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natasha-in-space · 4 months

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RFA boys+ jihyun having a child who is a "daddy's kid" to the point that their wives are annoyed (like why does he love you so much)

Yoosung

Yoosung is a dad who I think is laid-back and fun. He is a parent, with whom you can share your stressful day at school and get genuine understanding and an uplifting pat on the head that will leave you feeling relieved and secure almost immediately. He's a bit clumsy, of course, as he's used to being the youngest in practically every group he has ever been in. And now that place is taken by someone else! His kid can build a genuine bond with him through mutual trust and understanding, thanks to his easy-going attitude. It's not surprising to see his child growing up to have a deep affection for their cool father. Yoosung will chuckle and pinch your cheeks if you pout and grumble about him stealing all the attention for himself. He finds it absolutely adorable to see you huff and puff, but you can't hide the smile blooming in the corners of your mouth as your child clings at his legs with happy giggles falling from their lips. The sight is too cute to be upset about. On the weekend, he will make certain to arrange a family picnic for you two. One where you all will be spending quality time together as a family.

Zen

Zen is a doting father, hands down. His family did not provide him with support, self-confidence, or even a trustful place for him to share his real struggles during his childhood. With his own family now with you, he will make sure to never make those same mistakes again. Unfortunately, that means that he has a habit of spoiling his kid a bit too much. It's nothing too bad, but it still leaves you as the one being the strict parent telling your kid that, no, eating another ice-cream is not a good idea, and that will make them sick. I'm not saying that Zen isn't capable of being strict. Despite this, he may encounter difficulties with his approach. He's anxious to not come off as too controlling or judgemental. And hey, there is nothing wrong with having a couple of hurdles. Parenthood is a journey filled with many twists and turns that you can't be ready for. With you two working as a team, though, you will get through anything. Zen's love language is words of affirmation, so he'll be praising you in the eyes of your kid quite often. It's sweet. It teaches your child to be confident in sharing their inner thoughts.

Jumin

Jumin is... he's a bit clumsy when it comes to parenthood, but in a very endearing and sweet way. Unfortunately, Jumin didn't have a very good and healthy childhood to look back on. I actually think that having a child of his own will nudge him into actually processing and acknowledging the neglect and abuse he had to go through in his childhood and early adulthood. He wants to believe that his father a good man. That their relationship is one of support and love. After all, Jumin is a family man. But, as he tries to seek out his father for advice, he realizes that... he doesn't want to raise his own child in the same way his father raised him. And that makes him pause. Jumin is a father who is deeply loving and tender. His child receives all the respect and warmth in the world from him. He supports them on every tiny interest they have, almost to a funny degree. His kid likes dinosaurs? You will receive a package filled with encyclopedias and scientific literature on the subject that he will read through with the most captivated look on his face. Does his kid like watching magical girl anime? Well, now he has sparkly pink stickers on his every office supply, and he is not ashamed to show them off. Jumin Han loves his family with all his heart, and he will express it to the world without any shame. However, if he notices that you are growing a bit jealous of the way your child is always showering him with affection, he will have a talk with them. It's almost unbelievable how well he communicates with his child. You will come home to an adorably drawn card with you three holding hands and smiling, that your child has drawn for you. And a small doodle from Jumin on the back.

Saeyoung

Saeyoung is yet another father who is devoted to his child almost to a fault. He is both excited and terrified about his future as a parent at the same time. To say that he had a difficult childhood would be like saying nothing at all. Heck, if you ask him, he'll tell you that he feels like he had no childhood. From as early as he can remember, he has always been the caretaker. The protector. He had to. To survive, it was necessary for him and his brother. So, all he has on what it means to be a good parent is based on media he has consumed. He has no other source to seek advice from. Sure, he considered V to be his father, but... he'd much rather not think about that now. He's trapped in a very paralyzing dilemma. He's a family man, and he wants to start his own happy family with you. He adores kids, and the idea of having a tiny person to spoil and take care of makes him grin so wide. But, at the same time, he feels utterly terrified at the prospect of becoming a parent. He is afraid of hurting the child, even if it wasn't his intention. Terrified of making the same mistakes his caretakers have made. Terrified of this responsibility. It's something he'll have to resolve in therapy, before you two decide on having children, be it by adoption or natural means. As an actual father, however? His child will never feel unloved. He showers them in gifts, treats, books, all kinds of things! He spends his every evening with them. He is involved in their school life and their interests. He is always there for them. So, it's not that hard to imagine your kid growing a bit too attached to their amazing dad. Saeyoung will tease you about a bit, sure. But, in a typical Saeyoung fashion, he will prepare a surprise for you and your child. One that will connect you and provide you with much-needed alone time. Maybe a game of an escape room, or maybe a video game he created just for you two. Either way, it's a fun way to remind you just how wonderful this man truly is.

Jihyun

Talking about this with Jihyun is amusing because Lucy is shown to be quite playful with him. But, who's to say he can't switch your roles at times? Jihyun's perk as a father is his supportive attitude. Much like Zen, he grew up in a family that forced him to deny his true wants and desires, and he wants to do all he can to make sure that Lucy never has to be ashamed of what her tiny heart is longing for. He'll just be a bit concerned if she starts hanging out with Uncle Saeyoung too much, to the point where she wants to build robots for a living. Jihyun is not very good at technology! He does his best to engage with her, though. You can't help but laugh as you catch them playing video games one evening, Lucy absolutely crushing your husband on every single round. From what you can tell, Uncle Saeyoung taught her well. If Lucy doesn't spend enough time with you, I don't think it'll be an ongoing issue. You and Jihyun have built a very healthy and open communication between yourselves, so the problem will get brought up almost immediately. And resolved just as quickly.

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #mm #yoosung kim #zen ryu #jumin han #saeyoung choi #jihyun kim #yoosung x reader #zen x reader #jumin x reader #saeyoung x reader #jihyun x reader #cute fluffy scenarios right after an angsty and dark one???#more likely than you think #the best of both worlds

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astrobei · 1 year

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SUNI!!!!! can i maybe request byler + giggling while kissing🫢🫢 go crazy with it i know itll make me insanely giddy

liv !! absolutely anything for you !! this got away from me so fast and it's so. it's. well. you'll see. here's kiss prompt #29 - giggling while kissing

“Someone’s in a good mood today,” Will remarks, raising an eyebrow at Mike over the top of his book. “What’s gotten into you?”

Mike just grins, closing the front door behind him. It’s five o'clock on a Thursday, meaning Mike’s had class from ten this morning almost straight through four p.m., with a brief break in between American Lit and his creative writing workshop where he’d run across campus to the good café for a bagel and a coffee. According to all logic and reason, Mike should not be in a good mood. He should, statistically speaking, be in a really shitty mood.

And yet.

“Nothing,” Mike says, dropping his bag to the floor, right there in the entrance to their apartment. “And what the hell? I got home, like, three seconds ago.”

Will keeps the same look fixed on him as Mike kicks his shoes off, sending them tumbling one after the other into the corner of the room. “Call it a certain je ne sais quoi,” Will replies, following Mike with his gaze as he immediately moves to pick up his shoes. “I can tell.”

Mike turns and squints. “You know French?”

“Sure,” Will laughs, then sets his book aside. He stretches, long and lazy along the length of the sofa, socked feet emerging from the ends of the blanket he’s got thrown over him. “Let’s go with that.”

“You don’t know French,” Mike announces. He would know. Will took Spanish with him for all four years of high school – four agonizing years of conjugating the past participle and imperfect subjunctive – and was even brave enough to attempt a brief foray into an introductory college class before finally calling it quits. Personally, Mike thinks it’s impressive Will lasted the semester. Mike had collected his high school credits and never looked back. “I would know.”

“Yeah?” Will leans back on the couch, watches Mike shuffle the rest of their shoes into place on the shoe rack. “Maybe I do.”

He doesn’t. “Prove it,” Mike says, then picks his bag up off the ground and plops it on top of the dining table. “Say something in French right now. Something romantic.”

“Bonjour,” Will says easily. “Mon ami.”

Mike squints even harder this time. “‘My friend’ is not a romantic thing to say, and also, you’re a liar.”

Will frowns. “How do you know French?”

“I don’t,” Mike laughs. “But I read a lot of Agatha Christie.”

Will gives him a weird look, a little incredulous and a little amused, then holds up the book he’d been reading. It’s Mike’s copy of Murder on the Orient Express. “Yeah, I know. You're unbelievable.”

“I’ve been looking for that,” Mike says, even though he absolutely hasn’t. “You thief.”

Will just smiles, beckoning Mike over to the couch with his free hand. “You love me,” he says, which is a lot closer to the mark than Mike would like Will’s rebuttals to his (entirely unserious) jabs to be.

Mike walks over, of course, because Will is right, and Mike loves him, and love makes you do crazy, stupid things – like being happy on a Thursday evening when your head hurts and your body hurts and all you want is to sleep straight through Friday afternoon. Frankly, it’s ridiculous how happy Mike feels. It’s a bit of an embarrassing look for him, actually.

“Hi,” Mike says, entirely unnecessarily, and lets Will pull him down with one hand. He lands sideways, sprawled halfway across Will’s lap, over the top of the absurdly fuzzy blanket they keep at the foot of the sofa.

Will smiles up at him. “Hey,” he replies, easy and warm. It’s also ridiculous, along with everything else, how soothing the single word is as it leaves Will’s mouth, how Mike’s oncoming headache ebbs, ever-so-slightly, at the sound. Will’s still got Mike’s book in one hand, but he folds a page down and sets it on the coffee table, then scoots over to make room, pressing his back up against the sofa cushions. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Mike sighs, tucking his face into Will’s neck and trying his hardest to not fall off the edge of the sofa. He wiggles his feet under the blanket too, tucks them under Will’s calves, the warm fleece of his pajama pants. “A little tired,” he admits, and Will lets out a sympathetic noise above him. “But good.”

“I’m glad,” Will murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Mike’s head. “And I know for a fact you’re in a weirdly good mood because I folded down the page of your book and you didn’t even yell at me.”

