#megat

[klaudia96art]

My brother or my enemy… tfa version

[superdryalienthing]

Megat and Reza somewhere in the abandoned area with carpets.

Circa whichever year you like I don't give a shit about dat, this whole shit took way longer than I realised once I'm done, also wanna include that I borrowed some idea from https://www.tumblr.com/freeeggbailiffcash?source=share

Basically In her Niskala suaka Fic, there's a short excerpt of Megat owning a silver stirling lighter, I don't think I read it wrong tho, idk, I'm too tired to think, anyway go read it cause its awesome.

Hope you like it, not the best but I think it's OK for what it is, or maybe I'm praising myself too much.

Either way yayyy, I finished this lame ass idea I had in my head for an art piece.

[draculaligner]

i’m your man.

tag: @angstsumu @vamp-ish @kerhsfa @fallenkaplas @gempaksiakap @dmtky @yourpersonalstash @skycroquette @damattokeyo

[kerhsfa]

parallelism of the kp and their bestfriend in phc + kkhc 🎭

[angstsumu]

anak tunggal megat. thats the whole plot. thx

Megat was used to silence. It followed him like a shadow, trailing behind him through the long hallways of his house, settling in the corners of his room like an uninvited guest. He used to think of it as something natural, something that came with being the only child in a house far too big for three people.

He remembered, once, standing at the top of the stairs when he was nine, his small hands gripping the railing as he watched his parents leave for another work trip. His mother had kissed his forehead, pressing her lips against his skin, while his father ruffled his hair gently.

“Shah anak kuat, kan? Mama dan papa tinggalkan Shah sekejap for work. Tapi kamu tahu kan we love you so much?” his mother said, smiling as if it could erase the weight of her absence.

He nodded, not because he is strong, but because he knew that was what they wanted to hear.

The huge house was always quiet after that. The helpers spoke in hushed tones, moving carefully around him like he was fragile, as if raising their voices might break him. His cousins, older and untouchable, played rough and wild during family gatherings, but Megat was always left behind.

“Shah kecik lagi,” they would say, tousling his hair affectionately before running off to whatever adventure awaited them. “Nanti dah besar Shah boleh join.”

But Megat was never big enough.

By the time he was eleven, Megat learned to carry silence the way other kids carried their school bags. It weighed on him, familiar and constant. His father once told him that loneliness built character. Megat wasn’t sure what kind of character it was supposed to build.

When he told his parents he wanted to enroll in KUDRAT, they had looked surprised.

“Boarding school?” His father had lowered his newspaper just enough to peer at him over the rim of his glasses. His mother had set down her coffee cup carefully, as if expecting him to take it back.

“Shah nak belajar berdikari,” Megat said. “Lagipun dekat sana mesti Shah tak sunyi macam dekat rumah.”

It felt embarrassing to say aloud, but it was the truth.

His mother’s gaze softened, and when she hugged him that night, she held on longer than usual.

“We love you, sayang,” she whispered. “Nanti kalau Shah dapat, jaga diri elok-elok dekat sana. Mama tahu Shah kuat.”

Megat wasn’t sure if strength had anything to do with it. He just didn’t want to feel lonely anymore.

The first few weeks at KUDRAT were suffocating.

The other students spoke loudly, moved in groups, and laughed in a way that felt like nails against his skin. Megat sat quietly in the dining hall, alone, eating the bland dining hall food because that was what he was supposed to do.

Until one day, a boy plopped down next to him without warning.

“Macam mana kau boleh jawab soalan math tadi before Cikgu Yasmin explained?” the boy asked, his Kelantan accent thick and sharp in a way that made Megat blink.

Megat looked up from his plate. He hadn’t even noticed him sit down.

“Aku tanya ni. Jawabla.” The boy grinned, knocking his shoulder against Megat’s playfully.

“Aku cuba jawab je. Tak tahu pulak betul,” Megat mumbled.

