#you kind of have to know the alternate universe for context

[mononijikayu]

drunk tonight — ryomen sukuna.

"Yes, we can." he murmurs, his voice a soft, dominant caress that contrasts sharply with the intensity of the moment. His lips press against your jaw with a sharp, possessive kiss, and you feel your head loll against his, unable to escape the overwhelming sensations. His words are both a promise and a demand, a statement that attempts to bridge the gap between the pain and the passion you’re experiencing. "Because I love you. And you love me."

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, toxic romance, hurt/no comfort, break up, fighting, crying, hurt, physical touch, sexual content, sadness, pain, grief, unhappy ending, depictions of toxic relationship, depiction of grief, depiction of fighting, depiction of sexual content, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of sexual context, mention of loneliness, toxic ex-boyfriend! sukuna, long suffering ex-girlfriend! reader;

WORD COUNT: 9.4k words

NOTE: the thought bubble says "yes, we can." and "because i love you. and you love me."; i wrote this a while back but i was waiting for the poll to end. but if sukuna wins, then he definitely has his stuff posted first. somehow, sukuna always wins my polls 😆😆😆 anyway, i hope you love this one too!!! i love you all 🫶🫶🫶

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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YOU DON’T WANT TO ANSWER THE PHONE. Late at night, your phone buzzes, its vibration cutting through the silence like a knife. You glance at the screen, feeling a chill run down your spine as you recognize the number. It’s a number you know all too well, one that you’ve tried to erase from your mind but could never quite forget, no matter how hard you tried.

A sigh escapes your lips, your heart sinking as Sukuna’s name flashes across the screen. It’s a name that once brought you comfort, excitement, even love. But now, it’s just a reminder of everything that went wrong, of the hurt and the scars that never fully healed.

You’ve blocked him on everything—social media, messaging apps, even email. You thought you had cut off every possible avenue for him to reach you, but he always remembered your phone number. 

He was always good at that—memorizing details, knowing exactly how to reach you when you least wanted him to. It was one of the things that drew you to him in the first place, his ability to know you so well, to be so in tune with you. But now, it’s a curse, a reminder that no matter how far you try to run, he can always find you.

The text is a mess of jumbled letters and half-formed words, the kind of message that only makes sense to the sender. You can almost hear his deep, slurred voice in your head as you read it, the way he used to talk when he was too far gone, too deep into the bottle. He’s drunk, that much is obvious, and the thought makes your stomach churn.

You roll your eyes, frustration bubbling up inside you. There’s nothing worse than a drunk ex-text. It’s a toxic mix of emotions—regret, anger, longing—all wrapped up in a few poorly typed words. You know how this goes, how the night will unravel if you let it. 

He’ll keep texting, maybe even call, and each message will be more desperate, more incoherent than the last. He’ll say things he doesn’t mean, make promises he can’t keep, and you’ll be left holding the pieces of a conversation that never should have happened.

For a moment, you consider ignoring it, just turning off your phone and pretending you never saw it. But you know that won’t make it go away. You know that as long as Sukuna has your number, as long as he has a way to reach you, this cycle will keep repeating itself.

You take a deep breath, your fingers hovering over the screen. You could respond, tell him to stop, to leave you alone once and for all. But part of you knows that won’t work either. You’ve told him before, and yet here you are, staring at another late-night message from the man you once loved.

Your thumb hovers over the message, the words blurring in your tired eyes. You want to be strong, to resist the pull of old emotions and familiar patterns. But there’s a part of you that’s still connected to him, a part that wants to reach out, to understand why he can’t just let you go.

But you know better. You’ve been down this road too many times before. And as much as it hurts, as much as it feels like tearing a piece of your heart out, you know what you have to do. With a sigh, you delete the message, your chest tightening as you do. You close your eyes, trying to block out the guilt, the sadness, the tiny voice in your head that says maybe this time will be different. But you know it won’t. It never is.

You can’t even muster the energy to be angry. It’s all too familiar, the cycle of hurt and regret that you both keep getting sucked into. You start typing back, your fingers trembling slightly with the weight of it all.

“Sukuna, stop. Wherever you are, just stop.” You hesitate, your thumb hovering over the screen. But you need to say this—you need to finally put it to rest. “This hurts, all of it. It’s a mess, and we’ve broken up. You need to stop chasing after me. We can’t go back.”

There’s a long pause. You wonder if he’ll leave it at that, but another text pings through.

“I can’t… I can’t live with this without trying. Please…”

You swallow hard, feeling the ache in your chest, but you’ve made up your mind. This is a wound that needs to heal, and reopening it will only make it worse.

“Sukuna, I’m done. You need to be, too.” You send the message, and this time, you turn off your phone. The silence that follows is almost deafening, but it’s the first step towards finally moving on.

You purse your lips, staring at the screen as his last message burns into your mind. You know he’s just too drunk tonight. He doesn’t really want you back—not the way he thinks he does. He’s just broken inside, sad and high, and you can feel the weight of his loneliness pressing through the words.

A lump forms in your throat as the urge to cry wells up again. It hurts because deep down, you know the truth. He doesn’t want you back. He’s just lonely, aching for something familiar to fill the void. You’ve been there before, reaching out in desperation, hoping for comfort in the arms of someone who used to mean everything. But that was then, and this is now.

You type slowly, forcing yourself to keep going, even though each word feels like a knife twisting deeper into your heart. "Sukuna, you’re not really after me. You’re just lonely and sad, and I get that. But this… us… it’s over. We ended things for a reason."

Your fingers hesitate over the next part, but you push through the pain. "We hurt each other too much. I didn’t want to be with you anymore because all we did was tear each other apart. And I don’t want that for either of us."

You take a shaky breath, knowing what you need to say, even if it feels like ripping off a bandage from a wound that hasn’t fully healed. "So put down the phone, Sukuna. It’s time to go home. You’re just drunk tonight.”

You hit send, and the tears that you’ve been holding back finally spill over. You’ve been strong for so long, but tonight, in the quiet of your room, you allow yourself to feel the full weight of everything you’ve lost and everything you’ve chosen to leave behind.

You ended things because you knew it was the right thing to do, but that doesn’t make it any easier. And even though you’re telling him to move on, a part of you is whispering the same words to yourself. It’s time to let go, for real this time. It’s time to heal, even if that means facing the pain head-on and accepting that some things can never be fixed.

Your phone rings, and your heart sinks as you see his name flashing across the screen. You hesitate, your thumb hovering over the decline button. You know you shouldn’t answer, know that nothing good can come from this. But some part of you—maybe out of concern, maybe out of habit—hits the green button.

“Sukuna, don’t—”

“I’m on my way.” he interrupts, his voice slurred but filled with a determination that chills you. “I need to see you. We need to talk.”

Your stomach drops, and a sense of dread washes over you. “No, Sukuna. Don’t do this. You’re not thinking straight.”

There’s a pause on the other end, a brief silence where you can hear him breathing heavily, as if he’s fighting to keep his composure. “I have to see you.” he repeats, softer this time, almost pleading. “Please. I…..I want to see you. I wanna…I wanna be with you.”

“Sukuna, please.” you say, your voice trembling. “You’re drunk, you’re not yourself. Turn around and go home. You’re only going to make this harder—for both of us.”

“I don’t care.” he snaps, and you can hear the desperation creeping into his voice. A desperation that’s never been there before. “I can’t keep living like this, pretending I don’t need you. I’ll be there soon.”

Panic starts to set in. You feel trapped, knowing that no amount of reasoning will get through to him tonight. “Sukuna, if you show up here, I won’t open the door. I mean it.”

There’s a harsh laugh on the other end. “You will. You always do.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut because they’re true, or at least they were. You can’t deny the history between you two, the countless times you’ve stood at the edge of this same precipice, teetering between resolve and surrender. 

How many times had you given in, opened the door, and let him back into your life, even when every fiber of your being screamed that you shouldn’t? You’ve lost count, the memories blurring together into a painful montage of late-night confessions, tearful apologies, and broken promises.

Each time, you told yourself it would be the last. You would stand firm, hold your ground, and finally cut the ties that bound you to him. But then he would show up—vulnerable, raw, and desperate—and the walls you had so carefully constructed would crumble in an instant. 

He knew exactly how to reach you, how to twist the knife just enough to remind you of what you once had, what you once were. And for a fleeting moment, you��d believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different this time.

But they never were. The darkness that surrounded him, that clung to your relationship like a shroud, always found a way to seep back in. It would start slowly—a harsh word here, a lingering silence there—but soon, it would consume you both, dragging you back into a toxic cycle of pain and regret. Each time you let him back in, you lost a little more of yourself, a little more of the light that once defined who you were.

But you can’t do that anymore. You can’t keep losing pieces of yourself to a love that no longer serves you, to a relationship that has long since become a shadow of what it once was. You’ve fought too hard to reclaim your life, to step out of the darkness and into the light of something better, something healthier. You’ve built yourself back up, brick by brick, and you can’t let him tear it all down again.

This time, it has to be different. This time, you can’t open the door, no matter how much he begs, no matter how much it hurts to turn him away. You can’t let him drag you back into the darkness that you fought so hard to escape. You deserve more—more than late-night texts filled with empty promises, more than a love that only thrives in the shadows. You deserve peace, stability, and a future that isn’t haunted by the ghosts of a past you can’t change.

So you take a deep breath, steeling yourself against the familiar pull of his words, the seductive lure of what could have been. You remind yourself of the pain, the nights spent crying, the days filled with anxiety and doubt. You remind yourself that you’ve survived without him, that you’ve thrived in ways you never could have imagined when you were still caught in his web.

And as much as it hurts, as much as it feels like a betrayal of everything you once held dear, you know that you have to let him go. You have to close the door, lock it, and walk away—this time for good. Because if you don’t, you’ll never truly be free. And freedom, you realize, is worth more than any fleeting moment of comfort he could offer. You can’t let him pull you back into the darkness. You’ve come too far, and it’s time to finally step into the light.

“No, I won’t.” you say, forcing steel into your voice. “Not this time. If you care about me at all, you’ll turn around and go home. You’ll stop this before it gets worse.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and for a moment, you think maybe, just maybe, he’ll listen. But then he speaks again, his voice rough and broken. “I’m almost there. Just… wait for me.”

Your heart is racing now, your mind scrambling for what to do. “Sukuna, if you come here, I’ll call the police. I’m serious.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end, and then, finally, silence. You think he’s hung up, but then he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry for everything. But I have to try.”

He hangs up before you can respond, leaving you standing there, staring at your phone with your heart pounding in your chest. You feel sick, torn between the history you share and the need to protect yourself from the man he’s become.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You don’t want to call the police, don’t want to escalate things that far, but you need to be ready. You need to stay strong, for your own sake.

With trembling hands, you lock your door, turn off the lights, and sit down on the edge of your bed, phone clutched tightly in your hand. You wait, praying that he’ll turn around, that he’ll finally realize that what you had is gone, and it’s time to let it go. But deep down, you know this isn’t over—not tonight, not until he’s standing at your door, and you’re forced to make the hardest decision of your life.

The minutes tick by slowly, each one heavier than the last. You sit in the dark, your breath shallow and your nerves frayed, listening for any sound that might signal his arrival. Every car that passes by your window makes your heart jump, your mind conjuring images of him stumbling out, determined and reckless.

You think back to the times when things were good between you two, when his intensity was something you admired, even loved. But that intensity had turned into something else, something darker and more destructive, and you couldn’t let it consume you both any longer.

Your phone vibrates again, pulling you out of your thoughts. Another message from Sukuna:

“I’m here.”

You freeze, your blood running cold. He’s close, maybe right outside. You stand up slowly, moving toward the window with a mix of dread and resolve. Peering through the curtains, you see his figure in the dim light, leaning against a lamppost across the street, his silhouette unmistakable.

He looks up, and even from this distance, you can see the torment in his eyes, the way his shoulders sag with the weight of whatever he’s carrying. But you can’t let that sway you. You’ve made your choice, and you need to stand by it.

Your phone vibrates again, the familiar buzz sending a jolt through your already frayed nerves. You don’t even need to look at the screen to know it’s him. The notification hangs in the air like a weight, pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe.

With a trembling hand, you unlock your phone, the brightness of the screen almost blinding in the darkness of your room. His message is there, short and desperate, the words filled with a plea that you’ve heard too many times before:

“Please, just open the door. We can talk, I swear. I won’t make a scene.”

You close your eyes, willing yourself to stay calm, to keep the tears at bay. His voice echoes in your mind, the deep, gravelly tone that once brought you comfort now only serves to break you down. You can almost picture him on the other side of that door, his eyes wide with that familiar mix of anger and sadness, his posture tense with anticipation. He’s close, so close that you can feel his presence like a shadow creeping over your heart.

It would be so easy to give in, to let him in one more time, to listen to whatever promises he has prepared for tonight. After all, you’ve done it before—opened that door despite knowing it would lead to nothing but more heartache. But tonight feels different. Tonight, there’s a finality in the air, a sense that if you open that door now, it won’t just be another mistake; it will be the last one, the one that shatters whatever remnants of strength you’ve managed to hold onto.

You swallow hard, your throat tight with the urge to cry. You know him too well; you know he won’t leave unless you confront him, unless you face him head-on. He’s stubborn like that, relentless in his pursuit of what he wants, even when it’s something—or someone—that’s no longer his to claim. 

But you also know, deep in your bones, that opening that door is the last thing you should do. It’s a line you can’t cross, not this time. Because if you do, you’ll be dragged right back into the storm you’ve fought so hard to escape. You’ll be pulled into his orbit, where everything is chaotic and intense, where love and pain are intertwined so tightly that you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

You take a shaky breath, your hand hovering over the door handle as your mind races. What could he possibly say that he hasn’t already said? What could he promise that he hasn’t already broken? The answers are clear, but the pull of the past is strong, and it tugs at you with a force that’s hard to resist.

But you have to resist. You have to stay strong, for your own sake. Because you know that once you open that door, once you let him back in, all the progress you’ve made, all the nights you’ve spent rebuilding yourself, will be undone. You’ll be right back where you started—lost, hurt, and wondering why you ever let him back into your life.

Your heart aches with the weight of it all, but you know what you have to do. You know that tonight, you have to choose yourself, even if it means walking away from someone you once loved with every part of your being. 

So you close your eyes, forcing yourself to breathe through the pain, to let it wash over you without letting it consume you. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms as you fight back the urge to cry, to scream, to throw open that door and let everything unravel.

But you don’t. You stay where you are, standing firm in the decision you’ve made. Because tonight, for the first time in a long time, you’re choosing to protect your heart instead of breaking it all over again.

You steady your breathing, forcing yourself to stay calm as the reality of the situation sinks in. Each vibration of your phone feels like a pulse of pain, a reminder of the emotional battleground you’re standing on. You know that answering the door would only open the floodgates, allowing the turmoil and chaos of the past to flood back into your life. You’ve fought so hard to reclaim your peace, and you refuse to let it slip away now.

With a deep breath, you take a moment to center yourself. You remind yourself of the reasons you’ve decided to cut ties, the countless times you’ve faced heartache, and the strength it took to rebuild your life. This decision, though painful, is a necessary step to ensure you don’t lose everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve.

You get up and move to your front door, standing just a few inches away. The cold, unyielding surface feels like a barrier between you and the chaos you’ve left behind. You listen for any sounds—footsteps, a knock—but the night is eerily quiet, punctuated only by the occasional rumble of distant traffic. It’s as if the world itself is holding its breath, waiting for you to make the choice that will define this moment.

Another message from Sukuna pings through, and you resist the urge to check it. Instead, you focus on the decision at hand, the choice you’ve already made. You know that the best way to move forward is to keep the past where it belongs—behind you.

You glance at your phone once more and see that Sukuna has called you again. Your heart races, but you refuse to answer. You let the call go to voicemail, the familiar chime sounding distant and detached. Each unanswered call is a step towards reclaiming your autonomy, towards making it clear that you will not be dragged back into the emotional mess that has defined your relationship.

The minutes tick by slowly, each one feeling like an eternity. Finally, there’s silence—no more texts, no more calls. You take a deep breath, letting the calm settle over you. You feel the weight of your decision settle into your bones, a mixture of relief and sorrow. You’ve chosen to protect yourself, to preserve the hard-earned peace you’ve fought for.

As you turn away from the door, you feel a mixture of sadness and strength. The pain of seeing Sukuna’s name, the torment of his pleas, is still fresh, but you’ve managed to hold firm. You’ve chosen not to open the door, not to let him back into your life. This choice, as difficult as it was, is a testament to your resolve, to your commitment to yourself.

You sit back down, wrapping yourself in a blanket of quiet determination. The tears you’ve fought so hard to keep at bay finally come, not as a sign of weakness but as a release of all the emotions you’ve been holding inside. They’re a reminder of your humanity, of the depth of your feelings, but they’re also a sign of your strength—strength you needed to make the right decision, no matter how hard it was.

You’ve done what you needed to do to protect your heart, and now, you allow yourself to grieve, to heal, and to move forward. You close your eyes, letting the tears flow, and in the silence of your room, you begin the process of letting go, knowing that you’ve taken a crucial step toward finding the peace and happiness you deserve.

You reach for your phone, your hands trembling slightly as you begin to type out a message. You need to be firm, clear, and compassionate, even if you’re struggling with your own emotions. You know that any form of communication right now will only complicate things, but you also want to make sure Sukuna understands the finality of your decision.

With a deep breath, you type:

“Sukuna, I can’t talk to you right now. Please, just go home. We can’t have this conversation tonight. I need some space, and I need you to respect that. Please understand and go home.”

You hit send, watching as the message is delivered. For a moment, you feel a flicker of hope that this will be the end of it, that he’ll respect your wishes and leave you alone. You’ve made your boundaries clear, and now it’s up to him to honor them.

Minutes pass in tense silence, and your phone stays quiet. You sit back down, trying to calm your racing heart, focusing on the quiet around you instead of the anxiety that has taken root in your chest.

But then, a new message comes through. You don’t even need to look to know that it’s from Sukuna. With a heavy heart, you open it:

“I just need to see you. I’m sorry for everything, but I can’t let this end like this. Please.”

You can almost hear the desperation in his words, the anguish that comes from knowing he’s losing you. But you also know that this isn’t just about you and him anymore. It’s about your own well-being, your need to set boundaries and stick to them, even when it’s incredibly hard.

You type back:

“No, Sukuna. This is not the time. I’ve made my decision, and I need you to respect it. I can’t keep doing this. Please, just go home.”

You hit send, feeling the weight of your words settle heavily on your shoulders. You’re asking for something that feels almost impossible—to respect a boundary when emotions are high, when both of you are vulnerable. But it’s necessary. 

You put your phone aside and try to find a way to soothe the emotional storm inside you. You remind yourself of why you made this decision, of the personal growth you’ve achieved, and the need to maintain your peace. You try to focus on the positives of your life and the future you’re working toward, hoping that with time, the pain of this moment will fade and you’ll find a way to heal.

Hours tick by slowly, each minute feeling like an eternity. Finally, there’s a quiet relief in knowing that, at least for now, you’ve done all you can. You’ve set your boundaries and communicated your needs as clearly as possible.

You let yourself close your eyes, allowing the exhaustion to wash over you. The road to recovery will be long and fraught with moments like this, but for tonight, you’ve taken a crucial step toward reclaiming your life. As you drift into a fitful sleep, you hold onto the hope that tomorrow will bring clarity and a renewed sense of peace, allowing you to continue moving forward.