It takes a second for the words to land. Then–

“Oh, you asshole,” Mike laughs, immediately twisting around in Will’s arms to look at his poor, innocent book lying on the coffee table’s coaster-dotted surface. “You were testing me?”

“You told me you didn’t care about that anymore,” Will points out, one arm wrapping instinctively around Mike’s waist as he moves. “You said you were working on it.”

“I am working on it!” Mike protests. “It’s a secondhand copy anyway, it was already dog-eared and– it’s not about that! I just think you’re so–”

“Mhm?”

“So ridiculous,” Mike says halfheartedly, as Will drops a light kiss to his nose, then his cheek. “I’m in a normal mood. A normal, fine, ordinary–”

“Sure–”

“–and I’m not any more happy than usual–”

“–uh huh–”

“Will!” Mike laughs, breaking away from Will’s vice grip, pulling back from where Will had been leaning in to press another kiss to his cheek. “Oh my god.”

Will just smiles at him. His hair is a bit messed up from lying on the couch, and Mike can feel himself warming up, slowly, from the late February chill he’d braved to walk from the bus stop back to their apartment. “Sorry,” he says, a bit apologetic, a bit pleased, and entirely genuine. “You’re just so fun.”

“I hate you,” Mike whispers. He’s sure that any hope of the phrase having even the slightest semblance of effect is vanquished immediately by the way he says it – breathless and adoring and totally, completely lovesick. “You’re infuriating.”

“You love me,” Will repeats, looking even more happy with himself than before, like getting Mike riled up and flustered is the highlight of his day. He pushes a strand of hair out of Mike’s eyes and asks, more seriously, “Are you hungry? You want something to eat?”

“Yeah? You’re gonna cook for me?” Mike asks, as if they don’t know a grand total of maybe five recipes between the two of them.

“Sure,” Will says. “Yeah. It’ll be romantic.”

Last Mike checked, they needed to get groceries, and he’s not sure what they even have that could feasibly be put together for a meal, but Will’s weirdly good at that sort of thing – throwing the most random ingredients together until it resembles something vaguely edible. Not gourmet, by any means, and sometimes not even good, but, like – if you need caloric sustenance, he’s your guy.

Mike isn’t sure how he feels about another one of those meals, though. Especially when he considers the stockpile of tuna cans in the pantry that’s been there for about a million years. He gives Will a suspicious look. “Like what?”

“Don’t give me that look,” Will says, then shoves gently at Mike’s side to get him to stand up. He follows, kicking the blanket off into a haphazard pile on the end of the sofa, and trailing Mike into the kitchen. “Mac and cheese. From a box.”

Kraft dinner sounds safe enough. “Okay,” Mike says happily. “Thank you.”

He hops up onto the counter while Will digs around the cupboard for a pot, then goes about filling it with water. The kitchen is silent for a while, save for the low humming of the fridge, the sharp clicking of the stove as it turns on. Mike watches him move, a low flame of affection bursting to life in tandem with the gas-fueled warmth against his skin. It’s probably dangerous to be sitting so close to the stove when it’s on, but whatever. It’s the only strip of counter that has enough space for Mike to climb onto and still be this close to Will.

“What’s up with you?” Will asks, pulling a box of mac and cheese off of the cupboard shelf and peering curiously up at him.

Mike, a little belatedly, realizes he’s smiling. “Nothing,” he says, as Will sets the box down on the counter next to Mike’s thigh. “Why?”

“I don’t believe you,” Will says, then slots himself easily into the space between Mike’s legs, rests two hands on his hips. “You never smile this much on a Thursday.”

“You’re so hung up on it being a Thursday,” Mike hums, as Will presses his fingers into Mike’s skin, pushing up the soft fabric of his sweatshirt just a little. “Why are you– hey, that tickles!”

Will just grins, watching Mike squirm with no small amount of joy on his face. “Watch out for the fire,” he says, calm and collected and cool as a cucumber, like he wasn’t the one that nearly got him burned in the first place.

“Watch out for the– oh, shut up,” Mike says. Will laughs, low and pleased, and leans forward, tilting his face up.

“Come down here,” he says, frowning. “I can’t kiss you when you’re all the way up there.”

“Not my fault I’m taller than you,” Mike mumbles, but slides off the counter anyway. He lands a bit awkwardly, stumbles half a step forward before Will steadies him.

“I’m hung up on it being a Thursday,” Will says, tucking a kiss to the side of Mike’s cheek, right under his ear, “because you’re always miserable on Thursdays.”

“I am not,” Mike laughs, as Will pulls back. “What gave you that idea?”

“You’re up early and you have a million classes and you never get enough time to actually eat during the day and you never let me forget it,” Will says, the answer a little too immediate for Mike’s liking. He steps closer, presses Mike back up against the counter until the cold linoleum tiles are digging into the small of his back. “And you’re a menace when your blood sugar is low. Is that it? Did you eat a real lunch today? Are you currently operating under normal human physiology?”

Mike thinks back to the solitary bagel he’d eaten in approximately seven bites while running between the English building and the Communications building. “Um. Unless you count me getting an everything bagel instead of plain, then no.”

“Then what is it?” Will asks. “I can tell, you’re so– you’re being so–”

Mike gives him a strange look. “I don’t think I’m being anything,” he says. It’s true – he doesn’t feel any different from normal, except maybe a little warmer and a little fuzzier and a little bit more hungry than on his average day. “What’s your deal? What am I being?”

“Smilier,” Will says, tilting his head like he’s looking for a nonexistent giveaway in Mike’s face. His eyes dart over Mike’s features, slowly, drinking them in.

“That’s not a word.”

“If I guess,” Will starts, ignoring him, “will you tell me?”

“There’s nothing to guess– Will!” Mike shrieks softly, as Will peppers a quick succession of kisses across his cheek and down his neck. “Fuck you, that tickles!”

“Good grade on a paper?” Will hums against his throat, which isn’t really doing much to help with the tickling thing. Mike tries to pull away, but Will’s grip is steadfast, unyielding. “Heard back from your advisor?”

“No, and no,” Mike gets out. “Nothing happened!”

“Don’t believe you,” Will murmurs, then kisses Mike over the bridge of his nose. “Class got canceled?”

“Thankfully not,” Mike laughs, “because we were peer reviewing today– Will, oh my god, why are you–”

“Be honest with me,” Will says, squinting slightly, “are you on drugs?”

“How the hell would I be on drugs,” Mike stares, a grin spreading, wide and giddy, across his face. His chest is aching from laughter, cheeks already tired from smiling so hard. It’s ridiculous how often he feels like this around Will. He didn’t know you could feel so exhausted in such a wonderful way, by such a wonderful thing. A welcome ache, soothing and grounding and exhilarating all at once. “I don’t understand you.”

“Then tell me,” Will says quietly, leaning in again. He kisses Mike, soft and intentional, thumbs rubbing circles over his hips where his crewneck had ridden up earlier, long and slow enough that Mike forgets about it, for a second – the teasing and the prodding and the interrogation – and the warm ache of laughter gives way to something smoother, steadier. He wants to sink into the feeling like a warm bath – or maybe a dry macaroni noodle in a pot of boiling water.

“The water,” Mike mumbles, barely decipherable. “It’s boiling.”

“It’s just water,” Will says, “it’ll be fine,” and kisses him again.

That’s a good point. “Okay,” Mike whispers, and lets the feeling overtake him – Will’s hands, steady and warm where they’re pressed against Mike’s skin. Where his hair is still damp from his shower, because Will is ridiculous and lame and has one morning class on Thursdays and gets to lay around at home for the rest of the day.

Will presses another kiss to Mike’s lips, leans in once, twice, and–

Thud.

“Ow,” Mike groans, pulling away just long enough to squeeze his eyes shut and rub at the back of his head, where the cabinet had oh-so-rudely refused to move out of the way for him. “Great.”

“Mike,” Will says in mild disbelief, biting down on his lower lip. His eyes are sparkling, cheeks a little flushed. God, Mike loves him. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he breathes out, smiling. “I’m– yeah, that was so stupid.”

“So stupid,” Will grins. “How did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Mike groans again, exasperated and drawn-out, and that’s it – Will laughs, bright and happy and eyes going all crinkles at the corners and moves in to kiss him again.

“You’re so ridiculous.”

“Don’t laugh at me,” Mike protests, but he’s laughing too, catching Will’s soft exhales as they leave his chest, leaning forward to press more of his weight into him. Will moves easily, lets Mike grin against his mouth – wide and happy and far too pleased for his own good.

“Okay, don’t tell me,” Will says at last, pressing a final kiss to Mike’s cheek before pulling away. “I’m just happy you’re happy.”

“Will,” Mike starts, then reels him back in with one hand on his wrist. Will looks startled, eyes wide as Mike catches him by the other hand too. “I was– nothing happened, I swear. I was just thinking about you earlier.”

Will blinks. “You were thinking about me?”

“Yeah,” Mike shrugs. Will says this like it’s a rare, wondrous occasion – Mike thinking about him, that is – and not something that usually happens during most of Mike’s waking hours and some of his unconscious ones too. “I was thinking about you. You just– you make me feel better. I didn’t notice anything was different.”

Will just looks at him. “So you’re not on drugs?”

Mike drops his head to Will’s shoulder and sighs, long and bereaved. Will laughs, low and breathy next to his ear, wraps both arms around Mike’s waist, and holds on. “Seriously?”

“I’m kidding,” Will murmurs. “That’s sweet. You– really? What were you thinking about?”

This is embarrassing.

“Just you,” Mike admits, a little muffled into the fabric of Will’s sweater. “Just– coming home to you, after a long day.”

“Sap,” Will says, saccharine and so fond that it seems to be spilling right out of him. Mike can feel it, all the ways Will loves him, like it’s a physical thing that’s taking shape under his hands. They’re what make Mike think about him so often, all the time, in the middle of a painstakingly long lecture or seminar. Turning memories like these over in his mind, the simple comfort in knowing his day is going to get better as soon as Will gets his arms around him.

