuna said in an interview last year that he likes cats. Coincidence?? I THINK NOT."

And the funniest part? You and Sukuna seem to be in on the joke. And still, STILL, not confirm anything. Not one thing. NEVER.

At every red carpet event, you both manage to “accidentally” coordinate outfits or just happen to walk into the venue within seconds of each other. On set, you pass him your coffee to share and the fandom collectively loses its mind. Yet, in interviews, your answers remain as vague as ever:

“So, there’s been a lot of talk about you and Sukuna. Are you two seeing each other?” The interviewer asks you, a certain mischief in his eye.

You looked at Sukuna, who raises a teasing brow. “We see each other every day on set, yeah.”

Sukuna grins back at you. “Sometimes even during lunch. At your trailer."

"Well, depends on the day." You added, grinning back. "I mean, sometimes we get messy in there so...."

Your fandoms spirals further.

Of course, fans don’t stop. A blurry photo surfaces of someone who might be you two walking through a park, closely packed together in a very close skinship The comments section erupts:

"THAT’S THEM. SUKUNA POSTED A PICTURE OF THOSE BENCHES A WHILE AGO!!!"

"No way, that could be anyone!"

"Look at the way they walk. That’s dating posture."

"Dude, it's just two blobs in a park."

"Only their blobs could look that in love."

Eventually, the theories get so wild, people start making compilation videos of “proof.” You sit back, watching them, popcorn in hand, thinking, They really think they’ve got us figured out.

But until the day you decide to spill the beans—or not—the internet will just have to keep guessing. And you and Sukuna? You’re having way too much fun letting them.

One day, you both find yourselves in a meeting with the producers, and the topic of fan theories comes up. They’re considering incorporating some of the drama into the show. With how your characters are, it was very easy to just make it happen.

“You guys are basically a couple already in their eyes. Why not lean into it?” one of the producers suggests, chuckling.

Sukuna leans back, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, what you’re saying is we should start holding hands on screen? I mean, don't we do that already?"

You can’t help but laugh. “i mean that depends, you know? Only if we get matching outfits. I’m not going out there without a coordinated look.”

The producers are writing down ideas, completely serious. “We could do a whole segment on you two fighting each other and you know......sexual tension. Very exciting.”

"We already have that anyway." Sukuna snickers back at the producer. He looks at you. "I mean......have you seen how we get down?"

"Yeah, we don't need anything to be scripted." You grinned back at Sukuna before standing up, walking towards him and placing a kiss on his cheek. "I have to go sit at the make up chair first. Bye!"

In that moment, even Jujutsu Kaisen's producers weren't sure. Are you guys datng or not?

And Ryomen Sukuna refused to say anything. He merely smiled. Proudly.

Later, during a shooting break, you and Sukuna can’t stop giggling about it. “If we did that, the fandom and our fans would explode.” you say, shaking your head. “We’d really end up causing a generational fall out."

Sukuna smirks, “Let them have their fun. I’m sure they're enjoying how we have fun too."

➽───────────❥

PROMO SEASON CAME AROUND FAST. And even during this time, you and Sukuna were never escaping the allegations. At one of the major press eventa later that month, you both decide to play with fire once again. Once more, rumors were little but they burnt like wildfire.

At exactly 9:00 am, you had to be there in the agency building to get ready. You show up wearing a shirt with a giant cartoon cat on it, and since Sukuna and you have the same agency, when Sukuna arrives, he’s wearing a matching shirt with a dog. The cameras flash, and you both strike a pose, arms crossed, looking like a bizarre couple straight out of a sitcom.

The internet goes wild.

“ARE THEY ADOPTING A PET TOGETHER?!”

In the frenzy, you hear someone yell, “What’s the cat’s name?”

You look at Sukuna, who gives a dramatic sigh. He snickers. “Guess we'll have to say something about our pet, darling.”

You both exchange a look, trying to suppress your laughter. “Oh, but don't we already have Noodle?” you suggest.

"We do.” he replies back, mischief in his eyes. “But only make sure you only feed him on your side of the bed.”

The whole thing spirals into a hilarious Twitter thread: “Sukuna and (Y/N) are definitely getting married and adopting a cat named Noodle.”

This entire thing creates media frenzy. Because what do you mean there's a marriage? And not to mention, a cat? That makes it even more serious!

The following week, you’re both asked to do a Q&A session with fans at a media event.

The moment someone asks, “So, is Noodle a real cat?” you both exchange a look, then burst out laughing.

“Listen, Noodle is a very busy cat.” you respond, trying to keep a straight face. “He’s got modeling gigs and a busy social life. And very busy building his collection of balls. He’s basically the star of our lives.”

Sukuna adds looking at you. “Yeah, he’s too good for us. He's definifely giving us a run for our money in acting. Oh, if you can visit our house and see his acting chops! He'd replace me as Sukuna!"

By now, the memes have taken over. “Noodle the cat is the real star of Jujutsu Kaisen” trends on Twitter, complete with fan art and even a fake merchandise line.

Every time you and Sukuna scroll through the latest memes together, it feels more like you’re in a sitcom than reality.

And it happened again when you both came live on Instagram after a long shoot together. You were eating convenience store ramen together. 

“We should probably just embrace the whole ‘cat dad’ angle for you, bub.” you suggest one evening while going through a particularly funny thread.

“Only if you’re down to play the role of the supportive girlfriend.” he teases.

“I’d do it for Noodle!” you laugh.

At the end of the day, the speculation continues, but now, it feels like a shared inside joke. And who knows? Maybe there’s a little truth buried in the fun.

Until then, you and Sukuna are happy to keep the mystery alive, letting the fans run wild with their theories while you enjoy the antics of being in the spotlight together. And just be together.

➽───────────❥

YOU DON'T LIKE PRESS TOURS. Because they get longer and longer the more you're in them. But it's part of your job and you can't ignore it.

As the promotional campaign for Jujutsu Kaisen heats up, the marketing team decides to do a special segment where you and Sukuna read some of the most outrageous thirst tweets from fans live on social media.

You both gather in a cozy studio set, a couple of drinks in hand, ready to dive into the wild world of fandom obsession.

The camera rolls, and the host introduces the segment with a laugh. “Today, we have two of the hottest stars from Jujutsu Kaisen! Let’s see what the fans are saying about them.”

The first tweet pops up on the screen:

“Why do I want to fight Y/N just to get a date with Sukuna? Like.....Let me touch those pecs too, Y/N! #ThirstyForSukuna”

You smirk and turn to Sukuna, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like I've got some competition, buddy. Who knew you’d be a heartthrob?”

Sukuna leans back, feigning nonchalance. “What can I say? I’ve got that bad-boy charm everyone just falls for, you know?"

The next tweet scrolls by:

“Y/N could step on my neck and I’d thank her for it. #JJKThirst”

You nearly choke on your drink, laughing uncontrollably. “Wow, I’m basically a neck-stomping goddess now?”

Sukuna grins, “I might need to step up my game. Do I have to start practicing neck-stomping moves?”

You grinned. "Why not? We can start now, baby boy."

"Hang on, lemme kneel in front of you."

The host chuckles, and the viewers can feel the playful tension in the air. The next tweet appears:

“Why is Y/N so cute? I just want to put her in my pocket and carry her around. #ProtectY/N”

You lean over and poke Sukuna playfully. “Looks like I’m the cute one. What are you going to do about it?”

“Pocket-sized? I’m pretty sure I could lift you up and carry you around. I’d be the pocket protector.”

The host raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the banter. “This is some serious couple energy right here!”

More tweets flash on the screen, and they’re getting wilder:

“I’d let Sukuna ruin my life and then ask for more. #JJK”

“Y/N and Sukuna need to date in real life. They have undeniable chemistry!”

You read that one aloud, rolling your eyes dramatically. “It’s not like we don’t have undeniable chemistry, right? I mean, we just got it, you know?"

Sukuna leans closer, lowering his voice, “You’re right. It’s almost like we’re living in a rom-com, and I’m just waiting for the big confession scene.”

The chat is blowing up, and you can see fans losing their minds over the playful flirting. Comments like, “THEY’RE SO IN LOVE!” and “CAN THEY JUST DATE ALREADY?!” flood the screen.

Next up is a tweet that reads, “Y/N can do no wrong. I’d let do anything for my queen to step on me! #ThirstyForY/N”

You turn to Sukuna with a playful smirk. “Looks like I have my own little army. How do you feel about that?”

He leans back, crossing his arms. “I’m not worried. They can love you all they want, but who’s the one sharing sushi with you?”

The two of you break into laughter as another tweet rolls in:

“Okay, but if you and Sukuna don’t end up together by the end of JJK, I’ll riot.”

You look at Sukuna, eyes wide. “Looks like we’re starting a revolution!”

“Right? How about we take the revolution to the next level? You and I should go on a ‘date’ for the cameras and really stir things up.”

“Imagine the tweets! ‘The romance is REAL!’” you exclaim, giggling.

By the time the segment wraps up, fans are in a complete frenzy. The host turns to the camera, “You’ve seen the tweets, now let’s see what the fans will do with this energy. You guys are absolutely hilarious!”

As the cameras stop rolling, you and Sukuna lean back, grinning at each other. “You know, I think we just made a lot of people’s dreams come true,” you say, still buzzing from the fun.

Sukuna winks. “Just wait until the next promo event. We’ll really give them something to talk about.”

With the buzz of excitement surrounding you both, the thrill of flirting, and the chaos of fandom, it’s clear that the jokes and playful banter only add fuel to the fire of the romance rumor mill, and you’re both having the time of your lives

As the promotional segment wraps up, you and Sukuna step off set, still riding the high from the chaotic energy of the livestream.

Fans are already trending the hashtag #YandSForever, and you can’t help but pull out your phone to check the latest tweets.

“Look at this one, Su!” you say, reading aloud. “I need Y/N and Sukuna to take a couple’s selfie like right now. Make it happen!” You smirk. “Should we make that a thing?”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “A couple’s selfie? What, are we going to match our outfits again?”

“Absolutely! Let’s go full rom-com with hearts in the background.” You both burst into laughter, and he nudges you playfully.

“Okay, but only if we can throw Noodle into the picture for added cuteness.” he says, mock-serious. “Can’t let my cat-dad image fade. After all, we have a three soul family!”

As you’re scrolling through the tweets, you come across one that reads, “If Y/N and Sukuna were a snack, they’d be the whole charcuterie board—gorgeous, a little salty, and definitely irresistible.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Okay, that’s actually pretty clever.”

“Salty, huh?” Sukuna leans in closer with a smirk, “You think they’re implying something about me?”

“Only that you’re a snack, Sukuna.” You wink, enjoying the banter as you both stroll through the studio’s backlot.

Suddenly, someone yells, “Hey! Are you two dating, or what?” It’s one of the crew members, clearly getting in on the joke.

You both pause, exchanging a look. “We’re.....interesting, right?” you say, nudging Sukuna.

He smirks, “Yeah, just interesting. Especially together. Interesting together as we definitely share sushi and matching outfits.”

The crew member laughs, shaking his head. “You’re both ridiculous. Just make it official already!”

You can’t help but grin, feeling a mix of warmth and excitement at the thought. As you continue walking, you check your phone again and see another trending tweet:

“Sukuna’s hand on Y/N’s back at the premiere was a whole mood. I’m not okay.”

“Hey, I think we were just trying to navigate the crowd.” you say, laughing as you elbow Sukuna. “Or maybe I was just trying to keep you from tripping on your own ego.”

He feigns shock, placing a hand over his heart. “My ego is as solid as my acting skills! But it’s nice to have someone as cute as you around to keep me grounded, darling."

Your cheeks flush at the compliment, and you decide to lean into it. “Well, I’ll just have to make sure to keep your ego in check. Maybe I’ll start charging a fee for my services.”

“Oh? What’s the rate?” he asks, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“A dinner date sounds fair. Noodle can join too!”

Just then, another crew member walks past, overhearing your banter. “Wait, are you two actually going to have a date? I’ll start a betting pool.”

Sukuna leans in, whispering dramatically, “How much are they betting on us? Better be big money we can share.”

You break into laughter again. “I’m betting they’ll think we’ll end up together by the end of the season. That’s practically a guarantee.”

As you walk back to your trailer, you can see fans gathering outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of you both.

“Looks like we’ve got an audience, Su!” you say, glancing at the growing crowd.

Sukuna gives you a sly smile. “Let’s give them a show.”

You both step out onto the steps of your trailer, and the fans cheer, holding up their phones to capture the moment. Sukuna eagerly wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as you both pose for a picture, flashing playful grins.

The fans go wild, shouting your names and yelling for you to kiss.

“Maybe next time, guys! I'm hungry!” you shout back, grinning. “Tough luck but you’ll have to settle for selfies!”

"Yeah, everyone!" Sukuna whispers, a sly smile on his face. "Can't let my darling be hungry now, can't I?"

You both pose for a few more pictures, enjoying the energy and excitement radiating from the crowd. As you glance at Sukuna, you can’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline.

This might just be a fun little game for you both, but with every shared laugh and inside joke, the lines between friendship and something more seem to blur just a little more.

Later that evening, you’re scrolling through Twitter again, and the excitement of the day sinks in as you read the latest updates:

“I’m not saying Y/N and Sukuna are endgame, but… I’m not NOT saying it either.”

“Someone tell me how I can apply to be the third wheel on their sushi dates! #LifeGoals”

“Can’t wait for the upcoming JJK season! Also, please, can they just kiss already?”

You smile, a mix of joy and mischief bubbling up inside you. With Sukuna by your side, the adventure has only just begun, and you can’t wait to see where it all leads. After all, isn't that the fun?

[hollyhomburg]

Before I leave you (Pt.67)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You and Hobi bury a dead body (That's a lie, Yoongi buries it for you).

Tags: blood, gore, body horror, death, dead bodies, everyone is pretty beat-up in this, brief implied self-harm but it's very quickly squashed- seriously it's nowhere near as bad as past scenes but i do have to tag it, Dissociation, tae is in the freeze part of fight or flight. hurt/comfort, mental breakdowns, flashbacks, discussions of past abusive relationships, everything is very fluffy until it's not,

W/c: 12.5k

A/N: Are you guys ready for Hoseok's secret reveal??? I'm really excited!!! But also terrified because this whole series has lead up to this point!!! A good number of people have already guessed his secret so congrats on getting it early <3

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Jimin sits on the stairs going down to the basement. His arm in a sling and bandaged up to the elbow. It aches with every small movement he makes as he peals a tangerine. He hasn't had any narcotics in a few hours and they're starting to wear off.

Jimin needs all of his brain power for this; For covering up the murder.

The fewer things running through his system the less sluggish and fuzzy his thoughts are. Jimin picks his poisons and fewer things make him less coherent than the panic and pain and near constant avalanche of thoughts. Tae, Tae's hurt, Tae's-

Tae's fine, Tae's upstairs with Y/n. he has to remind himself of these facts every few breaths. Tae's going to be okay because you wouldn't let anything happen to her.

There is evidence of that virtually everywhere; In the lines across your hands that Yoongi had dabbed at with a cool cloth, the swollen side of your jaw that he'd cradled. The blood drenching the opposite side of your face that he'd tenderly washed away. Not to mention the blood on the kitchen table, the floor, the ceiling. The blood splattered across your nest-

You don't fuck with an omega's nest; you don't fuck with their packmates.

Jimin quiets his brain with a steady breath as he looks down at Yoongi, Jin, and the body between the three of them wrapped in plastic.

He manages to peel the tangerine in his hand despite how uncooperative his left hand is. Numb at the fingertips just like it’s been since the surgery.

Namjoon had stroked his fingers and tested their give every chance he got, holding onto them and prodding while they waited in the hospital room and then again when Jimin got discharged. He said that they’d probably get better. Probably.

Tae's going to be fine because Namjoon is there too- had checked out her head with that soft alpha grumble croon of his. The most soothing sound in the world, and yet incapable of soothing this.

But Jimin knows nothing’s for certain, he might never get the feeling in his hand back. (This is Jimin's penance; The reminder of these tangled few weeks and how things went will be ever present. The reminder will be the first press of every touch with his non-dominant hand. He will never regain full feeling to the tips of his fingers. Never).