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IF THERE WAS A LOVE STORY WORTH MENTIONING, IT’S YOURS. Because in truth, it wasn’t a love story. It was a painful hurt instead. The romance between you and Sukuna was a tumultuous symphony of passion and pain, a story that oscillated between intense highs and devastating lows. It was a love that consumed everything in its path, leaving behind a trail of broken dreams and shattered hearts. 

You, the good girl with a heart full of hope and idealism, and him, the quintessential troublemaker whose very presence seemed to stir chaos wherever he went. It was a match made in hell, an explosive combination of purity and defiance that sparked with an almost palpable intensity. 

From the beginning, there was an undeniable chemistry between you two, a magnetic pull that drew you into Sukuna’s orbit. You were drawn to his raw energy, the way he seemed to live on the edge of every emotion, pushing boundaries and challenging norms. His life was a whirlwind of excitement and unpredictability, and it was a stark contrast to the more controlled and orderly world you inhabited.

At first, the contrasts were thrilling. Your calm demeanor and responsible nature seemed to balance out his reckless tendencies, creating a dynamic that felt electric and invigorating. You believed that your love could be the force that tamed his wildness, that your stability could anchor him amidst his stormy existence.

But as time went on, the initial thrill gave way to a more complex and painful reality. Sukuna’s troublemaking ways began to seep into every aspect of your relationship, turning what was once exciting into something exhausting. His impulsiveness, once charming, became a source of constant stress and conflict. The very qualities that attracted you to him started to feel like burdens, and the harmony you sought began to slip through your fingers.

The highs were dizzying—moments of intense connection and fiery passion that made you feel alive and on top of the world. But the lows were equally devastating, each conflict leaving deeper wounds, each argument a reminder of how differently you saw the world. The love that had once seemed like a perfect escape from your own constraints now felt like a whirlwind of chaos that you couldn’t control.

Your attempts to bring order and stability to the relationship often clashed with Sukuna’s need for freedom and rebellion. The more you tried to ground him, the more he resisted, and the cycle of conflict and resolution became a relentless pattern. The love that once felt like a daring adventure turned into a series of battles, each one leaving both of you more scared than the last.

Ultimately, the contrast between your worlds proved too great. The boundaries you set were repeatedly crossed, the promises made were broken too many times. The passion that had once ignited your connection became the fuel for your destruction. What began as a match made in hell had devolved into a battlefield of emotional devastation.

You were left to pick up the pieces of a love that had burned too brightly, too destructively. The remnants of your time together were a stark reminder of the dangers of mixing such opposing forces. In the end, the love you shared was a powerful testament to the intense beauty and agony of a relationship that, despite its fiery start, was doomed from the beginning.

From the beginning, the relationship was marked by a magnetic pull that was impossible to ignore. Sukuna's charisma and intensity drew you in, his presence filling every space with an almost palpable energy. There was a fire in his eyes, a promise of something deeper and more profound, and you were captivated by the allure of his raw power and unfiltered emotions.

At first, it felt like a dream. His touch was electric, his words charged with a potent mix of desire and vulnerability. You would get lost in his gaze, swept away by the intensity of his kisses, believing that this was what true love was supposed to feel like. Every argument, every make-up, every moment of passion felt like a confirmation of the bond you shared.

You couldn’t stand it anymore, how tired you were. How truly full of it you were. how emotionally drained you’ve been. You found yourself face-to-face with Sukuna in the dimly lit living room. He stood close, his gaze intense and his voice almost a whisper, yet filled with an undeniable gravity.

"I'm sorry." Sukuna said, his eyes searching yours for some sign of forgiveness. "I never meant for things to get so out of hand. I just... I can't stand the thought of losing you."

You could feel the weight of his words, the sincerity mixed with a touch of desperation. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

"You say that now, but it feels like we’re always back here, fighting and making up," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "I thought this was supposed to be different. I thought we were building something real."

Sukuna reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a gentleness that belied his earlier anger. "It is real. What we have is intense, but it’s real. I know I mess up, but I need you to understand that I can’t imagine my life without you. You’re everything to me."

You looked at him, feeling the familiar mix of pain and passion. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Sukuna. Every time we fight, it feels like we’re tearing each other apart. Maybe this intensity isn’t what I thought it was.”

He stepped closer, his voice filled with an earnest plea. “Please, don’t say that. We can work through this. I know I’m not perfect, but we have something special. We just need to fight for it, not let it slip away because of a few mistakes.”

You shook your head, tears welling up. “It’s not just a few mistakes. It’s the pattern, the way things keep repeating. I want to believe in us, but it’s getting harder every day. We’re not just having moments of passion anymore; we’re living in a storm.”

Sukuna’s expression softened, and he pulled you into a tight embrace. “I don’t want to be the storm in your life. I just want to be with you. Please, let me show you that we can be more than this.”

As his arms wrapped around you, the warmth of his body was a stark contrast to the cold reality of your situation. You said nothing as you leaned into the warmth of his body. The intensity of his words and the fire in his eyes were a powerful reminder of his hold on you. You forgave him that night once again, as you always did. And once again, you were trapped.

But beneath the surface of this passionate connection lay a darker undercurrent, one that grew stronger with time. Sukuna's emotional volatility was not just a fleeting characteristic; it was a core part of who he was. His moods shifted with little warning, swinging from intense affection to cold detachment. What seemed like an endearing quirk quickly revealed itself as a source of profound instability.

Sukuna's massive hand moved to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands you had painstakingly did. You were ignoring him again after your recent fight. You just wanted peace of mind from him. And you knew that he hated being ignored. You know he hated being forgotten. You were the only person in his life that dealt with him, all his everything — and to not have you there shatters him. As much, you suppose, when he shatters you by loving you.

His other hand wrapped around your side, pulling you closer against him with a possessive strength. You felt the heat of his body pressing against yours, his touch both demanding and overwhelming. He leaned in, his breath hot against your neck as he started to kiss and nibble along your skin.

The kisses were intense, growing more fervent until he bit down, his teeth breaking through the delicate skin. A cry escaped your lips, a mix of pain and confusion. You could feel Sukuna speaking against your skin, his voice muffled and indistinct, but the words were lost in the haze of sensation and hurt.

The pressure of his hand on the back of your neck was unrelenting, anchoring you to him and heightening the intensity of the moment. It was only when his fingers pressed firmly against the nape of your neck that everything snapped into focus. The sharp reality of the situation cut through the fog, pulling you back to the present.

The biting pain, the tight grip, and the overwhelming closeness were all too much. You could see the raw, unfiltered emotion in his eyes, the storm of feelings that often clouded his judgment. In that moment, you were starkly aware of the power dynamics at play, the fine line between passion and control, and the deep-seated turmoil that defined your relationship.

The kiss, now a blend of pain and longing, was a stark reminder of the complexity of your love—both fierce and destructive. The intimacy of the touch, the raw intensity, and the sharp bite were all part of the same emotional spectrum, where passion and pain were often intertwined in ways that left you feeling vulnerable and conflicted.

You could feel your skin growing moist, a cold sweat breaking out across your entire body as you struggled to maintain your sanity against his relentless touch. Ryomen Sukuna had a way of overwhelming you, of winning you over even when you were trying to resist. His touch always managed to reach places you thought were well-guarded, stirring up sensations that you couldn’t ignore. You could feel your body betraying you, slick pooling between your legs, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside your mind.

With a swift movement, Sukuna pinned you against the wall, his body pressing hard against yours. His kisses grew even more rough and demanding, each press of his lips a reminder of the intensity and chaos that defined your relationship. His hands roamed over your chest, fingers pinching and teasing, heightening the mix of pleasure and pain.

"Sukuna, slow down. It hurts." you cried out, your voice wavering as you tried to make yourself heard over the roar of conflicting emotions. The rawness in your voice was a plea for understanding, a desperate attempt to make him see the damage being done. "Sukuna, we... oh, we won't fix anything with this."

His grip faltered for a moment, but only just. He paused, his breath ragged and heavy against your skin, his eyes dark with a mixture of frustration and desire. There was a flicker of hesitation, a moment where he seemed to question the reality of the situation. But the tension in his body remained, the emotional storm far from over.

Your heart pounded as you struggled to maintain your composure, to hold onto a shred of clarity amidst the haze of his touch. The physical connection was undeniable, but it was the emotional wreckage that left you feeling most exposed. The passion that once felt exhilarating now seemed like a dangerous force that threatened to consume you both.

"Yes, we can." he murmurs, his voice a soft, dominant caress that contrasts sharply with the intensity of the moment. His lips press against your jaw with a sharp, possessive kiss, and you feel your head loll against his, unable to escape the overwhelming sensations.

His words are both a promise and a demand, a statement that attempts to bridge the gap between the pain and the passion you’re experiencing. "Because I love you. And you love me."

The declaration hangs heavily in the air, mingling with the heat of the moment. You mewl softly, a sound of both surrender and confusion. His touch and words are a potent mix, stirring emotions that you’ve been trying to keep in check. 

In your turmoil, you find yourself grappling with the truth of his words. The love you shared is undeniable, and it’s clear he still feels it deeply. Yet, the intensity of him and the roughness of his touch make it hard to reconcile with the pain and frustration that have become a part of your relationship.

"Even if you love me….." you manage to say, your voice trembling. "We can’t fix everything like this. We’re hurting each other, Sukuna.”

He doesn’t pull away, his gaze fixed on yours with an intensity that makes it difficult to look away. The struggle between your emotions and his unyielding desire leaves you feeling torn, caught between the remnants of your past connection and the harsh reality of the present.

Sukuna’s grip remains firm, his dark red eyes not leaving yours. In this moment, the lines between love and pain blur — as it was with your relationship. The declaration of love feels both comforting and confounding, leaving you with the painful realization that while feelings might persist, the way you’re handling them is only adding to the emotional wreckage. You were in love with him as much as he was with you. But what was the point of this? Of this suffering?

But as he pleasured you, you never said anything. You just let him love you painfully, because that’s all he knew. It was a raw, visceral form of connection, a way he expressed what he felt, even if it was damaging. It was all he could give, the only way he knew how to bridge the gap between you.

As you felt him inside of you, there was a deep, painful connection that mingled with the physical sensations. It was a painful reminder of the way your love had always been—intense, consuming, and sometimes overwhelmingly conflicted. The pleasure was intertwined with the hurt, making it difficult to distinguish one from the other. 

You accepted it, allowing the moment to unfold as it did. In your mind, you grappled with the reality of your situation—recognizing that this was how Sukuna knew to express his love, even if it was fraught with pain. And so, in the midst of the storm of sensations, you let yourself be caught up in the complexity of your emotions, trying to find a semblance of understanding amidst the chaos.

Arguments became frequent, fueled by misunderstandings and a growing sense of frustration. The intensity that once seemed thrilling now felt suffocating. Sukuna's need for control and dominance clashed with your desire for independence, creating a constant struggle for power. What was once exhilarating now felt like an endless cycle of conflict and resolution, each cycle leaving deeper emotional scars you didn’t want.

The tension in the air was palpable. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, your hands clenched in frustration, while Sukuna stood across the room, his posture rigid with anger and jealousy. His eyes were fixed on you, his gaze fierce and unrelenting, the result of a recent encounter with one of your friends who had been a bit too touchy for his liking.

"You’re always so quick to run off." Sukuna snapped, his voice sharp and laced with irritation. "Why can’t you just stay and deal with things like an adult? I’ve seen the way you look at others. Do you think I’m blind?"

You turned to face him, your heart pounding with a mix of anger and desperation. "It’s not about anyone else. It’s about us. You’re always so controlling. You want to dictate every part of my life. I need space, Sukuna. I need to be able to breathe."

His eyes flared with frustration as he stepped closer, the intensity of his emotions almost tangible. "Space? That’s what you call it? I saw the way you were with him tonight. It’s like you’re trying to push me away, like you’re looking for excuses to slip through my fingers."

You stood up, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on you. "It’s not about looking for excuses. I’m not trying to push you away. I just need to feel like I can make my own choices without feeling like I’m under constant surveillance. This isn’t about him. It’s about the way you’re smothering me."

Sukuna’s frustration was evident in the way he paced the room, his fists clenched at his sides. "Smothering you? I’m just trying to hold onto what we have. If you’d stop running and actually listen, maybe we could work things out. But every time I turn around, it feels like you’re slipping further away."

"You’re not holding onto what we have, Sukuna." you said, your voice trembling. "You’re suffocating me. Every time we have an argument, you try to control me even more. I need space to figure out what I want without feeling like I’m being watched and judged every second."

Sukuna stopped pacing and looked at you with a mixture of anger and hurt. "I don’t want to control you. I want to be with you, but it feels like you’re constantly pushing me away. I just don’t know how to handle it when I see you getting close to others. It makes me feel like I’m losing you."

The room fell silent, the air thick with unresolved emotions. You could see the pain in his eyes, the fear of losing you. But you also felt the deep, suffocating grip of his jealousy and control. The love that once felt exciting now seemed like a battleground, and the constant cycle of arguments and attempts at resolution were leaving both of you emotionally drained.

"I don’t want us to keep going in circles like this, Sukuna." you said softly, your heart aching. "We need to find a way to be together without this constant struggle. Otherwise, we’re just going to keep hurting each other."

Sukuna’s gaze softened slightly, but the tension remained. "I don’t know how to change things if you won’t let me in, you know that." he said, his voice a mix of vulnerability and frustration. "I just want us to be okay, but it feels like we’re constantly fighting against each other."

You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm despite the sting of his accusation. "That wasn’t flirting. I was just being polite. And even if I was, what does it matter? You can’t keep trying to control me like this. We can’t keep doing this.”

He stepped closer, his anger palpable. "You think you’re so perfect, don’t you? Always so independent, always so self-righteous. I’m the one who’s always fighting to keep us together. And this is how you repay me? By pushing me away and seeking attention from others?"

His words cut deep, each one a painful reminder of the control he exerted over your life. "This isn’t about repaying you. It’s about being true to myself. I’m tired of feeling like I have to constantly prove my loyalty to you. I’m not your possession."

Sukuna’s face contorted with frustration, and he slammed his fist against the wall. "You think this is easy for me? Watching you slip away while I’m left here fighting to keep us from falling apart? I’m trying to hold onto something real, and you’re pushing me away."

The hurt in his voice was undeniable, a mix of jealousy and desperation. But you could see the cracks in his control, the way his need for dominance had become a cage that both of you were trapped in.

"I’m not trying to push you away." you said, your voice trembling. "I’m trying to find a way to be myself without feeling like I’m suffocating under your expectations. We’re stuck in this cycle of fighting and making up, and it’s tearing us apart."

Sukuna’s expression softened for a moment, the anger giving way to a look of vulnerability. "I just don’t want to lose you. I know I’m not perfect, but I need you to understand how much you mean to me."

You sighed, feeling the weight of his words. "I know you care, but the way you show it is suffocating. We need to find a way to be together without this constant power struggle. Otherwise, we’re just going to keep hurting each other."

The room fell silent, the intensity of the argument leaving both of you exhausted. The love that once felt like a thrilling adventure now seemed like a battlefield, with each conflict leaving deeper scars. The vibrant energy that had once sparked between you was now overshadowed by an unrelenting cycle of discord and unresolved tension.

You wrapped your arms around your chest, as though trying to hug and comfort yourself amid the emotional wreckage. Your shoulders shook slightly with the effort to maintain composure, but even more tears were inevitable.

Sukuna’s posture was a reflection of his internal struggle, his anger giving way to a raw vulnerability. He took a hesitant step towards you, his voice trembling. “What do you want me to do?” he whispered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “What can I do, to…to make you stay?”

The softness in his voice, the genuine plea for understanding, struck a deep chord. You could see the pain and desperation etched into his features, the realization of how precariously close he was to losing you. Yet, amidst the raw emotion, you felt overwhelmed and trapped.

“I don’t know,” you replied, your voice breaking as the tears began to fall freely. “I’m tired, Sukuna. I’m tired… of loving you and losing you all at once.”

His shoulders sagged as he absorbed your words, the weight of your exhaustion evident in his expression. The tears that prickled at his eyes now spilled over, reflecting the depth of his own despair. His gaze fell to the floor, unable to meet yours, the crushing reality of your relationship settling heavily between you.

The room was filled with a profound silence, broken only by the soft sounds of your sobs and his choked breaths. The love you shared, which had once been a source of exhilaration and passion, now felt like a relentless cycle of joy and pain that neither of you could escape.

Sukuna’s voice was barely audible as he spoke again, his tone carrying a sense of helplessness. “I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to make things right when everything feels so broken.”

You wiped at your tears, the exhaustion of the emotional turmoil leaving you feeling drained. “Neither do I.” you admitted softly. “I wish I had the answers. I wish I could find a way to make things work, but right now, it feels like we’re stuck in a never-ending loop of hurt and confusion.”

Sukuna’s silence was heavy with resignation, a poignant acknowledgment of the struggle that had become an inescapable part of your relationship. The love that had once been a source of strength and excitement now seemed overshadowed by a painful reality that neither of you knew how to navigate.

In that quiet moment, both of you were left grappling with the depth of your feelings, the complexity of your relationship, and the painful truth that sometimes love alone isn’t enough to overcome the barriers that keep you apart.

Sukuna's tears continued to fall, and he moved closer, his steps hesitant but deliberate. He reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against your arm in a gesture that was both gentle and desperate.

“I never meant to make things so difficult,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I thought... I thought if I held on tight, if I tried harder, we could work through it. But now, I see how much I’ve pushed you away.”

You looked at him, your own tears blurring your vision. The sight of him, vulnerable and torn, added to the weight of your own sorrow. You wanted to reach out, to offer comfort, but the chasm between you felt insurmountable.

“I know you were trying,” you said, your voice cracking. “But the way you tried to control things... it pushed me away more than anything else. I felt like I was losing myself in trying to make things work.”

Sukuna’s hand tightened around your arm, his grip firm but not painful. “What do you need from me?” he asked, his voice desperate. “Tell me what I can do to make things right, to fix this.”

You shook your head, struggling to find the words to express the depth of your exhaustion and the confusion that clouded your mind. “I don’t know if there’s anything that can fix this right now. I just feel... lost.”

His expression softened, the realization dawning that perhaps the damage was too great to repair immediately. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry for everything. I never wanted to hurt you. I just didn’t know how to handle my own fears and insecurities.”

You nodded, the sadness overwhelming. “I know. And I’m sorry too. I’m sorry that we couldn’t find a way to make this work without hurting each other so much.”

The silence between you was heavy, filled with the echoes of what had been and what might never be again. The love that had once felt so alive now seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by the pain and the sense of inevitability.

Sukuna’s hand slowly fell away from your arm, and he took a step back, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Maybe... maybe we both need some time apart to figure things out. To heal and find ourselves again.”

You looked at him, a mix of relief and sorrow washing over you. “Maybe you’re right. I need time to understand what I really want and to heal from all of this.”

Sukuna nodded, his face a mask of resignation and understanding. “I hope... I hope we can both find a way to be okay, even if it means being apart.”

With that, Sukuna turned and walked towards the door, each step heavy with the weight of what was ending. As he left, the silence of the room seemed to deepen. You sat down on the edge of the bed once more, your emotions a tangled mess of sadness and relief. The path ahead was uncertain, but in the quiet that followed, you felt more alone than ever before. But free. Freed from your own ruin.

▬ι══════════════ι▬

YOU COULDN’T DO IT ANYMORE IN THE END. In the end, you did break up with him. The cycle of arguments and reconciliation had become a never-ending loop, a house of cards that seemed destined to collapse no matter how carefully it was built. You loved him deeply, that was undeniable. But you also realized that rekindling the relationship would only lead to more pain, more hurt that neither of you could bear.