“Shut up,” Mike says. He turns to kiss along the curve of Will’s cheekbone, right under his eye, where the skin has gone wonderfully pink and creased with laughter, then pulls away. “The water’s been boiling for, like, ten minutes, by the way. Just so you know.”

#the actual giggling while kissing part was like 1.5 paragraphs #sorry liv #i hope u like this anyway :^)#saw this prompt n just #mmmmm m m m mm mmmm mm mm #domestic college byler my most beloved #god i'll never get sick of writing them #i have 234239837234 scenarios for them in my mind fr #n e ways #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #fun sized fics

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keii · 1 year

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Morning after Yoosung's bday 🤭

#okay i will admit i had no direction that i wanted to do for yoosung's bday art #i was drawing 3/4 profile facing left and was like #shit... i like how this look even tho it's bland as hell...#so what better to just make some impromptu bedroom scene #and it's not like i totally procrastinated--#I WAS ALSO SICK FOR A WEEK #ALSO I DIDN'T FEEL LIKE DRAWING CLOTHES #whenever i draw yoosung he'll forever be covered in hickies i swear to god #gotta draw him pretty... AS HE SHOULD BE #you know i always thought i drew him w more muscles than he actually has-- AND I KNOW I DO--#but after seeing the mm beach merch where they gave everyone muscles #LADKFJALSDK WELP there's no stopping that now #anyway i knew i was gonna be late w this anyway so did a random scenario haha #art #killamonart #fanart #mystic messenger #mysme #mm #yoosung #yoosung kim #bummie #i love him AHHHH #o it was my dad's bday too... i... said happy bday to him...#pretty sure i sent a text to the right person... why didn't he text me back =__=

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imma-bunni · 2 years

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sketch doodle page of modern wwx - idea: Wei Ying has a piano app on his phone for musical cultivation

#me and my sister were talking about what other phone apps a modern cultivator wwx would use #and then we wondered if one of those piano apps would work for music cultivation xD #I bed they'd have a guqin too #but I think lz would find the app incredibly distasteful and would never use it #despite the fact that:#Lan Zhan! It's so convenient! And it sounds the same you can't tell me it doesn't #Mm. Doesn't.#Lan Zhaaaaaaan #:end scenario xD #Anyway I think wwx would like it!#except he'd complain that they didn't have a good dizi app so he'd probably make one himself #myart #the untamed #modern wwx #modern cql #sketch page

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strawberry-lemonade-kisses · 8 months

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Thinking about Mean Dom Giyu who isn't afraid to spit into your mouth, watching the shocked look on your face form as you were expecting his cock.

"Filthy whores don't deserve this cock" his grip was harsh as he held your chin, looking over the bridge of his nose at you, looking down on your pathetic state.

"what have you done to deserve me?"

#mm #hes mean and i love it #giyu #giyuu #giyu x reader #giyuu tomioka #kny giyuu #giyuu x reader #demon slayer giyuu #kimetsu giyuu #kny #kny hashira #kny scenarios #kny x y/n #kny x reader #kny x you

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j0nika · 2 months

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sksjdj this made me laugh!

i didnt know what to put on the mug, i didnt know what might symbolize madoka, so i just drew a little mini kyubey💀

but lets just say its merch, in a timeline where madoka is actually a huge fan of madoka magica. and the mc is...homura!!!!

i think i just made a super cool au

(thanks for more of the super kind words! im glad you like the way i draw! i'm trying my best to stick with the style of madoka magica while still incorporating my own style in there, hope its working)

#aghhh im so grateful #you are super nice #thanks for the motivation for me to draw more mm!!!!#ive been struggling with finding fandoms that i fit into recently #and im finding so many different things that im interested in that its too much for my brain #so i keep feeling overwhelmed that i have to draw EVERYTHING because i want to!!#i just dont have the time energy or motivation #all the while trying to stick to my roots with danganronpa #im slowly forgetting danganronpa and how much i have a passion for it and its stressing me out #as much as i want to grow as a person i genuinely want to keep up with danganronpa and learn more about it!#im just in a stage where im discovering a lot of different things such as madoka magica and its a lot #because i feel the need to create create create everything i see #every scenario i really want to draw!#but theres too much!!!#i didnt even have the motivation to draw danganronpa (my one and only fandom) for a long long time #but now that im starting off strong with mm #i think ill really be able to get some creativity out there #it makes me happy that my art is enjoyable by you and others so #seriously thank you so much for your words and excitement about the things i make bc i need that sometimes!#even if it seems small like im overreacting #it is just really nice to hear a total stranger say that they like the things i make #i know its not just to make me feel better and that its genuine #ive never really had social media or posted the things im passionate about ever #this is honestly super new to me #so yeah #a little means a lot #sorry for ranting i just wanted to say that haha ty for reading

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myslibrary · 3 months

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Scenario: RFA reacting to Break ups (Angst)

Zen:

• Zen was out past the usual time..again. You sat in the living room with only the fridge humming loudly and the murmurs of the TV. Over thinking made it harder to process a true thought.

• You checked the wall clock only to see it was 3 AM. You frowned a bit. All day you were sick, but for some reason it seemed he had more on his agenda than to stay home. The TV became louder, which grabbed your attention in confusion

“Scandal?? Actor Zen found hanging out with New Actress a/n, getting too friendly in public! witnesses say Zen was ‘all over her’ behind a coffee shop new couple?!? What will this do to his career!”

• The sound of the TV struck a cord in your throat. Your frown became stronger as your heart began to sink.

• Your hands quickly went to your phone as your breath became to hitch, Looking all over social media was a nightmare you once dreamed of. She was so...Pretty. Your eyes stung and water went down your cheeks warmly

• Just then the door opens and out comes an irritated man. His brows were furrowed as he walked in, rubbing his shoulder. He said nothing to you.

• Just then your eyes shot up to the man, “Where have you been?” He looked over at you and his frown dropped to worrisome. “what do you mean...” His voice began to decline as he glared at the tv then to your phone. it was a picture of him with his arm around another women.

• He just scoffs and smiles,” C’mon. You don’t really believe that do you. It’s happened before. They’re just scan-” You immediately cut him off “They were never this late.” You stood up and began to walk to your all's room. taken aback, he snaps,” What so you believe the media and not me? It’s not like i had sex with her. I wasn’t with her tonight.”

• Your whole body froze. His words sent cold shivers down your back. “excuse me? Zen of course they would think women you are out with are yours. You rarely take me out anymore...so maybe I do believe so.” Your brows began to furrow as you yelled and cried. He stood there motionless. “Mc..Its not true..”

• You rushed into the room, grabbing a bag. It was late, you had no where to go but all that mattered was you’re out. “Where are you going? Mc?! Stop! You’re not going anywhere!” He quickly grabbed your hips. You turned around and smacked him. “If you cant tell me where you were then i can’t be here.”

• You could see the mans body exhale with a sigh. “Alright...I was out with her. But it wasn’t like that I swear. She’s just casted in the same production as me. please believe me.” His voice shook. Frowning he tried grabbing your hand, as he got closer you smelt feminine body spray. “I can’t i’m sorry. I need to go.”

Yoosung:

• It was close to when Yoosung would be home from school. You thought you would surprise him, since he has been stressed about his exams. You both have been arguing for the past few days, but you decided to put that behind you.

• As you waited on the couch, your eyes began to wonder around the room, holding a mug you got him for his hard work, when you heard the door. He looked stressed?

• You offered a hello and he just smiled a bit, rose his brows and walked to his bedroom. “Uhm. Yoosung, are you okay?” All you got back was a groan.

• “what are you doing here? You said you would be busy.” Yoosung continued, “You didn’t have to come. You know I’m also busy.” Your smile immediately dropped.

• “Oh. You were having a bad week, so I thought hanging could change that.” Your eyes fell to the floor, embarrassed. “Well. I’m busy.” It seemed your emotions didn’t phase him. His eyes stuck on you seemingly waiting for you to leave.

• “Yoosung, you’ve been avoiding me. What is wrong? Can we please talk.” He scuffed at your question, brows furrowed, while his eyes crawled to the wall, hesitant on his next words. He threw his backpack at his bed with frustration and sighed.

• “I’m not sure-” He froze, “If this is what I want. Okay? There’s your answer. I have too much going on.” The air became cold and surrounded you. All you could do was hold your breath, You didn’t want to move at all.

• “What did you expect from me then Yoosung. Answer that. Did you expect me to be just like Rika? Is this what it’s about. “ Your voice began to rise a bit as your eyes stabbed his face with betrayal.

• “I think you should go, y/n.” He glared. “No! I won’t just go. Answer my question!” You hiccupped a bit as he stayed quiet.

• “Fine. Here. Good job on your exams. I came here to fix things, because I miss you. But I'll take the hint” you sat the mug down sternly on his desk. It didn’t break. Yoosung's rage grew in a smooth, yet fast way. With red entering his vision, He threw it at something aggressively in front of you, causing it to bust, with a shard lightly slicing your cheek.

• Your eyes grew wide with freight. Your hand lightly clasped your own cheek as blood began to pour out of the cracks of your fingers a bit. You looked down at your hand, silently crying in confusion. “Y/n...” Yoosung then began to realize what he said to you, and what he did. He grew with shock. “What is WRONG with you..” you get a sigh out.

• “ I did nothing but cheer for you. I was the only one TRULY supporting you! And this is what i get. Rika couldn’t even be there for you. Don’t come back looking for the one who was really there for you out of everyone.” All you could do was get a laugh of air out. “I’m sorry.” All he could do was sit there, staring at you.

• “I told you already to not look for someone’s shadow from me. You lied. didn’t you.” He just sat there, avoidant to eye contact. “If that’s how it is, have it your way. I’ll be out of your way like you wanted.”

Jaehee:

•You and Jaehee were at the cafe counting the drawers at the end of the night. You finished counting the drawer she handled that day and waited patiently. Just passing the time watching her.

• You notice her itch the back of her neck as she sighs, “Uhh, is something wrong..?” You question the brunette sitting in front of you.

• “I felt you could have been more interactive with the store today.” There was a sudden pause of tense silence,” That’s all.” You felt overlooked by 100. With any reply to come out, it had to be a quiet dramatic gasp.