There are a few of noodle paw prints in the dust here, Jimin's ass is no doubt covered in it too from resting on the rickety stairs that lead into the half-finished basement. Little paw print marks that would make you coo and take pictures if you were down here.

But you’re not, you’re upstairs getting the evidence washed off of you.

No one's in that kind of mood right now anyway. No one’s been in that kind of mood for a few hours (or a few days, if he’s being honest, from Jungkook’s seizure, to getting shot, and then coming home to a dead body in their living room).

It’s been 4 hours since you killed someone in the kitchen. 3 hours since Jimin was discharged prematurely from the hospital and the rest of the pack was summoned home via a disturbingly calm call from Jin.

It’s been a tangle of moments even for the people not on hard drugs. Jimin feels like he's doing pretty good at answering the pack’s questions given the circumstances. You'd never know that, given Yoongi's eye roll and Jin's heavy sigh.

"Minnie- we're not asking you how you would have killed him just how you'd cover it up."

They used an old shower liner to wrap the body before they carried it downstairs. It makes a squeaky noise against Jin's rubber gloves (The pink elbow-high ones that he uses to do the dishes) as he pulls back the plastic sheet to reveal what's left of the assassin's head and face.

“I already told you, I don’t know his face- not even a little.” I’d have a pretty hard time identifying his face with the state she left it in regardless Is what he doesn't say.

Jimin tucks his chin, unsettled to look at the man's half-blown apart face for long. "I think he might be the spider but I don’t know. I never met him, only heard his name in passing.”

A small tattoo on the man's wrist reveals as much. A small spider tattoo that someone going to have to cut out and bury separately. Someone's going to have to get all of his teeth too- no identifying marks. None.

He’s a little too impressed with the state you’d left him in when he thinks about it. But once he’d seen your face and Hobi’s neck, not an inch of Jimin had felt the kill wasn’t justified. The whole pack feels that way, he knows they must even though they don't say it. Everyone's a little bit in shock right now.

Even Namjoon hadn’t even given the body a second glance when the pack had tumbled into the house. The pack alpha had simply alternated his fussing from you to Hobi to tae and then Jin. Torn between who needed him first. It was the first words Jimin had heard you speak. Your wet gasp, blood that wasn't yours flashing on your teeth. "Joonie- Hobi needs you."

Namjoon had calmed only once he realized that most of the blood on the three of you was the man’s. Yoongi had a similar reaction and so had Jimin, clutching at Tae. Angry at his arm for its uncooperativeness. About ready to tug off his sling and his bandages and stitches if it meant holding tae easier. He'd even tried it, only to be on the receiving end of a disapproving pack alpha growel too.

“Jimin you can’t; your stitches.”

“Fuck my stitches hyung.”

Numb fingers meet numb faces.

He's a bit ashamed of it, but when he first looked up from Tae to you- where you sat crumpled in Yoongi's hold. Your mate laying down a volley of sweet nothings to you to get you to stop shaking. There was only one sentence running through his head.

That’s my girl.

He'd reached over and squeezed your hand, blood and all. That blood has dried now. Soaked into the lines of his palm. Coloring his fate and love lines all rusty while he eats the tangerine. He should probably wash his hands. All of them probably need too.

Jungkook had been the only one willing to speak, closing the door softly behind him, locking it and treading softly closer. Careful to sidestep both the pools of blood and the piece of a skull sitting next to the couch. He looked down at the 7 of you with a surprisingly calm expression on his face.

"Can't we have one normal fucking day?"

Jungkook was the one who’d gone to the kitchen and gotten one of the hand towels to clean your face. His lips tightened to a line when he wiped away the blood and started to see the bruising, the cut across your temple dripping fresh. Lower lip wobbling ever so slightly.

“Kookie-”

Jungkook had turned to Jin and Namjoon, “I don’t want to deal with the body hyung." His hands were already under your arms, lifting you up, helpless. "Help me get them upstairs. We need to-” he’d let out a frustrated noise. Instincts coming to the full front- instincts he rarely feels.

Who knew blood would incur Jungkook's grooming instincts?

The last time Jimin saw Jungkook; He was helping Namjoon and Yoongi herd the three of you upstairs for a much-needed shower. Hobi hadn't been able to do it under his own power. Namjoon had to carry him.

Hobi; who's choked on every word he's tried to speak. Whose eyes are still red from all the burst blood vessels. Who easily got the closest to dying out of the four of you.

Everyone shakes when they touch Hobi and everyone touches him softly. Namjoon just about snaps his teeth at anyone who tries to get close. His hands turning red from the cold of an ice pack wrapped gently around the alpha's throat.

Jimin knows Jungkook's a lot more unnerved than he lets on, shuffling from foot to foot as he bound Tae up with a towel, taking her delicately from Jimin's arms. Carrying her in the same way Namjoon carried Hobi.

Yoongi was all soft helping you upstairs. Speaking in that quiet voice that he saves for Sunday mornings and stolen moments of quiet. Every moment, all of this is stolen.

And now- the beta is down here, leaning over the body and looking at it like it will tell him something that you won't. After your initial demand that Namjoon he tend to Hobi; you haven't spoken a word. Neither has Tae. Jin's done all of the talking.

There isn’t much to say.

Jimin feels the numbness in his hands and looks at Jin. He hasn't apologized for the bullet yet. But the more time that passes the less Jimin wants an apology. Mating marks come in many forms. Jimin has a scar on his body from one of his omega's- so really? What does he have to be upset about?

The whole house needs to be deep cleaned, and then deep cleaned again. There's blood everywhere; on the couch, the ceiling, the curtains. It's a lot to clean. It's going to be a lot to hide.

That's the only reason why Jimin's not upstairs helping you and Tae clean up right now; the body is unfortunately the biggest threat to the pack's safety at the moment.

There’s a bloodstain on the stairs too, a droplet next to where Jimin sits. he makes a mental note of it but doesn't move to wipe it up. He puts a tangerine slice on his tongue and chews before he answers Yoongi’s next question.

“I don’t know how to dispose of a body, I never dealt with this part. My only job was to kill, not take care of them after. I know there’s a way that you can do it with soap.”

Jin snorts, “You only know that from breaking bad-“

Jimin’s a little miffed, “We already have a plastic tub upstairs-”

“Lye,” Yoongi corrects, looking down at the body before he stoops to retape the plastic over the man's face. It was a bitch to wrap him up, the body stiff and heavy from rigor Mortis. The blood beneath it bubbles and darkens, coagulating. Yoongi's long hair falls over his face and he tucks it behind his ear.

“We could use the soap, but it might take a few days.” Jin clarifies.

“Do you think we can wait that long?”

“Absolutely not,” Jin’s got a similar ice pack to his wrists, the skin there bruised and red and swelling where he fought to get free from the handcuffs, where he eventually ripped down the banisters and broke through them with brute strength and panic.

You’d found the keys on the man’s body soon after and released him from the handcuffs, they're wrapped up in the plastic along with the frying pan, the gun that killed him, and a few other items from the living room that were just too bloodstained, every big piece of evidence will lie right beside him where he rests.

Jimin eats another slice of the tangerine, and Jin shrivels his nose at it. “Isn’t that a little gross?”

Yoongi mirrors his disgust. “Yeah Minnie, weren’t those covered in blood?”

But Jimin just shrugs, “I washed it and peeled it hyung” And keeps eating. After a few days of hospital food, the tangerines taste divine.

Yoongi stands from where he’s kneeling on his knees with a faint crack. “One part kitty litter, two parts concrete should keep out the smell,” Jin says, eyeing the 6 by-six-foot hole in the basement's foundation, already there from the plumbing that needed replacing.

Most of Yoongi's tools are down here too. His scrap pile of wood and the dozen bags of concrete. His hack saw and his circular saw that none of them are looking at. Yoongi had only just fit in the plumbing a few weeks ago. He'd been about to re-pour the foundation anyway.

“I’d rather not have a body buried in our house.”

Yoongi touches Jin’s wrist, so feather-light, removing the ice pack to check the swelling to see if it’s gone down. Jin's left hand is just as useless as Jimin's, the knuckles bruised and ballooned.

“It’s just for a few weeks, we can deal with this once it’s all calmed down, but we absolutely can’t go try and bury it. Who knows what the neighbors heard?”

They're all silent at that, silent at the idea that these few hours might be the last few that the pack spends free.

But over the next few hours, there are no blue and red flashing lights outside or concerned neighbors that come knocking. Your one saving grace is that this all happened during the middle of the day and all of your nearest neighbors have nine to five's. Is it so simple to hope that everyone was just at work? That no one heard the gunshots over the nearby roar of the passing train?

(Maybe they're just too used to the pack next door; the one that has the noisy ruts and noisy noisy packmates. The one whose alphas have a habit of opening the windows in the back room and let the sound of their roughhousing and video games flood the street. The ones who have extra loud movie nights. They're just a bunch of kids, how harmful could they really be? At least the pack alpha and omega look respectable.)

It's a good thing that no one comes; because Namjoon has more important problems, more important things to handle beyond the body in the basement or the police at the door.

Namjoon’s hands cradle Hobi’s neck. He wheeze as he tries to speak, his mouth falling open. He's mostly clean, but a rusty trickle of water from his hair trails down his shoulders.

Jungkook tugged him into the shower first and gave him a rough clean before handing him back to Namjoon. They sit on a towel together on the edge of the nest. they only moved him in here to give him some privacy- to distract him because Hobi kept reaching for you. you'd kept reaching back, tae was already in the shower under the stream.

"Pup- your hands- you're going to hurt yourself."

The Nestroom is dark and quiet. Every single blind in the house is draw. Only the christmas lights illuminate Hobi's injuries. Namjoon will tend to Tae and then you after he's checked out Hobi's injuries. will send him downstairs with Jin for some cold water to soothe his throat once he's done. once he's been cleaned again probably.

Hobi was covered with the most blood, having been just under the man when Tae had blown his throat apart while you- Namjoon doesn't want to think of it, doesn't want to see it.

(Namjoon thinks of every moment, sees them behind every blink. Blink and he sees you sitting in his lap over breakfast squirming happily. Blink and you're kneeling in a bloody puddle looking up at him.

Blink and you're curled up in the nest wearing the first pajama pants he'd given you. Blink and he's watching Jungkook dab at your bloody cheek, blink and you're turning into his hand to nuzzle as he wakes you for sunday morning breakfast. Blink and there’s sunlight spilling across your face and blood slipping down your chin. Namjoon's smallest and most sensitive pup not so innocent anymore.)

Namjoon touches Hobi's throat with no small amount of reverence. it cools the anger in his throat. Namjoon's anger has no good place to go.

When Hobi closes his eyes, he sees it too; the explosion of the bullet and the splat of blood pouring down his face. The shower earlier felt so similar- he almost couldn't handle it. He had to concentrate on Jungkook's voice narrating everything.

"Here Hobi, I'm gonna use some soap now. I like Tae's body wash. You know she always just picks whatever bottles are pinkest because she wants all her toiletries to match. It smells good, doesn't it? Can you take a deep breath for me? Through your nose?"

Endless meaningless Jibber jabber to distract all of them.

Now he shivers and shakes in Namjoon's hold. One part terror and one part near frostbite. Namjoon turns the heat up but Hobi still shakes as Namjoon checks his throat. "Open for me baby- that's a good boy."

He flashes a light down there, listening with his stethoscope. The cold metal end of it presses against his collarbones and the bruises too. Finger-shaped that lace over his jugular like a collar. Over Hobi's heart. Every thump ba-thump ba-thump music to Namjoon's ears.

Namjoon’s growl is soothing as he scoots closer to gather the injured alpha close to his chest. Shushing Hobi as he tries to speak for the dozenth time in the last hour. “Don’t try it, careful- I don’t think he did any lasting damage but-”

Namjoon breaks and his forehead drops to Hoseok’s shoulder, fingers rub out soothing circles on Hobi's wrist even as he starts to cry. Namjoon already stitched up the deep puncture wound there. He had to hold his wrist still as he dabbed the stingy antiseptic, the impulse to pull it away too great. The wound wasn't from a bullet but from the piece of the door that embedded itself in Hobi’s wrist. Blown apart the way he could have been.

Namjoon was so close to losing everything, to losing them.

The bruises, Hobi’s eyes, and his little raspy breaths. Everything both punishment and payment for every violent thing Namjoon wants to do. He feels powerless to do more than hold the smaller alpha right now. The strength in his arms doing little to protect Hobi from the hurts he's already nursing. Hoseok leans his head on Namjoon's shoulder and Just lets the alpha hold him.

If he’d come home to the four of you dead what would he have done? more accurately- What wouldn’t he have done?

Namjoon imagines it- the same way he's imagined it thousands of times. Tae's blood on her lips as pretty as any lip stain. Jin on the floor, his little big love wrapped up in permanent stillness like a mating shroud. Your body turned small and quiet the way you'd been when he'd met you- only so much worse. Hobi with his heart slow and absent of his near-constant music. Bodies stiff as statues, turned alters meant to worship both grief and love.

He’d probably have demanded Jimin and Yoongi tell him everything they knew. And then he’d have gone hunting.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath and pulls away from Hoseok only to continue dabbing at his wounds. The violence of his alpha's instincts calmed by the sanctity of this- of making it better. of being gentle even when namjoon wants to be anything but.

Hoseok’s mute. Throat too swollen to make more than a soft hissing sound on command. Vocal cords not damaged just swollen. Leaving his brain to hurdle through the last few hours. Eyes closed but his mind wide open.

He sees it all behind his eyes; your hand descending with the frying pan, the explosion of wood near his head. The splat of hot blood against the wood floor. Gasping and getting blood in his mouth accidentally. Choking in it- drowning a little. Everything. The sting of smoke on his eyes. Your words ring in his ears like the final notes of a symphony.

“You can take me. I’ll go with you. Willingly. That’s what she wants isn’t it?”

Hoseok’s brain teases through what you might have meant with that. The unnamed she that you mention. Who, why, and what aren’t you telling them? Is it the woman that Yoongi talked to you about before?

He's unable to say anything to Namjoon even as the alpha softy cradles his damaged throat. Unable to even whisper it out through the swelling that threatens to cut off Hobi's airway. It feels like he's breathing through a straw. Namjoon says he's not going to choke, that it only feels that way. The panic is hard to let go of.

But who do you have to go back to there? You've never talked about the family like you wanted them, like they were your pack. Who have you run from? What monsters are here to haunt you? Who is after you? Or is it something darker- more sinister?

Maybe Hoseok's heart has never truly healed from Yoongi leaving them. Maybe a wounded heart remembers. Yoongi always had them to go back to that Hoseok had never questioned. But he's never wondered about you or stopped to consider that maybe, Yoongi's not the only one who left something.

The family doesn't exactly seem like something you can walk away from unscathed. Yoongi managed it, but Jimin didn't.

Hoseok should warn Namjoon, should tell someone but- it's impossible. His airway protesting with an agonizing twinge with every attempt he makes at speaking. He wonders if this is what being nonverbal felt like for you.

The pain pulses dully without adrenaline to dilute it as Namjoon so lovingly examines the marks, again and again. But he shouldn't be spending so much time. You and Tae are bruised and battered too- even if Hoseok’s are by far the worst; you need tending to.

Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival.

Hoseok thinks of the body, not the one that sits downstairs, but the one that you found months ago in the ocean. Maybe this wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe none of this was. How far back do the coincidences go? Between Jin and Yoongi who wouldn't have a relationship to stand on without Yoongi's family- how many other things in the pack are because of this?

Hoseok struggles to speak, to talk to Namjoon about what you'd almost done, what you'd almost bartered- but nothing but air comes out, and the pack alpha shushes him. His hands grip Namjoon's shoulders hard.

Namjoon wishes he had more than just numbing cream and sutures for Hobi’s hurts. Jimin’s already offered up some of his opioids for Hobi to sleep and as much as Namjoon hates the idea of anyone swapping medication- Hobi might actually need them.