As you stood by the window, the first light of dawn was beginning to creep across the sky, painting the world in soft hues of pink and gold. The sight was starkly beautiful, a contrast to the turmoil that had been raging inside you. This was what life should be like, you think. You shouldn’t settle for less. You shouldn’t settle for hurt.

Outside, you could see him—still there, lingering near your door, his figure slumped against the wall. He had a cigarette against the burrow of his lips, smoke filling his face. The remnants of a wild night clung to him; he was drunk and high, his posture wavering as he waited for you. The sight of him, lost and desperate, broke your heart in a way that felt both familiar and foreign.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your decision settle heavily upon you. You knew that as much as you loved him, returning to him now would only mean opening the door to a love that had become toxic, a love that had already left you shattered too many times.

“I can’t go through this again.” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible. The realization was painful, but clear. The cycle of breaking up and making up had drained you emotionally, leaving you with scars that were too deep to ignore. “Not again.”

As the sun continued to rise, its light growing stronger, you turned away from the window, feeling a sense of finality. The decision to end things was not made lightly, and the pain of walking away was immense. But you knew it was necessary for your own well-being, for the chance to heal and find a path forward that wasn’t mired in the constant heartbreak that your relationship had become.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as you reached for your phone. With a heavy heart, you composed a message, knowing it was the last thing you needed to say to him. Your fingers hovered over the screen, the weight of your decision pressing down on you as you typed:

"Sukuna, this is the last time I’m reaching out. I can see you waiting outside, and I need you to understand that this is over. I love you, but we’ve reached a point where continuing this relationship will only lead to more hurt. The cycle of breaking up and making up has left us both wounded, and I can’t keep going through it. I need to move on and find healing for myself. Please respect my decision and let this be the end. I wish you well, but I can’t be with you anymore. Goodbye."

You stared at the message for a moment, feeling a mix of sadness and relief. With a final press of the send button, you put your phone down and took a deep breath. It was done. The words were out there, and now it was time to let go and start the process of healing. You took a deep sigh and pursed your lips into a flat line.

As the first rays of sunlight began to illuminate the room, you felt a glimmer of hope amidst the sadness. The end of this chapter was painful, but it was also a step towards a future where you could rebuild, where you could heal. It was a chance to find peace and to rediscover yourself, away from the shadows of a love that had become more damaging than fulfilling.

With a final, lingering glance at the window, you steeled yourself for the difficult road ahead. The love you had for  Ryomen Sukuna was real, but the decision to move forward was the right one. As the sun rose higher in the sky, you began to prepare for a new day, one that would be marked by both the pain of goodbye and the promise of new beginnings. You hope the best for him, as much as you hoped the best for you. 

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

What Could Have Been

Summary: You've reached the age you can be chosen. Little do you know your future has been planned out from the start.

Pairing: Philip Graves x reader

Word Count: 7, 358 words

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, a/b/o, Omegaverse, Alternate Universe, AU of an AU, suggestive content, mentioned predatory behaviors towards a minor, Philip Graves is a major creep, reader has a set age for plot (she is an adult), dubcon (pushing noncon at the end) but it's muddy water because a/b/o, kissing, touching, lingerie, panic, coercion, virginity and purity culture, fade to black because I couldn't write smut for this

A/N: I am...very sorry for this. Honestly I've been debating posting it but I wrote 7k words and I don't want that to go to waste. This is very...dark. A lot is implied but there's still some fairly disturbing content because of those things. The reader is 18 in this because of plot, but it still feels very...icky. Definitely recommend reading Chapter 34 before reading this to understand the context. Not necessary to read. Just an AU what if kind of bit for the story.

Also if you're finding this and you've never seen my stuff before, Hi! I highly recommend reading Cherry Red, Crimson Blood first before this for context otherwise some things might not make sense. I suppose it could be read as a stand alone but still, context is nice to have

What Ifs Masterlist | Directory

“You’ve been chosen.” 

You had barely managed to get a bite in of breakfast when one of the staff members had pulled you away and led you to the director’s office. None of the omegas at FIOT particularly like him. He’s a small man, middle aged and balding. His scent is...not pleasant. Nutty with undertones of wet animals and whatever he ate for his meals that day. Every omega in the institute dreads being called to his office, being closed in with the offensive smell he permeates. 

You would have been experiencing that same disgust had it not been for your shock at his words. “What?” You breathe, eyes wide. 

“You’ve been chosen.” He repeats, folding his hands on his desk over a thin file. 

“So soon?” You ask, forgetting all decorum and manners you’ve had drilled into your head for two years. 

It’s your eighteenth birthday today. You just became old enough to be chosen a matter of hours ago. 

“This pack is very eager to claim you as their omega.” He says. “One of their betas will be by tomorrow to interview you.” 

Your heart flutters in your chest. While it’s shocking you were chosen so soon, this is what you had hoped for. Two years of training and drilling perfection into your head did pay off. You’ve hardly been on the available list more than a few hours and already there’s a pack interested in you. Something about it has a chill running down your spine, tickling at the base of your neck. You brush it off as shock at this all happening so soon. 

“You may return to breakfast.” The director says, going back to his paperwork. 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, exiting his office. 

It doesn’t feel like your feet touch the floor as you walk back to the mess hall, your body floating as you make your way through the halls. If tomorrow goes well, this will be the last day you spend in this building, this prison you’ve been confined to. They’ll be here as early as they can be tomorrow, if they’re this eager to choose you. 

The thought has something prickling in the back of your mind still. 

Who are they? Who is this eager to choose you? The must have known about you before you even showed up in the registry as being available. You’ve heard rumors that institutes will supply information about omegas to packs for the right price under the table. Information on omegas that aren’t old enough to be chosen. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if FIOT was one of those institutes. The packs that get their omegas here are packs that can pay a hefty price. There’s usually a waiting period while background checks are done and information has to be verified and packs have to interview with the director before omegas themselves can even be interviewed by the pack. You’ve seen it take weeks before. 

Whoever the alpha of this pack is...they knew about you before you became available. 

“What did the director want?” One of the omegas in your age group asks as you take your seat at the table again. Amanda. She cried for five days when she was brought in. 

The others at the table lean in close, like you’re about to reveal some big secret. 

“I’ve been chosen.” You tell them. The words almost seem like a foreign language on your tongue. 

They all cheer happily, getting looks from the wardens around the mess hall. 

“That’s amazing!” Chelsea says, wrapping her arms around you to squeeze you in a tight hug. 

“So soon?” Amanda asks as the congratulations die down. 

“Yeah.” You say. “They’re interviewing me tomorrow.” 

They all share looks, and you know they’re thinking the same thing you are. 

The rumors are true.

“Impressive, isn’t she?” The warden for your dorm group says, as if you’re not sitting there too. She’s responsible for overseeing the small group of eight omegas you’re a part of. She’s the most knowledgeable about the omegas under her watchful eyes, and it’s standard practice for the wardens to sit in on the interviews between the pack beta and the omega being chosen. 

“Quite.” The beta says, looking over your thick file. Bryan, he’d introduced himself as. He’d shaken your hand, something you hadn’t been expecting. He acknowledged you as existing right away, something that doesn’t happen often in the stories you’ve heard about interviews, stories from omegas that had made it this far in the process, but were rejected in the end. “Excellent scores, quite extensive essays.” He says, flipping through the file. He’s not really looking at it. You can see his eyes just scanning the pages. He already knows. He came into the building with his answer. 

Whoever his alpha is has already seen your file. 

He closes the file, pushing it forward on the table. He’s looking at you. You can feel his eyes on you. Yours are lowered respectfully, no matter how badly you want to stare back at him. 

“To be honest, my alpha already made his decision before I got here.” Bryan says, leaning his arms on the table. “Your profile was enough to convince him.” 

“So, you’d like to move forward with the process?” Warden Jameson asks. 

“Yes.” He says, nodding. “She’s going to be a perfect fit.” 

You glance up at him, a warm smile on his face as he stares at you. It’s really happening. You really have been chosen. 

The next hour is a flurry of paperwork and signatures. None from you, of course, but from the beta of your new pack. The paperwork would be sent to your new alpha to sign off on and to finalize the decision once you meet him. No one has ever been sent back after that point, yet you can’t help the nervous flutter in your stomach. What if they don’t like you after all? What if they made a hasty decision and regret it as soon as they meet you? What if you mess everything up?

You follow Bryan and the director towards the entrance to the building, something you haven’t seen since your tour after your arrival. It’s off limits to omegas, several locked doors standing between them and freedom. 

Or more like to keep others out. 

There’s someone at the front desk as you pass by, and you turn to look out of curiosity. It’s a middle aged woman with blonde hair, dressed in a business suit. “Kate Laswell, here for an appointment with Director Jones.” 

You don’t get to hear anything else, ushered out into the world by the director. You’ve heard how giddy he gets about omegas leaving from staff, though you supposed that’s because it’s extra money in his pockets. The more omegas he can match and get out of FIOT, the more the government pays him. 

“I’m looking forward to hearing how she’s settling in.” The director says to Bryan as he hands off your small bag of meager belongings. 

“Of course.” Bryan says, setting it in the front seat of the car waiting out front. “My alpha will be in touch.” 

“Good.” He shakes Bryan’s hand before turning to you. “Good luck. I expect the best from you.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, dropping your gaze out of respect. 

Bryan opens the car door for you and you slide in, smoothing out your skirt. You’re still in your uniform, and you won’t be able to change until you get to where you’re going. If they let you change. It’s important they remember where you came from, where you were taught the things you’re supposed to know, where you were trained to be the perfect omega. As if they could forget where they paid for you. 

Bryan drives away from the institute, taking you away from the place that’s been your home for the last two years. It’s the first time you’ve been outside those walls since you were forced in, ripped away from your home the day after your presentation. You’ve thought about your family many times over the last two years. Where are they now? How are they doing? What have your siblings been up to? Have any of them presented as omegas too? 

Maybe your new alpha will let you contact them again. 

It’s wishful thinking. Most don’t. Not the kinds of alphas that buy from FIOT. 

“Nervous?” Bryan asks, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Yes, sir.” You say, smoothing your hands over your skirt. You’re projecting your scent without even realizing it. “Sorry, sir.” 

He smiles. “I don’t blame you. I’d be nervous too. Don’t worry, though. You’re going to a good place.” 

Despite his well meaning words, you can’t help but feel a bit of trepidation. Is it a good place? Or is it only a good place by beta’s standards? He can’t possibly know, he can’t possibly understand, unless there’s other omegas. 

You’re almost excited by the thought of being around other omegas in a pack. Having that chance to have friends and bond with others like you who know. Those who understand. 

You can’t help but stare as Bryan pulls into the parking garage of a very nice hotel. The cars in the parking garage are some of the most expensive you’ve ever seen. You’re not surprised, given the types of alphas that choose omegas from FIOT. Rich, important alphas looking for trophies to wave around. 

Look at me, look at my perfect omega. 

Bryan opens your door for you, helping you out of the car. He’s holding your bag in his hand, using the other to guide you towards the elevator. His hand is warm, even though your back is beginning to sweat a bit. You’re really nervous now, but you try to keep your scent under control. 

Your new life is about to begin, the life of a claimed omega. 

Unless they don’t like you. 

You have to do everything in your power to make sure they do.

The elevator ride seems to take a lifetime as you go up to a high floor overlooking the city. You’ve never stayed in a hotel this nice before. You’ve never even been in a building with this many floors before. 

Bryan leads you down the hall to a door, using the keycard to open it. He gives you a reassuring smile before pushing it open and guiding you through. It’s a suite, possibly the nicest hotel room you’ve ever seen. Bryan leads you to the small living area, the man you assume is your alpha seated on one of the couches. He’s sitting there casually, ankle crossed over his knee, his arm thrown over the back of the couch. There’s a grin on his face, your eyes widening as you stare at him. 

“Phil?” 

It comes out before you can stop it, all training and decorum leaving as you stare at him in shock. His smile widens, showing off perfect white teeth and dimples. He’s a bit older now than he had been back then, but it is him. 

“Hi darlin’.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. “Been a while.” 

Ten years or so. He was your dad’s best friend while he was stationed in Texas. He was at your house constantly, sitting around watching sports and standing in the backyard while your father barbequed. He was always friendly to you, always sitting just a little too close, always hovering. You hadn’t thought anything about it back then. You were too young to understand. 

Now you do. 

You drop your gaze as he approaches, trying to recover from your shock. You still have an impression to make, a role to fill. Calloused fingers cup your chin, lifting your face back up. You stare up into Phil’s bright blue eyes, just as friendly as you remember them being. 

“None of that.” He says softly. “We’re familiar with each other, aren’t we?” 

“Yes, sir.” You say, swallowing thickly. 

A small smile tugs at his lips before he releases you. “Come on, make yourself comfortable.” He motions to the couches. “We've got a few things to discuss.”

Nerves twist in your stomach as you move to the couches, tucking your skirt under you before you sit. The couch is comfortable, your body sinking into the cushion. It's far more comfortable than the chairs and benches at the institute. He takes a seat right next to you, draping an arm across the back of the couch behind you. 

His fingers curl under your chin again, turning your head so you're looking at him. Those bright blue eyes scan your face, taking in every detail.

“Those pictures didn't do you any justice.” He says. Your file is sitting on the table in front of you. “You've always been a pretty little thing.” His thumb traces your jaw, your stomach churning. “Look like your mom more than your dad. That's certainly not a bad thing.” He smirks. 

He holds you there for a moment staring into your eyes. Something tickles in the back of your mind as he stares at you, something instinctual like a warning. He releases you, dropping his hand back onto his lap. 

“It's good to see you again.” He says, the fingers of the hand behind you playing with the strands of your hair. “A lot has changed, hasn't it? I got old, you became an omega. I always knew you would. Your temperament wasn't right for an alpha. Always so calm and eager to please. You weren't rowdy like your brothers. Always such a sweet little thing.” His fingers trail over the back of one of your hands where it's draped in your lap. Your stomach clenches at his touch, something churning inside you, something you haven't felt since the last time you were around him. “You didn't deserve the way he treated you. It wasn't your fault for becoming what you are.”

He's talking about your father. 

“How did you-”

“I was the one he called.” Phil says simply. “Raging and carrying on about his useless child presenting as an omega.” He shakes his head. “So I pulled some strings, promised some favors, and got you into FIOT immediately, with the stipulation that you would be mine as soon as you were old enough.” He grins. “Now here we are!”

You swallow thickly, staring at him. “It was you?”

He nods. “Had to make sure you'd be taken care of until I could come yet you myself. Now you’re here.” His arm wraps tighter around you, the hand that had been brushing yours dropping to wrap around your thigh. You stare up at him as he leans down slightly closer to you. He smells just like you remember. Woody with the rich scent of chocolate underneath. “I will take care of you.” He says, looking pointedly into your eyes. “You'll want for nothing and you'll be happy.”

Will you? 

You break away first, your eyes dropping to stare at the hand that’s gripping your thigh, fingers indenting the skin through your tights. It feels like a threat, a silent reminder of the power dynamic between you, something he won’t say out loud. He’s an alpha, you’re only an omega. He has control over you, he can dictate your entire life now that you’ve been chosen by him. You belong to him, just as he’s wanted. 

He’s been waiting longer than two years. 

“You hungry?” He asks, his entire demeanor suddenly shifting. 

You are hungry. You had left the institute just before lunch, and you had barely been able to eat breakfast because of the nerves. You nod, deciding telling the truth is better than to try to lie to him early on. “Yes, sir.” 

He gives you a grin. “You don’t have to be so formal. You can call me Phil, just like old times.” He finally releases you, leaning forward to grab a tri-fold menu off the table. “Pick whatever you like.” He says, putting it in your hands. “I’ll be right back.” 

He gets up from the couch and you watch him go before turning back to the menu. The prices make your stomach churn. Your family wasn’t necessarily poor, but with so many of you, you certainly weren’t taking very many vacations very often. Your family moved around so much there wasn’t much of a need to take vacations either. 

You’re not even sure what to do, looking at the menu. What was acceptable? What if you ordered something too expensive. With a hotel room like this, you’re not sure you could order something too expensive. You’re not even quite sure what Phil does anymore. You remember overhearing a conversation he had with your dad about joining MARSOC before he disappeared from your lives. Is he still involved with the military? Did he leave and enter a new career field, one that allows him to stay in places like this? 

You might never know. It’s not your job to know things like that. 

You just need to know how to serve your alpha and take care of him, follow his orders and give him pups when he desires them. Be a good omega and do whatever it is he wants. Your wants don’t matter, only your alpha’s. 

“Decide what you want?” Phil asks, appearing in front of you again. 

You jump in surprise, having been so caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed him approaching. You’ll have to break that habit and fast. “Yes.” You say, even though you hadn’t even read through the menu in its entirety. 

You try to stop your hands from shaking, picking out the first thing your eyes land on. You’re not even quite sure what it is or if you’ll like it. You needed an answer and you gave it to him. Just exactly what he wanted. 

That is your job, after all. 

Give him exactly what he wants. 

The bed looks plush and comfortable, larger than you’ve slept on in a long time. The beds at FIOT weren’t too terribly uncomfortable, but you’ve gotten so used to sharing a room it seems strange to be sleeping on your own. 

That’s not the only reason it feels strange. 

“Are you not going to-” 

Phil cuts you off before you can finish, not even needing to know what you were going to ask. “No. Not here.” He says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s for when we’re at home. Besides,” He smooths a hand over your hair. “You’ve had a long day.” 

He stares down at you for a moment, and you almost think he’s changing his mind, deciding he can’t wait until you’re back in Texas. Instead he takes a step back, turning to the dresser your bag had been set on. There’s other shopping bags next to it, things you hadn't even noticed when you walked in. 

You had been too focused on the bed. 

“Bryan picked up some clothes.” He turns back to look at you, his hand trailing down your back. “As cute as the uniform is, I’d rather you be comfortable.” 

You can see it in his eyes. He’s picturing you in it, and not standing before him. It makes your skin crawl. 

“Get some sleep.” He says, moving his hand from your lower back. “We’ve got an early flight tomorrow. You need anything, I’m across the hall and Bryan’s next door.” 

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Thank you, Phil.” 

He grins down at you, dimples indenting in his cheeks. “Of course, darlin’.” 

You stare at the door for a minute after he closes it, holding your breath. You half expect him to come back in, change his mind and decide he’d rather do it here. He could barge in, force you down on the bed and you wouldn’t be able to do anything. You’re not supposed to do anything. 

Good omegas do as they’re told. Good omegas don’t fight back. 

You wish the door had a lock on it. 

You jolt awake as you’re jostled in your seat. You let out a quiet sound, not quite sure where you even are, much less what’s going on. 

“Just a bit of turbulence.” A voice says, pushing your head to rest against a shoulder again. 

Right. You’re on a plane heading towards Dallas. You didn’t realize you fell asleep, your head resting on Phil’s shoulder. He smells like scent blockers, all three of you do. The plane is a cocktail of scents, the chemical burn of scent blocker mixed with the ugly mesh of too many scents in one confined space. Not everyone has the decency to use scent blockers while traveling. You’ve always hated planes for that reason. 

You stretch your legs out as much as you can, your knee bumping the tray lightly. It had been lowered, you assume, at some point while you were asleep. Your book is sitting on it, the book you had been reading before you fell asleep. It’s the only one you own, a worn out copy you stole from FIOT’s library during your first week and never returned. The cover is faded and nearly falling off, the pages yellowed and stiff from how many times it’s been read over the last two years. 