• “Jaehee, Please tell me you’re just messing around. Did you not see any of the projects or cleaning I have done this week alone? Where is this coming from?” You stood up, now looking down at her.

• “Correct me if I'm wrong, but these projects and this ‘cleaning’ you’re telling me about, these were all things I've asked you to do. I had to tell you to do these things.” Jaehee folds the envelope and closes the safe.

• “I wish you would pull your weight.” She walks out of the room as you trail behind her. “Excuse me? When we started this together, we both came to an agreement about doing what I can while hosting the parties.”

• “I’m sorry, I thought being my partner, you would see when I'm having issues handling this on my own.” Jaehee argues, her heels clicking on the wood was the only sound filling the cafe.

• You had no other choice but to sit in your confusion and pity. “Well,” You quietly responded,” What happened to communicating. I cannot read your mind.”

• “Yeah, I think we made that clear.” You were unsure as to why she was so upset about this situation. “Jaehee, can you stop walking away from me and talk to me!” You grab at her arm and she pulls away to look at you.

• “This isn’t the only thing I feel alone in. I feel alone in this too. Us.” You eyes went wide. You were not expecting this situation. Your heart was trying its best to explode from your chest.

• “What do you mean,” All she could do was keep quiet,” What have I done for you to feel this way? I have given my ALL for you. Jaehee, where is this coming from?” Your eyebrows furrow, with your rage spewing in all different directions. “What are you trying to say to me? That I have done NOTHING for us?” Words just kept coming out from you due to based confusion.

• “ Have I not spent countless nights hearing you cry on the phone about how much you were in pain at your old job? Was I not the one holding your hand when you got the keys for this place? What have I not done for you? Look,”

• All Jaehee could do was look down, avoiding eye contact, “If i can’t give you what you need, when I’ve gone to the literal ends of earth for you, I personally don't know what else you expect from me.”

• You Stomp past her as she quickly races after you.

Jumin:

• The time you had spent with Jumin was always cherished. But recently, You have felt the resistance from him seeing you. All the dates you’ve planned have gone unattended by him. Bed times now were spent alone. Almost seemed as if he was avoiding you.

• The worst fear you could ever imagine may becoming alive. The tall stoic man walks into the door, quite early. His eyes follow your figure as you bounce off the couch. His emotionless face tells all. You slowly walk towards him as your smile carries the same speed as you move.

• “Welcome home, Honey.” You grabbed his jacket, “Hello.” You stand waiting for a kiss to your head, but he quickly caresses your cheek and just walks past you to his home office. “Jumin. I’m concerned about something important...” He sighs holding his face, looking at you, “And what could that be?”

• “Are you getting bored of me?” The man only looks at you in confusion, “No. I just have a life of my own, Knowing beforehand i thought you would understand that.” You frown from his rejecting response. “Babe, That’s not the answer i wanted...”

• “Did you want me to lie?’” His chair swivels around to his computer. All you could do was scuff in disbelief. “Well You haven’t made the effort to see me recently. I try but it seems you just reject any invitation.” You walk around his desk to see his face, but as you do he went to stand.

• Now he is looming over you, coldly. “Don’t you see I am busy. It is because I have important priorities at this moment to attend to. I will not let anything unbeneficial disrupt my work.” He places his large hands on your shoulders to move you aside.

• “What am I to you then? Why wont you face me?” You shout as he walks away from you. “I already told you. I recommend understanding.” You could only feel your heart break with rage. After every night losing sleep of this man crying vulnerably in your arms about his situations, to diss you as an assistant.

• “Turn to me and look me in the eyes. Then I will believe you.” He stops in the door way, sighs, and turns around. Jumin Han, CEO, was now standing 8 inches away from you, again looking down at you coldly. “You’re not benefiting me. I have more important matters to attend to than this useless conversation.

• Maybe he was having an unbearably rough day, but this did not justify his cold words to you. “Then find benefits with this unimportant piece of silver.” You plunge your ring into his chest. Jumin reaches for his chest as he exchanges the ring, refusing to let it drop to the floor.

• This man just stood there, listening to your heels clatter on the marble flooring. He already acknowledge his words were inexcusable. instead of following you, begging, he let you walk away, as he felt defeated by the sight of your ring in his hand, not sure how to assess his own burnt bridge.

Seven:

• Your relationship with seven was a rough one. There was a point where you felt nothing for the man, but you hoped it was only temporary, maybe it was love but you were slowly giving up. You both would argue and try to keep things together

• A small argument turns into a loud boisterous screaming match typically. But you thought things were okay between each other. Earlier in the day you both were in each others arms giggling about the little things.

• His job was having a party for the spies in the company, You were standing by the buffet sipping your wine thinking to yourself. You eyes can’t help but wander and search for your ginger haired husband.

• Your eyes were struck by a sudden heart drop of a scene. A female co-worker rubbing up his arm. You can’t honestly tell if he’s enjoying it or trying to avoid it, All you knew was the filling rage in your face.

• You walk up to the two, “uhm excuse me, could you please stop...?” You grabbed the girls hand and she just looks at you. “uhm, Seven who is this?” The co-worker genuinely looked confused. You were loss of words. “What? I’m his wife.” You pull your hand up and show her the ring.

• “Oh, he never told me he had a wife.” Her eyes were wide at the sight of a ring. “Oh really.” Seven felt his eyes being stabbed out by yours. Your mind was full of enraging questions for the man. All you could objectively feel was hurt and heartbreak.

• “I mean why would he have to. don’t you see the-” You pull up his hand and it appears to be clean of any ring of commitment. Once you notice, your eyebrows raise in sheer shock and disappointment. “Seven. Where is your ring?” The girl laughs at your reaction.

• “I haven’t seen him wear a ring to work. Odd.” She walks away, leaving you humiliated. “Why aren’t you wearing it. Does this-” Seven immediately cuts you off, “Chill out, Its not a big deal. buzz off okay? Quit making a scene.” You just nod to his request take a small sip off your wine and launch the rest at his chest while smashing the glass on the floor, which slices a small sliver of your tights.

• Now, EVERYONE is looking at you too. “What the fuck..” He looks down in shock speaking quietly. “I’m done with this. Put this where yours is, because I'm not wearing mine anymore either.” you drop it on the floor.

• “You’re just embarrassing yourself, Y/N.” Seven complains, not letting his emotions show, refusing to see his pride struck. shaking his vest the best he can. “No, I believe you have embarrassed yourself. This is not benefiting me anymore. I’ve done above and beyond for you and you play the role of being single at work. Don’t think you’ll see me when you get back.” Your intuition tells you to just walk away without responding to his call backs.

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maddys-nerd-blog · 8 months

Text

Here’s another snippet of my AU, Familia: Gone in a Flash!! This one’s the angsty piece that I drew up a few weeks ago, so be prepared, there’s tons of whump 😅😂

Heart lurching into her windpipe faster than a runaway train, Katie suddenly lost the ability to breathe. “Oh my God!” She almost dropped her gun in her panic, shoving past Traximus immediately as she broke into a sprint. “MY BOYS!”

She tried the door. No dice; it had been locked. Trying to pry the latch of the handle she pushed against it with all her bare strength, grunting and growling with the strain. The muscles in her neck and biceps popped, her blood was racing, adrenaline kicking into overdrive to keep her moving.

“Stand back!“ Traximus moved her aside, bracing his hands into the steel bar and wrenching it upwards, metal groaning under his clutches. The Triceraton wasted no time in ripping the latch off with a terrible scream of titanium being shredded apart, the sound rattling her skull with a vengeance.

She slammed her shoulder into the decrepit door, smashing it wide open with an all-too loud crash. Metal hinges screeched in protest from the impact, rusty screws popping free and flying in random directions. Katie moved through the shadowy entrance with haste, heart palpitating, blood racing. Nothing was on her mind. She couldn’t think straight.

Nothing mattered except getting her boys home. Put the mission first. Put the kids first.

Get them home above all else.

Protect and Serve.

The mantra rooted itself into her core. No amount of time that passed would erase the fundamental purpose of what created her, drove her, gave her the means to keep fighting. The boys had changed her. Leo, Donnie, Raph, Jason… they’d given her what she’d been denied her entire life.

They had given her the chance to be a mom.

And they were depending on her to get them out of here. Now more than anything, she couldn’t let herself get tangled in that anger.

Katie clutched her pistol in an iron grip, white-knuckled, the trigger pressing down ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Moving through a disgustingly messy floor where debris and planks of wood were left scattered, the detective looked around with urgency, emerald eyes piercing the darkness. “BOYS!?”

Her voice bounced off the walls. Nothing.

“BOYS!” She bellowed again, voice cracking. “BOYS I’M HERE!”

Again, no response other than the echo of her cries taunting her.

Por favor, no. Don’t let them be dead. A terrible chill grabbed her shoulders and shook her like a rag-doll. Please don’t let them be dead. Please don’t let me be too late. Not again.

“DONATELLO!” Katie called desperately. “LEONARDO! RAPHAEL!” Swallowing a sob to repress the daunting horror threatening to eat her alive she cried out, “JASON! MIJO!”

Dead silence was her reply.

She advanced further into the warehouse, gun still clutched fiercely in two trembling hands. “BISHOP! COME OUT AND FUCKING FACE ME, YOU COWARD!”

Katie looked around the vacant space. It was cleared out, all remnants of shattered glass from the skylight windows or the concrete rubble pushed aside to create some kind of arena. Metal pipes blocked off an emergency fire exit, welded together to form a blockade that sealed the automatic doors shut from the inside. Something suspicious that caught her eye was a rigging system of some kind tethered to the far left side of the room, a pulley leading towards the ceiling.

Before she could investigate, Traximus shouted in pain from somewhere in the darkness behind her.

Red flags shot up in her the back of her head, hairs on her neck rising. Cocking the safety off her pistol she whirled around, gun raised and ready to fire. “TRAX?!“

“Unfortunately he can’t come to your aid, Detective.”