Jimin’s doctor had been a little bit liberal with them, sure that his 6 on the pain scale had to be at least a 9. He could spare one or two. The truth is that nothing hurts more than this- seeing the people that you love in pain. Jimin and Namjoon save their 10s for days like this.

With the blood cooling, Namjoon’s anger has nowhere to go. The body in the basement has already gone cold.

In the quiet of the house they can audibly hear Seokjin and Yoongi start mixing the concrete. The dull scrape of a shovel against a bucket and the sound of a faucet dripping.

Namjoon wipes at Hobi’s throat, and Hoseok tries again- futile in his efforts to speak. Namjoon shushes him.

In the basement it goes; drip, scrape, drip.

~-~

Jungkook holds Tae up underneath the warm spray of water. The glass is foggy in places and clear and others, occasional spots of red water joining the constellation of them. She rests against Jungkook's chest, her body is prone and almost lifeless. Eyes vacant and glassy.

So shaky and tired as her body rockets down from its adrenaline high. A drop so abrupt that she could hardly hold herself up. A drop so terrifying that Jungkook must do it for her.

He doesn't mind, none of him minds as he cradles the back of her head oh so gently. Tae flinches, whether from pain or the sudden movement. Jungkook meets Jimin's eyes through the foggy glass and then yours. Biting his lower lip before Jimin nods and tells him to keep going.

Evidence is evidence. Washing off can’t wait.

Jimin has joined you upstairs with the body already packed away and on its way to being buried under the foundation of the house. Jimin watches on from outside the shower as he instructs Jungkook in a quiet voice on how to clean Tae of evidence properly. He's been quiet since then. Staring at them while Tae stares blankly back.

You watch them from where you sit. Mostly you just watch Tae. When Namjoon's body doesn’t block your view. He stitches the gash on your forehead, hands pulling the sutures closed in a gentle and practiced way. The pass of the needle through your skin a distant sensation.

The wounds on your hands are in that awkward place of not being deep enough for stitches but still a little too deep to not need something. After a brief debate, Namjoon sealed them with a bit of non-surgical glue that stung terribly and then regular gauze over the top.

Your hands are swelling and clotting. Scabbing although trying to touch anything is too painful. Closing your fingers at all hurts. Namjoon holds you so lightly it hardly feels like he's holding you at all.

Namjoon apologizes after every wince.

The second he’s done he tosses his suture kit into the bathroom sink with a clang the second he’s done. Namjoon gets on his knees before you. The plastic that covers the whole bathroom crackling as he does.

Jimin had the great idea to cover the bathroom with sheets of plastic to cut down on the cleanup. Hoseok's bloody footprints join Tae's trailing from the doorway to the shower. Join the trail that you left. Parts of you are still dripping.

"It's going to scar," Namjoon says, a little sadly. Thumb skimming over the mark on your forehead.

You swallow hard. You still taste blood. You want to brush your teeth; you want to shut the lights off and go to sleep. You want Noodle and you want Yoongi you want everything from the past few hours- the past few years to be gone and over with. You want-

You want to snap at him and tell him that it doesn't matter that it will scar. That you're covered with scars already and you don't care but-

Namjoon kisses your forehead. A lingering brush. The one spot that's not bloody.

You look over at Tae and her eyes flicker blankly to you. Jungkook keeps bringing the boar bristle brush up and down her back in soothing little circles.

When you turn back to Namjoon he's pursing his lips and blinking away tears as he looks down at your hands. You resist the urge to say you’re sorry. You’re not sure what for. The terrible feral hunger in you gone as quick as it's come.

Namjoon’s fingers wrap around the hollow of your knees, and you meet his eyes, even though you don’t want to. It feels too much like a confession already.

“I’m going to say this now, before you get any ideas; This is not your fault and I am not mad at you and Tae for doing what you did-”

“Namjoon-”

He continues on, words rushing out. “I’m proud of you pup, so proud. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here. I promise I won’t disappoint you again as pack alpha-” You cover his mouth with your hand, gauze and all.

The bit of gauze over your palm is already turning bloody. It's hard to tell if it's your blood or if it's his. You’re the last one to shower. The last one to get clean. Namjoon shouldn’t be touching you at all.

And yet he does, yet he cradles your face, brushes the tears from your cheeks, gets blood on his hands. Evidence is evidence, but love has a steeper sort of price if you don't express it when you can.

When you take your hand away, Namjoon doesn’t try to speak again. someone says something that you don't hear, that you can't hear.

Namjoon stands and when you look up, Jungkook has the shower door open for you.

Because the bandages and the glue on your hands can’t get wet Namjoon binds your hands with Ziplock bags and duct tape. The plastic rustles, and you follow Hobi's bloody footprints into Jungkook’s arms. Namjoon closes the door behind you.

Every bit of plastic is going to get melted down later, until all the blood and terror evaporates through something as simple and trivial as fire. Fire will cleanse it of all evidence, as sure as the burning water you step under.

You're not quite sure what you're going to do about the bullet holes in the walls or the blown-apart door to the upstairs bedroom, but Yoongi’s always had a handle on the home improvement stuff.

Jungkook helps you disrobe off your bloodied clothing. Lifting your shirt over your head and stooping, telling you to hold onto his shoulders so that he can take off your sweatpants. You're pretty sure they're Yoongi's but there's no time to get sentimental as he puts them inside a garbage bag along with Tae's and Hobi's clothes.

Everything on your person is evidence. When you look back Namjoon's gone, summoned by Jin's distant call from downstairs. It's just Jimin outside of the shower. watching you, but mostly watching Tae.

You’d be more self-conscious of your nude body if your brain wasn’t still racing. It’s hard to do much with the bags on your hands. But Jungkook squirts out a healthy dollop of your favorite shampoo and gets to work once the conditioner is in Tae’s hair. She sits like a discarded ball-jointed doll on the built-in bench. Her long hair hair stuck like a sheet over her eyes.

Nothing is as important as making sure you’re not found out. And the frothy shampoo turns rusty around Jungkook's fingers. You have to have a lot of blood on your face. All the water that rolls off of you goes pink.

Jungkook is gentle even by your hairline scratching against your scalp with his fingers. The skin there is tender. Namjoon taped a bit of gauze over the sutures too. You don't remember when he did that.

You make a noise. “Too rough?” his voice has something unreadable in it, something soft and concerned.

You don't respond because Yoongi makes his reappearance at the doorway. The black shirt he wears is dusty at the front from the concrete. His eyes single focused on you the second he enters the room. You stare at him the way that Tae stares at Jimin. Jungkook just huffs and pulls you a little more snugly against his chest.

Tae stands in the corner of the shower, still staring at Minnie. Minnie who stares back, practically not blinking. Both of their anguish are hidden behind glass. Like fish in tanks that could never get out. Not really.

Part of Tae gets washed away down the drain. Swirling and gurgling down and down with no one to notice.

Tae stares off blankly into space. Sometimes Jimin talks to her and sometimes he hums through the glass, he'd be in there too if his bandages couldn't get wet either. If Namjoon hadn’t yanked him back from the doorway and told him that he couldn't.

Jungkook takes the boar bristle brush to your body too. Everything has to be scrubbed multiple times until your skin feels nearly raw from it. Tae’s fingernails, her arms, your neck, the side of your face, the hollow at the inside of your arms. Your knees. Everywhere.

He apologizes when he goes over bruises, wincing, clutching you a little tighter, a little closer to make up for the pain. But Jungkook is meticulous as he cleans of evidence until you feel groomed clean. Until there’s no more blood swirling down the drain just clear water, and the light outside has turned pearly and blue in the twilight.

Tae's still silent. She's been quiet beyond the occasional heartbreaking whimper since you both killed that man. Eventually, You push at Jungkook's hands with a pointed look in her direction where she's slumped and he goes with a soft nod. Two omega's taking care of their alphas.

Jungkook’s delicate with Tae’s head, gentle in the way he cradles the bruising, half hidden by her hair. Washing out the conditioner with a quiet hum. Namjoon had diagnosed her with a concussion pretty quickly, it's not a crack in her skull plate but she's not going to go putting her hair up in a bun any time soon.

Jungkook alternates from you to Tae. One moment you're standing, the next Jungkook is taking you up gently from the floor and Yoongi is at the glass, hand on the door- looking at you anxiously. Letting out a volley of cursing. You can't remember the last time you heard him use language like that.

"Hyung she's fine- she's just slippery, I've got her."

Their voices are so soft and grave and so quiet. Or is it just that you can’t hear it? Why are their voices so far away and muffled? Sometimes Yoongi is here and sometimes he isn't. Sometimes Jungkook is holding you, talking to Namjoon about something, and other times he and Yoongi are talking. Keeping their voices low. Your ears ring. It's so loud it deafening.

“Do you need me to take over?” Yoongi asks Jungkook. Jungkook has blood on his feet, from you or Tae you’re not sure, it soaks the hair there. Jungkook’s got hairy fucking feet for an omega- you’re not sure why you’re concentrating on it. Why you’re noticing all these things now. Cataloging little things about them like you might never get the chance to notice them again.

Your heart beats quick, fear still consuming you even though the danger has passed. You look down at the tiled floor and the room spins.

You don’t feel a thing when you close your eyes. You don’t feel anything when you think of the man that you just killed. You don’t feel anything but roaring, like the crashing of the ocean or the sound when you lift your ear to a shell. The hearing in your left ear where the gun went off feels…off, muffled. You put your hand up to toy with it and freeze when you realize it isn't right.

"Guys" You paw at your ear. But they don't seem to hear you.

"No, I've got them.”

“We need to clean up the downstairs. Kookie, where do you keep the oxyclean?”

"Guys"

They still don't hear you. Maybe you're not making a sound at all just mouthing the words. Your movement gets Tae's attention and her eyes focus for the first time in hours. Slumped on the bench, her hand grips the tiled edge hard as she tries to stand but can't. Jungkook hands Yoongi something through the steam, the black trash bag full of bloody clothes.

The notice Tae trying to get to you first. she hits the floor with a small thud and tugs her way over to you. You make a noise in your throat- a distressed chirp that makes the alphas flinch. Tae cups your cheek as you dig your finger in, slippery from the plastic- and pull something small and fleshy out of your ear.

It's soft and squishy. A curved piece of pink and white brain matter. A little bloody but bleached from the water.

You try to stand to your feet but teeter, shaking, staring down at the chunk of person that you just got out of you, that was just in you.

For a second, no one says anything, but then-

“That’s so fucking gnarly.” Your head jerks up in Jungkook’s direction.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Tae actually does look a little green, but it's good to hear her voice at the very least. She hauls herself over to the drain and starts to dry heave.

"Oh tae don't-" the sound of vomit hitting the floor joins the sound of the shower. You don't look at her. just at the lump of person in your hand.

"Someone please take it from me," Jimin is already there opening the glass door and holding out a cloth for you to place it in.

Yoongi presses his hands to the glass as he watches you struggle to grab the brush that Jungkook was using on you from the floor after finally getting your feet under you. Jungkook is torn, his hand on Tae's shoulder as she wretches turning from her to you like he doesn't know what to do or who to help first.

You don't care about the state of your hands you just need to get clean. You Ignore the twinge of pain in your hands as you try and get the bottle of body wash open. Ripping off the plastic bags that cover your hands when you can't unclick the cap immediately. frustrated and panicking. You ignore Jimin calling your name. The gauze falls to the floor with a wet thwack and you take the boar bristle brush to your hands. Cuts and all.

Big hands stop you. Hands that dwarf yours. Hands that you'd know blind.

Yoongi's standing under the spray fully clothed, the water pinning down his hair and quickly soaking him. His hands tangling with yours, taking the brush from you. Wordless as he grabs your wrists and jerks you forward hard.

He holds on until you stop shaking. resting against his chest. guiding your face to his scent gland. "Take a deep breath for me now sweetheart- there you go- just like that."

Jungkook doesn't say anything and neither does Jimin, not as Yoongi starts to wash you again. Jungkook just stoops to lift Tae and place her back on the bench. She goes easy, limp, and doll-like. But she's almost done- she's almost clean. Tae pushes at Jungkook’s shoulders.

"I’m fine. I need to wait for the nausea to pass before I try getting out of here.”

With you, it's going to take a little longer.

Jungkook has already shampooed your hair, but he does it again. The telltale signs of rusty red in the peach-scented shampoo. Bubbling orange-pink. Yoongi does it slower, gentler- it feels more normal. Like the slow loving you're used to.

“Do you ever feel like-” your voice is a little crackly from all the screaming you did earlier. You hate how the terror makes you not remember all the details. Did you make any sound while you killed him? Did you say anything through the rage?

The others are looking at you but you have eyes for just Jimin. his hand tightens to fists, knuckles pressed against the glass. eyes darkening ever so slightly. “Do you ever not feel guilty? About killing people Minnie?”

You are nude, as bare as you’ve ever been before him, it's hard to be self-conscious about it. Maybe this would be a little sexier- showering with Tae and Jungkook and Yoongi with an audience if you weren't literally trying to cover up a very violent murder.

You remember the words Jimin had said to you weeks ago now. “Would you kill for me?” “I’d do worse” you wonder if this qualifies as worse. You can’t imagine what would be much worse than this.

Jungkook's hands are rough as they massage a bit of soap down your back but instead of being comforting, it feels like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin.

Jimin hums. Eyeing Tae still sprawled on the built-in bench. Jimin gathers his thoughts before he speaks. “In my contract, at the beginning-” He starts but cuts off as you start to slip. Jungkook's hands find you, helping Yoongi hold you up more properly. Your mate doesn't let Jungkook take you entirely just moves a bit to the side to give him space. Any other day you'd love to be in the middle of a yoonkook sandwich but-

“Your contract?” he nods, blond hair bobbing. Yoongi meticulously removes the dried blood from under your fingernails, careful to hold your glue sutures out of the direct spray.

“I specified that I’d only ever kill bad people. of course I got a little lazier after I got used to it." He shoots an anxious glance in Tae's direction, but she's still just sitting. "But at the beginning, I’d go back and look through their files to try to find out what they’d done to warrant a hit getting taken out on them. I couldn’t always find a reason but most of the time I did."

You can see it in his face, that Jimin doesn't want to say that they deserved it. Because if they deserved a violent ending then you could say the same about the 8 of you. Jungkook's hands get a little close to the nape of your neck and you turn to him and snap.

"Don't scruff me."

"Sorry." You need it. Is what he doesn't say.

“Most of the time it was worth it?” You cling to his words. With Geumjae you’d never had to guess if he deserved it or not but this-

Jimin’s eyebrows are brought into a hard line, “Karma is a fickle thing. Sometimes it never comes but-” his eyes are downcast, "Sometimes it's a good thing, being the karma."

You sit quietly, digesting his words. Your lower lip trembles, and you don’t know if you feel terrible or better when the tears just won’t come. Yoongi delicately cradles your body, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pulling you back against his chest.

“Yoongi.”

“Let me hold you for a minute.” You do, body sagging under the weight of your exhaustion.

Tae teeters in Jungkook’s hold, but she pushes against his hands weakly when he tries to make her stand again. Her voice sounds warbly and fragile when she shakes her head. “I’m still dizzy.”

He tries to guide her gently back to the bench, but she doesn't make it that far. Pushing away his hands when she descends to the marble floor. Closer to the wall, Closer to Minnie who mirrors her, falling to the floor too. Getting as closer to her as he can without being in the shower.

Jimin lets out a sad and bitter-sounding laugh and Tae smiles in reply while Jungkook and Yoongi share an anxious glance over your head.

He's still grinning, words twisting, eyes shining with sorrow and fondness. “You couldn’t wait 24 hours until you had to make it even, didn’t you?”

Tae closes her eyes as her smile twists and she starts to cry “Where you go, I go. We’re the same now Minnie.” Jimin doesn't mean to ask what she means. He knows.

If you're a killer I'm a killer. If you're damned, I'm damned. Even though neither of them believes in God or heaven or damnation. Not really. Not anymore. It's very half-hearted.

(I don't know if it's worth wondering if the people you love are bad people, I think when worse comes to worse, you just put the heaviness down and keep on loving them anyway).

