#'but we are the only ones who care about keeping you safe so you must stomach it in the name of safety'

[unforth]

How did it feel to go from the 80’s to the explosion of acceptance around the 2010’s? In terms of being queer?

hm, interesting question. First, a couple disclaimers: I am not an expert in queer history, I was not involved in queer activism in anyway growing up, and no one in my family was queer. I was born in 1982 and am currently 42, and my mother had a lot of gay friends, but she intentionally sheltered us (my brother and I) from a lot of that once they all started dying from AIDs. For my own queerness, I worked through a lot of identities because I was an extremely confused asexual who didn't actually learn that asexuality existed until I was 30; I'm afab and was already married to a woman before I realized I was ace (I now ID as aroace, agender.).

All that said, I grew up in New York City, in a very accepting city and with a very accepting family. I knew queer people from a young age and my mom was sick of watching her friends die and got involved as she could (she was a New York City public school high school teacher; a lot of queers gravitated toward public schools because it was a stable job with decent pay and no one would care if they weren't married, in fact it was often considered a plus in the 60s and 70s for teachers to be single, and when mom got pregnant with my brother in 1976 she says multiple other teachers pressured her to quit because okay fine she was married and a teacher, but married and a teacher WITH KIDS? Appalling. needless to say she didn't quit.)

Anyway. Sorry. I lost the thread.

Honestly, the answer to this question is: utterly unbelievable.

If you had told 1990s about-to-start-high-school me that this is where we'd be in my lifetime I'd have thought you were out of your goddamn mind. I was obsessed with To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar. I'd walked in AIDs walk and raised money with my mom every year starting in 1990. Mom and I saw the original off-Broadway production of Hedwig and the Angry Inch and the original Broadway production of Rent. I was about as in-the-loop and accepting as a kid in that era could be, and I spent my college years thinking I was bi (I feel the same about everyone! that's bi, right? lmao, so young and clueless). And I never, never thought that nationwide gay marriage was even in the cards. I never dreamed that trans people would be able to live as openly as they do now. I didn't even really think we could do much about AIDs beyond slowing the spread.

I am only 42. I don't even consider myself middle-aged yet (though I'm definitely getting close to that particular tipping point). I grew up with my mom's even older stories, about being friends with the gay men at Cornell when she was in college in the early 60s, and her discussions of how far things had come in HER life (she's 80 now) and yet I was the one who pointed out that my great uncle, who died before I was born, was clearly mostly definitely bi and maybe gay (the look on her face when I said that and she realized I must be right. I keep meaning to post some of Natie's photographs.)

When my wife and I got married in 2013 we planned where to live, where we could travel, where we'd have kids, all around where it would be safe. My wife has health problems; if we traveled and something happened to her, we had to be sure that we were in a state where they would recognize our marriage and let me visit her, or else we wouldn't go there.

Sorry. I'm not holding the thread of narrative in this post well, I've been pretty sick with strep throat and my brain is just refusing to make this very coherent, and also it's just... so much. The amount I've seen, how far we've come, since I was a kid, is so fucking much.

I still sometimes don't believe how far we've come, nor how quickly we've done it.

And that's exactly why conservatives are shaking in their boots. These trends challenge all the things they believe true about the nature of authority and societal control. If they let up for an instant, then they'll have to accept that cis hetero white christian men actually have never been any better than anyone else, and their whole worlds will crumble, and that scares them to death because they're also old, most older than I, and they remember exactly what every queer person when I was a kid lived with. They remember Matthew Shepard, and all the hate crimes that the queer community survived, they remembered all the slurs that we've strived to reclaim and how they were used such that we had to reclaim them, and they really think that equality is a demotion for them, and that true equality would mean they're subject to the same things they've subjected us to, and that terrifies them.

Ugh, sorry, rambling again.

What I think about the changes is that they're fucking amazing, and that if I could somehow convince 13-year-old me that any of this would happen, she'd have sobbed with joy. Especially about the asexual part lmao.

We're in a down-swing of acceptance now, but the pendulum still won't go back to where we were during the AIDs crisis, much less back to where things were a hundred years ago.

We've come so far.

We're not going back.

[creekfiend]

I've had something in the back of my brain percolating the concept of Jewish Materialist Anti-Zionism for a while now.

It is our task to oppose Zionism without denying the material conditions under which Jews live, and have lived, globally. Zionism is a response to the material conditions of Jews in the global diaspora. It is a response influenced heavily by 19th and 20th century European nationalist movements, and it is a response that has resulted in an absolutely unacceptable level of violence and oppression of Palestinians.

That does not mean that the material conditions under which diaspora Jews live are not of concern or meriting response. The state of Israel has addressed a non-zero number of problems for Jews globally.  It has addressed them at a cost that I do not find acceptable.

The right of return policy has indeed resulted in many many Jews who would have otherwise been killed having somewhere safe to go with no questions asked. It has *unquestionably* resulted in many many fewer deaths of Jews globally than there would have been if it did not exist.