Katie’s body went stone cold, cementing her where she stood. Slinking into view in what little light there was coming from the holes in the threadbare roof, Bishop almost seemed to blend in with the shadows, his suit granting him complete secrecy. Sunglasses still hiding his sinister eyes, the agent dragged a prone Traximus with him on the floor, the Triceraton wrapped in thick cables that hummed with electric energy. The warrior still attempted to struggle against his bonds, snarling with anger as he desperately tried to fight back.

Bishop dropped the mighty gladiator to the dusty floor, stepping around the bulkier alien as he approached the woman who aimed a gun straight towards his skull. A callous smirk oozing with a sick sense of intrigue greeted her, his demeanor cocky and arrogant as though his presence was enough to put the fear of God into her. “I almost expected you not to turn up. But here you are! Punctual and with not a second to spare.”

Katie bared her teeth with a silent fury that was drowning her soul. Every fiber in her body roared, demanding blood, demanding retribution, craving the urge to rip this man to pieces for all he’d put her boys through. “Where are they?”

Bishop smirked. “The mutants are alive. Although I’m quite surprised that you didn’t locate them sooner.”

What? Katie leveled her gun to aim for Bishop’s chest, unwilling to take her gaze off him for even a moment, lest he try to attack. “I’m not here to play anymore games, asshole! What did you do to them!?”

The bastard actually started chuckling to himself. Reaching a slender hand to push his sunglasses up higher to rest on the bridge of his nose, the agent shook his head as if he were talking down to a child. “You know, you claim to be clever. But when the cards are down you’re no more than a fumbling buffoon who can’t keep a lid on her anger. It was so easy. All I had to do was take away the thing you held close and watch the fireworks. Humanity is fed by the need to control, to dominate, to learn what we cannot understand. But you, Detective, seem to abandon your human ways in order to protect creatures that only carry a fraction of our intelligence.” His gaze drifted towards her pistol. “The shaking of your firearm proves my point.”

“FUCK OFF!” Taking a step forward to disguise her weakness, Katie shouted at the bigot with a snarl. “Don’t press buttons you aren’t ready to push, coño! Tell me what you did to my boys or so help me—“

Lights flashed on. Out of nowhere there was suddenly blinding rays coming from fixtures in the ceiling, rendering the woman stunned as her world was filled with black spots that flooded around the edges of her vision. She stumbled, crying out with bewilderment, raising an arm to block the worst of the light.

But above her… she heard noise.

Voices. Garbled, incoherent, panicked… scared. Her head whipped up towards the source of the sounds—

And her mouth dropped open with horror.

Strung fifty feet in the air, dangling like ornaments on a Christmas tree, were her boys. The four of them were bound back to back, each of their cords meeting in the middle to connect to a hook that kept them suspended. Their arms were behind them, strands of rope wrapped around their chests keeping them immobile. Gags had been fixed between their teeth— that explained why she hadn’t been able to hear them.

She spotted Raph first. He was furiously kicking his legs, thrashing and bucking in his restraints like a crazed horse, yelling against his gag with protest as he tried to get loose. Mondo was next to him, sandwiched between Raph and Leon, who was also struggling but not as viciously as Raph. She caught the smallest glimpse of Donnie behind them, the youngest unable to see her, fearfully whimpering. Leon kept looking at the purple masked turtle with great empathy, mumbling what would have been words of comfort to a version of his brother he’d grown close to. It broke her heart.

Mondo’s face was slick with tears streaming down his cheeks— bulbous yellow eyes were bloodshot and puffy, like he’d been weeping for hours. His voice was somehow the loudest against the chorus of muffled noises in the group, little legs flailing around in blind panic as he shook and swayed against his ropes. Despite the gag she could still hear him crying out ‘Mom’ to the best of his ability.

Some kind of primal instinct was awakened at that moment. Feral in nature, rabid, wild, manic. An untapped emotion that had never made itself known until now. Baring her teeth she whirled towards Bishop— the mother fucker actually looked amused by the mayhem he’d caused, the genuine fear he’d put into her kids— and she cocked the gun towards his temple, expression contorted into one of malice. “LET THEM GO!”

“Don’t be so brash.” Bishop tutted. “You wouldn’t shoot me.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” She challenged through clenched teeth. “I kill you and the game’s over. You don’t get to destroy any more families.”

“Only I have access to the pulley keeping your precious ‘boys’ from turning into heaps of splattered brains and viscera,” Bishop caught the stunned silence from the woman, gesturing to the rigging system. “This building was constructed one hundred and seventeen years ago. The safety codes aren’t what they are currently to our standards. One little nudge— one misplaced bullet, perhaps— can shatter the pulley’s chain and send the mutants plummeting. Not even you can stop it.”

“Don’t fuck with me.” Katie cocked the pistol, disengaging the safety. “I got them away from you once.”

“And can you help them get away from certain death?” Bishop taunted, taking slow, calculated steps towards her while she fought to maintain her composure. “A fall from that high can kill a regular human being. Think about what kind of damage it could have on a turtle shell or a gecko cranium. I’m told terrapins don’t have spines, but… there’s only one way to find out now, isn’t it?”

Katie’s hands shook madly around the pistol. “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” Bishop dared. “Go on. Shoot me, Detective,” he approached casually, hands folded behind him until he was well within reaching distance. “You made such a farce, after all! Why should you have to wait any longer?” He leaned forward just a margin, allowing the barrel of her pistol to press into the center of his forehead. “By all means! Do it! Show your dear mutant children how much of a hero you are! But if your shot should slip and strike the pulley… that would be a waste.”

Her heart was beating madly in her ribs. One finger threatened to press the trigger, but her anxiety made her freeze. Bishop could have been bullshitting her. He was a manipulative bastard with the greatest silver tongue on the planet. He’d say anything to mess with her head to second guess herself. Katie’s eyes flickered upward to check on the kids, trying to gauge if the hook keeping them suspended was at risk of potential damage—

Taking her eyes off of Bishop was a mistake.

He moved so fast the human eye couldn’t catch the rush of movement, the sudden blur of black jolting her into shock as he reeled a fist back and made a devastating blow to the bottom of her jaw, knocking her off balance. The bone beneath the skin cracked upon impact, loosening several teeth. It struck the pistol out from her hands, the weapon flying far out of reach. Another hard kick to her gut threw the woman into a crate somewhere beyond the reaches of the spotlight. Sections of her spine crackled instantly.

“And here I thought you were smarter than that!” Bishop laughed at her expense. Picking herself upright she ground her jaw together, every fiber in her body urging her to bludgeon the bastard.

Ripping her cardigan off and discarding it to the wayside, she balled her hands into fists and bellowed at the top of her lungs. “TRY ME, MOTHER FUCKER!” She took a running start as she reeled a fist back to land as solid right hook to his left cheekbone, whipping his head to the side.

Bishop looked at her, fingers raising to touch the developing bruise on his face. A coy smirk rode up his lips. “All that bravado for one punch,” he scoffed, sending icy chills down her spine.

She went to hit him again, only to be blocked. Her swings and jabs were shoved aside as if she were just a kid flailing her arms. His timing was almost infallible; catching her blind spots faster than the human eye could process, calculating her punches and where she was going to land them. If she got lucky enough to hit an area that she suspected was weak, he brushed it off and doubled down with a harder blow. It made her question whether or not he was a robot.

Katie barely managed to maneuver herself up and out of the way of another incoming kick that shattered another crate where she’d been thrown into. Her eyes fluttered, blood oozing out of split lips and shredded skin, struggling to push herself up to her knees to get her bearings. In the clearing she could hear Traximus shouting for her to run, but overhead the boys were screaming.

“Come on, Detective,” Bishop used her title like a slur, spitting it out as though it were a rotten taste left on his tongue. He advanced, shadows cascading sharp features with harsh contours, razor-like against his thin frame. His sunglasses were off, tucked safely into a breast pocket in his jacket, beady orbs wickedly stunning through heavy gradients of black. “I thought you wanted to put me down. Here’s your opportunity!”

She scrambled to her feet— blood rushed to her head, dizziness colliding into her frontal lobe. Staggering, she blinked the spotty blur out of her vision with a fierce shake to snap herself out of it. Don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall over goddamn it. Spitting out the coppery liquid that saturated her mouth Katie squinted through the pain, gritting aching teeth, clenching her fists to position herself to take a boxer’s stance. “Don’t… count me out… just yet…”

Bishop’s face twisted— gone was the arrogant charade he was putting on, in its place was a mask of ominous intent. Hardened. “You still persist in the face of defeat. You threw away humanity’s interest in favor of playing house with FREAKS. You shame your badge by sullying it with your sins.”

There was a thick silence that separated them as dense as fog. For a few minutes Katie hadn’t moved, didn’t speak, just… stared at him with brilliant emerald eyes. She hung her head, hair shading a bloody brow as her shoulders began to shake. Bishop pondered if she had started weeping…

But was left baffled when she started keening with laughter.

It was a creaky sound that ripped her throat, full-chested with purpose as the woman practically shrieked uproariously in the face of the sociopath. Bracing her hand against her diaphragm she doubled over, clutching at the skin as if trying to keep it at bay.

Finally, she found her voice. “You think… you think that shit means anything to me? That I give a flying fuck what YOU or other bigots believe? You sound just like my stepmother! Preaching what you don’t understand to simple minded assholes who think acting like animals to other sentient beings is the answer to all your problems! I’d give up my badge in a goddamn HEARTBEAT if it meant I can give those boys the life they deserve! I’ve lived my entire career defending those who couldn’t protect themselves. I’ve watched good cops get killed trying to serve their community. I’ve seen really shitty felons get off scot-free while the families they tore apart have to grieve the loss of a loved one who was butchered just for fun. My badge is my duty to everyone. ANYONE.”

Her fingers dug into the depths of her belt, keeping him talking. A few more inches. “Those boys are my purpose. They deserve to have a life.”

Bishop’s lips curled with disgust. “They’re MUTANTS—“

“They’re children!”

“You’re insane if you believe this rhetoric! Do you honestly think those abominations are capable of blending in to our society?!”

“YES!” Fingertips brushed against the hidden item lodged between her holster and belt. Just a little more. “Why are you so adamant that they can’t?!”