Jimin’s eyes are soft on her, the way that they only ever are with Tae. He places his hand on the glass fogging around his fingertips. She doesn’t match his hands, just leans her cheek against it. Love is only a thin layer of glass away.

You know it hurts her a little bit, must make the dysphoria a little harder to breathe through, to let Jimin and Jungkook see her like this; just the long hair and nothing delicate to cloth her soul in. A soul that now you’ve irreparably tarnished.

A soul that is damaged beyond repair now thanks to you.

It is your fault. All of this is because of you. all of this pain and anguish and damage is because of the choices you've made. the stupid idiotic childish choices. If you'd never needed it- if you'd just been strong enough- Tae could have been whole. Tae could have been unharmed. Hobi and Jin too- if you’d just-

Back at the hospital, Tae had so many questions about Jimin’s job, so many questions about when and where, and why. But she finds her head empty of them in the aftermath. She has no desire to learn anything else about Jimin’s job. Not now that she knows what killing feels like.

Tae is never going to be able to look at red nail polish the same way again.

Jungkook reaches over and turns off the water.

~-~

Eventually, you finish washing. Wrapped up in fluffy white towels that will have to be burned too. The house smells like bleach and gunpowder. It covers everything.

Even the noodle is looking a little more grubby than usual when he zips by, meowing for someone to give him attention. You hear the saw going and you know that Yoongi is cutting the bullet holes out of the walls while the others clean up the blood.

Your skin feels pink and sensitive were the towel brushes as you go looking for pajamas, you'll get some for the others too. Later, Jin will fuss and ask to put some cream on you. Will massage it in something of an apology and pretend that Yoongi isn't going over the whole house with a blacklight to spot any errant blood splatters.

Later Yoongi will take a wood scraper to the floorboards where the man died, will rip them up, and burn them in the house's ancient fireplace just to be sure that no one finds any evidence.

You'll all pretend that Tae doesn't shake through a panic attack when you have an informal dinner in the nest. jin's rule of "no food in the nest" broken for this. You'll all pretend that Hoseok won't choke choking on all but the smallest sips of water. You'll all pretend. You're good pretenders, good liars too.

Later, Jin will put cream on your skin and dot it all with kisses, the swelling in his hands won't take too long to go down. You'll get the love and You won’t deserve a single second of it.

You don't know how you fooled yourself into thinking you ever deserved it. The last 8 months have been stolen. Not earned.

The one-year anniversary of Geumjae's death comes and passes as you go to the top of the stairs in your towel, Ears straining to hear what's going on downstairs.

There is a lot of talking going on downstairs, between Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jin. About what to do, and how to handle this. Hushed voices kept mostly out of earshot. And other more dangerous questions get asked, with equally as dangerous answers.

One of Jimin's guns sits on the kitchen counter through all of it. No one moves to put it away. They're not sure when they're next going to need it and they'd rather not get caught off guard again.

“I could talk to some people- call them. Some people owe me favors, There has to be some section of the family that doesn’t want her too-“

"Absolutely Not, I am not having you get into some weird ass mafia debt"

"Yeah, jailcell orange is so not your color hyung"

“We stay quiet. For the next 48 hours- it’s likely no one will know what happened. They’re too hurt- we need some time to regroup and think.”

Hobi’s voice is absent from the fray. You hear something quite like he's trying to speak, and someone shushing him softly. Namjoon says that his swelling won’t go down enough to talk until tomorrow. You hear the sound of someone opening the refrigerator to get ice.

The door to the bedroom has been blown apart, and a flurry of bullet holes chewed through the top corner. It sits off its hinges and in two pieces.

You remember watching Yoongi paint the door, sitting at the bottom of the stairs while he worked at the top of it and painted it to match the wallpaper in the staircase, a dark cobalt blue. You remember all of it, every little thing you watched him do to make this house into something worthwhile. To make it into a home and now it's riddled with bullet holes and stained with blood.

It's funny, you hardly remember every little thing he did for you, to make you worthwhile.

You have always been a reminder that you don't make houses out of abandoned buildings, and mates out of monsters that bite.

The water has turned the cuts on your hands white and gummy when you look down at them in the closet room. They’re already oozing, not bleeding, it will be at least a day or two until you can touch anything without discomfort. Namjoon will scold you ever so gently later and re-do your bandages.

The pink curtains are drawn already to keep out any wandering eyes from the outside. This is a dressing room after all. The whole room feels like a blush-toned jewel box and you, the one piece of cheap costume jewelry at the center.

You get up and shut the door before you sit on a small poof- something silky and tufted that Jimin had gotten Tae right after she'd come out.

You sit in your towel and look down at your wounds. Thinking about Tae's concussion. Jin's wrists. Hobi's throat. Both of their blank looks and the violence of death and trying to live. You think it all through, every possible ending to this before you pick up your phone and dial Her number.

Moonbyul picks up on the first ring. It’s like she’s been waiting for your call.

“Did you like your courting present pup?”

Your throat is dry and you don’t know exactly what to say, even less how to say it. She hums at your silence, an alpha's imitation of a purr. Waiting until your quietness builds to a frantic pulse.

In the pack, you've always been the one with the best survival instincts. Geumjae made you this way. Although the pack has spent the last few months trying to heal you; deep down you know you've never been anything more than a scared animal. Fight or Flight. Freeze or fawn.

Bullet to bullet. Tooth to tooth. Heartbeat to heartbeat. This time is different. This time you have something worth protecting.

You stand, no longer able to sit. There is a noise at the door, and you wait with bated breath for someone to come in. They don't come. But you stand and move farther inside. Hoping that the distance will disguise the sound of your whispered conversation.

She continues when it becomes clear you're struggling to speak. “I’ve got another one on the way. Hyejin’s here, wanna say hello? You’re on speaker.”

“Pup,” she giggles, and you feel like you might vomit. It’s a struggle really, not to end the call right there, not to let the fear overtake you. “We haven’t heard back from Spider yet, and I have a feeling someone’s been a little naughty.”

You lift the curtain to look outside, the train chugs past and the cars flit by like the fast small birds searching for seed in the snow. The whole world is grey and flat. The sky is orange from the lights of the city reflecting the clouds. The trees bare of all but a few crumbly leaves. It’s strange how all at once, the train is all you can look at. All you can think about.

You think about hoseok, the night at the train tracks where he stopped you from leaving. When he asked you to stay.

“Tell me what I need to do. Tell me what I need to do to get you to stop this, please.” Your voice sounds off, even for you. Too flat, strange even to your ears.

“I’m afraid we’re too far along for that.”

"Please, please Moonbyul-" You turn, pacing back towards the door. Past Tae’s clothes, past yours, past Jungkook’s, past the alcove where Hobi hangs his sweatshirts for you. You pause there. Looking at them.

“You said- you said when it was over you’d give me anything I wanted. Well I want them alive. Even if-"

Your voice is so shaky, you're careful to make sure you're not overheard. The pack is in the other room, just downstairs. You can hear the distant hum of their sweet voices; the people you love always sound like a melody. Your absence hasn’t been noticed yet.

"Even if I’m not here.”

For once they’re silent on the other end of the line. It’s a full silence, filled with one part lust and one part hunger. Both of them are like Noodle playing with a mouse. Waiting for the right time to drive their teeth in and end this game.

But even mice have teeth. Your hand is holding your phone so hard that the plastic makes your bones ache and your cuts bleed fresh.

“If you don’t let them live, I'll never stop fighting. But if you want me to be willing- If you want me to be your pup the way I think you do."

You can’t even close your hand into a fist with how wrecked your hands are. They hurt with every clumsy movement. you hold the phone. Your every heartbeat lurching with the horror of what you're doing.

I can’t lose them; I can’t be the reason why they die. They'll keep sending people until we're all dead unless I do something.

“All of them, all of them need to be safe, Jimin- you need to let him go of his contract and let him go back to living a normal life and you need to not punish Jin for working for the FBI.” Your words rush over themselves. "Leave my pack alone and I’ll be obedient. I'll be yours. I’ll never try and go back to them again. I won’t ever try and leave. I promise.”

Moonbyul and Hyejin are silent on the other end of the phone. You wait for a few moments. They must be looking at each other, deliberating.

Everything in this room aches. The closet bedroom that Yoongi made he made for you. The wainscotting just so. Everything in this house was crafted with an equal amount of love.

It was never meant to be yours forever, you’ve been keenly aware of this fact since the moment you met Yoongi. Since the moment you met his eyes across the dining room table and the moment his teeth met your skin. Borrowed things don't belong, they never do. Good things do not last. You only get them for as long as you get them and not a moment longer.

You're looking at Hobi's sweatshirts, in the alcove where he stacks them for you to take when Moonbyul and Hyejin respond.

“We'll agree to those terms, but remember their safety depends on your performance."

"You have 24 hours to get to us pup. Make them count.”

The dial tone drones like a funeral drum.

~-~

(Hoseok, a few years prior)

The backroom at the record shop is cramped with all sorts of things from a bygone era;

A mini fridge with a decrepit desktop computer and logbook balanced atop it. Pictures and bulletins glued to the wall from the 1960's. A greasy coffee machine piled high with bags of expired tea. A cramped spot for employees to hang their coats and a yellowing old table with a pair of chairs; both occupied by people also out of place. a beta that has a thing for 1980's rap and an alpha with a broken heart who admittedly loves 2010's pop.

A poster of some glittery showgirl omega from the 20s bats her eyelashes down at Hoseok as he has a mental breakdown. Offering neither comfort nor absolution nor love.

Maybe if he'd been born an omega like that, it would have been easier. Maybe they'd have wanted him then.

Yoongi's hands rub down Hoseok's shoulder, his back, places only lovers have touched. Up and down. An endless circle. An ouroboros of affection nibbling Hoseok's fickle heart. Hoseok aches harder with every passing moment.

Yoongi looks at the clock as Hoseok continues to sob. The shop should be open right now but Yoongi won't let it. It can go out of business for all he cares. As long as no one makes Hoseok get up from this chair before he's ready.

Beta instincts are fickle things, but Yoongi has always had a third sense. Something in him always knows if people are trustworthy and if they need him. Something in their scents or faces or eyes- like small planets reflecting the cosmos back to them. Do planets bear life only when someone is willing to look for them? Do people only deserve help when they're willing to ask for it? or is it like this?

Eventually, Hoseok gets his breath back in his chest and his sobs quiet down. His eyes open bloodshot. All sadness has an expiration date (thankfully). Yoongi's hand slides down his arm and gives his hand a firm squeeze (and stays there).

It's the first time someone's touched Hoseok without wanting something in God knows how long but he's too sad to properly appreciate it or savor it. (Yoongi doesn't want anything from him that Hoseok wouldn't willingly give. Doesn't want anything but his smile. fuck- he's just a co-worker, isn't he?). Who knows when the next touch like this might come? (Yoongi is going to hold his hand tomorrow because Yoongi likes holding people's hands, Jin will give him the tacit permission to do that at least. But all of the pack are keenly aware that Hoseok needs time to heal, no matter how obvious Yoongi's crush and Hoseok's needs).

(Hoseok is definitely not just Yoongi's coe-worker at this point, but saviors come from all sorts of unlikely places)

Eventually Hoseok's sobs quiet and Yoongi sighs, pulling back. He takes one look at hoseok's red nose and pale cheeks and puffs up. "I'm making your hot chocolate and you're going to tell me what's happened."

He gets up like he needs something to do. Like he's tired of taking care of Hoseok. He doesn't take it personally, he's tired of it too.

“My mates they- they kicked me out of our den,” Hoseok confesses. Yoongi's got two mugs in his hands, they thud against the counter when he reaches into one of the cabinets.

It’s warm in here but Hoseok is still thankful for the sweatshirt the beta gave him. Not only for its warmth but for the layer of scent it provides; It’s soaked with the smell of chocolate. So comforting and heavenly that it makes Hoseok a little dizzy when he tucks his nose into it and takes a hefty sniff when Yoongi's got his back turned.

Hoseok was never given the other pack's items, never allowed or encouraged to indulge in their scents. They never asked for his either.

Yoongi hangs both their jackets above the radiator in the back so that they’ll dry faster. He bears an impressive bite mark on his arm, visible because of his short-sleeved shirt. It's bruised just ever so slightly- an alpha bite but not a mating bite because betas don't mate. A mark like that on him is as good a claim as any. Even with the other scents that cling to the sweatshirt.

Hoseok hasn’t known him long, but they’re friends even if they’ve never met up outside of work. You can't not be friends with someone you spend upwards of 30 hours a week with.

Yoongi just hums. "Have you been with them long?"

Hoseok appreciates that Yoongi doesn't use the past tense, his heart too tender around the idea of endings. Some part of him is unconvinced that it really is over. A stubborn heart for a stubborn alpha.

His hair is starting to dry when he nods. "It's been a few years." Hoseok bites his lip, "I could lie and say I didn't see signs but-" his hands end up in his hair, elbows leaning against the creaking yellow table. Tugging a little. "I'm so fucking stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid," Yoongi says, hand on the back of his head. warm rough fingers. Touching him ever so briefly as he passes to put the milk back in the mini-fridge. "It's not stupid to want to find more love where you got it."

But in truth, There's not much more than Yoongi can say. Not much more that he knows to say. He'd never met Hoseok's pack. Whereas Namjoon and Jimin and the pups have a general tendency to linger around Yoongi person at all hours and locations. Stopping by to drop off coffee or just to make funny faces at him through the window when they're on their way to work. Yoongi has never met his co-worker's pack and has never seen much evidence at all on him beyond some vague hints of scents.

That alone is enough of a hint; usually, when people have packmates they're soaked in their scents. Visceral claims to keep any wandering eyes wandering still. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't wondered why Hoseok didn't wear his packmate's scents.

It’s not like the alpha smells bad at all- a little strong sure, but less genetically dominant alphas tend to smell a little sweeter like omegas.

At least that’s what Namjoon says when he feels like info dumping. Late at night when the pack asleep around them and only Yoongi's stayed up to listen. Because Yoongi likes the sound of Namjoon's voice when he gets into the details. Stroking across Namjoon’s bare chest just to feel the alpha's words rumble against his fingertips. His heartbeat against his ear the backtrack for all of it.

Whoever Yoongi’s pack is; they surely love him a lot. That much has been evident since the second that Hoseok met him. Evident in the packed bento boxes and the bunny-eyed omega that walks with him to work sometimes. Or in the tall omega and alpha pair that Hoseok has seen perusing the shelves when he comes in to relieve Yoongi of his shift.

Hoseok has worked here for 6 months. It’s impossible not to collect these details. The hickeys on his throat that he wears after weekends, how ruffled but generally loved Yoongi looks when he comes back from rut and heat leave.

“Is there a reason why they left?” Yoongi tries to be as undiscerning as possible. Voice gentle and measured. Stirring the hot cocoa and putting it in front of Hoseok.

Hoseok takes a sip and it feels like he's drinking a cup of the beta in front of him. Yoongi melts a little into the chair at the happy noise Hoseok makes.

It's good. Really good actually, Yoongi uses twice as much Swiss mix as the package instructs and a tablespoon of honey to boot. More chocolate can never be a bad thing.

Before Hoseok has a chance to respond, The phone next to the cabinet rings. And Yoongi takes it off the stand and hangs it up again in quick secession so that it doesn’t ring anymore. It has to be important but he ignores it for Hoseok's sake. Yoongi does a lot of ordering for the shop, the rare records that their boss is always trying to source and sell. It's a lot of chasing down leads and curators.

(This is not true. This is a lie that Yoongi and his boss have fed him. This phone is set up for the family's use. Hoseok doesn’t know that most of the calls Yoongi answers are more delicate than just simple stock orders.)

“I just found out that my brother has stolen from me, what should his punishment be beta?”

“How much did he steal?”

“300k”

Yoongi swallows, fighting his narrow margin of benevolence. The drops of mercy that he's allowed to show without suspicion. He tells himself that the other beta would order a far worse. People only call him when they want lighter punishment.

“A finger for every 100 then.”