The boy rolled his eyes. “Ceh poyo, taknak share tip.”

Megat didn’t know it yet, but that was how Abdul Reza bin Abu Yamin entered his life—loud, bright, and completely uninvited.

Reza was competitive. He glared whenever Megat raised his hand first in class and shot him dirty looks when Megat submitted his homework earlier. But somewhere along the way, competition blurred into companionship, and by the time their teacher started pairing them together for group projects, Reza had somehow become Megat’s first real friend.

It was easy with Reza. He wasn’t intimidated by Megat’s family title, didn’t treat him like he was fragile, and certainly didn’t hold back when they bickered.

Megat liked that.

By the time they were sixteen, everyone at KUDRAT knew their names.

Reza and Megat. A set. They were inseparable—Megat with his cunning and grace personality. Reza with his unwavering confidence and beilliant repotation. If you saw one of them, the other was never far behind.

“Mu dua ni dah macam laki bini,” Kahar teased once, earning a shove from Reza and an eye roll from Megat.

“Mu dengan saing kecik mu tu pon macam laki bini jugak,” Reza shot back, smirking.

"Bechik dengan Hakeem cinta monyet keeee?". Megat smirked, nudging Reza’s arm with his elbow as if to say yeah, right and laughs when Kahar whined.

Their friendship was easy. Comfortable. It comes very naturally.

But then came the kudeta.

And Megat learned that silence could be deafening.

The night after the kudeta, Megat sat alone in his dorm room. The air felt too thick, pressing down on his chest until he thought it might crush him.

There was something cruel about the way the world kept moving, as if nothing had changed. Megat still attended classes, still ate at the dining hall, still played his role as Kapla. But everything felt hollow.

He was surrounded by people—the High Council, juniors who feared him, even friends who stayed close—but none of them were Reza.

And God, wasn’t that the most pathetic thing?

That out of everyone, Reza was the one he wanted to talk to.

He hears Reza’s laugh sometimes—echoing from across the schoolyard, too far away to reach.

And no matter how many people surround him, Megat feels like he’s standing in an empty room.

It’s the kind of loneliness that feels like heartbreak.

Like something was torn out of him, and the wound won’t close.

He wonders if Reza feels it too.

But he never asks.

And Reza never says.

[hatikitty]

PHC/KKHC- Jealousy, Jealousy ❤️‍🩹

Do the KUDRAT guys get jealous?

Warnings: None, SFW

A/N: did i promise a fic? Maaaybe but look over here, ANOTHER IMAGINE *runs away*

REZA 💙

- he doesnt really get jealous. Hes quite secure of his position in your life.

- He does get angry tho at other men’s audacity to even try you because do they really think they have a chance with you? Especially because everyone probably knows that you were spoken for.

- If he sees someone persistently trying to win you despite your obvious discomfort, he would simply come up next you and rest his hands on your back “Hi sayang, you okay? Siapa ni? Kawan baru?” it may sounds pointed to you but his eyes never left the man.

- At that point, just by his mere presence, the guy would be long gone.

MEGAT 💚

- He gets jealous, and he basks in the emotion.

- From the movie im a firm believer that Megat has his feelings all over the place. He simpan dendam a lot.

- So if you ever did something to make him jealous whether intentionally or not, be ready to hear it for months after.

- No matter what was the context or explanation he’d be ready with a snide comment “Pergilah mintak tolong mamat haritu”

- yeah, you try your best to steer away from any situation that could bring about Megat’s childish jealousy.

KAHAR 💜

- i think kahar would be the jealous type. Being the youngest and spoiled by his siblings, hes used to being the centre of attention (even if its in the negative way)

- so when hes not the centre of you attention, he breaks. “Siapa tu? Tak pernah cerita pun” “Kenapa you siap lawa2 ni, nak jumpa siapa”

- But unlike Megat, Kahar is easy to calm down. Just make sure you do something even better for him than anyone else, makes him feel like hes getting the best in anything and everything that you do and hes happy.