“THEY DO NOT BELONG!” Bishop exclaimed. “Mutants take and destroy all they touch! They’re ravenous! Once they infect one, they infest all! They can’t be allowed to roam this planet! Humans won’t be safe until every single one of them are purged from this soil!” His eyes narrowed ruefully. “And I’ll kill anyone who stands in my way.”

Katie’s lips drew back into a thin line, glaring daggers at the nutcase. “Huh. Well.” Her hand found purchase around the familiar wooden grip of her concealed weapon. “Not me.”

She pounced. She ripped her butterfly knife out of her belt, leaping forward like a spring having been wound too tight. Snapping the blade free with a flick of her wrist, Katie twirled it in her fingers as she tackled Bishop to the wall and, steeling her resolve, plunged it several inches deep into his bicep.

Incensed, Bishop grabbed her face, trying to push her away. Katie bit his fingers just as they attempted to go for her eyes. She drove her knee into his sternum to knock the air out of his lungs, throw him off balance, do something to hinder him from going after the kids. The more time he spent focusing on killing her, the safer the boys would be.

Bishop grabbed her hair, yanking her head back to rip her off of him, in doing so he tore several pieces of black strands free in his iron fist. When her throat was exposed he punched the weak spot where her windpipe was located. She choked, staggering, releasing the agent to try and retreat, but he was faster even with a knife stuck in his arm. He grappled her around the waist, using the momentum to drag her across the floor until he bodily rammed her into a steel beam near the pulley system, rattling both her bones and the support structure.

Katie coughed out blood through clenched teeth, stifling a scream. Two ribs cracked from within her chest. Her head whipped back from the blow and hit the beam, creating a terrible headache that shook her entire skull. The world started to tilt on its axis…

His hands grabbed both sides of her head. Fingers dragging into her scalp Bishop delivered a powerful head-butt to her forehead, crashing their foreheads together. That caused her senses to become nullified, rendering her stunned. He reeled her head back a second time to land devastating punches to her face, over and over, breaking her nose in the process, painting his knuckles with her blood. He seized her shoulders and threw her to the floor, kicking the woman in the abdomen to send her rolling across the ground and back into the clearing where everyone could see her.

“YOU DEPLORABLE BASTARD!” Traximus roared, fighting the electric cords that kept him pinned. “YOU HAVE NO HONOR! FIGHTING YOUR OPPONENT WHEN THEY’RE DEFENSELESS! YOU COWARD!”

“Coming from an alien whose entire race threatened to conquer Earth when humans were defenseless,” Bishop stepped into the center, slammed a foot deep into the depths of Katie’s abdomen and digging his heel in. She tried to reach up to grab at his leg, but he swatted it away. “Don’t worry. Your death will be painless, if you’re lucky.”

“My… life… means… nothing,” Katie rasped between shaky breaths. “Those kids… matter more… to… me.” She spat a mouthful of bright crimson onto his pristine leather loafers, lips cracking a wicked smirk at his expense. “More… than… a shit stain… like you… I bet… your dear old daddy… never loved you either… eh, fuck face?”

Bishop wasn’t impressed by the snide remarks. Instead, he knelt down close, heel sinking deeper into her gut, pressing her down into the floor. Leaning close he whispered in her ear. “Projecting your own problems onto me won’t save you. And those mutants are worth nothing.” He raised himself back up to straddle her, pinning the beaten detective as she writhed to break free. “It is adorable that your delusions tell you otherwise.”

He began to pummel her without a second thought.

Overhead the boys were still causing a ruckus, either shouting or screaming, thrashing wildly in a vain effort to get free. Raph was swinging back and forth, slamming into Leo, knocking him against Donnie as Mondo wept. The gecko made every attempt he could to wriggle loose, even if it meant certain doom by doing so, but he’d been bound so tight it was digging into his being with no mercy. Not once did he stop crying out for his ‘mom’.

Not even Leo was trying to hide the frantic terror that was etched in his features; having to turn his face away from the brutal beatings, flinching each time a bone popped or Katie yelped. Donnie was deathly silent throughout the sadistic process, internally grateful to not have to bare witness to the graphic display of casual violence. Raph was swearing at the top of his lungs, muffled death threats and curses blocked by the fabric cinched in his teeth, the ropes scratching his skin to the point of soreness and rubbing it raw.

The beating went on for fifteen minutes. It felt like a lifetime.

“Admit it!” Bishop punched the woman across the jaw. His pale knuckles were dripping with blood. “You failed these mutants the same way you failed your partner!”

“D-Don’t—“ Katie was cut off by a devastating punch to her cheekbone for a hundredth time.

“You failed your badge. Your rank. Your family.” Bishop grabbed her by the collar and hoisted her up halfway to meet his gaze, the motion of which made her queasy. “Those freaks.”

He dropped her back to the floor. “You’re a disgrace to those you claim you defend. You think you’re bettering yourself? Look in the mirror. All I see is a desperate cry for attention coming out of an alcoholic mess who pretends to play mother to a group of rejected monsters, thinking the entire time she’s doing the right thing.”

A hand snatched her by the hair, rag-dolling her across the floor. Her fingers dug themselves into the dirt stubbornly to try and root herself down, to stop this deranged lunatic from hauling her around. Colors blurred throughout her bloodied eyes, swirling into a cacophony of delirium that threatened to engulf her consciousness and devour her whole. The bones in her right arm were brittle. Her chest was battered, ribs most likely cracked or fractured. She didn’t even want to imagine what her face looked like…

Bishop continued monologuing as though she gave a minute shit as to what he was talking about. “I’ve dedicated hundreds of years to eliminating alien threats that put humanity at risk. I’ve devoted thousands of hours into my efforts to kill any unwanted creature who poses a threat. I’ve spent millions putting my plans into fruition. I’m a man with a purpose to destroy all who seek to stop my goals. Your death will be no different. Nobody shall grieve your loss when I fill your heart with premium lead! YOU’RE PATHETIC!”

He threw her into a table set off to the side, her body crashing down through the flimsy furniture. There was no energy to move, no last second surge of adrenaline. All her strength had been depleted. The ability to breathe became strenuous…

Her half-lidded gaze lifted back towards the boys, all of whom still fought like hell and screamed. Leo could no longer withstand the stress, weeping quietly. Donnie was still turned away from the chaos unfolding, but she could hear him crying for her. Raph somehow was getting louder, almost verbal beneath the gag as he shouted and began to beg, sounding desperate.

Mondo had gone quiet. His golden eyes were glued to her, bloodshot, unable to look away. Soft sniffles cut through the quiet that rung in her ears, deafening from afar. My baby, she wanted to comfort. Mijo…

This couldn’t be how it ended. She couldn’t allow this lunatic to take her boys. She couldn’t let him gleefully drag the kids to lord knows where to be experimented on like science class frogs.

Glassy orbs drifted to the left, aimless. A warm stream of red trickled along the bridge of her nose. I can’t die here. I can’t die. I can’t. I can’t… Tears would have shown themselves had her eyes not been so badly beaten. My boys…

Something glistened in the corner of her delirious vision. Numbly confused, Katie tilted her head enough to gauge what it was that had caught her attention.

Her heart thudded, fast pulses bashing her body like a bull in a caged-in fence.

The kids’ weapons. All discarded like trash in a garbage bag; Mondo’s darts, his skateboard, Leo’s ōdachi, Donnie’s bō and sound channeling headphones, Raph’s sai.

All within reach, unseen in the darkness by Bishop.

Fucking MORON.

She kept the blank expression of agony on her face as he drew near, his hands gripping her own pistol to deal the killing blow. He towered above the woman, a devilish grin of sick satisfaction crawling on a face only a mother could love. “Poor Kathrine. You spent your entire existence running from your problems, but you were too slow to avoid the outcome of your consequences. Rest assured that I’ll personally see to your tombstone.” He cocked the hammer of the gun. “‘Here lies Officer McAndrews! Wasted potential! A crossbreed discarded by her own father! Unloved! Unwanted!” He scoffed, leveling the gun to aim for her heart. “Unneeded.’”

A voice in the back of her head shrieked; MOVE.

Time slowed to a screeching halt.

There was an earth-shattering bang from the pistol. Donnie screamed.

Silence crept throughout the warehouse for eternity.

Bishop’s eyes were popping out of his head, jaw slack, his body rigid where he stood. Unable to scream from the shock of what had just transpired…

Because despite having been shot in the torso, Katie was clinging to him, digging one of Raph’s sai deep into the fragile tissue and muscle of his throat, blood spilling across his suit and her chest.

There was a savagery in her facial expression, canines bared like a lion, a madness in her eyes that blazed hotter than the sun itself. Against all the agony running through her broken body she lifted her other arm to properly grip the sai in both hands, shoving it farther into his throat to sever the windpipe. He choked, trying to push her away but finding himself trapped by her deathlike hold.

“You… won’t…” she slurred, twisting the sword breaker in her fists. “Touch… my… boys!”

She ripped it free. A waterfall of crimson gushed from the fatal injury, the agent coughing and gagging, clutching at his throat as though it would staunch the blood flow. His wild, manic eyes fell upon her, disdain in his snarl as he reached towards her, slipping to his knees until he ultimately collapsed to land on his back.

Katie wasted no time; adrenaline this rampant wouldn’t last long in her condition. She grabbed the garbage bag, stumbling towards Traximus, who was staring up at her with disbelief. Using the blood-soaked sai she snagged the electric cord under its prongs and broke his bonds free.

“Go…” she wheezed, the sai slipping out of her fingers, clattering uselessly at their feet. “Th’ kids…” she buckled dangerously to the side, eyelids fluttering as her feet fell from under her.

“NO!” Traximus caught her before she could slam into the concrete, her body too heavy in his arms as she continued to bleed. “Steady, Kathrine! You must hold on!”

“My boys…” she breathed, airy in tone as she fought the temptation to fall asleep. “Get… m’ boys…”

Traximus looked as though he wanted to protest, but one cautionary glance cast towards the bullet wound and he softened significantly. “… I shall have them free in moments.” He settled her against a small wooden crate, tender in his mannerisms to ease her pain. Then he was gone from her field of view, dashing to the pulley.