The people who call ask him all manner of things. Things like “I think my child might be planning on going to the police, what should I do before anyone finds out about it?” He is both a secret keeper and a jury.

“Send them away. Out of sight and out of mind of anything that they might be able to share. I hear the military academies are lovely this year. So much snow. Yes, they take omega recruits.”

“My firstborn child presented as an omega instead of an alpha. They're my firstborn and heir, how should I proceed?”

“I can ask around for an advantageous match but I’m sorry, there is no fixing presentation.”

Hoseok hasn’t seen a phone like that in years. Didn’t even know they made old-fashioned ones like that anymore. Ones with a dial, the blue plastic worn from the number of times Yoongi's had to pick it up. It doesn't stay silent for long, ringing soon after yoongi's hung it up.

“I'm the only- they’re an all-omega group.” As if by the mention of his sub gender Hoseok’s angry burning sugar scent fills the room. In reply, Yoongi’s sweetness rises. Hoseok takes another sip and pretends it's just the hot chocolate warming his cheeks. “I guess they wanted to keep it that way.”

"I've got two omegas and they keep me on my toes, I can't imagine four." That gets a laugh out of Hoseok.

"You've got a bunch of alphas in yours though, right?" A bunch already, I wouldn't be needed. Hoseok has seen them, the tall one with dimples that looks like something out of a soap opera. The scary-looking one with the chubby cheeks who's always holding hands with the pretty academic one who likes the jazz in the corner.

Yoongi nods, "That must be nice," Hoseok's eyelashes are all clumped together from the tears. "Having so many people to take care of you."

Yoongi hums, knuckles brushing Hoseok’s hand on the table. It’s just one tender touch but Hoseok starts to break. To crumple.

Yoongi senses Hoseok breaking, pulling him in close before he has a chance to really fracture (he comes just in time, Yoongi loves Hoseok just in time). Yoongi’s scent alone is enough to soothe him- beyond the way he guides the alpha to rest against his throat. Hoseok fights it only a little, what's a little scenting among friends?

They're not just friends, it's not just scenting.

Hoseok wants to bury his nose in the beta’s throat, but that wouldn’t be appropriate, not with the scent of so many others clinging to him. He still sags into the hug. Turns his face away to avoid the temptation.

“They didn’t even tell me- and now the lease on the apartment is up and I can’t afford it on my own and-“ I’m so scared and I just wish there was someone to take care of me. I wish I was a pup again.

They sit like that at the table and Yoongi just lets him cry, He pulls back after his sobbing has cooled. They hug until they both smell like gooey chocolate chip cookies with too much brown sugar.

Hoseok sniffles, “We have to open up the shop,” Yoongi's arms tighten around Hoseok's shoulders in reply.

“It can wait a few more seconds.” Hoseok wants to say that the owner wouldn’t like that but he doesn’t.

Yoongi sips and hesitates. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?” Hoseok pauses for a second, flushing before he shakes his head. “Okay, it's okay. You can say with me.”

“Are- are you sure they won't mind?” But Yoongi is already typing away on his phone, shooting a quick text to the pack group chat (a chat that Hoseok will be added to in exactly 23 days, but who's counting?)

“Not at all. It’s a bit cramped with all of us but we have a spare bed in the closet room that Tae likes to read on sometimes- Jungkook's boss slept there last night after they came back from drinking and Namjoon was so mad- he won't be mad about you though- it's just that Jungkook- he just really shouldn't be drinking."

"Is he underaged?"

"No, he's just got health issues."

"Oh." Yet another person who gets the love he needs, the care he needs. Hoseok tries and fails miserably not to be jealous over Yoongi's omega whom he's never met.

He won't be jealous for long. Later Jungkook is going to challenge him to an arm wrestle just to prove he doesn't need babying. Beating alphas in feats of strength is his favorite thing. He'll feel Hoseok’s hand in his and get completely distracted. "Wow, you've got like- really pretty hands!" and drag them close to his to compare sizes. He'll be smitten nearly instantly with Jungkook- for what it's worth. The jealousy only lasts for a few hours.

Within a few seconds his phone is ringing off the hook, he shows Hoseok the chorus of, “Yes it’s okay!” and “Poor thing, tell him he can stay as long as he wants.” "Of course hyung!" "Does Hoseok like kimchi-jjigae or should we just order pizza?" “Oh! Can we get some with pineapple?” “Gross Jk.” "Yeah we all know Minnie doesn't like the aftertaste of burnt fruit."

And Hoseok can't help but feel like he doesn’t deserve this kindness and such an effortless acceptance. There is a knock at the front door before he can say anything. A few short taps against the glass. Yoongi tells Hoseok to stay put while he goes to deal with a pushy customer who wants in. Leaving him alone in the backroom with his cooling hot coco and the poster still staring down at him.

(They say two can keep a secret if one of them is dead, but that's not the only way a secret stays buried; the best secrets are the ones you’re not even aware of.

Out of all the people in your pack. Hoseok is the only one in possession of a secret like this. The best kinds of secrets are the ones you don't even know are secrets see- he doesn't even know that this memory is enough to save you. Hoseok is entirely unaware that in his mind lies this memory.

Hoseok was the first person to get on the no-kill list, and it wasn’t because of Yoongi.

All packmates of a Don get put on the list;

no matter if they're active or past.)

Sitting at that yellowing wood table; Hoseok feels more settled now that he knows he has a place to sleep tonight that isn’t this backroom. Pulling the sleeve of Yoongi’s sweatshirt over his palms and sniffing at the collar where it was pushed up against Yoongi’s scent gland.

If he thinks hard, he can pick out a few scents here and there soaking the fabric. (Milky Omega Jin, Honey Sweet Puppy Jungkookie, Cinnamon sweet Alpha Tae and vanil-lalalala Jimin, Coffee Alpha Namjoon and Chocolate Yoongi).

It's so different from his ex-pack's scents. Their sugary sweet omega peppermint and sharp lemony evergreen, winter berry and pine, the cold smart of snow against his nose. His burning caramel scent- so off-putting. The one scent not Christmas-themed. The one that didn’t fit.

By comparison- Yoongi's pack smells like a bakery in summer. Every scent that could be added to a cake maybe (one day, in the kitchen, he’ll eat your tiramisu and realize yes- that’s exactly what it’s missing. Your cakey scent makes them all complete, the warmth of baking things).

He has somewhere to go now. Somewhere to be. Someone to trust. He trusts Yoongi- even if they’ve only known each other for a handful of short months.

And Yoongi’s pack can’t be worse than his last one.

As if in reply to Yoongi’s phone (buzzing with more texts that he doesn't check because Hoseok is nothing if not respectful of people's digital privacy. If he checked he would see "Is that the hot coworker you're always talking about? The one who always looks a little sad?")

Hoseok’s phone buzzes with the notification he's been waiting for.

Pack Omega 🌙 calling.

Pick up? Decline?

Hoseok hasn't yet gotten around to changing her contact information. He scrambles at it, spilling the hot cocoa across the table as he rushes to pick it up. Scrambling to get to it before it goes to voice mail. Blood pounding in his ears.

Hoseok’s voice is broken as he says his pack omega’s name, his old pack omega’s name.

“Byulyi- Moonbyul please-”

Moonbyul is cold on the other side of the phone. Maybe she’d have liked him more, and wouldn’t have given up on him if he didn't beg. But Hoseok has never been above begging. Not for love. Not for the thing he wants and needs the most. Hoseok needs love more than air and as Yoongi said- it's easiest to go looking for love where you once got it.

Even when you know it could hurt you.

Her voice is flat and unaffected. “I just wanted to make sure you found a place to stay tonight. Are you still going to be around to give the landlord the keys?”

Hoseok finds himself nodding even though he knows she can’t see him. “Yes- I can do that, I can do anything you want. Can we talk?”

“No.”

“Moonbyul please-”

“Goodbye Hoseok.” She says, hanging up after a second. Hoseok looks at the phone. Pushing the button to redial. It doesn't go. She’s already blocked him.

It will be a long time until Hoseok hears from his last pack again, a long long time until he says their names again. He will remember the way he’d begged, the way her name had sounded smack dab in the middle of it. And hate hate Hate how it makes him feel. He won't ever say their names, regret and self-disgust getting in the way.

It's a little funny, thinking of how different things might have gotten if he'd just told yoongi their names. If he hadn't let his alpha pride get in the way. A few days from now they'll talk about it together. "I don't like the way saying their names makes me feel- it feels- I hate how much I want to say it- to see them again- saying their names just reminds me of the power they had over me."

Never again, will Jung Hoseok beg for someone to give him the bare minimum. This is his lowest point. The moment where it shifts- for good.

His head is in his hands when Yoongi comes back into the room. Still sniffling, crying yet again. Yoongi sets a palm in his hair, ruffling it. Eyeing the spilled hot cocoa with a raised eyebrow.

“If you wanted coffee you could have just said so-“ he makes an attempt at levity and is rewarded with Hoseok’s small snort. Wiping his wet cheeks. Neither of them is aware of the secret. Neither of them is aware and so much worse off for it."

Hoseok grins, “Are you buying hyung?”

~-~

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Notes:

in the story there has always been this question- mainly raised by jimin during his secret chapters- if the m/c is actually in love with them or if she's just manipulating them- at the beginning of this chapter- we actually see jimin finally dispel the last bit of him that thinks even a little bit that this is the case. once he sees how much she put her body on the line- that question isn't even in the back of his mind- even a little. i ended up re-editing this part alot because of it.

every time i write something from jimin's pov i'm always like "why is everything so meandering? why are things disjointed?" and then i remember that's literally jimin's character- that he is in a lot of ways an unreliable narrator.

(TW) i have this idea in my head that namjoon DOES NOT become a good person in the event that all of them die like- a whole separate idea of him becoming a doctor for the family through yoongi's connections with the soul purpose of one day killing moonbyul and her entire pack…including their pups on accident which ends up destroying the last bit of namjoon's innocence as a person…and he ends up becoming one of the families assassins alongside jimin as a result, in this event jungkook does not stay with them and instead moves on and yoongi stays and tries to get them to stop only to ask them to kill him as their last kill because he's unable to cope with the loss of jin, hobi, the m/c and tae. BUT ANYWAY I DIGRESS THAT IS NOT THIS STORY.

i think in this story there is this really interesting dynamic of femininity and death and morality- that being said red nail polish is definitely a metaphor for whose comfortable killing and who isn't. i like the contrast between tae who will never wear red nails again- vs the moon pack who all are not allowed out of the nest if their nailpolish isn't perfect like- thats another layer of the fucked up shit.

are you suprised that the m/c is going to leave? Did you see it coming from a mile away? i mean...it is in the title of the series 😈

….the parallel between hobi losing his voice and the m/c not having a voice at the beginning of the series- you can project whatever meaning you want onto that <3

also on that subject the line "Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival." it's worth mentioning that thats not what i think is the most necessary thing to their survival but it is their own interpretation of what keeps them alive. like i for one actually think that the m/c is a lot more pragmatic than anyone gives her credit for but i digress. i could go on about all of their strenghts.

what did you guys think about hobi's secret reveal???? a fair amount of people have guessed it and i think when someone got it at the beginning of the series i lied and said it wasn't- i'm allowed to be an unreliable narrator too!!! kudos to everyone who got it! i feel like it could have been revealed better and originally the big one off was slated for next chapter but i decided to shift it to this one (mostly because i think the next chapter is about to get up there in terms of word count tbh 😭) but T-T its done now! please give me praise because i'm baby and this week has honestly been really hard

[its-avalon-08]

why did you leave me (cl16)

part5! BONUS SCENE - CHARLES'S BREAKUP

multipart story! prev || next

summary : charles and y/n have always been best friends. but y/n has been in love with him forever. when charles starts dating a new girl, out of respect y/n distances herself. but how much is too much?

✦ pairing - charles leclerc x female reader

The sun had set over Monaco, casting long shadows across Charles' apartment. The tension in the air was palpable as Charles paced back and forth, waiting for Camille to arrive. They needed to talk, and he knew it wasn't going to be easy.

When Camille finally walked through the door, Charles could immediately sense her irritation. She tossed her bag onto the couch and crossed her arms, glaring at him.

"What is it, Charles? Why did you want to talk?" Camille snapped, her tone dripping with annoyance.

Charles took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. "We need to discuss us, Camille. Things haven't been right between us for a while now."

"Oh, so now you notice?" Camille shot back, rolling her eyes. "It took you long enough."

"I've noticed, Camille. But I've also noticed how you've been treating Y/N," Charles said, his voice rising slightly. "And it's not okay."

Camille's eyes narrowed. "Y/N? This is about Y/N? Of course, it is. You're always so concerned about her. Maybe if you spent half as much time worrying about our relationship as you do about her, we wouldn’t be having this conversation."

"Y/N is my best friend," Charles retorted, his anger bubbling up. "And you’ve been nothing but hostile towards her."

"Best friend?" Camille scoffed. "More like the other woman. She’s always around, always in your life. It’s pathetic, Charles."

"Stop it, Camille," Charles warned, his voice cold. "Y/N has done nothing to deserve your insults."

"She’s a meddling little bitch," Camille spat, her face twisted with contempt. "Always trying to come between us. No wonder she doesn't have anyone else. She's just a lonely, desperate girl who can't stand to see us happy."

Charles felt his blood boil. "That's enough, Camille. Y/N is not the problem here. You are."

"Me?" Camille laughed bitterly. "You’re blaming me for everything now? Maybe if you weren't so obsessed with Y/N, we’d still be happy."

"We were never fucking happy," Charles shouted, his frustration boiling over. "Not really anyway. And now I see why. All you wanted was to attend those fancy lunches and parties, take pictures for your godforsaken social media and you never had time for me. Just me. "

Charles took a deep breath, trying to keep his anger in check. "Y/N isn't even around that much anymore, Camille. How can you still make her out to be the villain in all of this?"

Camille's eyes gleamed with a sadistic satisfaction as she leaned in closer. "Because even when she's not around, she's all you ever think about. Face it, Charles, she's the ghost that haunts our relationship, and you're too blind to see it."

"Well, let me make it clear for you. I’ve been seeing someone else. For months now. Because I couldn't stand being second to your precious Y/N," Camille sneered.

Charles felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him. "You what?" he whispered, the betrayal cutting deep.

"That’s right," Camille said, a twisted smile on her face. "I’ve been cheating on you. And guess what? I’m leaving you for him. You can have your little friend all to yourself."

Charles clenched his fists, trying to control his anger. "Get out," he said through gritted teeth. "Get the fuck out of my apartment."

"Gladly," Camille retorted, grabbing her bag. "Good luck with your perfect little Y/N. You’re going to need it."

As she stormed out, slamming the door behind her, Charles sank onto the couch, his mind reeling. The room was silent except for the sound of his ragged breathing. He felt a mix of rage, betrayal, and overwhelming sadness.

Charles picked up his phone, his hands trembling. He wanted to call Y/N, to hear her voice, but he knew it wouldn't be fair to drag her into this mess. She had left him, his best friend was gone, his girlfriend had cheated on him and he was so utterly alone. He stared at the screen, lost in a sea of emotions.

Finally, he whispered to himself, "I have no one."

As the night wore on, Charles realized that he had to make things right. Not just with Y/N, but with himself. He had to face his feelings, confront the pain, and find a way to move forward. And he knew, deep down, that Y/N was the only person who could help him do that.

taglist : @hiireadstuff @starz4me1 @f1fantasys @aundercoverosh @ohthemisssery @ggaslyp1 @hadids-world @matcha---matcha @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @timmychalametsstufff @janeh22 @ironmaiden13133 @majusialikesfastcarss @sunnytkm23

[billiesguitar]

Fuckboy!Billie x Nerdy!Reader | Au Masterlist

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Moodboards

How they first met...

You'd never been one for partying. You loved hanging out with your friends but the whole club scene was never your vibe. But tonight was different. You'd been dragged out of your dorm by your friends because "You never go out!" and "You need to live a little!" So you found yourself at a party, feeling out of place and a bit overwhelmed by the loud music, flashing lights, and the press of bodies around you. You'd been sipping on a drink for what felt like hours, trying to blend into the background and hoping no one would notice you.