You’d had a brief discussion about it before you descended into silence, Phil promising you all the books your heart desires once you get to his home. Your home. 

It’s your home now too. You’re no longer attached to your family, no longer attached to the institute. Phil is your world now, and you exist solely in his sphere. You’re dependent on him, and once the claim is made and the paperwork is filed, you will be his forever. 

There won’t be any going back. 

Phil will never change his mind. 

The plane jostles again and you grip the arm resting on your leg out of instinct. 

“Easy.” Phil shushes you, his lips brushing your forehead. His hand closes around yours, squeezing it gently. “Haven’t flown much, have you?” 

“Twice.” You say, your fully awake brain realizing you’re still leaning against his shoulder, but you’re not sure you should move. He obviously likes it if he let it happen. Will he get mad if you try to move? Would he reprimand you on the plane, even if you are quite spaced out in first class? 

He hums, resting his cheek on your head. “We’ll go on lots of flights together. I’ll take you all over the world.” 

Would he take you to see your family again? 

They were friends once. He has to at least know where they are and what they’re doing. Would he do that for you? Or is he going to keep you isolated as expected to prevent those bonds from forming again. Your only bonds should be with him and his pack. Not your old pack that you left behind for a reason. 

You don’t know anything about his pack. 

You know he has a beta, Bryan, his most trusted beta, from the looks of it. How many others are there? How many other alphas and betas? Is he head alpha, or is there someone else? You can’t imagine Phil not being in charge. He always seemed to take command of a room, even with other alphas. Even with your dad. 

Are there other omegas in his pack? Or will you be alone, surrounded by alphas and betas? 

Can you even ask him? Or is he saving that for later, when you’re at his home. Would he get annoyed if you asked? Would it ruin his plan that he obviously has laid out? 

Your name being said brings you back to reality, your head tilting to look up at Phil. He’s staring down at you, his eyebrows raised. 

“Welcome back.” He says, and for a second you wonder if you fell asleep again. “Lost in your head there, huh?” 

You swallow thickly. “Yeah. My instructors said I have a lot of strengths, but my one fault is I think too much. Sometimes they’d say I’m sucking all the thoughts out of the room. Though, I think that was less of an insult towards me.” 

Phil chuckles. “Got a lot of things going on in that head of yours. Just don’t let it get you too distracted. Hate for something to happen to you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead again as the plane begins its descent. 

His words almost feel like a threat again, like a silent warning that something will happen if you don’t stop thinking so much. Will he try to fix that habit for you? Will he try to break you of that? Good omegas don’t have to think, they know and they act. An omega with too many thoughts is too independent. Alphas don’t like independent omegas. They want someone to listen and do as they're told, not question their orders. 

You can’t help but sense the silent threat that radiates from him, the undertone of danger that has warning bells going off in your head. He’s been nice and polite and caring so far. 

How long will that last once you’re in the privacy of his home? 

It’s a nice neighborhood. Nicer than you’ve ever lived in, at least. The houses are big, the cars parked outside are nice, the lawns are pristine. It’s all very picturesque, it all feels very...manufactured. 

Phil drives to the end of the cul de sac, pulling into the driveway of one of the two houses facing the rest of the street. There’s an American flag hung up on the porch rustling with the soft breeze. It’s warm outside, something you haven’t missed. It’s been years since you’ve lived in Texas, ten almost. You had been eight years old when your father received his next change of station orders and your family packed up and moved again. 

That had just been shortly after Phil disappeared from your family’s lives. 

Phil pulls into the garage, parking the SUV next to a rather expensive looking classic sports car. You stare at it for a moment, questioning just what Phil does and how much he makes from doing it. You’re not sure you want to know. 

You fumble with the seatbelt as Bryan opens the door for you, blinking yourself out of your haze. He offers a hand and you let him help you out of the car to not seem rude. Phil gives you a small smile as you approach him. 

He cups your chin, staring down at your face. “Jet lagged?” He asks, his thumb stroking your jaw before letting you go. 

Jet lagged, confused, uncomfortable, unsure. All of the above. 

“Yes.” You nod. 

“Come on. I’ll give you a tour and then you can nap.” He says, slinging an arm around your shoulders. 

He opens the door into the house, unlocked, you note. The inside is nice. Clean, pristine, staged looking. You’re not sure if anyone even lives in the house. You can’t help but wonder if Phil bought this house just for this moment. 

“Cleaners come twice a week.” He says as he leads you around the first floor. “This whole space is yours, except for this room.” He says pointing out a door at the end of one hallway. “This is my office. Door’s always locked at all times. No one is allowed in besides me. You see anyone trying to get in, you tell me right away. Understood?” 

You nod. The idea of what could be behind that door has a shiver running down your spine.

“Good girl.” He says, booping your nose. “Now, for the best part.” 

He leads you upstairs, giving you a quick tour of guest bedrooms that don’t look like they’ve been touched, bathrooms far too clean to have ever been used. Why he needs so much space is beyond you. 

No, you know why. 

He leads you down to the end of a hallway, a door looming in front of you. You know what’s behind it. It’s what’s been clawing at you since the plane landed, since the drive from the airport, since you stepped foot in Phil’s home. Your home. 

It’s nice inside. Clean, well organized. It looks like a stage in a movie. The bed is large, larger than necessary you think. The comforter is a deep navy with nothing but the necessary amount of pillows on it. There’s a chair in the corner that doesn’t look like it’s ever been sat in. A TV hangs on the wall across from the bed and a dresser sits between two doors on the far wall. The closet and bathroom you assume. It’s spacious, but not comforting. 

That’s your job. 

“Don’t worry, you can add your womanly touch to it later.” Phil says, stepping up behind you. You can’t hide the way your body tenses as his hands slide up your arms. His breath fans over your ear as he leans down, pressing his face against your neck. “We’re going to make good use of this room.” His lips brush your throat, tongue darting out to lick your scent gland. He hums appreciatively. “Sweeter than I remember, those strawberries.” His arms wrap around you, pinning your back against his chest. “We were made for each other.” 

Your stomach clenches as his scent intensifies, blending with yours. You try not to panic as his lips drag up the side of your neck. There’s no stopping him. There’s no convincing him to wait. 

He presses his nose into your hair, taking a deep breath in. “Get some rest.” He finally releases you. “I’ve got some things to take care of, and I don’t doubt the girls will want to take you shopping.” 

“Girls?” You frown, turning to face him. 

“The other pack omegas. They’re excited to finally meet you.” 

Oh. You haven’t even thought about the pack or how big it is or its dynamics. Everything has happened so quickly, there’s been no time for discussions like that. You suppose you should have that conversation soon. Though, it’s been a long day already and he’s not wrong. You do need some rest. 

‘A good night’s sleep is essential for omegas to do their jobs effectively. No alpha wants a whiny omega.’ 

He brushes his hand over your hair, giving you a soft smile. “Take a nap. You look like you need one.” He presses a kiss to your forehead before he leaves, closing the door behind him. You stare at it for a long moment, half expecting him to change his mind, but you can hear him going down the stairs. You can hear everything in the silence of the house. It’s almost too quiet after the constant noise of the institute. There’s always someone talking, moving around, making noise. Even at night it was never truly quiet. 

Now the silence is almost loud in your ears. 

It won’t be silent forever. 

You stare at the bed, half tempted to just curl up on the floor. He would be mad if you slept in one of the guest rooms. He’d know immediately. You’ll have to brave the bed. Better to do it now than when you have no choice. 

“Look at you!” Hands squeeze your arms. There’s so many scents floating around you, yet it’s comforting. You’re among your own again. “Oh, you’re just a baby aren’t you?” 

Natalie, her name is. You had been introduced in a flurry of excitement, and you had lost track of most of their names. Doesn’t matter, you’ll learn them all eventually. 

Her alpha is Osmond, ‘Oz’ as he’d told you to call him, Phil’s second alpha. Not necessarily a large man, but highly intimidating nonetheless. You’d guess Natalie to be in her 30s, though you’ve never been good at guessing ages. 

“How old are you, sweetie?” She asks, squeezing your arms again. She’s trying to comfort you in your obvious state of overwhelm. 

“Eighteen.” You answer, staring up at her. 

Something flashes across her face, but it disappears as quickly as it arrived. “You are a baby.” She wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, we’ve got a lot to cover and we’ve got some errands to run.” 

There’s a lot of omegas. Phil had finally broken down the pack and its dynamics over a late lunch, even introducing you to a few members on your way to Oz’s house. You had your suspicions that Phil was pack alpha, and you were right. His presence, the kind of power he radiates. You’re going to be the head omega once Phil has claimed you. Natalie has been serving that position, as second alpha’s omega. 

You’re not sure you want to take it from her. 

They’re all older than you, if by only a couple of years. You do feel like a baby in their midst, so unprepared and unsure. It’s natural to feel that way, you were taught. There’s a shift, a change in dynamics, an adjustment period in the pack when a new omega is added. 

Why couldn’t Phil have just been the family alpha type?

“Phil says you’ve known him for a while.” Anna, Marcus’ omega, says. 

You nod. “He was friends with my dad when he was stationed in Fort Worth.” 

“That was a while ago.” Jenny says. 

“About ten years.” You say. 

Silence falls in the room for a moment. It’s a tense silence, speaking volumes of their understanding and the realization of the situation. They won’t say anything. They can’t say anything. 

“Well,” Natalie says, breaking the silence. “We’re glad you’re here. If you need anything at all, you’ve got us now.” She wraps her arms around you again. She reminds you a bit of your mother, perhaps if your mother hadn’t been constrained by the controlling nature of your father. “All omegas truly have is each other, right?” 

The others agree with her, and you can’t deny it. What do omegas really have? Nothing their alphas don’t want them to have. Nothing parents, institutes, anyone in control don’t want them to have. 

All we really have is each other. 

“I mean it.” Natalie says. “Anything at all.” 

They are excited to take you shopping, despite the heaviness of the conversation that had transpired. They spoil you, throwing bags and bags in the back of the SUV, brushing off any concerns about money. Anything you want or need, you get several of them. It’s overwhelming after never getting anything but the bare necessities and what the institute wants you to have. 

Marcus, one of the higher ranking alphas in the pack, follows everyone around like a security detail. You had been concerned upon hearing only one alpha was accompanying you...until you saw Marcus for the first time. He’s big. Very big. Tall and bulky, he’s the perfect specimen of an alpha. Many young omegas’ dream alpha. Marcus is intimidating, letting off a dangerous air which causes most that pass your group to not even give you a second glance. 

He escorts your small group around, offering up no question or complaint. You almost wish he was going to be your alpha, but then again, you know almost nothing about him. You don’t even really know that much about Phil. Most of the things you know are things you overheard from conversations he had with your father. But how trustworthy are those things, really? You hadn’t understood much until now. Now it all makes sense. 

A lot of things make sense now. 

Natalie stands with you on the sidewalk as Marcus and Bryan carry load after load of bags into Phil’s house. Your house. You’re scared for what’s coming tonight. Phil won’t wait. He won’t put things off, he won’t hold off until your first heat. He’ll want to make things official now, stake his claim as soon as possible. He’s waited ten years for this. 

Natalie smiles softly down at you, a knowing look in her eyes. “Nervous?” She asks, picking up on your uneasy energy. 

You nod, trying to stop the tears from pooling in your eyes. Good omegas serve their alphas, no matter what. 

“I know what that’s like. I was scared shitless too.” She laughs quietly. “I think Oz was just as nervous too. Just relax and breathe. Phil will take care of you. That I can be confident about.” Her smile turns almost bittersweet. She knows. She understands. “You’ll be alright. I’ll come by tomorrow morning, okay?” 

You nod, trying to suppress your nervousness. Natalie will understand, though you’re not so sure Phil will. 

You look terrified as you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You bathed an hour ago and yet you still can’t quite bring yourself to leave the bathroom. You smooth your hands over the silk hugging your skin for the thousandth time. You’re shocked you haven’t worn through the thin fabric yet with your sweaty palms. 

Your eyes dart down to the sink, your stomach churning wildly as the bedroom door closes. Phil is back. You’ll have to leave the bathroom soon. You can’t spend the whole night behind the locked door. 

You don’t doubt he’d break it down eventually. 

Then he’ll be angry. 

You let out a long breath, curling your hands into fists to stop them from shaking. You have to do this. This is your job, your duty as an omega. Serve your alpha and make him happy. Be a good omega and do what he says. Obedience is an omega’s purpose. This is always what was going to happen, be it with Phil or with a stranger. Perhaps there is a small comfort in the fact you know Phil. You’re familiar with him. Why would he wait ten years for you just to hurt you? 

The little food you managed to eat churns uncomfortably in your stomach. Phil had treated you to dinner before he’d left again, giving you time to clean up and prepare yourself for tonight. For right now. 

You spritz more scent-enhancing perfume on your skin before you let out a long breath. You try to fix your face, not look quite so terrified, but you’re not sure you can hold it as you unlock the door, turning the knob. 

The light in the closet is on, the door half open. Phil must be in there, likely having to maneuver around bags. You’d unpacked some things and put them away, but you’d nearly had a breakdown when you reached the lingerie store bags. You’re wearing some of it now, the silk robe and little white number your fellow omegas had gotten you. Specifically for tonight, you think. You won’t be wearing it again. 

The closet door opens fully, Phil standing there in nothing but his jeans. His eyes trail your body as you stand there awkwardly in the middle of the room. His teeth sink into his lip, his scent thickening. You’re trying to look anywhere but at him but you can’t help the way your eyes are drawn to his form. He’s just as tall and muscular as you remember, more lean than bulky like your father had been. His skin is pale, though you can’t imagine him spending much time lounging in the backyard by the pool. Under the awning at the grill with a beer in hand as he used to do, that you can picture. 

“Look at you.” He says, turning off the light before stepping fully out of the closet. “All wrapped up like a present just for me.” 

You feel like vomiting as he approaches you slowly. You feel like a rabbit trapped in the sights of a hungry wolf, too afraid to run, too afraid to fight back. You’re going to be devoured and there’s no stopping it. 

You jump as his hand cups your face, your eyes darting up to his. There’s a soft look in them, an attempt at soothing your fear. There’s nothing he can do to make this easier, though, other than just get it over with. 

It’ll get easier. That’s what Anna told you. Eventually your omega will be happy, content with a good alpha and a pack. It’s just an adjustment. That’s why it’s recommended to wait when adding a new omega. Get past the adjustment period before reaching this stage. 

How do you stop an alpha that’s been waiting ten years? 

Most alphas don’t wait anyway. 

“Don’t be scared, darlin’.” He says, lips tilting up in a smile. “I’ll take good care of you.” 

His fingers tug at the ties of the robe around your waist, your heart thudding in your chest. You’re shocked he can’t hear it. It’s pulsing in your ears, nearly blocking out all sound as he pulls the tie free, revealing your lacy lingerie underneath. He lets out a low whistle as he pushes the robe off your shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. 

“Look. At. You.” He says, enunciating each word. His hands slide down your sides, brushing lace and smooth skin. “Can’t wait much longer.” He nearly groans, his gaze darkening. He steps up closer to you, your gaze locked on his. You can’t look down, you can’t stare at the tent in his jeans, you can’t stare at the bulge that’s brushing against your pelvis with every breath. “You ever done this before?” He asks. 

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “N-No.” 

“No?” He raises a brow. “Not even a kiss?” 

You shake your head. 

“Pure little thing, all for me.” He nearly growls, pushing his body fully against yours. His hand cups the side of your neck, something tingling in the back of your brain as his fingers brush the sensitive skin on the back of your neck. 

You’re distracted from that tingle though as he kisses you, his lips rough against yours. You’re not sure what to do, but he doesn’t seem to care. His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you tight against him. Your stomach is churning, not entirely from nerves anymore as his scent completely takes over, clouding your mind. Despite your nerves and hesitation, your omega purrs appreciatively. He smells good, like alpha. It’s exactly what your omega wants, what she’s been craving. 

“Fuck,” He groans against your lips, hands tugging at the lace covering your lower back. “So fucking sweet.” He bites at your lower lip, harder than you're expecting. You let out a quiet nose but that only seems to encourage him. 

He pulls away from you, turning you towards the bed. Your palms fall against the mattress to catch yourself. The comforter has been pulled down, your hands falling against the sheets. White sheets. 

Phil’s hands drag up your back until it reaches the top of the lace. He rips it easily, tearing it down the back before he pushes it off your shoulders. His hands run over your skin as he pushes the lace from your body, his back meeting your chest. His skin is warm against yours, his bulge pushing up against your ass at this angle. 

“Sweet little omega.” He growls, pressing his face into your neck, inhaling deeply. “All for me. All mine, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, alpha.” You say, fingers curling into the sheet beneath your hands. 

He hums appreciatively, nipping at the skin over your scent gland. You can’t help but begin to feel a stirring in your stomach. It feels good, despite everything. Your omega is growing complacent, the promise of what’s coming not nearly quite so frightening. 

It gets easier. 

Phil’s hands rest on your stomach, pushing your body tight against his. “Can’t wait for your next heat.” He groans, pushing his hips against your ass. “Gonna pump you full until it takes, give you a pup like you’ll be begging for. Keep you pumped full, just like your mama, huh. You’ll give me a big pack, won’t you?” 

You’re glad he can’t see your face as he holds you there, your eyes glued to the white sheet in front of you. You desperately fight back the tears blurring your vision. 

“Yes, alpha.” 

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[mulletmitsuya]

Tokyo Revengers Groupchat (Final Timeline)

Warnings: suggestive (i might have to change this warning to "mentions of sexual content" bcs it's too tame of a warning for the stuff that's actually in here), swearing, the word "pedophile" is mentioned, mentions of substance abuse

Desc: Everyone finds out Takemitchy and Mikey are time leapers, which leads to some...interesting questions

Mitsuya: so let me get this straight

Mitsuya: you're a time traveler, and you've lived dozens of timelines to prevent Hina from dying but she kept dying anyway but then when you got to one where she didn't die, Mikey was some deranged criminal lord and was miserable and depressed and tried to kill himself so you had to go back in time again to make sure everything was fixed but ended up dying while fighting Mikey but then somehow you both went back in time and rewrote all of our entire lives??

Takemitchy: yeah...

Baji: cap

Mikey: it's not

Mitsuya: so Mikey's a time traveler too?

Mikey: yeah it's crazy i know

Draken: do you guys have any way to prove this?

Chifuyu: this explains why i keep getting random visions of me in alternate universes. holy shit

Haruchiyo: weird ass prank

Takemitchy: i think it happened since you're close to me and we basically did everything together. i'm not sure

Inupi: we're just gonna believe this?

Koko: wait, i kind of do

Kisaki: this...defies all logic of anything ever.

Mikey: shut up Kisaki

Mikey: i'm sorry it's just that in ever other timeline you've ruined my life so it's difficult to be nice to you sometimes

Kisaki: so you don't like me because of something i did in another universe?

Takemitchy: *timeline

Mikey: yeah. my bad

Baji: i'm gonna entertain this cause i'm bored but what was i like in other timelines

Mikey: dead

Baji: ...all of em?

Mikey: yeah, it kinda drove me to insanity

Baji: damn

Baji: why?

Mikey: you killed yourself to save Kazutora

Baji: what was the context

Mikey: long story

Baji: there wasn't any other way?