FAKHRI 🧡

- my dude is chill as a cucumber. Hes staying in his own lane and knows that you love him. He lets you live your life and you let him live his life.

- If he ever sense another man trying you or youre interest piquing up for another man, hed confront you about it camouflage as teasing“Ha, suka la tu” “Eleh, you rasa mamat tu handsome en? Ngaku je lah” just to make sure that you know hes aware.

- He loves you and he knows you love him back. But if you ever stop, he trust you enough to be honest before doing anything.

- (Its bc he grew up with his father’s love and that man loves hard but hes also not one to putt all eggs in one basket, he learnt that through his mother)

NAIM 💖

- would get jealous but only like a passing cloud. If he ever feel like your attention is going to someone else, he’d simply take note and keep quiet.

- He’d observe to see if this interest was anything serious or just a passing crush (its usually not serious)

- During these time of observations, he would be distant but he would never tell you why no matter how much you pester him “Takde apa lah, you tak perlu risau.”

- If it seems too serious, he would confront you about it. If its not, everything just goes back to normal and you would be confused as hell.

Extra; if they were all friends who would he best jealous of most

Reza - Megat

Megat - Reza

Okay i put these 2 together bc come onnn they always have that rivalry. Dari sekolah they bawak ke besar. No matter how much they have reconcile. Theyre always warry of their partners being close to other.

Both have that dominating aura that their partners like, but theyre are pretty much opposites. So theyre worried the their partners would want something different and get with the other.

Kahar - Reza

Pretty self explanatory. All his life hes been compared to his brothers so when he first introduced you to Beja, he was worried you too would prefer his brother compared to him. Lucky for him, you werent into calm and composed assholes. You much rather go with the feral and impulsive asshole :)

Fakhri - As i said he wouldnt usually get jealous but id like to think hed be jealous of Ayam because instead of Ayam third wheeling yall, he feels like hes third wheeling you and Ayam. Its not a romantic rivalry, he just wished you and Ayam didnt get along that well (jokes, he loves that the two of you are friends)

Naim - Kahar

Okay hear me out; he was always in Kahar’s shadow. Sort of what Kahar was to Megat, right? So theres still a residual inferiority when it comes to Kahar. When he saw you and Kahar getting along, he was worried Kahar was going to take you away but soon he realised you only had eyes for him.

OKAY BYE THANKS FOR READINGG ♥️♥️♥️

[kuruzawaizanami]

"Megat The Hornet"

//Megat's handsome tho ngl but his haircut pissed me off

[freeeggbailiffcash]

Time passed.

Murad’s days filled with travel, speeches, and the kind of endless correspondence that blurred one obligation into the next. Whatever connection he’d started to build with Fakhri dissolved into the background hum of his life. Kudrat became a distant shore—until the news reached him.

First, in passing: a small tropical storm had swept through the academy grounds.

Then, in quick succession, from various sources—but never from his own family—came worse.

A coup d’état.

The fracture between Reza and Megat Shah, a rift wide enough to swallow the academy whole. Kahar’s name, unexpectedly, was in the mix—not as a casualty, but as the one who’d managed to topple both Megat and Reza from their high horses.

The words of his soulmate came back to him then, unbidden and heavy: Even a parent who has nurtured their children from the very beginning, giving them every ounce of care, cannot stop the world from ripping them from their roots.

Remember the fear. Remember the pain. Remember that you are powerless—that control is nothing but a mirage. Your sons, and your sons’ sons, will bleed.

Murad clenched his jaw. That truth still stood; no matter how fiercely he tried, he could not safeguard his brothers from themselves, nor from the knives of others. But that didn’t mean he had to stand idle while they tore each other apart.

He returned to Kudrat under a sky swollen with rain. The corridors felt too quiet, emptied of their usual thrum.