And then you saw her. Billie Eilish, the girl everyone talked about at college. You weren't one to date but your friends did always talk about her, warning you to never ever cross her path. She was known to be a player. Yet, you weren't worried, its not like she even knew who you were, or so you thought.

Your friends, dispersed throughout the party, leaving you alone in a corner with your drink. You made your way to the empty kitchen and sat on one of the marble counter tops. That's when the door opened and immediately you knew who it was by the back of her baseball cap. She said a final word to whoever she was talking to before turning her attention back to the kitchen, to you. She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest, smirking.

"You know you're not supposed to be in here." she said, her voice was deeper than you'd imagined, and sent a shiver down your spine.

"I'm just taking a break." you replied, trying to sound calm despite the racing of your heart.

"A break from what? Having fun?" she took a step closer, her dark eyes piercing through the dim light.

"I don't do this kind of thing." you said, taking a sip of your drink.

"Don't do what? Party?" she took another step closer, the smell of her perfume, something sweet and musky, filling your nostrils.

"No, I mean, I guess sometimes." you gestured to the party outside.

"What do you do?" she tilted her head, her curiosity peaking.

"I just… I don't know, I'm not like a party person."

"What makes you say that?" she was closer now, looking you over.

You looked away, playing with the hem of your shirt. "I'm just not into… that."

"What are you into?" she questions, stepping closer to refill her drink with the stuff on the table.

"I'm into… books and music and movies… I don't know, just chilling."

Her smirk grew, "Books, huh?" she took a swig from her cup, watching you over the rim. "What do you read?"

"Everything, I guess. But I'm really into mystery and romance." you admit, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Hmm." she tilts her head and smirks, stepping a bit closer. "What's your favorite movie, hm?"

You blush at the question, "I don't have just one."

"Liar." she says with a chuckle, "Everyone has one, tell me."

"Okay, okay, if I had to pick… it's probably the whole Scream franchise."

She bites her lip in a way that makes your whole body warm. "Scream…interesting."

You look up at her, feeling the heat from her body and the intensity of her gaze. "What's yours?"

"Mines probably-" She gets cut off by some girl bursting through the door, "m'Billie!" she slurs, clearly drunk. Billie rolls her eyes and turns back to you, "Sorry I gotta take care of this, I never got your name." "My name? uhm, Y/n." you answer shyly. "Alright, I'll see you 'round, okay?"

You nodded, feeling a bit disappointed, but she didn't leave. Instead she leaned in and whispered into your ear, her breath hot against your skin. "Don't go anywhere."

You watch her leave, feeling the heat of her words linger. You're not sure what she means by it, but something in her tone makes your heart race. You decide to stay put, taking another sip of your drink, hoping she'd come back.

in the meantime you continued drinking. Quite a bit actually. By the time Billie comes back, you're feeling a bit tipsy.

"You still here?" she asks, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Yeah," you nodded, "I'm drunk, I think."

Her eyes widened for a moment before she chuckles, "You're adorable."

"What?"

"Nothing," she says, taking the cup from your hand. "You've had enough of that."

You pouted, but she didn't give it back. "Give it back!" you whine, reaching for it.

But she's too fast, placing it on the counter out of your reach. You were never one to drink much, but you got caught up.

"Come on," she says, taking your hand, "Let's go."

You stumble as she leads you out of the kitchen and through the party. You're not sure where you're going, but you don't care. You just want to be with her.

The party is loud and you feel like you're in a daze. Billie leads you down the hallway and into a balcony. You both sit down, "what are we doing here?" you ask, a bit confused. "You smoke?" Billie pulls out some pre-rolls out of her pocket, she reaches into the pocket again to take out her lighter but doesn't seem to find it. So you reach into your own bag and pull out a hello kitty one. "No but my friends do." you say, handing it over.

"Perfect," she says, taking it and lighting one up. She takes a drag and offers it to you.

You hesitate before taking it, feeling the warm smoke fill your lungs. You cough a bit, not used to it, but she just chuckles, patting your back gently.

"Thanks," you murmur, passing it back to her.

"So, Y/n," she says, her eyes on you as she takes another drag, "You got a boyfriend?" she passes the blunt. "Uhm, no-" you chuckle and take a drag, "I'm uhh, on the other side of things."

Her eyebrows shoot up, "Oh really?" she takes the blunt back, "So you're into girls then?"

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"What about me?" she asks, her voice a low purr that makes you want to lean closer.

You swallow hard, "Yeah, I guess."

"Just guess?" she smirks, taking a hit before leaning in closer, "You guess you want this?" she says, her voice a whisper that sends your heart racing.

You nodded, your eyes locked on her lips.

Without warning, she presses her mouth against yours, her hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You melt into the kiss, feeling your inhibitions slipping away as the alcohol and the thrill of the moment take over. She tastes like mint and a hint of something else, something sweet and addicting.

Her tongue slides into your mouth and you moan, your hand coming up to grip her shirt. She pulls back, chuckling. "Good, because I don't do vanilla."

Before you can ask what she means, she's on her feet, pulling you up with her. She leads you to the bedroom, the party sounds fading away as the door shuts behind you.

The room is dimly lit, with the glow of a lava lamp casting shadows across the walls. She turns to face you, her eyes dark and intense.

"Take your shirt off," she commands.

You obey, fumbling with the buttons before it falls to the floor. She takes a step closer, running her hands over your bare skin, leaving a trail of fire wherever she touches. She reaches behind you, unhooking your bra with a swift motion. It falls away and she palms your breasts, her thumbs flicking over your nipples until they're hard, making you gasp.

"Good girl," she murmurs, her teeth grazing your earlobe. "Now, the pants."

You obey again, letting your jeans fall to the floor. She steps back, eyeing you hungrily. "You're so pretty," she says, her voice thick with desire.

"Thank you," you whisper, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

"You don't have to thank me," she says, her voice firm.

"turn around and get on the bed"

You comply, feeling the coolness of the bed underneath you. You lay down on your stomach, your heart pounding in your chest. You feel her climb on the bed, her weight shifting the mattress.

"Spread your legs," she orders.

You do as she says, feeling a rush of excitement and fear.

Her hand slides down your body, her fingertips brushing over your panties before she hooks them down and off your legs, leaving you bare. Her hand caresses your skin, moving over your ass and down your thighs before sliding between your legs. She runs her fingers through your wetness, making you moan into the pillow.

"So responsive," she says, her voice a mix of amusement and approval.

Her fingers continue to explore, pushing into you with a firmness that makes you gasp. You're so turned on, you can feel yourself getting wetter.

"Billie," you moan, arching your back.

"Mm, I like that," she says, her voice thick with lust.

Her hand moves away and you hear the sound of a drawer opening and closing. When she touches you again, it's with her strap on. It's cold at first, but quickly warms as she presses it against you.

"You've never had one of these before, have you?" she asks.

You shake your head, your eyes wide with anticipation.

"Good," she says, "You're going to love it."

With one hand, she holds the base of the strap on, the other hand caressing your back, her breath hot against your neck as she whispers, "Ready?"

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. She positions herself behind you, aligning herself with your entrance.

"Remember, you're mine tonight," she says, pushing into you slowly.

You gasp, the feeling of being filled so suddenly overwhelming. She's rough, but not too much. She knows exactly what she's doing, and it's clear she's not new to this. She starts to move, her hips rocking back and forth, her hand reaching around to play with your clit as she fucks you deeper.

"Yes," you moan, pushing back against her.

"That's it, baby," she encourages, her voice a low growl.

Her movements become more erratic, her thrusts deeper and harder. "m'fuck!" you shout into the pillow.

"You like that?" she asks, her breath hot on your skin.

"Yes, yes," you pant, your body responding to her every touch.

"Good girl, so responsive." she praises, her hand smacking your ass, leaving a stinging sensation that only adds to your arousal.

You can feel yourself getting closer, your body tightening around her. She reaches down and grabs your hair, pulling your head back.

"Look at me," she commands.

You turn your head to look into her eyes, seeing the desire and dominance in them.

"Come for me," she says, her voice a demand.

And just like that, you do. Your body shakes with the force of your orgasm, your pussy clenching around her strap-on. She continues to fuck you through it, not letting up until you're a quivering mess beneath her.

When she's done, she pulls out and flips you over, straddling your chest. She unbuckles the strap-on and tosses it aside. Billie's hand wraps around your neck, she presses her lips to yours, kissing you deeply, tasting yourself on her tongue.

Billie stands up and starts to put on her clothes, but not before writing her number on an orange post-it note and jokingly sticking it on your chest.

"Call me," she says, before leaving the room.

[slytherinshua]

SLEEP IS THE BEST MEDICINE

genre. fluff. sickfic. warnings. reader is sick (sore throat/coughing). mention of food. pairing. seungkwan x fem!reader. wc. 1.4k. request. no. a/n. for @wheeboo who is sick and so i had to write her a sickfic smh (i love her sm pls feel better soon lovely)

As soon as you heard the buzzing of your phone breaking through your attempt at sleep, panic filled your body. One glance at the caller ID confirmed everything, and you shut your eyes tightly, trying to muster up all your energy and a half-decent attempt to get your normal voice back before you answered.

Of course your boyfriend would be calling to check where you were. You were supposed to meet him 30 minutes ago. Not only had you forgotten all about the date you had planned days in advance, but you had also managed to get sick since the last time you had seen him (and forgot to tell him about it).

Seungkwan’s voice sounded cheery as soon as you picked up the call, “Hey, love! Is the traffic bad or something? I’m at the restaurant— people keep giving me looks cause they think I’m dining alone.”

A small smile crept onto your face as you imagined the scene, guessing that your boyfriend probably wore a pout on his face just by the tone of his voice.

“About that… I kind of forgot?” You started to explain, your voice coming out in a painful rasp even as you tried your best to clear your throat.

“Are you sick? You sound awful.” Seungkwan asked hurriedly, completely ignoring what you were trying to tell him. You tried to think of a good excuse to give him, but the silence in response to his question already gave Seungkwan his answer.

“You are sick, aren’t you! Why didn’t you tell me?” He scolded lightly. You could imagine vividly the way he usually pursed his lips in disapproval, and a sigh left your lips. You had really been looking forward to the date, now that you remembered that it had been scheduled. It had been weeks since you spent more than an hour or so with Seungkwan, and you missed him so badly.

“I’m sorry, Kwannie. Can we reschedule it? I still want to go with you.” You said softly, clearing your throat between sentences in failed attempts to stop the uncomfortable scratching every time you talked. 

A dinner date with your boyfriend at a seaside restaurant was exactly what you wished you could be doing right now. If only you hadn’t gotten sick at exactly the wrong time, you would be enjoying a fancy meal across from him right about now. You knew the night would have led to a walk along the shoreline under the moonlight— something that you never got tired of. And it would have been chilly enough for you to justify stealing Seungkwan’s jacket (you really just loved it because it smelled like him, and was so perfectly oversized on you).

“Of course. That’s not even a question.” He replied with a tsk, wondering why you would even have to ask that with such a regretful tone. The night certainly wasn’t ruined for him, even though he had been looking forward to the date as much as you had. “I’ll come over. We can still eat dinner together, okay?”

Your heart melted at his suggestion, though you were tentative to accept immediately. Logically, you should probably stay away from him just in case he got sick too; but you wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms and sleep. You opened your mouth to start protesting, your mind finally winning over your heart, but then you remembered how stubborn your boyfriend was. Even if you forbid him from coming in your front door, he would probably scale the side of the house and sneak in through one of the windows just to get to you.

With a cough, and a small ‘okay’, you hung up the call and let your head hit the pillow again. You swiped over to your phone camera, frowning when you saw how you looked. Seungkwan would probably arrive still in his date outfit, looking as charming and handsome as he always did— and here you were looking like a complete mess under your blankets. From your tired eyes to your tangled hair to the patches of skin that were breaking out on your face due to the cold weather, you would look almost disgraceful next to your boyfriend.

You itched to get up and put on makeup before he arrived, but you knew he would notice right away and be absolutely appalled. You were too tired to put in the effort either way. It was silly for you to still care so much about how you looked even after dating Seungkwan for years, but you still wanted to look pretty for him. You forced your mind to give yourself a little grace about your appearance. It was absurd to expect to look your best while sick.

Seungkwan arrived sooner than you expected, announcing his presence at the door in a sing-song voice. You croaked out that you were in your bedroom as loudly as you could with how painful it was to talk and hoped that he was able to hear you. He knocked on your door a mere second later, opening it slowly. He had a goofy loving smile on his face and a plastic bag in one hand. You couldn’t help but mirror his smile as soon as you saw him.

“I got some soup on the way. It’s supposed to help with colds.” He explained eagerly, setting down the bag on your bedside table and taking out a large container of soup. He opened up the lid to let it start cooling before turning his attention back to you.

“My sweet girl. I only left you for 1 week and you still managed to get sick in that time.” He teased fondly, sitting on the edge of your bed where he could easily reach to tuck away the hair that fell over your forehead. You only frowned in response, trying to rest your voice as much as possible. It was easier to communicate non-verbally when your boyfriend could see all your facial expressions.

“Sit up a bit so I can feed you.” Seungkwan instructed with a smile, grabbing the container of soup and spooning out some to blow on.

“I can feed myself.” You whispered.

Seungkwan locked eyes with you, “I know, but let me feed you anyway. You never let me do anything for you.” You scoffed lightly at his response, although it made your chest buzz with warmth. It was clear that the opportunity to pamper and take care of you excited Seungkwan. Knowing your boyfriend, it didn’t surprise you.

The soup was soothing on your sore throat, and just the fact that Seungkwan was right there feeding you each spoonful gave you the energy to actually finish the bowl. He told you about his past week as he fed you, making sure that each bit of soup was sufficiently cooled before it reached your mouth. He gave you a proud smile once you had eaten the last bit of soup, despite how unimpressive the feat had been— certainly not one deserving of such praise.

“You look tired.” Seungkwan commented softly, setting aside the empty container of soup back on the table and adjusting your blanket to cover your entire body again. You hummed a little in response, already letting your eyes flutter closed. As soon as you felt the tiniest bit of motion, though, your hand flew out to clutch your boyfriend’s shirt tightly.

“Don’t leave.” You pleaded, earning light laughter from your boyfriend.

“I was only going to go wash out the container, but I guess that’ll have to wait.” He already knew exactly what you wanted just by your eyes. He wasn’t one to deny you anything when you were already feeling under the weather, so he shifted over to the other side of the bed where there was space for him to lie down and draped an arm around your body.

“If I get sick from this, you have to take care of me, too, okay?” 

“Okay.” You closed your eyes again, shifting closer to him half a centimetre at a time in an attempt to be discreet. Of course, he noticed right away and pulled you closer before you were even halfway done closing the distance.

“Sleep. Sleep is the best medicine.” He urged you quietly. It was already a million times easier to fall asleep next to him, but as soon as he started humming old lullabies, the task became almost effortless. You were curled up in his chest before too long; the sound of his singing making its way into your dreams.

↳ svt taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @minholing,, @shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @wonwooz1,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @haecien,, @amara-mars,, @okshu

[jjkamochoso]

Hii!! I love your headcannons they are so adorable 😭

Can you maybe do one "how the jjk men will confess"??

Have a nice day!! ♡♡

Oh my gosh thank you so much😭 I’m glad you’re enjoying them!! Here’s your request—I hope you like it!!❤️

JJK Men and How They Confess They Like You

Warnings: slight cussing in Inumaki’s

Yuji: confesses during movie night

Since he’s such a happy go lucky guy, I think Yuji would definitely not realize he had a crush on one of his friends until the realization randomly struck him like a freight train because he just really enjoyed your company and didn’t think too much about how close you were. He didn’t know he was going to confess to you tonight, but when his feelings for you dawned on him, he couldn’t hold back.