Mikey: you're kinda pissing me off cause that's what i was wondering, actually

Baji: damn

Kazutora: thanks man. appreciate it🙏

Kazutora: i'll slobber on your meat later, as a proper thank you

Baji: i'd appreciate that. thanks homie🙌

Koko: what about me?

Baji: you wanna slobber on my meat? i mean i won't stop you. as long as i can call you kitten.

Koko: ...i was talking about me in alternate universe's😐

Takemitchy: i don't think we should go there guys. there's too many timelines, and not everything was exactly the same. and also in general it was a really traumatizing experience for me and i kind of want to end my life every time i think about it

Hanma: womp womp. what about me???

Mikey: murderer

Hanma: YESSSSS 😭😭😭😭😭

Hanma: THANK GOD, I KNEW IF I COULDN'T DO IT HERE, MULTIVERSE ME WOULD HAVE LIVED THE DREAM

Hanma: are me and Tetta-san together in every universe

Mikey: surprisingly, yes

Hanma: and he denies we're soulmates😔

Kisaki: i will not hesitate to get another restraining order

Hanma: a piece of paper won't stand in my way. let's get married

Kisaki: i will call the police

Draken: guys are we really entertaining this?

Mikey: you went to jail in one of the timelines and you were bald LMAO

Draken: sure

Baji: why'd he go to jail?

Mikey: these guys killed Emma and Ken-chin took revenge

Baji: respectable

Mikey: he was given a death sentence

Baji: that's tough fr

Ran: i'm kinda curious

Ran: humour me, what was i like?? was i famous?

Mikey: you were a criminal. killed people

Ran: sounds about right if i'm being honest

Ran: and Haruchiyo and Rindou?

Haruchiyo: leave me out of Takemitchy's psychotic episodes

Haruchiyo: i think you have a hallucination/delusion disorder or something

Mikey: but don't you believe me?

Haruchiyo: ...

Haruchiyo: Mikey, you're also pretty mentally ill

Mikey: says you???

Haruchiyo: i just have substance abuse problems and i'm getting clean so...

Mikey: GUYS I'M TELLING THE TRUTH I SWEAR

Mikey: I'VE BEEN GOING CRAZY KEEPING THIS A SECRET

Draken: when was the last time you slept?

Mikey: ☹️

Baji: guys just play pretend.

Rindou: what about me?

Mikey: same as your brother just uh, less gay and slutty?

Rindou: story of my life

Inupi: you didn't do Koko

Mikey: criminal

Koko: the whole time?

Mikey: yeah

Mikey: Inupi got normal at some point because he and Ken-chin got close and they fixed bikes together and had sex

Inupi: Draken????

Draken: you're really starting to piss me off.

Mikey: Akane died in the fire though like she was BURNT

Takemitchy: uh Mikey-kun...

Mikey: she was a crisp i'm telling you

Mikey: Inupi you had an ugly red scar on your face and no one wanted you

Mikey: Izana i know you're reading this, you were fucking insane dude like you killed Emma for some fucking reason then Kisaki shot you 3 times in the chest and you died while having a really bad mental breakdown. it was a major L on your part

Chifuyu: Mikey why are you leaving out the fact that the common denominator in every single timeline was that you killed every single one of your friends in the most brutal ways possible🤨?

Mikey: no comment

Smiley: how'd he kill me?

Chifuyu: uhhh

Chifuyu: Takemitchy help me out here

Takemitchy: i don't want to talk about it😐

Chifuyu: I REMEMBER

Chifuyu: backshot

Smiley: ...

Smiley: he killed me by giving me backshots..?

Smiley: i would NEVER take it from behind

Smiley: especially from MIKEY

Smiley: small dick having ass

Smiley: my bootyhole is not to be messed with

Smiley: i'm so pissed off right now holy shit

Smiley: how did i even die???? dick so good it killed me?

Smiley: i'm so angry

Angry: and i'm Smiley😂

Baji: 3/10 joke 👎, poor delivery, fell flat

Smiley: i hope you kill yourself, Mikey

Mikey: trust me, i've tried

Chifuyu: ???

Chifuyu: he shot you in the back with a gun?

Chifuyu: what's wrong with you

Smiley: oh my bad i though you meant like, he was taking me doggy style

Smiley: i'm no bottom

Ran: what is happening

Chifuyu: i'm moving on😐

Chifuyu: Hakkai was tied to a chair and burnt to death

Hakkai: wha-

Hakkai: WHAT DID I DO??

Hakkai: jesus 😟

Chifuyu: why am i getting all these memories, i'm freaking out

Hakkai: Mikey please tell me what i did to deserve that ☹️

Mikey: idk Hakkai i was going through a lot

Draken: have you been diagnosed with anything?

Mikey: i don't need a diagnosis bcs i'm fine now, you're all alive and i don't have any murderous intent!!! yippee🤗

Mikey: isn't this great Takemitchy??

Takemitchy: well, yeah no ones dead so that's great

Izana: this is obviously completely fabricated

Izana: are you guys that bored?

Senju: man for all that time traveling you sure are a shit boyfriend😭

Takemitchy: how????

Takemitchy: did Hina say that☹️??

Senju: it's an observation

Senju: you've had way too many coincidental close calls with other woman💀

Draken: yeah you pissed me off when you thought i was gifting you a prostitute. you had a whole ass girlfriend. shame on you

Senju: and you also almost slept with Emma and you "don't remember"

Smiley: Mitchy's low-key funny as hell because what do you mean you stripped yourself and another girl down to your underwear by accident

Baji: wouldn't Takemitchy be a pedophile then?? Emma was 13 dawg🤨

Mikey: he was 14 though😭

Baji: you're gonna ride Takemitchy's dick to defend him from trying to sleep with your 13 year old sister??? crazy

Baji: wasn't be mentally 26🤨?

Baji: bro i'm gonna beat your ass actually

Mikey: hmm

Mikey: you know what Mitchy, why did you do that 🤨?

Smiley: LMFAOO

Mitsuya: why did i come back to Takemitchy facing pedophile allegations, like what's going on right now

Kazutora: is it not enough that he changed the space and time continuum just to be with his girl?

Kazutora: cheating this cheating that, my boy deserves all the pussy he wants

Kazutora: he's been beaten, shot, stabbed AND killed

Kazutora: i personally believe he's the goat

Baji: ?

Chifuyu: goat is an acronym for "greatest of all time", Baji-san

Baji: what's an acronym

Chifuyu: i'll dm

Kazutora: bro you're so fucking stupid😭

Draken: i don't care if he was skinned alive by an orangutan, there's no excuse to cheat on someone

Rindou: i think being skinned alive by an orangutang warrants having more than one girl. idk that's just me tho

Ran: not the point that's being made rn

Rindou: what exactly is the point that's being made

Rindou: is this real. are we being serious.

Rindou: i don't think i get the joke

Haruchiyo: i think we should all stop talking now

Mikey: Mitchy we need to talk a bit

Takemitchy: i told you this was a bad idea

[deathbxnny]

So remember that prompt i sent to you? Well here’s the request! Can i request Neuvilette, Zhongli, and Dainsleif meeting the alternate version of their dead lover? Like how would they act around the reader during their respective Archon quest? (Example, Zhongli acting weird around the reader when they were gathering materials for Rex Lapis’s funeral)

Context:

The said character used to have a lover that had died a gruesome death centuries ago. And despite the years passing by, he still hasn't really gotten over their death. He wishes he could see his dead lover again and that wish came true as when he met the traveler, he met them too but it wasn't the one had fallen in love with. It was an alternate version of his dead lover.

The reader is an alternate version of said character's dead lover. They're from another universe (maybe HSR?) and somehow got isekaied to Teyvat. Fortunately, they got dropped at the same beach Traveler and Paimon was resting in the prologue. After talking with the traveler and realizing they are in another universe, the reader decides to join the traveler in traveling Teyvat and try to find a way to go back home. Although the last thing they expect was an ancient man acting strange around them.

(Side note: The characters are not in love with the reader (who’s the alt version of their dead lover) as he did not fall for this version of his lover. Its more of a longing? Like “so close yet so far” kind of case? I hope that makes sense)

- Flower Anon 🌸

Hello Flower anon! I have finally found the time to do your request, so I hope you like this and thank you for your great ask!!<33

(Also, due to the fact that I barely remember most story quests, I've decided to generalize these a little-)

Content: Reader is dead, past romantic relationships, doppelgangers, vague descriptions of readers death, angst, hurt/no comfort, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

》NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette took a double take, a really obvious one that made the Traveler and Paimon glance at eachother in confusion at his strong reaction. His usually calm and collected persona slipped, the disbelief spreading across his face before he tried to hide it behind a cough quickly. His heart was beating out of his chest, thousands of questions plaguing his mind at once, until you nervously asked him if he was okay.

It took him only a small moment to collect himself, a deep exhale releasing all the grief, horror, and pain with it. He smiled calmly once more, chuckling as he waved off your concerns. "I felt ill." He'd say, not elaborating any further as he asked you to please continue telling him about your mission to expose the truth behind his own archon. He doesn't react further than that and stays professional to his bestest ability.

He knows it's not really you, after all. And he refuses to hurt himself any further than your death already had. This was a mere coincidence, a cruel joke of the universe that made him want to laugh bitterly.

Instead, however, the rain poured down for a week straight, despite his best efforts to stay strong.

》ZHONGLI

Zhongli doesn't have a visible reaction and strictly keeps it that way when meeting you for the first time whilst you were helping him with the "funeral". This alternative version of you seemed to be the same on the surface. But he could easily tell that you still weren't his lover that he lost so many years ago. And he supposed that it was for the best to let the past go through befriending you at least.

He observes you closely, often finding himself still reminiscing in the small actions you do share with his original muse, whilst he delves into deeper conversations with you. But that's his limit. Whether out of the respect for the dead or his need to distance himself from the tragedy that once befell you, he didn't know. But he just couldn't interact with you further than that.

He simply watches you from afar instead, as you prepare everything for the grimm festivities, his heart secretly yearning for another awfully familiar smile his way despite everything.

》DAINSLEIF

Dainsleif felt breathless at the sight of you, and for a moment, he wondered if he had imagined you. A past he desperately held onto drifted through his mind, your image perfectly clear in his memory, his heart aching desperately with the need to hold you again after the fall of your nation. Unsaid, regret filled words burned on his tongue before he swallowed them as swift as the emotions that overwhelmed him.

He ignored Paimons' inquiry over his somehow even paler face, before turning to the important mission at hand. That wasn't you, he reminded himself grimly. This doppelganger that seemed so much like you was just a pure coincidence, nothing more, nothing less. And yet those reminders did little to quell the uneasiness and ill feeling in his stomach. The memory of your death replayed over and over again endlessly for all eternity to come.

And even if it did happen to be a reincarnation of you after all, Dainsleif would have still refused to reach out to you more than he already has through the unknowing traveler and Paimon. He didn't see himself as deserving to be in your presence. That privilege had been taken from him the moment you took your last breath.

[lady-raziel]

yeah fuck it i'm not done with my fanfic rant. it's very very clear that many of the people out there saying 'i don't read fanfic because its not canon and its poorly written'...have never really, truly spent the time to interact with fanfiction. it's kind of like they heard all the bad criticisms of fan writing, and just assumed they were true and never bothered to check for themselves.

yes, there are fanfics that are poorly written. yes, there are fanfics that are just porn. yes, there are even fanfics that are alternate universes of canon that may even have OOC characterizations. all of these things are true, and pretty much every fanfic enjoyer will agree with you.

but the point of fanfiction. the whole point is that you have to search around and find what you like. because for some reason, canon isn't doing it for you. or you just want to know what someone else's interpretation of how things could have happened is!

there are brilliant fanfictions. there are truly amazing, incredibly written fanfictions that take the good parts of a story and make them better. there are fanfictions better than actual published works that are better plotted out and researched than anything canon has to offer. but you have to FIND these fanfics, whether through recs or by searching yourself.

the people who say all fanfic is bad and poorly written seem to live with the expectation that good media will simply be handed to them and they can consume it unquestioningly. regardless of the slew of bad books, shows, and movies that exist and are thrown at us on a daily basis. would you really go so far as to say 'all tv shows have poor writing' because it took trying to watch several bad shows in your streaming recommendations to find one you liked? or do you really, honestly think that because something was made with profit in mind it inherently has better quality and more value than something made out of passion?

fanfic haters, find the love in your heart to engage with media you love outside of the context of it being sold to you. you may even find a gem among the coal that makes you love the original property even more.

[aerkame]

Alright I read your request rules and I’m ready to request!

Wally Darling x Curious Reader

You know that little fic you made where you wrote the puppets coming into the real world? (I commented on it!)——I hope you wouldn’t mind me trying to branch off it! Imaging it happening to me, I would actually like to inspect Wally since he’s clearly not human. Of course, with consent. I would open his mouth- see what’s inside, touch his felt, his hair, all of it.

And I’d imagine he’d be curious about us too.

Sorry for this being a bit late, I wanted a short break from writing and drawing all day. Also I'm perfectly fine with that being branched off of! Most of my previous posts are kind of like foundations for future fics and requests to go off of.

Also for the sake of simplicity I will just call this an AU(Alternate Universe). The Alive AU. It's exactly what it sounds like, the puppets come to life but as their cartoon selves in the real world and are capable of going back to their own world at any time. (Wally needs to do that though or they're stuck, he knows what he's doing). I'm also doing this so that in the future when we do have answers to Welcome Home, it won't interfere with theories or what is considered "canon". This request is based on a previous post (linked below this), for context.

Just a Little Look

___________________________________________________________

Out of all the other 'puppets', Wally was the one you were most curious and cautious about. It wasn't that he ate differently, it wasn't because his eyes looked different from the rest, and it wasn't because he was always staring at you. No, it was the way he acted. He acted like he's done this before. The whole going into this world and not being a normal puppet bit. You decided that you might as well ask Wally if you could feel him or look inside his mouth...maybe not that first one though, that might come out as weird to him and the others. It's not like he had a reason to say no really, you were just curious.

The 'puppet' with an Elvis cut was sitting down on your couch one leg crossed over the other like the distinguished dude that he was, face buried in a newspaper from this morning. You don't remember teaching him how to read the newspaper, where did he even get that? "Hey Wally..." You shuffled your foot a bit, getting somewhat anxious. "Can I look in your mouth?"

"Hmm?" He looked up from reading the paper with an almost dreamy look to him. "Can I look in your mouth?" You repeated the question, this time he heard you as his head tilted to the side. "Now what would you want to look in my mouth for?" His voice was as calm as usual, though he did have a bit of a smirk today.

"I'm just curious is all, you're not like the others and I've never seen what you guys look like on the inside." You gestured to the inside of your mouth, sticking your tongue out. Wally slowly got up from the couch and leaned over you, smirk still lingering on his face. "Well, I don't see why not, but I'll only let you look inside me if you let me look inside you." You nodded, excited to finally get a look. "Alright, sounds fair." You responded as Wally folded up the newspaper and neatly placed it on the coffee table.

Bending down, Wally opened his mouth quite a bit to let you look, making a small "Ahhh~" like a child would when letting a doctor look at their throat. You peered over to see inside. It was what a normal puppet mouth would look like save for the small black void at the back of the 'throat'. You're not even going to question how Wally speaks or eats, nothing surprises you anymore at this point. Kind of weird to see what is basically a tiny void though.

He closed his mouth once you were done looking before leaning closer to softly grab your face in his hands. It wasn't what you'd thought it'd feel like. You were expecting something like felt, but that wasn't it. It was some other material you've never felt before, it was soft and smooth like silk, but not in a sense that it was fabric. "I believe it's my turn to see the inside of your mouth now." You nodded quietly and opened your mouth as wide as you could, showing off your canines and molars.

It was awkwardly quiet in the living room for a while and you slowly found yourself leaning further and further into the soft hands that held your head up earning a small chuckle from Wally. "Tired?" You nodded. It's been a rough week both from your job getting busy and you being busy at the house trying to keep your new guests out of trouble. "It's like I'm taking care of a bunch of kids.." You mumbled into his hands.

"How about you take a good nap then, you'll be up and full of that energy you need." There it was again. You could feel him staring at you with those eyes. You were too tired to say anything this time though and opted for just getting up and heading to your room. Leaving behind a still smirking Wally.

____________________________________________________________

I told you guys, I write medium to long posts even if they take a while.

Next up? Barnaby and Wally teach the dear reader how to slow dance. :)

[goldenhickeysandramen]

Serendipity

Serendipity is the occurrence of an unexpected and fortunate discovery that happens when you are looking for something else. It is the "happy or beautiful coincidence".

One of the most important serendipities in history is the discovery of penicillin, that happened when Fleming went on holiday and left behind a bacterial culture plate on which a fungus happened to be growing.

In the context of love, serendipity often manifests itself as meeting someone special in the most unexpected circumstances or finding love in someone unexpected. Perhaps you were expecting another thing to happen (like a strong friendship to grow?😏), but something else BEAUTIFUL occurred.

Jimin's Serendipity song is about a love that is born out of the unexpected and is so surprising that it is frightening.

It is very interesting to see that the song uses the concepts of destiny and serendipity (you are my penicillin), which are apparently opposed.

What we call "destiny" is a philosophical and existential concept that alludes to the belief that everything that happens in life happens inexorably and according to some kind of "plan". To believe in destiny is to believe that everything happening has some predetermined meaning and coherence, and that there is therefore little point in resisting it ("It was fate that led to this... that we crossed paths..., that we came this far... "🥰).

From the perspective of serendipity, what there is the happiness of having met in the midst of chaos, where it was highly unlikely that we would meet or spend enough time together to build a love story. There is no destiny, only the most beautiful coincidence.

I find interesting how the song mixed both philosophies. The lyrics talking about destiny, and what happened ...that must be "the providence of the universe"...

.. there’s a kind of “acceptance” that "It just had to be"... maybe because despite initial caution or opposition, there existed no alternative path for the souls involved but to inevitably fall in love.

Funny thing is to see that - as far as we know - these are the two visions that JK and Jimin have of their own lives ☺️ (One firmly believing in destiny and the other in building his own paths).

And you will say .... It's Namjoom who wrote the lyrics.

Yes, I know.

BUT....I really think that Jimin gave him certain hints of what he wanted to say, or alternatively… Namjoon already knew. Because this song is so Jikook coded.. Jimin (and Jungkook too) giving us some hints during years.

The first one was in Run episode 61 (which was recorded in summer 2018). BTS split into teams to compete for snacks and in the game Jimin and JK got the same score: 738.

https://x.com/bangtannuggets/status/1361299753900867585?s=46&t=vgk32mOt764yK5fakoQqow

Jungkook asked "Destiny?" (see where JK is going? 😊)

And Jimin replied "I told you, you are me, I am you".

When did he tell him?

Did we miss something?

Do you mean he told him so in the song?

Or did he tell him before, in 2016, when Zico released a song with that name (I am you, you are me) about love and destiny that Jungkook and him decided to pay homage to on a fansign?

At the beginning of 2016 Zico released the song 지코(ZICO) - 너는 나 나는 너 (I am you, you are me)

In his MV Zico appears visiting a convenience store, where the girl working there always happens to match clothes (LOL) with him. And in one of the last scenes, the two appear with a similar wound on their finger, and with matching band-aids.

And the lyrics...

If both hearts feel the same, they're ONE..

So.. I am you, you are me

In Puma's April 2016 fansign, Jimin and JK appeared with matching Pororo’s bandaids on their fingers. And although some fans asked if they were injured, neither answered in that way. Jimin even admitted that he wore the bandaid because "the lil one" gave it to him.