Some of those Jews are my family.

And, the cost in order to found and maintain the nation-state of Israel to justify the policy is an unacceptable cost. Jews should not hold our lives more dear than the lives of anyone else. The right of return policy of the modern state of Israel is not an acceptable solution to me. The violence innate to the founding and maintenance of Israel as a nation state is unacceptable as a price for Palestinians to pay. I do not and will not ever accept it. I understand that the policy, and Zionism, are responses to a problem that is real. I demand a different response.

If you want to understand the current Israeli government as a western antizionist, and you should, I think it is important to understand that it is a far right fascist movement that arose (somewhat inevitably) from the violence (and nationalist mythologies that arose to justify it) innate to the founding and continued maintenance of the state of Israel. In this respect it is almost indistinguishable from the far right fascist movements in the United States that arose (somewhat inevitably) from the violence (and nationalist mythologies that arose to justify it) innate to the founding and continued maintenance of THIS country.

The thing is, when far right fascists in the United States say "white people are oppressed globally!" they're lying. But when far right fascists in Israel say "Jews are oppressed globally!" THAT'S TRUE.

The response is different. The response is "yes, and that does not justify this."

The only way to defeat Zionism is to come up with a better response to antisemitism than Zionism is. I honestly do not think that this should be very difficult considering that many Jews have had deeply Anti-Zionist philosophy is for as long as Zionism has been around so there are a lot of alternative ideas out there. I think there are a lot of arguments to be made that Zionism has not done a whole lot to address the issue of global antisemitism! It is not a difficult argument to make that it is a failed project.

Making people complacent about fascist rhetoric is so much easier if you can make them afraid. Jews have a lot to be afraid of and that includes Jews in Israel. The point is not that the fears are not valid, the point is that the fears do not justify the violence.

I'm going to turn reblogs on for this post (provisionally) later when I can keep an eye on it.

[fading-event-608]

Hello! I see people here are talking about Gaza again. 

I’m not one to vaguepost, nor do I usually spend time arguing with zionists and liberals online, but the amount of “pro-Palestine” liberals I’ve seen in the last day saying that Gazans “deserve genocide” because Trump won…

I’m not surprised to hear that democrats are mad at third-party voters. It’s true that even if all swing third-party votes went to Kamala she’d still have lost, but reality isn’t important to these people. Democrats want a monopoly - of course they’re upset at everyone who isn’t voting for their party. Of course they’re more upset with communists and anarchists than they are with nazis.

None of this is new. But even though we’ve seen these patterns before, I am absolutely sick to witness these people blaming Palestinians for this. I’m sick hearing them almost gleefully wishing for Gaza to be turned into a parking lot. I’m sick coming across individualistic little diatribes about how they’re “done” boycotting, “done” helping others.

Is it Palestinians’ fault that Kamala’s campaign was so poorly run?

Is it Palestinians’ fault that the US is now so full of nazis that the Democrats lost the popular vote for the first time since 2004, by 5 million votes?

Is it Palestinians’ fault that the US supplies and supports Israel in their annihilation of Gaza and other occupied Palestinian territories, as well as neighbouring countries?

Is it Palestinians’ fault that the government assisting Israel’s genocidal project was, for the past four years, Biden’s administration? A Democrat’s administration? 

The crime that Palestinians have committed in the eyes of these liberals is the crime of existing where said liberals can see them - namely, on social media. The unofficial charges: not being silent, resisting, asking for help from the people best equipped to give money for their survival. So again, I’ll ask - is it the fault of Palestinians that the people best equipped to help them are those in the imperial core? That the people Palestinians must go to for help are people benefitting from both this genocide and the genocides the empires that house them are built on?

Of course the gravest offence is interrupting the liberal supply of white noise. Comfort is, after all, the biggest priority in liberalism - silence and denial is self care. Murder by proxy is the most popular of hobbies, and is best enjoyed with the sound off. But Palestinians are not quiet. You can see their faces now - and the identification of them as something other than faceless, or rather someone, begins to burrow through the insulation built up around you. 

You have the barest sense of how fragile your world is. You can either turn away from this, or continue your journey towards the truth. These liberals are examples of those violently turning away and taking up the slaughter again, desperate to dispel any reminders that they are not the only people on earth worthy of life.

You can literally buy an indulgence now by donating to a Palestinian fundraiser. Yes, even if you’re not a Democrat, or you’re from Europe (chances are your government supplies Israel too, or is at least complacent), or there’s any other facet of your identity that supplies nuance. This is up to all of us, no matter who we are. 

I’ve been spotlighting Falastin’s campaign to save her family in Gaza for more than two months now. I will continue to do so until they’re safe; but their safety will likely be a long time coming. This is in part because Falastin’s campaign must support 24 people, and in part because donations are slowing down - not only for Falastin, but for a lot of other fundraisers I keep an eye on. To be afraid for so many people while watching liberals angrily abandoning this cause is distressing and disheartening.