“Ready to watch the movie?” he asked, a wide smile plastered on his face. You nodded and he started the film, snuggling into his seat. He didn’t know why, but tonight felt… different. When your fingers collided in the popcorn bowl, he was reluctant to pull away from your warm touch. He felt himself slowly move closer to you as the movie continued on. During a particularly gruesome scene, you found yourself yelping and shoving your face into his side while Yuji’s heart started beating faster than he ever thought possible. From that point on, Yuji understood that these feelings meant he had developed a huge crush on you. While the credits rolled, Yuji looked you dead in the eyes.

“Y/n, I really like you.”

“I’m here watching Human Earthworm with you, of course I like you too, Yuji.”

“Not like that,” he blurted, blushing slightly, “well, I mean yeah, I like you, but I also like like you. I think you’re really cute.”

“Well, you’re in luck, Itadori,” you replied to him, smiling softly and taking his hand. “I think you’re really cute too.”

Megumi: confesses accidentally

We all know Fushiguro can be a tad bit moody at times (and we love him for that!) and this attitude seeps into his love life as well. I can totally see him having a crush for a very long time and even taking that secret to the grave with him! However, in the heat of the moment of getting a bit frustrated with you, he accidentally tells you how he truly feels!

You and Megumi were polar opposites and you were extremely talented at getting under his skin. Of course, your teasing was all in good fun and you never took it too far (until today, that is).

“Aww, our little puffer fish is getting mad! You guys, we better watch out! The porcupine is gonna launch his needles at us!” You, Nobara, and Yuji were almost on the ground due to laughing too much while Megumi was royally pissed.

“Ugh! Y/n! You’re so frustrating, I don’t know why I love you!”

It got eerily quiet. Megumi would’ve loved the silence any other time except for the fact he just told you he loved you, out loud, in front of all his classmates. His face turned beet red as he hightailed it out of there, rushing to his room as fast as his legs could carry him. You and your friends looked at each other, all with wide eyes and gaping mouths.

“I guess this is the part where you go after him?” suggested Nobara and you agreed, chasing after Megumi. You took a shortcut across campus and beat him to his room, blocking the door so he had to face you.

“Megumi, wait,” you said, between pants from running so hard, “I’m sorry I made you bare your feelings like that in front of everyone but you have to know I feel the same.”

Yuta: confesses on a holiday

Yuta, imo, is the BIGGEST romantic! This lil lover boy would love to confess his feelings for you during the magic of any holiday you celebrate, no matter if it was Christmas or Greenery Day.

In the month leading up to your birthday, Yuta decided he finally wanted to confess his feelings for you so he began to plan out everything he needed to make sure the day was as special as you are. Enlisting the help of Maki, Panda, and Toge, he was able to figure out all of your favorite things, from food to colors to games, and went searching around the city to make sure he had everything he needed for the big day. When your birthday finally came and you had no plans, you were delighted when Yuta invited you to a game night at his room. When he opened the door to let you in, you were greeted with decorations in your favorite color, a spread of all your favorite foods, and your favorite board games were stacked up in the corner, waiting to be played. You were in complete shock when he presented you with a bouquet of flowers as well, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Happy birthday, y/n. I hope you like it.” He took a deep breath and then cleared his throat before speaking again. “I also wanted to tell you that I really like you. I’ve had a crush on you for a long time and I hope this isn’t too forward but I would love to take you on a date sometime if you’ll let me.”

You were trying not to cry as you took the bouquet from him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, his face tinting a slight pink. Yuta was the best gift you could ask for!

Inumaki: confesses with a boombox and a sign

Inumaki had it harder than anyone at the school with his inability to communicate in a conventional way and I feel like that would frustrate him a lot in his love life. I see him as the type of person to have lots of fun, though, and be super cheesy with his crush!

Inumaki couldn’t stand it anymore, he had to tell you how he felt. And by tell you, he was going to use words in a way he hoped you’d never seen before! On a warm Saturday night, you opened a text from Inumaki.

9:42 pm

From: Toge👅

u up? come to ur window

You had no idea what this was about but knowing Toge, you knew it’d be worth it. You sent back a “k😂” and were ready to open your blinds when you heard music blasting outside your room. Your window was opened in a flash and you were met with a sight you prayed never left your mind. Toge was standing there, a boombox held over his head and a shit eating grin on his face. Just like an 80’s movie, Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” was the song of choice for the evening. You were absolutely shocked by this declaration of love, but even more so when he put down the stereo and picked up some handwritten signs.

“I have a… major crush…on you… will you… go out… with me?” You read as he quickly shuffled through the pile.

“Yes! I will!” you yelled out, but he cupped his hand to his ear to gesture you to speak louder as the song was still blaring next to him. You laughed and rolled your eyes as you ran outside, turning off the music.

“Of course I’ll go out with you.”

Noritoshi: confesses as a secret admirer

Noritoshi seems like the type to never waste time on futile things like crushes, especially when his focus is on bettering himself as clan heir. However, if he does fall in love, I think of him as a secret admirer who anonymously confesses his feelings in notes.

Your heart quickened its pace when you noticed another neatly folded paper sticking out of your bag after packing up your things in the library. You had been receiving love notes from a secret admirer and you were over the moon about it! Written on the various papers had been poems, observations, and sweet words from which the mouth (or, I guess hand) is still a mystery to you. This time was no different as you unfolded a poem and a pressed flower. From across the room, Noritoshi stared you down, gauging your reaction to his letter. You seemed to like it! He felt his heart flutter and was torn between wishing this nagging feeling whenever he saw you would go away while also relishing in the idea that he was capable of being loved. He quickly turned back to his notes as he noticed you approaching his desk.

“Hey Kamo! I was wondering, do you know whose handwriting this might be?” you asked sweetly, handing him the note. He tried to act as nonchalant as possible as he skimmed it over, pretending to think. He shook his head.

“Nope. He seems to—I mean THEY seem to—really like you. I’m sorry, I wish I could help more but I’m studying at the moment.”

“Okay. Well, thanks anyway! I’m sure I’ll see you around,” you said, glancing down at the handwritten notes he was slyly trying to conceal. As you walked away, you smirked, knowing exactly who your secret admirer was.

Todo: confesses during a fight with a curse

I know this man has no hesitations and grabs life by the reins!! I think Todo would waste no time trying to gain your attention whenever he’s training or fighting a curse, hoping he could woo you with his wit and muscles. Since he’s able to get good reads on people, I could see him lowkey trying to confirm you liked him back before he asked you out to avoid any undue awkwardness (not that he’d feel any shame—I don’t think he has an ounce of that in his body). One day, while working on a particularly tiresome mission, Todo decided that now was the best time to confess his crush on you.

“Y/n-chan! I have an urgent question to ask you!” he yelled to you as you two were busy hitting the curse you were sent to kill.

“What’s wrong? you asked, concerned he’d hurt himself or something.

“Did you notice how perfect you looked before you left the house today?”

You faltered, stunned by Todo’s words. When the curse lunged at you, Todo switched places with you and landed the final blow as the curse finally lay dead. You shook your head in confusion.

“Todo, what are you talking about?”

“Y/n,” he said, in an uncharacteristically toned down voice, “I really like you. You’re a gorgeous person and I was wondering if you’d allow me to take you on a date.”

You released a sigh of relief, a huge smile on your face.

“I thought you would never ask! I would love nothing more.”

In his excitement, Todo picked you up and spun you around. He couldn’t wait to treat you like the royalty you are!

Gojo: confesses nervously

I know a lot of people think Gojo would be able to put on the moves to woo someone without a problem, but I think when it came down to truly baring his heart, Gojo would have a very difficult time. That’s why I see him as a nervous confessor. Not quite able to find the right words, but tries nonetheless.

Gojo had unique ways of showing his love for people he deeply cared about. One of those ways was flaunting his immense wealth. That’s how you, his closest colleague, found yourself invited to dinner with him at one of Tokyo’s fanciest restaurants. You were no stranger to Gojo’s jokingly flirtatious ways, but tonight felt different. It seemed like he was actually giving you genuine compliments, and every time you returned the favor, he would look away, a feeling of warmth spreading through his face and down his neck. Finally, when dessert came around, Gojo knew he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Y/n, we’ve been friends for a long time, and I’ve loved every second of it. I just… I’ve been lying to you. And to myself. I…” He took a few deep breaths, trying to compose himself. You reached over the table to take hold of his hand and his heart was absolutely racing at the touch.

“Satoru, whatever it is, it’s okay,” you reassured him. He took in another swallow of air as he lifted off his blindfold to look you in your eyes.

“What I’m trying to say is, I’ve fallen for you, y/n. I hope you understand what I mean.” His bright blue eyes were shining in a way you’d never seen before but hoped you could witness time and time again.

“I understand you, Satoru, I always have. I love you too.”

Geto: confesses while out on a walk

I believe Suguru to be the suavest out of all the JJK men. As he got older, his air of nonchalance leads me to believe that if he caught feelings, he’d be quick to tell the person how he feels and would do so in a classic, mature way.

You had been part of Geto’s group of curse users for a long time and had been close with the leader himself for most of that time. One day, while you were training your cursed technique, Suguru was watching you with great interest. When you were finished, you were greeted with clapping hands and a big smile.

“Y/n! Great job as always. Come, take a walk with me,” he said, motioning you over to him. You obliged, taking hold of his outstretched arm. You two talked about random things you had dealt with throughout the week, feeling weights being lifted off your shoulders by being able to talk through these things with someone else. Geto was thrilled you had understood him and his worldview all those years ago because he felt like he finally had someone he could trust again. As you two made your way along the path, Geto stopped to pick a wildflower and presented it to you.

“I have lots of respect for you, y/n. I appreciate all the time we have spent together over the years and now I have something to confess. I believe I’ve fallen in love with you.” He gently brushed a piece of hair away from your face and placed the flower behind your ear. “Please let me know if you feel the same. If you don’t, I promise to never make mention of this again.”

You reached your hands up to cup Geto’s face, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone.

“I’m in love with you too… Suguru.”

Nanami: confesses over breakfast

Nanami is definitely another classically romantic man. I feel like he would be hesitant to tell you how he feels since the life of a jujutsu sorcerer is not easy and only ends in suffering, but eventually he would come to the conclusion that he’d rather live without any more regrets so he’d keep the confession simple with an act of service.

Nanami knew you like the back of his hand. He knew all your likes and dislikes, your favorite songs, what cat breeds you thought were the cutest. He also knew you were hopelessly, chronically late to work. As someone who respects the sanctity of time, he could never understand you (the biggest mystery was how a teacher who lived on campus could be late to work almost everyday), but he liked to help you out anyway. He would always pick up breakfast from his favorite cafe and leave it on your desk for you to enjoy. Today was a late start day for the school, and since he knew you so well, knew you wouldn’t have checked your email to see you didn’t need to come in at your normal time so when you came barreling in a minute before class started, you were greeted by Nanami sitting on your desk.

“It’s a late start day,” he said, a ghost of a smile on his lips. You groaned in frustration.

“Of course it is! The one time I’m here on time,” you grumbled, sitting next to him.

“You’re cute when you’re disgruntled,” Nanami said, blushing when he realized he said that out loud. You tilted your head at him.

“I’m only cute when I’m disgruntled?” you teased, “That’s too bad. I think you’re cute all the time.” Nanami couldn’t believe what he just heard. You actually liked him back? He gestured to the bags and two coffees that were laid out on another desk.

“I brought us breakfast. May I join you to see if I think you’re cute while you’re eating?”

Choso: confesses with a plushie !! ^^

Oh my GOD I think Choso would have no clue what to do when he realized he liked you so who would he turn to for guidance? Yuji of course! And I think Yuji would suggest buying you a plushie instead of Choso’s suggestion of a wedding ring (at least he’s passionate🤷‍♀️).

Choso decided to drop by your office at the Tokyo jujutsu school to tell you he liked you and give you your gift. He sat on the floor next to the door, the plushie being held with a death grip in his large hands. As soon as he spotted you walking down the hallway, he clamored to get up.

“Choso! Hi! I wasn’t expecting you! Yuji just got out of class if you want to go see him,” you said, giving him a kind smile. Choso was extremely nervous but trying not to show it.

“Actually, I’m here for you. Y/n,” he got down on one knee, thrusting the plushie toward your shocked face, “you are unlike any person I have met before. You have taken over every one of my thoughts and my heart is no longer my own—it belongs to you. Please, will you accept this token of my love?” The token in question was a dog plushie with a bone in its mouth that said “I ruff you!” You took the plushie from his hands as he looked longingly in your eyes.

“I really like you, Choso. Of course I’ll accept it.”

[delphi-shield]

push and pull // leon s. kennedy & jill valentine

Leon x Reader x Jill Smut wc: 2,860 mdni - 18+ read on ao3

the plumber at my house reading this over my shoulder: 😲 this has been in my drafts for like two months, i finally ripped the bandaid off and touched it up. i cant believe people want the jill/leon ship name to be jilleon when 'breakfast sandwich' is right there. ohh nooo i had to cut the scene where they high-five after you cum...... guess i'll have to write more jill and leon......what a tragedy.....

summary: Jill said she'd be home two hours ago. She's stood you up for dinner again. You're so upset, Leon's got to fuck you about it to make you feel better.

content: fem!reader, all porn no plot, piv (reader receiving), some praise from leon & some degradation from jill, spit, crying, hair-pulling, masturbation, blowjob, dom!jill, use of strap-on, established poly relationship, sorry yeah there's more religious imagery, stealing the jill & leon dynamic from this post, fucking your relationship problems away does not work and you should not attempt. very loosely proofread.

Jill's late.

She promised. You cooked, you cleaned, and she promised she would be here. Bought a special candle and everything, three wick, fresh linen scent. Not your kind of thing, but you know she likes those clean, bright smells.

The first half hour, you’d clung to the idea that her physical therapy appointment was just running late. Forty-five minutes in, three unanswered texts, your hope diminishes. An hour, and Leon’s helping you put the food up and clean the dishes.

Leon’s not exactly happy with Jill. This isn’t the first time she’s done this to you. He hates to see you pout. Even more than that, he hates to see the way you’re trying not to cry in front of him. He does everything he can think of to make you feel better. Watch one of your godawful shows with you, play with your hair for you, give you a nice bath if you wanted - none of his offers made much of a difference. He knows better than to take it personally. He’s not Jill. He can’t fix what she broke.

He can fuck you about it, though. That always seems to take your mind off things, at least for a little while. 

He let you use him however you like, dealer’s choice. You wanted him in the dining room chair, wanted to ride him slow, grind down on that fat cock till you unwound and your pretty tears weren’t because your girlfriend stood you up, and that’s what you’d get. Not his first choice, but he’s not the one who looks so pretty with those big, wet eyes.

The only downside is that you can't hear Jill's key turning in the door when Leon's got his cock stuffed so deep in your pussy you can feel him in your ribs, when you’re too busy rocking yourself to a gradual, slow-built end. You'd missed your ringtone too - and Leon's for that matter. You weren't intentionally being petty, but intentions never did soothe Jill's moods.

"Nice," she drawls, dropping her bag with a thud. "Real nice."

Your head falls back just enough to get a look at her, pouting in the doorway. Maybe it's supposed to be intimidating. Really, she just looks like a dejected cat, all puffed up for attention. The hand splayed on Leon’s chest flops back uselessly, reaching for her.

“Jill -”

Leon’s hips jut up, reminding you he's here, reminding you who's inside you. Whatever you were going to say melts away into a whine so pathetic even you want to roll your eyes.

"Got started without you," Leon says, callous on your behalf. His hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you back to him. It doesn’t take much prompting for you to curl back into his chest, walls fluttering around his cock, gripping him like your life depends on it. "Saved you some dinner. It’s in the fridge."

How can he be so casual? Feels like you’ve got lava running through your blood. His hands settle on your hips again, push-pulling you back and forth to get you to grind again. You oblige, faster than before, mouthing open kisses against his neck. They ought to canonize him for his patience, crown him Patron Saint of Not Plowing You Into The Carpet.

Jill doesn't say a word. She marches off to the bedroom, leaving her boots behind as she goes. Her cardigan gets flung over the couch - poor thing. It didn't do anything wrong.