The next time the two said the line to each other was on BTS Love Yourself Japan Dome Tour Documentary & Interview 2018 on TBS.....

https://x.com/gcfKM57/status/1499717697914900481

Then Jungkook gave the only explanation we have so far... that Jimin was messing with his song the whole time....(???)

Jungkook made the finger gesture and Jimin finished the verse for him.

(I wonder if the finger gesture came about while Jimin was doing the choreo, as he has many moments where his finger stands alone... I'm already envisioning the scene where JK possibly walked over and...🥰🥰🥰🤡🤡🤡🤡)

That moment in the interview speaks for itself... but as usual, the members’ reaction reveal even more, if that's possible...😂😂

So….long story short….how much of a coincidence is there when...

1. Jimin said that he would give a song (as a gift) to the person he loves in the future…? (Jungkook being very “curious” about the answer 😉)

2. He doesn't let Jungkook visit him in the MV recording ... only to see later in the MV certain sus date 😶..?

3. He includes as part of his song the title from a love song that he and JK paid homage to a year ago…?

4. Jimin told Jungkook that line and makes it "the line" between them for years…?

5. Jungkook not only accepted it, but still sings and hums the song years later, as the precious gift it is…. ?

https://x.com/lovemazejikook/status/1451536877211684864?s=46&t=vgk32mOt764yK5fakoQqow

..... ????? (closing question)

You know the answer.

Jimin told us

There is no "for army" involved here.

No fan song to allude to this time.

2017 was a year of declarations of LOVE from both of them.

Each of them chose their own artistic expression.💛💜

[ummmlife]

Yandere!Nanami as your boyfriend

now before we start you have to understand that the darkest and twisted part of my heart belongs to this concept of Nanami. This takes place in an alternative universe where Akutami got along with Nanami's original design as a curse user.

this man just had enough with his life as a salaryman and one day he murdered all his coworkers and boss. so this is where his whole personality changed.

Haibara's death, Geto's choosing to be a curse user before him, the higher-ups and their shit, Nanami simply had enough. he stops minding what people could think (since he's basically a crimal with a death sentence on) and surrendered to his most sicking and deepest desires.

now when it comes to you, Nanami met you after his transformation. if he had a partner before, he could have never become a criminal. this Nanami isn't the Nanami we know and love, he's worse, he already killed hundreds of people so why could he be a normal and mentally stable partner?

said that, please beware of:

Warning! ; Yandere!Nanami , nsfw (mdni) , violence and abuse , nc , obsessive and abusive behavior (from Nanami) , physical and psychological abuse , very dark themes , afab reader , evil Nanamin rawr. i swear, this isn't nice at all, so if you're sensitive, please avoid reading

When Nanami saw you walking alone to your home on a cold Thursday night after a long day of work/study, he simply couldn't take his eyes from you. How weird, this is the first time he has this kind of need.

Nanami slowly started to walk behind you, keeping a distance of two blocks as you kept walking.

Finally, when you turned to a very lonely neighborhood to shortcut your way home, he walked faster and held you from behind, making sure to cover your mouth, — "Shh, shh, shh… Don't make a noise, I'm not planning to hurt you".

Even though Nanami is a, now very sadist and evil man, he keeps his gentleness intact… in his own way.

— "Don't you like it? I bought these specially for you, my dear". Nanami kidnapped you, fortunately he hasn't abused you (yet), he just tries to force you to believe that you're in a relationship with him. Now he has bought a new pair of handcuffs, hinged metal handcuffs. He just wants to make sure you don't run away.

He keeps you in a dark room with a single mattress on the floor and a monitor to watch you. If it wasn't because of the context, Nanami could be the most passionate and romantic man that you could ask for, but he's your kidnapper and you are in a situation of life and death.

That one time you decided to talk back to him you got beaten up in a very nasty way. — "I'm sorry, my pet. But you need to understand that my word is the last one and you shouldn't talk back to me". He didn't even bother to clean the blood from your face or the tears of your eyes that day.

Are you into nudism? No? Oh well, you better start being a nudism enthusiast! Nanami could keep you naked, why would you need clothes anyway? He likes to grope your body and kiss you everywhere, especially after a long day of working with Geto (yes, he's with Geto). — "Hmm… Your skin is so soft, my love. Ah! No, no, no, don't try to fight back. You know that I owe you, this little cunt is all mine".

Now here is where things get bad for you. If you thought that Nanami could never want to use you to please his "special needs" you thought wrong. Yes, Nanami could fuck you even without your consent, he's a massive murdered, he doesn't need your permission or pleasure to feel good, in fact, he likes your face of distress and fear when he starts abusing your holds.

— "Hah… That's it…". This man the devil himself when he gets to fuck you, the only lub he needs it's your (forced) cum after he eats you out, and if he doesn't, oh well, I hope you be a masochist. — "Hmm! Are you crying already? Haha, oh dear, I'm just starting here. I'm gonna fuck this tiny cunt until you pass out again".

Of course, all of this is your fault. It's your fault that you're here with him, it's your fault for walking alone at night, it's your fault for being so freaking beautiful for him.

Nanami is terrifying. Even if you get some kind of Stockholm syndrome, you'll live terrified of him.

Let's say that you behave very well for him, accepting every single kind of abuse he has given you and even loving him back. He won't let you leave his apartment, but you now can walk around it and even sleep with him at night. Now you can even wear clothes! Of course, with no underwear underneath, he needs easy access to your pussy after all.

Even seeing you trying to look outside the window enrages him. He can't bear the possibility of another man wanting you, that's why he kidnapped you, after all, to keep you for him and him only. So that time when you attempted to escape and he caught you, he put the handcuffs on your wrist again and locked you in that dark and cold room again, as a punishment. — "You're mine. If you ever try to run away again, I'll beat you to death".

This man has brainwashed your mind after all these months to make you believe that you have no other choice but to be with him. He knows about your family and has threatened you to kill them if you ever leave him.

— "What if for our anniversary I give your womb a baby? Hmm? Couldn't you like it?". He's being serious, he wants a family with you. — "Oh, I know you don't want any children, dear, I know. But you have to understand that it could make me really happy, don't you want your boyfriend to be happy? What kind of girlfriend could you be if you don't make me happy?"

It's not like you could say no. If you decide to oppose he will beat you up and r word you, so be smart and accept to let him breed you.

— "You're so wet tonight, dear… Fuck, so fucking wet for me". With no other option left, you feel how Nanami is stretching your pussy with his (massive cof cof) dick. The best way to conceive a baby is in mating press, so Nanami is on top of you, with his tongue deep inside your mouth for a sloppy kiss as he's pounding all his cum to your uterus. — "Hah, darling! You're taking me so well, you have been milking me for hours now. Haha! I'm not done yet, I'm gonna get you pregnant tonight". His determination is kinda scary at his point, he's getting you and himself more than overstimulating as he cums for the 3rd time tonight. — "You're gonna look so lovely carrying my baby in your belly. Mhm, just thinking about it makes me hard again".

Getting pregnant or not, you now have to accept your new life. Any concept of freedom or a happy life has been already erased from your mind, now you can only try to bear with your new reality.

Yandere!Nanami is this sickeningly and abusive man. The one who privated you of your freedom, starves you from time to time, isolated you, abused you and forced you to make a family with him. You were so damn pretty that night when he found you, he couldn't just lose his opportunity, and only hell knows how happy he is to have found you.

good that our Nanami isn't like this at all, right? i'll write something sane and lovely about my man another day ‹𝟹

[buddierecs]

social media buddie fics

all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

those two firefighters by: darkfairytale "#thosetwofirefighters starts to gather a following on social media, as everyone tries to figure out if those two cute firefighters from the 118 in LA are a thing or not." word count: 64k important tags: crack treated seriously, oblivious!buddie, internet, social media, slow burn

mr lafd updates man (series) by: hammersmiths "eddie mans the lafd twitter account. buck tries to be supportive" word count: 14k important tags: eddie diaz becomes twitter famous, humour lafd_overheard by: fayevian "the team discover an Instagram account based on what the public has overheard from their calls. hen and chim become amateur detectives in their quest to uncover the the context of every quote, but this becomes difficult when it's increasingly clear they've been left in the dark about something." word count: 8.7k important tags: idiots, developing relationship, fluff, humour, light angst and we can stay all day by: trippedandfell "buck's a zoologist. eddie's pretty sure he's in love." word count: 3.3k important tags: alternative universe, zoologist!buck good luck, babe by: hattalove "sometimes, when you've had a bad week, all you want is a romantic evening out with your wife over terrible pizza, and what you get instead is some kind of intricate gay ritual happening two tables away from you." word count: 2.1k important tags: outsider pov, tommy kinard, marisol, social media, jealous!eddie diaz lafd-disasterboy (series) by: roger_that_sarge "buck gets tiktok" word count: 39k important tags: 5+1 things, getting together, pining, fluff, team as family mukbangswithbuck by: reallysmartladymariecurie "eddie and buck are both firefighters/youtubers and they end up falling in love." word count: 19k important tags: different first meeting au, different fire houses, flirting, texting, mutual pining, friends to lovers, hurt!evan buckley

the complexity of eddie diaz by: mniwr "buck and eddie have always just been buck and eddie. until eddie started posting his boyfriend on his instagram, the problem is the team doesn't know who is is." word count: 3k important tags: secret relationship, possessive!eddie diaz, secret marriage, multimedia

[autisticandroids]

au fics part two: canon-a-little-to-the-left

alright i'm a little late to the current round of @spnficrecfest. on account of I Hauve Covid. that's also why i missed the long fic / short fic round, and i will go back and do that at some point, but not yet. anyway. two fic rec lists for this round. one for true aus, and one for canon-a-little-to-the-left aus.

i may not be a huge fan of traditional aus, but i'm an absolute aficionado of things that relate to canon but put a rather different spin on it. i have been looking forward to this day (rubs my little hands together).

in order of wordcount:

patchwork drapery of dreams by tigriswolf, 1k, chose not to warn

a decade or so later, victor henriksen catches ben braeden. gen.

orison by whereupon, 2k, mcd

after it all ends, cas baptises dean. destiel.

kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep by lise, 4k, chose not to warn

a disturbing little story. it's all in the context. sam/lucifer.

sleepwalking the life fantastic by insanetrolllogic, 5k, chose not to warn

gen. it's 1995 and sam wakes up normal.

cheyenne by deadlybride, 8k, mcd

victor henriksen and sam winchester in the lebanon alternate universe. gen.

the following story takes place at night by beetlebeverage, 12k, chose not to warn

this one blew my socks off. destiel, but very strange. a season two au. the winchesters come across a cult.

i would most especially recommend this one if you're a fan of the first church at the end of the world, which should tbh also be on this list, but it's on my endverse list instead.

the white whale. by orange_crushed, 14k, violence and chose not to warn

generations in the future, cas still works with winchesters.

right of conquest should also objectively be on here but i recced it already [sob emoji].

freakshow by mme_yersinia, 26k

stanford era dean, and an angel in a cage. destiel.

the inexhaustible silence of houses by askance, 31k, mcd

some things are fandom classics for a reason. a destiel haunting.

back road, black road by eden22, 167k, violence warning

so can i confess something? i'm actually only about halfway through reading this, currently. which i feel like is against the spirit of a fic rec list. i thought of trying to put on a burst of speed and finish it specifically to rec it, but it's simply too long for that. and i just can't not rec it, it's way too good.

anyway, this fic is balls to the wall insane. perfect "what if the early seasons actually had the vibes they pretend to" story. specifically, kind of a "what if born under a bad sign was good and also was the entirety of seasons one and two" thing.

sam never made it to stanford, and when dean goes to pick him up, he isn't there. the level of gore and body horror in this fic raised my eyebrows, and you guys know me. i'm no slouch. half is dean pov, half is sam pov. the sam pov is actually my favorite because it's so insane and fucked. oh and it's also destiel.

[astronomodome]

What’s Up With Those Title Cards, Anyway: An Analysis

Now that Mumbo’s second episode is out I find myself thinking about these title cards again. And as much as I realize that they’re meant to be a fun nod to previous Hermitcraft seasons and Mumbo’s place in them, the items included and the context of their presence raise a whole lot of questions for me.

First of all, these aren’t blocks, they’re real items. Many of them don’t even have equivalents in the world of Minecraft (or even in Hermitcraft). Think about that. Are the blocky forms that we see on screen mere representations of a larger, more high-resolution world? A world with stickers and stamps and keys? A world where a ticket to Hermitcraft is a physical object you can hold in your hand? This certainly seems to imply so.

What is the context for these items? Where are they? Where are we? The stylistic choice was made to have them sort of resting on a solid-colored background. The selection of items makes me feel as though this is a representation of a desk of some kind, items important enough to Mumbo for him to keep around, lots of paperwork and stuff that you might find in a private office drawer. Which just raises even more questions. How does Mumbo keep these items from season to season? Where are they right now? Do they actually exist at all? (Not to mention smaller timeline questions. When did Mumbo receive the Grumbot message? When was it sent? Does the Grumbot left in Season 7 have a different consciousness than the one in Season 9, which last saw its dads only a month or two ago?)

If you follow the Rendog school of Hermitcraft lore, I guess you could say they’re kept on the Hermetheus along with all the other season-to-season holdovers and souvenirs. But that is one interpretation of many, canon to Rendog but never really canonized on a server-wide scale. Plus… if we take that interpretation in its entirety, how do the items from season 8 even exist, given that their entire world was canonically a simulation?

I also notice the relationship between the real world and the Minecraft world, the distinction between Mumbo the youtuber and Mumbo the block man. The ‘Official Rich List’ certificate mentions a ‘screenshot of a Minecraft chest’, implying that whoever wrote this certificate knows what Minecraft is from an outside perspective and finds Minecraft diamonds to be meaningless as a measure of wealth. And yet the certificate is addressed to one Mumbo K. Jumbo. The middle initial, having its origin in a highly in-character storyline during season 8, makes me feel like it could be more of a character Mumbo thing, but there’s no hard evidence.

How does Mumbo even have a picture of real-life Grian? Is this redstone incident report out-of-universe too? Who is he reporting this damage to, anyway?

And yet these are placed alongside items that are definitely from inside the world of Hermitcraft, if only the more fleshed-out version of it. A key to a mechanical car-horse would be functionless unless it was actually used, in-universe, by Mumbo the character. The ODEA manual was an idea considered but rejected by Mumbo during Season 7 in favor of tutorial videos, but perhaps this would make sense as an alternative for a world where the characters live in their Minecraft world as reality and have no capability to access the ODEA website.

Perhaps, in Mumbo’s view, there is little distinction between what we in the fandom call c!Mumbo and cc!Mumbo. We see both in-universe and out-of-universe items side-by-side, contradictory, because they are interchangeable here.

I doubt we’ll ever get any answers to these questions because obviously Mumbo made these title cards as fun little references instead of serious or purposeful lore, but I still think it’s fun to think about. Neat little worldbuilding details like this are few and far between in most mcyt content so I was foaming at the mouth when I first saw these. Well done Mumbo!

[talenlee]

Hanamusa, Explained

There is a nonzero chance if you follow me on tumblr, you’ve seen the term ‘Hanamusa’ attached to something I shared. It’s probably also some super cute art of Delia Ketchum and Jessie Teamrocket, and you may wonder what is going on and also, why is there so much good art of this.

Hanamusa as a term derives from the Japanese names of the characters – Hanako and Musashi. If you’re into shipping name structures, Hana-Musa implies that Hanako is the seme and Musashi the uke, but I don’t think that holds for all use cases of the type of terminology. It’s a ship. It’s an AU ship, as in an ‘alternate universe’ ship, where the two characters are presented in a context outside of the normal context of the anime presentation of them.

The Hanamusa ship as I understand it is set at some point after Jessie and James stop chasing Ash around, and Jessie settles down into a relationship with Delia. There’s tension about her history with Ash and the confusion about finding Your Personal Villain dating your mom, but mostly it’s about showing a sweet domestic life between two characters you know very well in a format I kind of see as like, Comedy-Sabot Romantic 4koma. Like, Hanamusa content is funny (and it is VERY funny) but it doesn’t need to be funny, because the main thing it’s about is showing these two characters and their relationship as they do cute things together.

It’s why people watch shows like K-On basically.

As for where this idea comes from, (EDIT: Slightly wonky wording here, I should have phrased 'this current fandom push' - I don't have any reason to believe Mai INVENTED the ship, just that when you go looking you'll wind up at her work) it seems to have its genesis with the work of one Kiana Mai, who developed this ship some time ago. Kiana Mai is also an extremely skilled artist, and one of those skills seems to be focus, creating these extremely clean-line excellently structured scene vignettes with no unnecessary content in them but also no need to rocket along. It’s amazing, engaging work that uses every part of the small format amazingly well. Which makes sense because one of the things Kiana Mai does is storyboarding work for Disney animated TV shows, a task at which I am sure she no doubt excels.

What I think is the most interesting aspect of Hanamusa, to me specifically, is that it manages to combine three things I don’t actually care about, in a way that doesn’t interfere with something I have unexpectedly strong opinions on. I do not watch Pokemon, and I have not shed a tear for Team Rocket and Ash Ketchum wandering into the sunset. That is a show that is not for or about my interests and that is okay. Indeed, imagining that it should be about what interests me is baffling. I think if I stopped watching a show twenty years ago, I have lost all right to act like I’m entitled to expect it remain the way it was all the way back then.

But I do have opinions on Jessie and James’ character voice. Not their voice acting – I mean, I know for a fact they’ve had to change over time and no voice actor should be obligated to kick it in the same role for what could be their entire career. I mean the way they talk about things and the words they use and kind of emphasis they put on words when they talk. About the way they voice their ideas, or the way they express who they are in the way they talk to one another, that stuff. It’s about affordances and persona, about the kind of people you project being by what words you choose to use and the affect when using them.

It’s why when, if a picture of a character is underneath it, you can read some dril posts as being ‘appropriately’ voiced by a character, even if it’s describing a candle situation that Francis Crozier did not have opinions on.

Jessie has a voice.

Jessie, in my head, is someone capable of moments of tenderness and friendship that is normally overwhelmed by an incredible confidence in ability she does not have and mere reality will never be given permission to infringe on it. Jessie is unassailably unstoppably sure of herself, thoughtlessly stupid in a way that doesn’t mean she is stupid, but which exists in a context of someone who has relentlessly pursued excellence in her job which is also the equivalent of being a late night 7/11 manager. She is the Girlboss that is Gaslighting herself into thinking she has something to Gatekeep.

Delia Ketchum by comparison is a very nice piece of wallpaper. Every appearance of her in my mind is someone Very Nice who is Very Patient and Very Supportive and has managed to keep literally all emotionally challenging conversations from happening around Ash, which can be perhaps easier when you remember that he, too, is an idiot. I don’t know how Delia Ketchum talks, but I do know that there are ways that Delia Ketchum does not talk.

This is interesting! It’s interesting because it presents a character where I am very sure I know what she does do when she does it, and a character about whom I can only be sure wouldn’t do some things. It creates a character space, and it creates expectations of affect and performance within that space. Ash and other characters show up as well, but because they get to interact with this already-defined space, you get treated to this really lovely kind of resonance. Would Ash call Jessie ‘dad’? Maybe, to bug her. He was good at being a twerp. Wasn’t he? I mean I remember it that way, he seems to work out that way, but… how would I know?