From there, a dull buzz filled her hearing. Katie’s body felt… strange. It was heavy, stiff, unwilling to respond. Weighed down by tremendous amounts of pressure leaning into her chest, feeling the sticky blood racing along the curves of her arm, her stomach, her gaping bullet wound. She was also unnaturally tired; sluggishness ebbed away at her senses, as if water was rushing in her ears to drown out all noise surrounding the immediate area.

As though the tidal wave of a grand tsunami has taken hold of her, gradually the world began to ripple into a series of black and white dots that spun around her vision, draining everything of it’s natural colors only to leave it in bland dreariness of monotone gray. Was death this calm? Was it always so bleak? So unsettling?

Katie’s heart was still pulsing to deliver blood to her organs, slower in rhythm, the body shutting down. What good would it do to a woman on death’s door?

Suddenly hands were on her arm, pulling, pleading, imploring. Her emerald orbs fell upon the bulbous eyes of Mondo, newly freed but opening sobbing. Bold, vivid eyes stood out in her world like a lighthouse trapped in a hurricane. Behind him limped Raph, whose biceps and wrists were scarlet and slightly bloody, vibrant in the gray background. He’d fought like a madman. There was a genuine horror that painted his brown irises…

“MOM!” Mondo wept, clutching her arm with all the strength he could muster as if willing her to stand. “MOM! Please, get up! Get up!”

“M’jo…” words were mumbled under her breath, too soft for anyone to catch.

Suddenly blue and purple came into the mix— Donnie’s face turned sickly, his mouth drawing shut, looking faint. Leo wasn’t faring much better, eyes pinned to the detective with a horrified expression; his hand was gripping a particularly gnarly gash on his shoulder she hadn’t spotted. Traximus was back, kneeling at her side. Now her field of vision became filled with orange and yellow and black, voices clamoring for dominance in her ears.

“— go to a hospital!”

“She doesn’t have that chance, her ribs—!”

“Mom please don’t die please please please I don’t wanna lose you—“

“What’re we gonna do?!”

“Do we have any backup spots?!”

“Kathrine stay with us!”

It became too much to listen to, eyes flickering between the young faces of her boys to Trax. I love you guys, she wanted to say. Don’t worry about me. Take care of each other.

A figure moved in the background. Behind Leo and Donnie, far in the dark where she’d shanked the fucker, Katie’s gaze caught onto the lumbering form of—

Her voice cracked, blood gurgling in her mouth as a strangled shout crawled its way out of her. “NO…!”

All five heads snapped up at her urgent tone. Slowly turning their eyes towards the source of her alarm, everyone present was left speechless as their hunter staggered into frame… alive.

Bishop was holding his throat, blood gushing through clenched fingers, huffing and puffing, sweat sticking to his brow. His teeth were bared, looking monstrous. Appearing as if he’d come right out of a slasher film, the sociopath stood with hatred in his eyes as he crooned in a voice not his own, “You… fucking… bitch…!”

Raph seized his sai, clutching them tight as he attempted to take up a fighter’s stance. Donnie dropped to his knees, too terrified to move. Mondo clung to Katie like a lifeline, the woman weakly draping her arm around his back to bring him close to shield him. Traximus became something of a hulking barrier, standing in front of the children and fallen woman with determination.

“You… all…” Bishop removed his hand from his throat, exposing a grizzly stab wound that was somehow stitching itself back together. Muscle, veins, skin started to form around the area where he’d been impaled as though nothing had occurred. “I’m going… to rip… each and every one of you to pieces…!”

The ramping tension finally shattered. At his breaking point, grabbing his ōdachi in a fit of desperation, Leonardo screamed at the top of his lungs with a voice that was heavy with despair. The boy had an ironclad hold of his sword, charging forward, ignoring the startled cries of his friends and wounded caretaker. Bishop smirked, crouching as if to pounce.

But Leo swung his sword. An electric blue magic fizzled in the air. It crackled like thunder ripping across a stormy sky as a vividly bright portal separated Bishop from the group.

Leo looked back towards the others and cried out. “GO!”

Nobody waited a second further.

Traximus gathered Katie into his arms and dashed for the portal, Mondo sprinting right behind him. Donnie seized the garbage bag filled with their weapons and made a break for it. Raph took the rear to protect the younger of the group. The red eared slider glared at the agent with a curdling fury, the sword in his hand twitching with potent energy that sparked at his fingertips. No words were spoken, but the defiant sneer on his face spoke for him; Don’t ever let me see you again.

It wasn’t until everyone was through that Leo himself fell into the exit, the madman’s scream of outrage following them as it faded without a trace.

I really hope you like this!! 🥹

@queen-with-the-quill @tending-the-hearth @lameboobah

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d3lux4ry · 4 months

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This video reminds me of Leo and Donnie, a lot..

*PLEASE DONT TAG TCE$T PLEASE

#tmnt #tmnt mm #Roman rambles #no tcest cuz like other than the ‘lets break up’ line #there are different scenarios for this men #*meme uggjg #yeah uhh #like Leo would text ‘yo #‘you hood’ and Donnie’s is like #YOU FEEL ME CHIO IN THIS BUILDING PERIODT

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if-mirrormine · 11 months

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After reading the most recent asks, my tiny, impulsive MC would absolutely try lift and spin Grayson and he’s definitely gonna squish her but wait now he has fallen on top of her and she is breathless beneath him (and not only because her lungs are being constricted by his firm body pressed against her) and this is the exactly scenario I was desperately hoping for……..

So, um, how do you feel about fanfiction?

im all for it as long as you tag me bestie😌😌

#ive read this exact scenario happening so many times #but i eat it up every single time #like both of them are breathing heavy #the eye contact is intense #neither wants to move #it just gets me #so yes!!!#if you wanna write it i wanna read it #mm: grayson #mirror mine #message received☎️#anonymous

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fslurusami · 1 year

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you know how sometimes theres some popular character and most of the fanstuff is mostly accurate on the surface but you personally have some lived experience shared w this character that enables you to have a deeper understanding of little nuances under the hood that inform things like their decision making and stuff. its on a sliding scale of accuracy of course. personally i mostly get this with my mental disorders with characters such as ogata but sometimes theres LITTLE TINY THINGS that bother me about specifically the various violence related fetishes. and the fact that it bothers me itself bothers me cuz i feel like. "oh Clearly you havent received or inflicted wounds for sexual pleasure". yes obviously they havent done that. nobody else does that. i am abnormal in nature and insane in the head

#obviously not Rlly nobody else im well aware. but it is uncommon. and it doesnt Rlly bother me but i can often tell #yes ienaga vore jokes are funny but i dont think shes into vore based on what we see of her character and attitudes towards cannibalism #however. usami and tsurumi 100% are. tsurumis gay little speech in that scene would not be out of place on a vore sideblog thats EXACTLY #how certain ppl talk about it. thats literally It. tsurumi tokushirou invented vore in 1907 #thats just the most clear cut and easily explainable example i think but there are so many little bits of tiny nuance idek #there are different attitudes of course but i feel like ienaga doesnt rlly feel any Connection to eating ppl and sure there are ocs and #little stories or scenarios about the pred just being like 'yea its just food' cuz some preys find that rlly hot but. irl there arent rlly #any of that kind of pred cuz if they dont care then. they dont care lol. like they dont Care about vore. so theyre not into vore. u know #so i think shes not into vore sexually and such shes literally just here for medicinal purposes or w/e. but that is just my opinion idk #sorry for vore essay in the tags i am autistic 👍 those deviantart stamps are not ironic they are a Warning #if anybody like. cares about being 1/5th of a mm off in their depiction of masochism or smthng i will answer questions. but be prepared for #me to get at least this ^^^ autistic about it. i dont have a phd in masochism but i can at least say with certainty that i have never #said 'it hurts so good' in real life. the full sentence like that is just a little cheesy in my opinion. 'it hurts' usually speaks 4 itself #og post

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eluxcastar · 2 years

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Urd as a yandere (remake)

── ୨୧：urd geales x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: many people have left urd over the years, all with the single common thread that he was unable to stop them whether through his weakness or simply circumstance, time, motive. why allow them the opportunity at all?

୨୧﹑genre :: angst

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, yandere, implied kidnapping, unlawful imprisonment, themes of abuse, suicide ideation, stockholm syndrome, descriptions of violence, implied dubcon, urd is in no universe all there, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 2.9k

aaa the trap of remastering my old posts. I rather liked the idea behind this one so I thought it would be the perfect candidate for a rewrite.

this entire thing is basically that one edited sound of mary on a cross like "you scare me" but you have been fed urd nation (*￣︶￣)

original

you think by now you would have memorised the sound of his footsteps, and for the most part you can tell when he's near. You always know. He has a very strict rule on this room, you've overheard it several times from the whispered just outside. He has forbidden all entry under any circumstances, and nobody dares stand against him.

you used to claw at the door, at the gap where the light of the hall cracks though, look around the room for any sign of something you could use to try to pry the door open by chipping away at the deadbolt. When that didn't appear to have any affect you turned to the keyhole, which didn't want to budge either. You're caught in what he views as an escape attempt, as the door handle clicks with the sound of the lock, and you scurry back just too little too late.

he yanks you harshly up from the floor by your arm, which feels like it's under so much pressure he'll break it—he's furious and you can tell. It's like taking a bullet to see someone you used to love so helplessly grow so utterly bitter, so hateful towards you. To throw you at the bed he keeps you confined in and has already stained red with your blood. You used to be built up by him, and now he begins the process of breaking you down. Every piece of your sanity is tested over and over and over again until you shy away in fear like a little child, only to be touched by the hand of the monster that keeps you.

while your sanity is being tested, you suspect that his is far gone. No sane person can pull you so gently back to thinking you are safe, whispering and shushing you until your heartbeat evens out as much as your adrenaline rush will allow, only to have the sound of your heartbeat replaced by a sickening crack as he breaks the metacarpal bone of one your fingers cleanly in half at the body.