The sick bay door stood half-closed, a thin gap spilling a sliver of light into the hall. Murad approached, every step slow, silent. Through the narrow opening, he caught sight of Megat Shah, bent over a bed—over Reza, lying horizontal, battered.

Megat’s voice was low, his tone almost tender, murmuring a steady stream of soft nonsense, the sort of words meant to soothe a frightened child.

Murad’s hands curled into fists.

“Tarik warna kuning ikat tengkuk tali anjing,” Megat commented lightly, “Kucing lawan kucing hanya mahu satu loceng”

“Amende kau merepek ni, sial?” Reza muttered, his voice thinner, weaker, than Murad had ever heard it.

"Lah, nak dodoikan kau tidur pun salah." Megat’s hand brushes sweat-matted, blood-darkened hair from Reza’s forehead before he bends and presses a kiss just above his left eyebrow.

It isn’t simply that Murad shouldn’t be here to see this—no one should. Even without the laws of man and nature conspiring against it, the scene is too raw, too intimate for witnesses. Fresh kill isn’t served at the table while it’s still steaming. There is savagery here, as there is in all love that burns without restraint.

"Kejar kuasa sampai sanggup menunggu tahun," Reza croaks, "kejar nama sampai sanggupnya anak dihukum."

Murad stands utterly still in the doorway, eyes unblinking. It hits him that Reza and Megat speak in their own closed loop—a cryptid language, layered and elliptical—and he wonders why he never noticed this intimacy before.

The way Megat looks at Reza is unfiltered and consuming, like finding a dim light amidst glittering gold. And in the harsh flicker of the old fluorescent, Murad sees it: encircling Megat’s throat like a choker is a string of writing—Abdul Reza bin Abu Yamin.

He’s too far to make out whether Reza bears the same mark, but he doesn’t need to. The evidence is glaring; They’re soulmates.

Megat hasn’t even bothered to hide it with soulpatches, which is lunacy in its purest form. He and Reza are a red-hot inferno colliding with a raging typhoon—destructive, magnificent, and impossible to contain—so consumed by how good it feels that when it’s suddenly, viciously attacked, they’re caught completely off guard.

Reza shifts, trying to sit up, a grimace twisting his face.

“Kau baring je laa…” Megat’s tone is sharp, almost scolding, “apa degil sangat—dah kena bantai ni tak reti nak diam lak.”

“Kau punca aku kena bantai,” Reza rasps back, his breath hitching in pain.

Megat’s fingers tangle roughly in Reza’s hair, not quite pulling, not quite letting go. “Aku benci kau,” he says, with perfect sincerity and perfect dishonesty, voice thickened with the weight of tears. “Aku benci kau sebab paksa aku buat ni. Sebab kau pijak aku, pastu tak reti mintak maaf—tapi aku tak nak kau mati laa, gila.”

“Mu cayo cakap aku,” Reza slurs, drunk on pain and exhaustion, “takdo sampe tahap mati laa, hamla.” His head lolls slightly. “Shah… aku ade benda nak bagitau kau.”

Megat starts to protest, “Dah, tak payah—”

But Reza talks over him, and Murad—against all reason—is glad for it. Glad to know that no amount of love will ever stop Abdul Reza from trampling someone flat.

“Aku…” Reza’s hand lifts, slow and unsteady, fingers brushing the side of Megat’s face. “Aku minta maaf sebab cantas kau.”

“Aku tak terima maaf kau,” Megat says immediately, the words landing like a stone in still water.

Murad doesn’t know what sound he makes that draws Megat’s gaze—maybe it’s nothing, maybe Megat is only looking out of instinct, scanning for intruders.

But suddenly, Megat’s eyes are on him.

There’s blood on Megat’s face where Reza’s fingers had been.

They just look at each other, across the gap between them.

Reza should be the center, Murad thinks, the line between them—but he is not. He is on Megat’s side of the room. And maybe that’s right. Maybe that’s what Murad should have seen all along.