I know more of this AU where Jessie is studying to be a Pokemon Doctor and Ash wears glasses than I do of the source material any more. And if you’re wondering ‘hey, do Jessie and Delia ever meet in the source material?’ Like, yeah, for a few seconds. What, the point is creating something new.

If you want to check out Hanamusa stuff and read the comics, I recommend going and clicking on the hashtag on tumblr.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Anime #Media

[eleni-cherie]

agents at first sight ✨ || bts • ksj [ONE-SHOT]

"you're Squirtle?"

"you're Charmander?"

about two interpol agents falling at first sight, literally, thanks to a master thief on the run.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

[one-shot in 'the thieves collection' series - can be read independently!!]

»»»

— word count: 5.1k

— genre: interpol agent au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburning, mutual pining, strangers to lover s2l

— song recommendations/inspirations:

the last shadow puppets - the element of surprise

solar - honey

frank sinatra - strangers in the night

keri hilson - i like

»»»

COPYRIGHT. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

IDEA/STORY/CHARACTERS BASED ON MY PREVIOUS STORIES: "A THIEF'S ORIGIN" , "AMONG THIEVES" AND "A THIEF'S END".

this one-shot aims to give the backstory of how seokjin and yongsun met, as mentioned in the other parts of the series.

if you want the full context and also know what happens with with them afterwards, check out the other stories as well!

PROTAGONISTS:

KIM SEOKJIN AS HIMSELF; LEADER OF THE ROBBERY DEPARTMENT / "CHARMANDER"

KIM YONGSUN AS HERSELF; AGENT IN THE ORGANISED CRIME DEPARTMENT / "SQUIRTLE"

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

NOT FREE FROM LINGUISTIC ERRORS - ENGLISH IS NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE.

DON’T BE A GHOST READER. LIKE, COMMENT & SHARE THIS STORY IF YOU LIKE IT :))

DEDICATED TO EVERYONE WHO’S READING THIS FANFIC!

CHECK OUT MY OTHER BTS STORIES AS WELL: HERE

-Elenixx

»»»

[set after the final chapter of the main story but before its epilogue]

Straits of Singapore, 30km off Singapore

"Sir, are you sure he'll show up tonight? It's been hours and still no sign from Park, Kim or Min."

Seokjin studied the piece of paper between his fingers. It was crinkled from having been stored in his jacket all evening.

A dry laugh left his lips then. "Don't worry, Blake," he said into the radio, "When Park Jimin says he's showing up, he will."

"Roger."

A muffled chuckle was heard beside him as he put the device down and he glanced at Hoseok resting his folded arms on the desk. "But only if you cracked his riddle correctly," his former team mate and friend pointed out with a raised brow, "I mean, you sure about time and place?"

"Pretty sure, yes. He sent that with a postmark from Singapore," the leader of the robbery department nodded and held the paper out for him. Hoseok grabbed it with curiosity, reading over the scribbled note with a hum.

'Meet me at the deck with no cards,

when the sun comes home.

Don't forget to wear a bow tie!

I'll bring the bow, not the arrows though.

See ya!'

"'Deck', 'bow' and the 'see', which is a homophone of 'sea' - it all hints to a ship. And this cruise ship with a bunch of loaded people is the only kind our thieves would be interested in."

"Yeah, I see - no pun intended," the leader of the organised crime department said and slid the note back, "And 'when the sun comes home' means when it's the closest to earth, which was today. Summer solstice."

"Exactly."

"Okay, fine," Hoseok sat back and let his eyes wander around the security room. Eventually adding with a sigh, "But I'm still bummed he had to pick the same time and place my team's got to perform an undercover operation at. Too many cooks spoil the broth, you know. There're so many other places or dates."

"You forget the CEO's wife owns this highly valuable black pearl. I bet everything I have that this is what they're after."

"Probably."

"The better question is, why does that mob boss you're after have to attend the same party."

"What do you think.." Hoseok propped his jaw on the palm of his hand, a sarcastic smirk playing on his lips. "He's acquaintance with Lee, that CEO."

A short laugh left Seokjin's lips and he averted his gaze from the security screens. "Of course, criminals and CEOs are not that different from each other after all."

His younger colleague showed his agreement with an amused chuckle when his radio transmitter beeped.

"Sunflora here, what do you have for me Squirtle?" he answered, causing Seokjin's brows to furrow.

'Squirtle' and 'Sunflora' were the names of Pokémons after all. So he gave Hoseok a wondering look which the latter only dismissed by waving his hand.

"Purugly is heading to the restrooms. S-should I follow?"

'Purugly'. Another Pokémon.

"No, but keep an eye on him nonetheless and wait in a good distance. If he doesn't come out in five, report."

"Understood."

He put the device back down, meeting Seokjin's questioning face. "So?"

"What?"

"You got Pokémon codenames? Never knew you were so into it."

Hoseok shook his head though. "Wasn't my idea," he explained with a laugh under his breath, "Squirtle is her favourite one and she claims she looks like it, that's why she always uses it. So I thought why not using these names for all of us? Makes the whole undercover thing a bit more fun."

"Huh, that's clever. I should do that, too, from now on." The older agent paused but only for dramatic effects as he added with a sigh, "Disappointed I didn't come up with that myself."

"Be my guest. Have you any in mind already?"

"Charmander, of course!" he exclaimed full of enthusiasm and picked his own radio device. "Blake, Jeon? From now on only call me 'Charmander' over the radio. Got it?"

Jungkook's chuckle was heard on the other line. He was rather amused than irritated, but even Skylar wasn't questioning her supervisor's quirks anymore. Both replying with: "Roger that, Charmander." 

"You really do with them whatever you want, huh?" Hoseok wondered with a laugh while scanning over the security screens from the ballroom where the birthday party happened. 

Considering they were on a cruise ship, it was impressive how grand it was. Opulent decorations like crystal chandeliers hanging above the heads of guests, adding to the ambiance of the ballroom. People dressed in their most expensive and fashionable gowns and suits while enjoying conversations and litres of flowing champagne and wine. 

Seokjin only shrugged with a smile. "The kids are alright and they're able to see a joke. But I do sometimes miss you and Namjoonie. Remember when we first started out together?"

Hoseok huffed out a laugh, reminiscing the past when the three of them started out in the robbery department together. "Don't remind me, I'm glad I don't have to deal with the shenanigans of these thieves anymore." He patted Seokjin's shoulder than. "But it was surely fun with you guys, I miss that, too."

He was about to add more when his transmitter beeped once again, interrupting his train of thoughts.

"Squirtle here, he hasn't come out yet."

With a groan, Hoseok's face hardened and he got closer to the screens. His eyes narrowing as he switched through the cameras. It always astonished and in some way also scared Seokjin how he could go from cheery to professional within a second.

"Squirtle, you hear me?"

"Yes, Sunflora."

"There hasn't been any records of him leaving through the other side of the corridor. Are you sure he hasn't returned to the party?"

"Positive. Is there a different way out?"

Seokjin's eyes widened at this and he grabbed the blueprint they'd got from security, eyes searching for any possible vents or openings. He gestured to Hoseok to pass him the radio over.

"Here's Charmander. According to -"

"Sorry, who's there?"

Remembering he'd literally only just come up with his new codename and had never directly spoken with this 'Squirtle' before, he laughed a little embarrassed to himself. "Sorry, agent Kim from the robbery department here," he spoke firmly, "The blueprint doesn't show any other means of escape, unless he decided to swim back to shore. So he must be still in there. Wait another five."

"Okay, got it."

"Is that Squirtle good?" he questioned his friend while sinking back into his seat, observing the monitors.

"She's my best agent actually," Hoseok answered truthfully, "You should've seen her shooting her way through and bending a whole gang boss to his knees. It was beautiful."

The older agent whistled lowly, quite impressed by the thought of that. Or at least how he imagined it. "Sounds like a feisty one."

"Depends. She's surely a lively person, but once you get to know her, she's an easy-going homebody. Similar to you."

A scoff passed Seokjin's lips, pretending being offended by his words. "So you wanna say I'm not unique?"

"Well, I wouldn't subscribe to that," Hoseok said with a teasing grin, "Both of you also get upset in the same hilarious way actually."

"Ouch, that hurts my pride you know."

The two shared a laugh when a sudden commotion on the monitors caught their attention. The guests seemed to be agitated and scattering around the area.

"Jeon, Blake, what's going on there?"

"The black pearl, it fell from Mrs Lee's brooch."

"There's multiple pearls on the floor now! It created a turmoil."

"I can imagine," Seokjin muttered before speaking louder into the radio, "Keep your eyes closely to the guests. Surely that's a distraction by Jimin and the like."

"Of course."

He stood up then, sliding on his black suit jacket. "I'm heading out for support. See, told you he'd show up."

"You need my help? I could tell my agents -"

"Nah, don't worry. I'm sure you guys have your hands full with this commotion, too."

"Sunflora?" Indeed, Hoseok's own agent tried getting in touch with him. And he gave Seokjin a thumbs up, wishing him good luck as he headed out, before grabbing his radio device then.

"Sunflora here."

"I spotted Purugly. He's rushing out with a group of people due to some uproar, I'm following him."

"Roger, Squirtle. Be careful in the chaos, it's a distraction from the thieves. The robbery team will handle it though. You focus on our guy."

"Got it."

»»»

Seokjin squeezed through the noisy and fidgety mass, people hunching and picking up any black pearls they could find - or at least the fake ones Jimin had spread around to cause this uproar.

It was impossible to draw his gun with so many civilians around, so he just continued with careful steps and sharp eyes. Soon spotting something that rose enough suspicion in him to follow it. A rather calm man was galantly making his way among the rambling crowd.

The main reason this man rose his suspicion was rather intuitive though. He recognised him being one of the bodyguards close to the Lee's, he'd stood beside them all evening. Of course his agents had already checked all stuff members for possible disguised criminals before boarding the ship, but they hadn't been observing them nonstop ever since. And this bodyguard now was clearl heading to the exit instead of being on the other side of the ballroom with his boss who was panicked and shouting at his men to find his wife's pearl.

With a confident smirk, he neared the man until he was close enough to grab him by the shoulder. "And I thought you'd never make your appearance, Park Jimin. You had me waiting for quite some time," he sighed in fake-annoyance.

The man visibly flinched at Seokjin's words, glancing over his shoulder then with a lopsided grin.

"Sorry, pops! Got a date with a pearl!"

He abruptly crouched, disappearing from his sight and Seokjin spotted him a few seconds later further away. He'd got rid of his disguise by now and promptly continued his way among the people. But Seokjin wouldn't let Jimin throw him off so easily.

He was close on his heels and Jimin could feel it. His eyes quickly scanning the area for any possible distraction when seeing the interpol agent almost having reached him again. But then he realised that he was literally in the middle of possible distractions and smirked as soon as he spotted a suitable one.

As he continued pushing threw the mass of people, he grabbed someone's wrist and abruptly tucked the person backwards. Right in front of Seokjin, blocking his way. It was a young woman with dyed dirty-blond hair and in the pushing and shoving, stumbled and fell against the agent's chest who caught her out of reflex.

"My apologies, miss, but -" Seokjin was about to politely shove her away when their eyes met. And any further words got stuck in his throat instead. 

He swallowed hard. She was the most mesmerizing woman he'd ever seen in his life. 

Full cheeks, cute nose, pillowy lips and soft brown eyes which were staring back at him intensely, placed so perfectly that it completely disarmed him and took his breath away.

For a moment he wasn't in the middle of the ballroom anymore, he was in the abyss of her wondering orbs.

The woman seemed just as stunned, her expression mirroring his.

However, soon he was washed back to the shore of reality and his memory returned, recalling his initial task of chasing after Jimin.

"S-sorry."

The woman's eyes turned into a dazed scowl, as if she herself had just snapped back into reality and wouldn't recognise the place she found herself in. She stepped back, at least as much as she could in the crowded space, his hands sliding off from the warm skin of her arms. And without a single word, she simply turned and disappeared back into the sea of people. Like a siren who had lured him into her world only to release him again after growing bored.

Someone in his work field and position shouldn't get that easily distracted and usually he didn't. But something in this mysterious woman completely enchanted him and it was more than unfortunate they had to meet under such circumstances.

Perhaps, in a different profession, in a different life, he could've met her differently. Could've spoken to her more.

By the look in her almond eyes, she might've felt the same sugar-rush shooting through her chest. But it didn't matter anyway, he wouldn't see her again. And he had to focus on more important things right now.

He began running through the now less dense becoming crowd, out of the ballroom. The double doors closed behind him with a dull sound, drowning out the jarring voices from inside. The corridor was long and he'd seen Jimin running towards it so it was his best shot right now. 

Eventually reaching outside the deck, he was met with the strong night wind of the open sea tousling his dark waves. It was sparsely lit, only a simple lamp every few metres illuminating the broad area. And there at its end, on the very edge, he found the masterthief standing and laughing as soon as he noticed Seokjin nearing him. As if he'd been waiting for him all along.

"Oh damn, didn't expect you back so soon. Really thought I made a good choice there, could swear she'd be your type."

The agent laughed under his breath, biting down his lip. It wasn't surprising to him anymore, knowing his opponent well enough in all those years to know his little mind games. So he chose to ignore his comment, not giving him the satisfaction of a retort. Although Jimin already knew the truth by the brief look that passed Seokjin's eyes.

"Hands up," the agent said instead with a confident smirk, now able to draw his gun, "Unless you wanna fall into the cold sea."

The thief, however, only met him with an unfazed glance. His arms slowly going up before one of his hands turned, revealing something between his fingers. And under the light of the full moon he could see it sparkling dark. The black pearl.

Seokjin could tell it was the real one.

"Hm, maybe I'll do just that. You know, return the pearl to its natural habitat on the way, too. Thanks for the great idea, pops!" His lips curled further into a beaming grin and before Seokjin could react, Jimin let himself fall backwards.

Perplexed, the agent rushed to the railing. The harsh wind hitting his face as he looked over it, making out the outlines of a motorboat in the darkness. Diverging from the ship and driving towards the coast. 

"Dammit." He sighed and hit the cold metal of the railing, letting it echo get swallowed by the waves. With a dragged sigh, he couldn't help but laugh shortly before pulling out his radio device.

"Jungkook, Skylar?"

Jungkook was faster to answer this time."Yes, sir?"

"Find a radio unit and alert coastguards and agents on the mainland to keep an eye on a motorboat coming from our direction."

"I assume it's about our thieves?"

"Correct, Jeon."

"Roger, I'm on my way."

Returning inside, he caught sight of security guards and staff members who had managed taking back control over the situation and calmed people down.

He came across one of the other agents of Hoseok's team and asked him where his supervisor was. The agent told him in the manager's office with their suspect and Seokjin thanked him before making his way there. As he passed by with hasty steps, walking to the other end where another door led to the offices and security room, he spotted the CEO and his distraught wife being questioned by Skylar in a corner.

Soon he reached a cherrywood door, giving it a few knocks and watching it open at the third knock, revealing his friend behind it. And Hoseok stepped out.

"Heard you got your man, that must be him I assume?" he motioned to the handcuffed guy at the armchair behind Hoseok's shoulders.

Hoseok grinned. "Yup, our 'Purugly' aka Mr San Shinjuk. Isn't that right?"

The criminal kept an desinterested and bored expression, unimpressed by his enthusiasm. "You got nothing on me anyway."

"I wouldn't call a wad of 100,000 won notes and exposing documents, nothing," Hoseok countered with a raised brow, making the man scoff and grow back quiet. Making Hoseok grin widen before joining Seokjin outside in the corridor, closing the door behind him.

"What happened with Park?"

Seokjin only let out a dry laugh. "Well, let's say at least you got your guy.."

Hoseok's eyes widened. "You mean he -"

"Yeah, yeah," Seokjin ran his fingers through his hair, "They got away again."

"Well, next time then."

"Of course next time!"

"I gotta say though. Thanks to the little panic he created, San couldn't complete his restroom deal," Hoseok chuckled.

The irony that his friend was thankful to his nemesis wasn't missed on him. "So that's what took him so long in there.."

"Exactly."

"But I surely won't thank Jimin," Seokjin huffed then, "Would only get into his already big head."

"Sir!"

The yell coming from the end of the corridor, cut their laughing off. The person audibly churned up as they came closer.

"Sir, I'm sorry I lost San. Someone pushed me and there was an idiot blocking my way. Otherwi-"

"Don't worry, Kim," Hoseok interrupted her with a reassuring smile, "You did a good job. We got him."

The woman sighed in relief and her tense shoulders relaxed. A weight seemingly being lifted from her shoulders. "I'm glad, I was worried we wasted our chance."

She was about to leave again when her eyes landed on the person beside her supervisor

Seokjin had turned around to see who Hoseok was talking to behind his back.

And both grew stiff.

There she was, the woman with the full cheeks and dazzling eyes. Her waves pushed to one side, cascading down her shoulder softly as silk. Their bright shade contrasting the black fabric of her tight dress. Now without endless people surrounding them, he had a clearer view on her, seeing it reached only half her thighs, leaving a handwidth of skin between its hem and her overknee boots who added height to her rather petite physique. And he noticed the grip of a 9mm peaking out from one of them.

He watched her burgundy lips part then in shock, unable to avert her eyes from him either.

"The idiot," she eventually breathed, causing the sudden tension to dissolve abrubtly. And Seokjin scoffed amused. "Excuse me?"

She dismissed his question and instead glanced at Hoseok behind him. Only earning a confused glance back. "You two know each other?"

"This is the idiot who blocked my way!"

"Hey, wait a sec, I didn't do it on purpose!" Seokjin quickly defended himself, "Jimin pushed you onto me, so if someone blocked anyone's way it was you blocking mine."

Flustered at the unknown to her details on the incident, she folded her arms and looked away. "That- that wasn't my intention," she mumbled then with a small embarrassed huff.

The taller man sighed and mimicked her in a less serious manner. "Neither mine."

"Well," Hoseok began then in an attempt to change topics, "Agent Kim, how about you let me introduce you to the other agent Kim then?"

She frowned, looking Seokjin up and down. "You're an agent?"

He ignored her judging glare and flashed her a charming smile instead. In a way, he found her even more intriguing now than before. "Nice to meet you. And you are?"

Hoseok nudged his arm as he stepped beside him. "She's the one you talked to earlier. Agent Kim Yongsun."

"You-" His eyes grew, facing her again with a stunned expression. "You're 'Squirtle'?"

Yongsun unintentionally backed off, equally astonished. "You are 'Charmander'?"

This was the guy who also used Pokémon codenames like her? No way.

»»»

"Hey."

Yongsun averted her gaze from the waves beneath her, the wind brushing rather harshly against her bare skin. The ship was heading back to the harbour, all guests having been gathered back inside until arrival and she used the short length of time to enjoy the city lights in the distance sparkling like watercolour on its dark surface.

"H-hey."

She straightened herself when seeing Seokjin approaching her on the deck. He emerged from under the sparsely lit canopy with a timid smile on his lips. His dark brown hair pushed back by now, his forehead peaking behind a few loose strands. His tall figure came to an halt beside her then and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket that was casually left unbuttoned. 

"I didn't think I'd find anyone here. You alright?"

"Yeah."

Oh, he did look like a deity – exuding the perfect balance of authority and charm.

Her breath hitched and she managed to give him a nod along with a hum through her folded lips. Focusing back at the crashing waves underneath. 

Truth was, she was uncertain of how to face him again after the previous hour and perhaps also tried avoiding him by staying out there. After all, she'd called a department leader an idiot. It didn't matter that she'd found out - after asking around her team mates - that he was actually a year, almost two, younger than her. In the agency, he remained a senior agent to her.