She’ll come out when she’s ready, you tell yourself. Ignoring the ingrained need to manage Jill’s emotions for her is hard, but not quite as hard as Leon’s dick. Makes it a little easier to forget. You press your moans into Leon’s skin, let him have them for safekeeping.

Her footsteps pound back into the room. You don't know what she's done that's so funny, but Leon shakes with a laugh. You move to look, and his palm pressing against your cheek stops you. Something clatters onto the dining room table, a heavy thunk and buckles. He presses a light kiss to the crown of your head, strokes your hair.

"Go ahead and finish up, baby. Doin' so good. All yours."

It's all the permission you really need. It doesn’t take long - you’re good for him, after all. So good, you don't even need his help. You just need him to hold you up when that slow heat finally expands, spreads like fire through your limbs and leaves you making a mess of his lap, baptizing his cock with your release and moaning hymns for him.

You slump against him, eyes heavy and limbs loose. Your head nestles against his chest, his heart hammering like crazy. Poor guy. So patient. So sweet. You want to offer to take care of that for him - he's still inside you, sitting so still and so good, the stretch all you need. It feels like a bomb went off in your skull, though, scattered all your thoughts around the apartment. You need a moment before you can be considerate, before you can formulate any kind of offer. You reach up, pat his cheek gently to tell him how good he made you feel, lazily kiss at the hollow of his throat.

Jill's got plenty of words, though. She's not the one who just fell apart.

"You so needy you can't wait forty-five minutes?"

"Closer to an hour," Leon counters, and for the first time you hear the strain in his voice. "More like two, actually."

Jill’s irritation boils over. "Shut up. Why don't you go jerk off in the corner?"

After all, he's supposed to be on her side. He's the one who knows what this life is like, the one who knows what their work entails and the stress of it all.

He's also the one who texts when he's running late. He's the one still on active deployment, the one who hadn't been dodging home like the plague. He got over himself a year ago, figured ways to deal with his emotions that didn’t include running as fast as he could, drinking until they drowned, or working himself to the bone.

Jill’s still working on that part. Again - saint-like patience.

“Maybe I will,” he says, casual as he can. He jostles you in his arms. He’d say it’s to keep you awake, but it’s mostly to keep his dick hard. You pulse around him, groan into his t-shirt and drool a little dark patch onto his shirt.

You’re all soft and pliable when her hands slide up your sides, fingers curling in the spaces between your ribs. You lean back to her, longing for the softness of her tits under your head, and you glide back through the air unsupported, like you’ve faded through the ghost of her. Your head lolls back, pretty, pathetic pout on your swollen lips.

“Gonna be good?” She asks, staring down her nose at you, eyes half lidded. You nod your head. Her eyes narrow. “Words.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Shifting you off of Leon's lap is a group effort, one that Leon doesn't particularly care to be too enthusiastic about. His poor dick is lonely, and fucking his fist is a poor substitute for the sticky warmth of your cunt. Jill cradles you in here arms - the first hint of tenderness you've had from her all night - and settles you on the floor in front of the couch. She kicks your legs into position, sways back to appraise your form, and gives you a long-suffering sigh that's a far cry from approval.

"Whatever," she mutters under her breath. "It'll do. Don't move."

She shuffles off to the side. You hear the rustle of fabric. You turn your head to look, and -

"I said don't fuckin' move."

Your head snaps to the front again, hands fisted against the tops of your thighs. No arguing with that tone. Your back is ramrod straight. There's movement to your right, and Leon finally comes into view, settling against the far side of the couch. He's at least kind enough to give you a show, stroking his cock for you in long, slow strokes, massaging his palm over that shiny red tip and sliding his own fluid down to squeeze at the base. Makes your mouth water just looking at him.

Not that you have to wait long for a treat. Jill finishes her prep work, drags herself back over to the couch and drops down in front of you, strap-on making you go crosseyed.

“Go on,” she sighs, waving her hand lazily. Like she’s doing you a favor.

And she is. It’s a privilege to suck her strap.

You rock onto your knees and take too much of her at once, gag yourself right off the bat in your eagerness. They both groan, Jill in exasperation, Leon because holy fuck, if he hears you make that noise again he's going to blow his load immediately. His hand shucks his t-shirt up. He's not trying to stain this shirt with cum. Not his cum, anyway.

"Your mouth is so perfect for this," Jill says, leaning forward and fisting a hand in your hair, "and you're still so bad at it. Do I have to show you how to do everything?"

You nod uselessly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Jill rolls her eyes, smothers the hint of a smile that threatens to twist her lips up. She guides your head back to the head of her silicone cock and sets an easy pace for you. Lets you take it nice and slow, get accustomed to the weight of her cock on your tongue as if you haven't done this a hundred times - as if she knows you went too hard right off the bat just to get her to guide you like this.

"There you go," she drones, the praise feeling like anything but. You bob your head freely, her hand in your hair just a suggestion now. "Finally figured it out. Not as dumb you look."

You push further, tucking your thumb tight in your fist and gagging only a little when the head of her cock prods at the back of your throat. Leon's hips buck into his fist, quick and rhythmless, swearing under his breath. His leg kicks out, nudges Jill's calf and you swear she's going to snap at him.

Your eyes cut from Jill to Leon, a tear rolling down your cheek, and that’s the final push that has him cumming all over his stomach, head tipped back into the arm of the couch, pretty moans so loud, so perfect that it makes you feel your heartbeat in your pussy.

You don’t have time to savor the way that he looks, paint him in your mind and hang it up on the walls around your skull like a pin-up. Jill lifts you off her cock, stuffing her hands under your armpits like you’re a stray kitten. You would be, for her, if she asked. Let her slip a pretty collar around your neck, hope you’re lucky enough that it’s got a bell.

She doesn’t wait for Leon to recover, just manhandles the pair of you so your back is pressed to his chest, his cum smearing against your skin. Leon’s got that loose limbed laziness that comes with a release that built-up.

“Hold her,” Jill growls. “Stop fucking around.”

Leon's hands curled around the back of your thighs, spreading you wide for Jill. A warm chuckle rumbles through his chest and pours into you. His head ducks down, mouth by your ear.

“She's mad ‘cause I had you first.”

You turn your head, stifle your giggles in his shoulder. The silicone head of Jill's cock slides through your sopping folds, nudging at your clit. Her hips rock agonizingly slow. It’s tough to tell whether she’s teasing you or herself at this point, but your sensitive body twitches and jerks with every pass of her spit-slick cock.

“Gonna make a mess?” Her hand grips your jaw tight, pulling your face from Leon's shoulder. It’s less a question and more a demand. You nod as best you can in her grip, remember too late to try and bumble out words. She taps your cheek twice, hard enough to sting, hard enough to make those pretty eyes water again.

Jill doesn’t wait for you to say it. She enters you in a quick, jerky thrust, no hint of warning, your breath stuttering and back tensing. She rabbits her dick into you, your moans falling as staccato as her pace. Her head bows to spit a fat glob of spit onto your clit. Her fingers rub you frantically, a pace so at odds with the slow push and grind of her hips that it makes you burn. You try to squirm back, the way your blood starts to singe a little too quick for your liking, but there's nowhere to go when you're pressed so tight against Leon's broad chest.

His hand slithers up and over the point of your hip, pressing down firmly just below your navel. Betrayal. You thought he was on your side. Your whining sharpens into a moan that has to have rattled the windows. Jill huffs a laugh, low and cruel. She pulls back just far enough to leave you wanting - and when you claw at her shoulders to drag her back home she's already moving, hard and slow, the light dancing in front of your eyes, her hips driving the breath out of your lungs, your chest caving in. It feels like you've imploded, blood on fire, singeing your bones and leaving the ash to remember it by.

She’s not done. You promised her a mess. Your voice is splintered, her hips still driving into you. You don’t feel yourself gushing around her until it’s already happening. You sniffle, your moans choppy and your tears falling quick, humiliation warming the embers in your stomach. Her pace slows and finally stills, finally lets you find yourself in the pile of ashes.

"Already?" Jill mocks, hands rubbing your quivering thighs soft and sweet despite the way she sneers.

You want to scoff, but you haven’t got the breath. Already, she says, like she hadn’t just ripped that orgasm out of you fast enough that you’ve got cartoon tweety-birds spinning around your head.

“My turn,” Leon pipes up.

“Fuck off. You’re not even hard. I'm just getting started.”

“Shoulda thought about that before you made her cum.”

God, they’re like lions fighting over a piece of meat. You push yourself up on shaky arms, give Jill your best gazelle-trying-not-to-get-eaten pout.

“M’tired,” you slur, your brains thoroughly fucked out. You form a T with your hands, calling for a time-out. “Need a break.”

Jill looks like she wants to bite anyway. But you were good, used your good girl hand signal and everything. She sighs, her shoulders slumping, and loosens the straps around her hips.

“C’mere, pumpkin.” Leon gathers you into his arms easily. “Gonna get you all cleaned up. Tuck your ass in.”

You ache when he moves you, in places you weren’t quite sure could ache. It’ll be worse later. Always is. They always have to fuck you at some weird angle. Can’t ever let your muscles get used to it, like you’re some kind of glorified exercise equipment. At least they wipe you down after they use you. Very polite of them.

Leon hands you your water bottle and settles in behind you, slotting up against your back. He’s got the both of you cleaned off even though he seems just as tired as you, bless him. Say a prayer to the patron saint of the bedroom.

Jill found dinner, apparently. You hear the microwave beeping distantly and share an amused look with Leon. Sure enough, she’s got a bowl of food in her hand when she settles at the end of the bed, legs crossed.

The silence lays somewhere in-between battlefields, landmines hidden all around your bedroom. Everything you want to ask is too loaded, too heavy. You’re not even sure you have the energy to stay up for a serious conversation, much less an argument. Jill looks so soft right now, the bags under her eyes seeming lighter in the warm lamplight of your bedroom. You don’t want to see her eyes sharpen. You don’t want to hear her teeth click together when she bites back her words. You search for some other topic, something that will make the tension evident in her shoulders melt away.

"We should do one of those clone-a-willy kits," you murmur, eyes shut, head tipped into the pillow. You open your eyes just enough to gauge her reaction. Warmth blooms in your chest when you see her eyes crinkle and her smile lines deepen.

"Why?" Jill laughs.

"You don't wanna fuck me with Leon’s dick?"

It’s the first time you’ve heard Jill laugh like that in a while. Pride spreads in your tired little grin. Leon's cock gives a tired twitch against your thigh. He groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder blade.

“You two are gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

[coddda]

Light's relationship with his father is such a heartbreaking multi-faceted tragedy to me I hate it so so so much.

Soichiro loves his son so much, and while he's certainly not a perfect father I know that he cares deeply about Light. He wants to prove Light's innocence so badly but he can't let go of the underlying doubt that he might really be Kira and it gnaws at him. He does not know that from the very beginning he was being used by Light, whether it was to obtain information about the investigation, or to get to L, or to strengthen the foundations of his own lie that he wasn't Kira, this entire time he was simply another resource. He'll hang onto this doubt for years, even after L is dead, even if he doesn't express it in the latter half of the series, until he himself is on his deathbed, with what he believes to be undeniable proof that Light isn't Kira. (It's a lie, of course.) He dies happy, but it's on the foundations of blissful ignorance. His own son brought him here, brought him to the point where he had to sacrifice half of his own remaining life span, to his own death march, and was still trying to use him even now to kill someone else, but he doesn't know that. Soichiro said that what was evil was the power to kill others, and that whoever used it was cursed. Light was that cursed man, of course, and he tried to bring that curse onto Soichiro too by making him kill in his last moments. Soichiro was happy regardless, because he didn't know. He'll never know. (In the manga/anime at least. More on that later).

Light loves his father but it's not enough to turn him away from the terrible decisions he's made, if anything it only fuels them. His idea of "justice" is a twisted model of what he parroted from Soichiro, and he uses his father as another pawn (and a powerful one at that) in his plans. If he can prove that Kira is justice then perhaps his father will no longer call Kira, and therefore Light, evil, so he just needs to ensure that Kira becomes justice, right? It's Light's own actions that land his own father in the hospital for a stress-induced heart attack and yet he says only a few minutes later that he's the happiest he's ever been in his entire life. Even after Soichiro denounces Kira by calling him evil, even after he calls the Death Note's power evil, even after he unknowingly tells Light that he is cursed. When Soichiro dies Light is too deep in his own plans to actually properly process the fact that his own father is dying past what it means for his goals, but at the same time he still cares enough that after the fact he'll genuinely cry, only to brush it all away later. (Personally, I don't have a single doubt in my mind that Light's crying in that scene was genuine and I Will die on this hill). Soichiro had unknowingly denounced Light one last time just before his death, openly relieved that he "wasn't Kira after all", which also reveals that he has had doubts about Light this entire time, even after L died. By the time he's caught at the Yellow Box Warehouse Light will have denounced his father too, seeing him as someone who was made to be a fool, someone who was naive, even, too earnest for his own good. He won't realize that part of this description of his father might have applied to Light himself, back when this all started. Light takes after his father so much in so many ways already, so why not in this way too?

Ough. And honestly the other adaptations never miss out on this tragedy either, and I love them for that. (spoilers for the musical and 2006 live action movies I guess?)

In the musical we see Soichiro express his doubts and conflicts about who to believe, Light or L, if the son he raised really is a murderer, if everything he knows about him is just a lie. Like, there's an entire song about this, and you can tell how torn he is about it all, how badly he wants Light to be innocent but about how he also needs to face the truth no matter what it is, but at the end of it all he doesn't even get the answers he wants. At the end of the musical the only thing he finds is two corpses, Light's and L's, with no answers. No last words, no closure, only dead ends and a dead son and a grieving daughter. It's so awful I hate it here.

And the live action movie is fucking Insane. Like, wow. Okay. (Spoiler for the ending of Death Note The Last Name I guess) In the 2006 movies/novels Light writes Soichiro's name in the Death Note himself, and it's such an inconcievable move that it leaves even Misa shocked; Light tries to make Soichiro give him the Death Note for the last part of his plans, seeing his death as a "necessary sacrifice" (insert tangent essay about why I think 2006 live action movie Light is actually the most "coldhearted" Light Yagami, despite how infamous anime Light is). It doesn't work, and Soichiro does end up finding out that Light is Kira this time, and they have a confrontation, but he doesn't even sound truly hateful towards Light for it. He Never seems to outright hate Light for it, even after Light calls the whole confrontation a waste of time and instead tries to continue killing with the piece of the notebook in his watch, even after he tries to get Ryuk to kill everyone. When Ryuk inevitably writes Light's name and he collapses, Soichiro still reaches out for him and holds onto him as he's dying. Light literally dies in Soichiro's arms, still looking for the validation that he was right, that this wasn't all for nothing, that he was doing the good thing, trying to make Soichiro understand that he was trying to enact justice based on what he learned from him in the first place. Soichiro not only learns but sees for himself what his son has become, and Light dies in his arms leaving no closure for either of them. Soichiro will announce Light's death in L Change the WorLd on the news without saying his name, saying instead that it is only Kira who is dead, even though he and Light are one in the same. Sachiko and Sayu will never get to know the full truth about what happened to Light, instead Soichiro will lie and instead tell them: "Light was killed by Kira."

And then holy Shit the jdrama. If I write about it here this post is gonna literally double in length and also I don't really wanna spoil it but. Man. Man. If you watched it you know. Holy Shit dude I Cried.

It's the fact that, canonically, Soichiro will die oblivious to what Light has done, but even in the instances where he does find out, it doesn't make it any better, and it doesn't make him love Light any less, it just gives him more to grieve.

It's the fact that there isn't a single universe where Light doesn't use his father for his own gain, whether to gain information, or to try and control him with the Death Note, or make him write in the Death Note himself, and not a single time will he realize just how far he's strayed from Soichiro's ideals, and not a single time will he not forsake him for it by the end of the story.

It's the fact that, despite everything, Light will always refers to Soichiro as "dad/my dad" (informal) rather than "father/my father", even after he has been "denounced" (and this is true in every language that Death Note has been translated in, as far as I could find. Man, isn't that so cool! :) <- Through tears).

Anyways that's what I've been thinking of how's your guys' days going