you can't help how violently you flinch as he takes the hand and brings it up to his lips, kissing it gently, though not gently enough as you make a noise half like a cry but reminiscent of a scream. "You're only on your first strike, so the pain is all over now." the whisper of those words is far from reassuring.

the shaking of your whole body is uncontrollable, so racked with a feeling you can't even describe anymore that keeping your hand steady while he tends to your little broken bone so pathetic it will take several weeks to heal. You sit in his lap, he makes you. You have to let him hold your hand, and wrap your finger up securely where it will heal in due time. You can't help shifting uncomfortably, even when he makes a remark about how he's so glad you're letting him help.

it makes you feel so sick to your stomach you deny his attempts to feed you later that evening, turning your head away in an act of stark defiance. You won't allow him anymore gratitude out of his own disturbed actions.

you realise quickly why specifically he broke the finger he did—the ring finger on your dominant hand—all tracks would need to be performed in some way involving that finger even minimally. It hurts when you move it, it hurts when you eat because of the pressure applied to it even by a spoon, it hurts when you try to pick up your little instrument again and place it back where you found it, utterly defeated.

it hurts you to curl back into your ball, lost and falling apart, and you begin to wonder if escape is possible. How could you and your frail and ailing little body ever make it last a confrontation with a monster, able to hear your every move and know your very whereabouts with only his senses. You don't even know how you got to this point, rocking yourself to the tune of an old nursery rhyme you used to hear a lot wishing for your innocent back, the ignorance and bliss that you lost, the freedom—you are a little bird in a cage, a wolf sleeping just outside.

in order for you to be what he envisions you have to lose your vision of you, stripped of everything in your life that brought you joy in order to be the source of someone else's sick perversion of happiness.

you incur a second wrath is after a stint of good behaviour, a direct result of having no chance of getting away when one of your fingers is broken. Still, he rewards you with things he much consider privileges, allowing you to leave your room under his careful supervision for what started as a mere hour, but you have since managed to extend that time to something more like 'whenever he remembers to take you back'. He doesn't watch the clock.

you made the mistake of opening a window while he had stepped out of the room, feeling it was getting stuffy and you would like a small moment of nothing clean fresh air filling your lungs and refreshing your body after you had spent so long inside. He didn't snap so quickly, but the jolt of being yanked away from the barely open window you were making no attempt to get out of startled you to your core, another rush of adrenaline so strong it made your spine tingle.

you try, oh you try so desperately but you are still a little bird in the arms of your greatest predators. Thrashing doesn't help, and yet you thrash until he holds you so tightly against him you physically can't move anymore. "No, no! I didn't-- I wasn't trying to get out! I swear I just wanted fresh air! I was--" he only covers your mouth in response.

he sighs, something you can't quite read, but then he eases the grip he has on you. "Are you so unhappy with me you would kill yourself to escape?"

you realise in that very moment you would have to say things you can't even stand to think, things you never want to think. "No, no. No I'm very…" you hold back the grimace you want to show, "…happy." You touch a hand up to his face, stroking his cheek with his thumb in your singular act of a sick affection. For the first time, you manage to keep him from punishing you.

you think if you have to stare at one more wall or ceiling blank with nothing but wood panels or old wallpaper you'll start to lose your mind, and so you begin to make yourself comfortable by the window inch by inch until he allows it with a growing trust in you thanks to the routine you've come to figure out over the past days, a way to keep yourself safe.

wait patiently in the morning when he comes to see you before work. Then, beg to come with him while you hold onto whatever part of him is closest with your good hand, even if that would be his coat. He lets you go with him if he's not going out, and these days he's starting to ask you, and only brushes you off if you can't. When you show interest in spending time with him he doesn't punish you for the circumstances outside of your control.

if you can't get out, go back to sleep and wait until he returns. He'll usually be angry due to the pent up frustration he has a bad habit of building from keeping all his emotions in, even as the people around him become insufferable. He may come to your door, but it's not uncommon that he goes straight back to work. If he's at your door, talk to him gently like you always used to.

on good days, you can get out, so you follow behind him like an obedient dog until you get there. If you need to you've discovered he's quite easily distracted by a quick kiss on the cheek. All of these things of course awaken every ounce of disgust you have in you, something that still etches away at your sanity, still dwindling and dwindling. You haven't by any means come to term with the fact you're stuck here, and that there's no way to escape him even if you really were to squirm your way through the window and jump. A part of you wonders what he'd do though; is he so obsessed with you that he'd nurse you back to health? Or maybe he'd just turn you into a Vampire so you'd be tied to him for eternity. Suffice it to say you don't have much in the way of intentions of jumping out of the window, so you resign yourself to sit quietly and watch.

he doesn't bother you there, not unless he wants to see how your broken fingers are healing, counting one then two and then a third on your other hand, finally you see a fourth. Was that how many times you'd been held down? When you try to think back to it, only the memories of the first time come back to you, and yet you can see right in front of your face the four dark bruises across both of your hands to prove it did happen. It doesn't hurt as much to feel him place a kiss on one of your fingers, just as he had after the first time he broke one, as if trying in vain to nurse you back to health with perhaps what he viewed as a true love's kiss, a little fairytale fantasy plot that wouldn't be coming true to please him.

you let him believe it, that you don't care anymore how much he puts his hands all over you, that you're grateful for him taking small amounts of time from his day as he lets his affections grow bolder. You try not to let your discomfort show every time he oversteps. You just…kill every emotion that isn't shallow happiness, and it comes from a place of relief that even as you lay in his bed the most violated you've ever felt by his fangs, he's not hurting you physically.

you think you might break down any day now, cry and scream for human contact, for affection that doesn't make you taste bile in the back of your throat, for freedom and a chance to do something without having to ask your own captor for it like you're his doting lover. You shouldn't have thought about that while he was home, not where he would hear you on the one day you had decided you were going to deny his advances and say you were too tired from a restless night. To your surprise, his first instinct was to tuck you back into bed and kiss your forehead, not to lash out at you.

it couldn't have been more than an hour before you lost any semblance of composure you had carefully gathered and we're moulding yourself to embody, to become everything he wanted of you just to protect yourself. You're beginning to realise careful planning and emotional control can't shake your emotions completely, and you've bottled them so tightly inside they all come gushing out at once as you sob into your pillow in a singular moment of utter defeat, the beginning of your bitter end.

that was the first time you allowed him your body without too much of a fight, and the first time he wouldn't give in to your initial defiance as he coaxed you back to comfort and lulled you into a sense of overwhelming safety and protection.

a piece of you may have died in that room that day, never to return again.

you body is…bruised, but not broken. You begin to see the remnants of care in him, how gentle he was, the fact he's given you so much leniency for a kidnapper— you quickly shake it away to remind yourself to hate this man for everything he's done to you, the mental torment you have to go through in order to justify the things he does to you. You can barely bring yourself to get out of bed, even if you stopped fighting him and gave in you can't shake the feeling of guilt, like you were enjoying the fact that you just got to feel like you weren't being held captive for a little while. Somehow you got yourself into thinking about it like a fun and innocent tryst, something that embodied the way you used to be when you snuck around together and just laughed at all the things you did.

you used to be young and innocent, filled to the brim with all your ignorance and bliss to the way he thought of you, that he could've been fantasising the way you would be as his lover, and eventually all of the things he would do to you once he had you one way or the other. It's all gone, everything is gone. The people in your life and the rest of the world moved one without you, you have been stripped away of everything you ever held dear, then stripped of the very things that made your self. He has finally taken everything from you, and it was all replaced with nothing but him.

his lies, his habits, his schedule, his routine, his preferences, his wants and his needs and his fantasies are all burned into your brain like a scar you'll never be able to get rid of, only cover up and hide from the world, always knowing it's there. Everything you ever loved is disappearing day by day, and you can't remember or even imagine your life before, what it would be like to finally curl up in your own bed, relish in the smell of your own home and in the things that used to be yours, keepsakes and memories that belong to that house all covered in dust by now.

you will never feel loved by another human again, and even if you manage to escape him, you are far too broken to be loved. You can't picture a peaceful life in your mind where you're not constantly afraid, where you are finally experiencing love in its purest form, but the more you try to fantasise such a life the one you're living currently nestled itself in the back of your mind, and it makes you wonder the more you think about it—about love. What he's doing…could that be love in its purest form like you think you want? You think about the purest form of love, his attention is all on you, his claims of never being able to love another, a man you thought you respected reduced to a quivering pile of anxieties about you leaving him, so his unadulterated love makes him capture you. Being the object of affections you so desperately crave is exactly what you receive, gentle and loving, and only when you have acted to squander his love have you felt the wrath of it.

if you want a love so pure, you have someone devoting their everything to you right outside that door, because for as much as he has entangled you in his world, he is completely captured in yours…yes, this is the pure love you want in this world. The love of a man who fights even you just for one more chance to prove he can love you, the love of someone who chases and never stops. People always say you have to make some sacrifices in love, and compromise on things.

you take the pillow you had come to find comfort in, and after days you finally come out of hiding. The hallway you step into dark with only the faint light from under one of the doors to guide you to where you want to go, to the room you had become acquainted with a few times before. This room where he waits for you in the times he would've spent with you, sensing you needed space.

it's like a dream to hear the door open, and to look up to see you close the door behind you, pillow under your arm as you make your way over and place it down on the other side of the bed before you crawl in, snug under the comfort of his sheets. His whole house smells like him, but his bed unimaginably so, or perhaps that's just him on the other side of it as he rolls over to take you in his arms and let you find a comfortable spot. It feels surreal to be here like this, feeling the warmth of love just like you wanted, from the person you had denied it from due to your own stubborn conscience.

you feel a little silly, but hearing him whisper that he always knew you'd come back when you were ready before he kisses your forehead and wishes you pleasant dreams eases that feeling into comfort, and in the wake of your breakdown you feel safe again.

#✦ — scenarios.#mm tasty remake #served hot and fresh #sorry 💀#owari no seraph manga #owari no seraph #seraph of the end #ons #sote #urd #urd geales #urd x reader #urd geales x reader #owari no seraph x reader #seraph of the end x reader

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