Sure, she hadn't been aware of who he was in that moment and he'd also seemed taking the whole story with humour. Yet, she couldn't help feeling awkward and mortified in his vicinity. She couldn't even look him straight in the eyes anymore. Even if it didn't cause her trouble at work, it still remained an embarrassing memory and she felt her face heat up.

"Sorry again for earlier," she mumbled while grabbing onto the metal pole of the railing, in search for the right approach, "For.. for blocking your way and.. and also calling you an idiot."

He hummed and contemplated for a moment by tapping his finger against his chin. "Hm, thinking about it now.. I should probably get compensation for personal suffering. That 'idiot' really hurt, you know," he deadpanned, earning a quiet gasp from Yongsun.

She faced him with wide eyes, ready to argue when instead she met his amused grin. He was only joking. She relaxed and tucked away some streaks of hair the wind had swept in front of her eyes.

"You totally should," she laughed softly then.

"You wouldn't mind paying me compensation?"

"Who says that I'd be the one paying?"

"You were the one making me suffer after all," he countered.

She could only laugh out at his teasing smirk. "But wasn't it all the thief's fault in the end?"

"Hey, he wasn't the one calling me an idiot," he countered with raised brows. The fake upsetness on his face made her laugh even more. It was a loud, squeaky laugh and her eyes disappeared.

He smiled. She was cute and not intimidating at all. Hoseok had been right.

The friendly banter had calmed her previous nervousness. It was easy to get along with him which shouldn't be surprising considering he was friends with Hoseok, one of the nicest persons she knew.

But she remained firm in her stance. Arms folding in front of her chest then. "He was the one pushing me to you, though, so it's his fault really," she said. An almost cartoonish grin on her painted lips.

Much to her surprise, however, Seokjin's demeanor visibly softened at this. Eyes flickering over her round face before settling back to the illuminated skyline of Singapore. "Ah, but I don't mind that part so I can't hold it against him."

Her brows furrowed, feeling like she'd lost the thread. "Why not? I thought it prevented you from catching him."

He simply shrugged his broad shoulders. "I got to meet you this way, didn't I? So it wasn't all too bad."

The night was rather brisk out there on the open sea and yet Yongsun felt like standing at 32°C in the midday sun.

He was most definitely flirting with her, even if it was in a smooth subtle way. And the worst part was that she didn't mind.

Still, she decided not to make a big deal over a hot flush because literally anyone, even furniture, would get butterflies with this guy.

His eyes left the lights in the distance then, a timid smile dancing on his lips. "Sorry, was that inappropriate?" he asked bashfully considering her silence, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

She hadn't noticed how flustered she'd been and swallowed, clearing her throat when finding her composure again. "I'll let it slide," she said with as much nonchalance as she could fake in that moment, glancing briefly at him and noticing his blushing ears, "But only because we're in different departments and I won't have to fear favouritism."

"That's true. Although your teamlead is one of my best friends, so who knows.."

"Well, I'll trust that he won't do any."

He laughed lightly. "True, he wouldn't."

"You should be extra nice to the thief next time," she continued then, "You know, to thank him."

"Not that bad of an idea actually. I could crack less jokes when arresting him."

Propping her jaw on the palm of her hand, she glanced at him amused, the distant lights dancing in her eyes. And when she smiled in a way her teeth peeked a little through her lips, he could swear that he died, just a little bit, when she looked at him like that. Like he was the only man in the world. "You're a funny guy, aren't you?"

He breathed. "I try to at least."

Her gentle eyes wandered down to the sea again. The harbour shining clearer now as they drew closer. "You know," she spoke up, mischieviousness returning to her features, "I'm only apologising for the 'idiot', nothing more."

His brows knitted together. "Didn't you also apologise for blocking my way through?"

"Hm, I take it back since you said you didn't mind that."

Humming, he folded his hands and propped his elbows onto the railing. Neither one was a big deal for him and he'd found it rather funny how flustered she'd been once Hoseok had told her who he was. But he couldn't help it, he enjoyed teasing her over it.

"Mh, fair enough. I still forgive you for both though."

"Maybe I should've called you something worse then. Like douchebag or jerk," she mused with an arched brow only for her laugh to die down as soon as Seokjin leaned in. Narrowing the gap between them.

All of her pretend-confidence fell apart at the sudden proximity of their faces. Heaving a shaky breath, her eyes flickered to his plump lips which he noticed. And it took everything in him not to close the gap completely.

"You can call me whatever you like." His voice was deep and feathery, brushing over her flushed cheeks like a whisper only for her to hear. "But obviously not during work," he added with a laugh as he retreated, "That'd appear highly unprofessional. For both of us."

Taken aback, Yongsun watched him walking away, heading back inside without even giving her time to properly ponder over his words and their meaning.

"Wait!" She turned around abruptly. There was a lovely innocence in her round eyes. "What do you mean?"

Seokjin, however, only shrugged with an ambiguous smile. "Who knows." He opened the door then but before entering, he paused and faced her again. "You should also come inside. As beautiful as this dress is on you, it won't prevent you from catching a cold."

She frowned and looked down on her short dress. Only then she sensed the cool breeze surrounding them again. In all the time he'd been around she'd completely forgotten about the chillness out there.

"Uh, yeah. In a minute," she said, feeling her cheeks blushing over his, once again, subtle way of complimenting her.

He gave her a nod and disappeared through the door. Leaving Yongsun back on the dim-lit deck.

She couldn't quite figure out if the beauty of his lips was more their softness or their association with the words he spoke.

Scrunching her nose, she folded her arms on the railing, letting the wind gently tousle her blond waves. It was a pity that she began shivering now considering the beautiful view. Perhaps she should indeed get back inside before catching a cold, despite the urge to clear her mind even more after that anew intense accounter with him.

And she wondered, was it alright flirting with him like that? He might not even be in her department, but he was still another agent. And a higher-ranked one, too. Then again, he had done most of the work, really. She'd simply played along.

Shaking her head, a dry laugh left her tinted lips. 

Either way, it wasn't like this would lead anywhere. They worked at different departments, on differents floors. Their paths most likely wouldn't cross again unless another joint operation happened.

And for some reason that realisation filled her with disappointment.

She wasn't usually the type of woman to feel easily attracted to men or even cared enough to give a second thought to them. But his kind eyes and enticing face did sparkle something in her. And the fact his male ego didn't seem hurt but rather took her earlier blunder with humour, was definitely a bonus point. Besides, he generally didn't seem to take himself too serious either. Both fatally opposite traits in most other men.

Yongsun was so lost in her thoughts, she didn't pay attention to the sound of the door opening again and someone stepping out. Only when fabric met her skin, wrapping around her shoulders and back, she realised she wasn't alone anymore and was ready to draw her gun when a soft laugh was heard.

"What a scaredy-cat," Seokjin teased and her eyes widened when seeing him standing there in nothing but his black button-up shirt. Her glance fell and she realised his suit jacket was drapped over her, instinctively grabbing its collar. She about to reject his offer, when meeting his warm smile.

"Thought it's better than nothing."

"T-thanks."

He gave her nod and turned around, returning to the door when he glanced at her over the shoulder. "You can return it next time we meet. I'll make sure it's soon, this is my favourite suit after all." And Yongsun's eyes widened when seeing a wink follow his words before he returned inside.

Stunned, her thoughts raced and tripped over each other.

They'd eventually meet again. Soon.

Her fingers unconsciously curled more, tightening their grip on the suit jacket.

She only hoped he was sincere. After all, she could tell he wasn't the kind of man a woman got a simple crush on. He was the kind of man you fell hard for, and the thought of that terrified her. She didn't want to fall hard for anyone at all, especially not a superior agent or someone who might not mean any of his words. 

But she had always been a curious cat. And Seokjin definitely triggered her curiosity.

With a small huff, she slid her arms into the jacket. It was still warm from his body and it made her shudder. Burying her hands deep into its pockets.

Great, she thought. 

Now she had a crush on her supervisor's best friend.

THE END

»»»

- "the thieves collection" is completed (for now)!

- if you wanna know what happens to jin x yong, check out the other stories for more context and info!

Don't forget to like, reblog & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

[thenightshadowqueen]

Livestream thoughts

This is largely just stream-of-conciseness (and it’s very long) and was written mostly for me, but I figured I’d share it because I always love reading these from other people

Sam’s London Eye bit during the intro is amazing

“One hit, it’s in the hole” I heard your fucking double meaning, Tom

“I’m really French. And because of that, I’m going to surrender immediately.” Who else thought of, “We are French. We are very good at surrendering.”?

“You clutched my foot and stood on my nipple” Sam immediately trying to make that position???

“Now look at me” and then Sam moaning is just so on brand for him

Tom and AJ just almost kissing between scenes for no reason came out of nowhere

Is Angel Station always closed? Because they’ve brought that up in multiple shows now

“I’m still wet—and not in the good way” Sam

Sam fucking with the way Letters works killed me—honestly, I think they should play that way again, because it was great; it was kind of a combination Letters and Timewarp

Also the overstimulated public transport user? Very relatable.

“Oh, it’s one of those letters” got me so badly

The weird incestuous direction of the letter was concerningly not surprising

The immortal economy brothers??? are amazing

“I don’t think you want to say it, do you? But I think I might have to insist at this point. And once I’ve insisted, I might regret it.” I adore it when they break character to fuck with each other

“We get a shovel and a high-quality camera, and we dig up the Queen” Sam is on fire today oh my god

“We’ll do a sepia filter” why????

“Well, I don’t see any problem with that” brilliant, Tom

Nonbinary parrot!

“I’ve never been able to walk ever since” oh my god, AJ, way to raise the fucking stakes

“Next Christmas” TOM

Sam getting to correct Tom’s English? What reversed alternate universe do we live in?

Watching this the same day I finished the second season of Interview with the Vampire, and when Sam is raising Tom from the dead in Puppets, all I can think about is that line about how no one ever asks Lazarus if he wants to be resurrected (I don’t know why this is what went through my mind, but it is)

“I kind of want to see how karaoke goes” Sam’s fucking face oh my god

The sapphic exes in Book Game????

Also Tom third-wheeling the sapphic exes in Book Game (“this is really hot”)

AJ’s character smashing a glass and Sam moaning is, again, so not surprising at this point

Also what British Prime Minister was nicknamed “pretty fanny���????? I feel like I’m missing some context as an American

“…Daddy” SAM fucking hell

“~Funky~” the way he said that????

“I will miss your nipples pressing into my nipples” what the fuck

“You wanted to join the Nazis” Sam “edgy joke” Russell, everyone

Sam standing there with his hand on AJ’s head and laughing before he could get his joke out was phenomenal, but AJ going, “don’t—shut up” killed me

AJ making the bald joke for them never gets old

“There’s a new handhold here” good god, Tom

AJ just jumping on Sam… I’m honestly not surprised at this point

“Listen, Luke—” honestly I really want to know what AJ was going for

“It’s salty” TOM oh my god

“I will give you Sexy Mates” I mean, I’d watch that (I’m so sorry; the joke has to be made)

I so seriously thought they were going to reveal they’d met before in the first scene of the longform

“I’m not good at social interactions” me neither babe

“I’m a mortician” that was so out of pocket

“I’m embarrassed to say this, but what is that?” I feel like that was a genuine question

Sam, I’m pretty sure morticians do not determine cause of death

I feel like Sam was going for his character being a killer at the beginning, which is interesting in the context of the full play

“You’ve not said anything funny yet” damn, Sam

“You remembered my name!” “Yeah.” “I didn’t!” AJ remembered a name that Sam didn’t???

“Why does this always happen?” Tom elaborate????

Tom just having to lie there behind the curtain sends me

“I go inside a lot of dead people” ah, there’s the necrophilia joke we were all expecting

“You make my life better” babe you just met

Sam killing AJ with his horrible French pronunciations took me out

Monsieur Pamplemousse, the Swiss waiter

“I’m just a rat” I love Tom

I love Sam just refusing to help Tom by playing the second driver

Gay train driver husbands!!!!!

Sam pushing the Scottish accent down reminded me so vividly of Caravan

I love AJ not knowing what to name himself

I love Sam forcing Tom to continue talking and then immediately regretting it

“Two sides of the same coin” AJ AJ AJ AJ YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO MY MERTHUR HEART do you have any idea the way I choked when I heard that

The power of Scotland! (Moist and Magical flashbacks, anyone?)

There’s been a lot of audience singing in recent livestreams, hasn’t there?

“Title of the play I don’t remember” SAM

Also okay so this play was amazing but it had absolutely nothing to do with the title

I had an amazing time as always

[floatingcatacombs]

Go Nagai was insane for this one

12 Days of Aniblogging 2023, Day 8

I like to always have manga of dubious quality on tap for when I’m having trouble sleeping. Ideally, reading a few chapters will distract me, but I won’t want to stay up late shotgunning volumes. Devilman Lady was the ideal manga for this, and this is maybe the last time anyone will ever describe Devilman Lady as "ideal".

An extremely brief introduction is in order. If Osamu Tezuka is the godfather of manga, then Go Nagai is manga’s weird horny uncle. He’s arguably just as influential, the two of them just moved in different circles, each reifying entire genres. Nagai is more or less responsible for magical girls, super robot, and ecchi, and also spent a lot of time in the sphere of supernatural and post-apocalyptic manga. These are fundamentally genres of extremity and ridiculousness, and Nagai dials every one of his works up to 11 by the end, one way or another. Devilman is probably his most famous work over here, and it’s a stone-cold classic for a reason. Nagai has kept revisiting it over the years, with side stories, alternate universes, manga cameos, and even entirely new series that function as stealth sequels such as Violence Jack. But his most notable attempt is Devilman Lady, which is far more than a simple gender-swap of the original.

Devilman Lady is about swimming deep in filth. It’s easily the most disgust-provoking manga I’ve read, with pretty much every content warning under the sun applicable. This is a truly rotten and conspiratorial world that Nagai is depicting. Societal decay manifests in countless forms, including rape, child abuse, homophobia, militarism, and hatred towards immigrants. Anything that could be potentially understood as fanservice is placed right next to or directly within the atrocities at hand, and it's genuinely unclear how much Nagai intended that as commentary. His intentions throughout this whole manga are a bit of an enigma, but what's clear that he is firing on all cylinders.

This is an extremely zeitgeisty 90’s work, with intelligent design debates, the mapping of the human genome, new age paranoia, religious zealotry, and anxiety over pollution all playing out on the pages. Where it breaks from many of its contemporaries is a decisive rejection of the end of history. This is the kind of thing you write when you’re still reeling from the subway sarin gas attacks and your country's role in the Gulf War and subsequent militarization. It’s the perfect manga for capturing a time period when ten to twenty percent of Japan’s population were estimated to have belonged to a new religious movement.

The punchline to all of this is that he doesn’t know how to draw women.

By the back half of Devilman Lady, Nagai’s depictions of hellscapes and grotesque monsters reach near-Berserk levels of detail and technical competency. And yet his female protagonists are still drawn in a drastically simpler 70's style, only now with giant spheres grafted to their chests. Either humans and the infernal are two completely different skillsets, or this was a deliberate artistic decision, and both are difficult to swallow. Either way, we just have to accept the juxtapositions.

one of my favorite pages to show people devoid of context

The finale is just nuts. Go Nagai makes textual the homoeroticism and gender deviance of the original Devilman manga, as the world burns in both nuclear warfare and demonic hellfire. The story starts accelerating at an unfathomable pace, the most inscrutable double mobius reacharound yaoiyuri occurs, and the universe resets once or twice. It makes the endings of Jojo Part 6 and 7 look tame by comparison. There is no way to parse this like a normal manga with a plot and narrative. It is raw id.

This has been a year where I’ve tried to deliberately broaden my comfort zone by engaging with more potentially upsetting works if I think they'll have something interesting to say. This was like jumping into the deep end. Devilman Lady may very well be Go Nagai’s magnum opus. It’s not nearly as tight as the original manga, but it’s a glorious mess, just as radical to its own time as Devilman must have been in the 70s. It made for spectacular insomnia reading. And there’s no way in hell I can ever recommend it.

At age 19, Nagai went through a bout of diarrhea so bad that he convinced himself it was colon cancer, and that he was at death's door. He vowed to leave something behind for the world to remember him by, and began laboring away on manga. And for the last 60 years of his career, he’s written and drawn with the fervor of a man who’s about to shit himself to death. Maybe that’s the real secret.

[paleturtlecherryblossom-blog]

Thoughts on Rise of Ning, Pt 2

Now that I’m through like 14 episodes of The Rise of Ning (and I’m having a amazing time), again I want to harp on the changes from the novel, and how I feel they’re logically executed:

First! LU JIAXUE! Even in the novel, he is an incredibly compelling character and in the drama, the actor brings out a fantastic intensity that makes it even better. The shot where Yining is arguing with him to spare her Third brother, and you see her whole face and just his jaw, but then the twitches of his jaw and lips convey SO MUCH repressed emotion, ahhh I was having a lot of fun.

The interesting thing about him for me (at least in the novel) is that he’s not exactly the typical scumbag ex-husband/lover you find in reincarnation/rebirth stories. He was genuinely very good to Yining when they were together, and in many other settings, he could be the endgame male lead after one key misunderstanding gets resolved, and I would cheer for him. In fact, the author did write an alternate universe extra where Yining doesn’t meet Luo Shenyuan and remarries Lu Jiaxue! 

So the romance in the novel is very context dependent; it works out because Yining meets Shenyuan in a setting filled with family struggles, slowly grows to rely on him more than anyone else and gives him her ultimate trust. All of this leads up to her falling in love with him, and this is never in doubt, even when she clears her misunderstanding of Lu Jiaxue (this relieved me a lot lol). 

I don’t really know where I’m going with this, but I just really like stories where characters falling in love for the second time dont have their first love be portrayed as ‘not really love’ or ‘loved a person unworthy of it’. Because in the novel, while I was all for Luo Shenyuan, I couldn’t say Lu Jiaxue was a scumbag who deserved to be dumped quickly. Also those two are very similar in terms of their ruthlessness and capacity for obsession, so I agree with @dangermousie, they should fuck it out. (they do it via court politics, but the direct version would be great to ;) )

So in the novel, Yining has an older sister (from the same mom Gu Minglan), who’s married off to a duke household. This sister of hers is very fierce and capable of defending her to her shitty dad (who’s unchanged across both versions, sigh). And her stepmom is actually not so cool in the novel, she is equally kind to Yining, but she doesn’t have much say. In this aspect, I much prefer Lin Hairu’s character in the drama, which I guess they derived by combining the novel! Older sister and the novel! Lin Hairu.

The change also makes sense, because in the novel, Yining only stays on in the main residence after her mom dies because of her elder sister marrying into a powerful family. In absence of this, and given that Lin Hairu would have married in only years later, it makes sense that Lady Qiao schemed to send her off to a country estate.

Also because Yining stays on the estate and grows up with Luo Shenyuan, Old Lady Luo is also, I think, a bit more accepting of him than in the drama, Again, it makes sense, in the novel, she is aware she is dying and she makes a deal with him: he gets legitimate status, and Yining gets his protection. In the drama, this logic doesn’t apply, because the grandma is looking for a suitable husband for Yining to protect her, and also she isn’t in immediate danger of dying anymore. So whether he can get added to the family registry really would require Yining to put a fair bit of thought into it. Also at this point of time in the novel, Shenyuan is the only adult son of the Luo second branch, so even shitty dad will grasp at straws to elevate his reputation.