This is life or death. I don’t care who you are, and I care even less to hear if you’ve voted or who you voted for. All I ask is that you boost this post and, if you can, donate to Falastin. The Gofundme is in SEK and the rates are:

10$ = 107 SEK

25$ = 269 SEK

50$ = 538 SEK

100$ = 1,076 SEK

You can also donate via PayPal in USD: [LINK]

We also host a raffle for hand-made Palestinian thob [info HERE], and the first winner will be chosen in a bit less than 2 days. 

P. S. Yes, Falastin’s campaign has been vetted, several times across multiple platforms:

#282 in El-Shab-Hussein and Nabulsi's spreadsheet [HERE], 

#957 in the Butterfly Project spreadsheet [HERE]

Falastin's account: [LINK]

[merrinla]

Portrait spamming

Recent discovery. If you click on the portraits of the characters like crazy, they will react to it. And the developers had a lot of fun coding these reactions xD

Tav / Dark Urge

normal - I'm awake! Mostly. - I'm starting to get a headache. - Must be the tadpole. - Quit knocking around in there! - A thousand needlepricks in my rotten skull.

combat -Ahhhhhhhh! Okay, I feel better. - I have an itch in the worst place. - Is being a mind flayer so bad? - Just waiting to venture forth here. - I'm maiming as fast as I can!

stealth - What's that ticking? - Is it me? Am I ticking? - Bomb in my head about to go off. Great. - Ah, well. I had a good run.

Astarion

normal - Why do beautiful people taste better? It hardly seems fair on the ugly - they have such wonderful personalities. - Ugh. Strahd wouldn't put up with this shit. - More like Drizzt Don't'Urden - no. No that's not funny. - Villains! Dissemble no more, I admit the deed! Tear up the floor - here, here! It is the beating of his hideous hea- oh, no, that's his brain. Where did I leave that heart?

combat: - I'm trying to focus on murder. - *Humming.* - I shot a svirfneblin in Menzoberranzan just to watch him die. - I should've been a drow. They have such stylish armour.

stealth - Shhh. Just think sneaky thoughts. - Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP. - Be very, very quiet - I'm hunting idiots. - I've got a brand new torture chamber, so come and play with me.

Karlach

normal - NOTE TO ACTOR/DIRECTOR: Blow a raspberry at the player. - Don't. Poke. The Karlach. - Who am I? - My eye!

combat - Eyes on the prize - we need to win this! - Not every soldier should've made it out of training. - Eyes on victory, tummy on dinner. - I ought to just burn this whole thing down.

stealth - My back can't take much more of this. - Not now, I'm being a sneak! - I'm getting too old for this nonsense. - I'm not built to crouch.

Gale

normal - I hope Halaster takes good care of Tara while I'm away. - Sembian wine; Cormyrian boar; Waterdhavian conversation. It's the little things you miss while on the road. - Oh, what a tangled Weave we web! - All the world's my stage and you're just a player in it.

combat - Just go for the Magic Missile and fire away. Never fails. - Don't make me go all Edwin Odesseiron on you. - Get. Out. Of. My. Head. - I really wish I could cast a Hold spell on you.

stealth - You made me hide, don't make me come seek you. - Gods, it's like trying to sleep with a mosquito in the room. - A little privacy please. - Stop it - that tickles.

Wyll

normal - Could do for a brew. - Where there's a 'Wyll', there's a 'y'. - Ever get the sense that someone's watching? - So two halflings walk under a bar...

combat - Can't hear myself think! - Wear your scars proudly. - As my father once told me: 'Can we get on with it?' - I find moderation is key.

stealth - Bad time for an itch. - Could do for a brew. - So two halflings walk under a bar... - Shush. No, really. Shush.

Lae'zel

normal - Must everyone be so exhausting? - Weapons high. Standards higher. - Is perfection too much to ask? - Pride is a virtue.

combat - I will know my queen! - There is no right or wrong, only truth. - What is the point, if not victory? - You are right to fear me.

stealth - Hush already. - There is no wisdom in madness. - Is perfection too much to ask? - There is but one way. Vlaakith.

Shadowheart

all modes - I wonder how I'll feel when I remember everything. - Strange. I've had more freedom this past while than my whole life... - Have to keep focused. Can't afford to get attached - to anyone. - If I succeed, maybe I'll be allowed a pet... ugh, stop being silly.

Halsin / his voice is currently bugged :(

normal - What I would not give for a chunk of fresh honeycomb... - Such attention... I never realised I was so popular. - Are you feeling lonely, perhaps? - Unwise, perhaps, to poke a bear this much...

сombat - Battle is afoot - you can poke me once we are safe. - Perhaps try attacking the enemy? - Admirable stamina, yet terrible priorities. - You are insistent, are you not?

stealth - Most consider it unwise to poke a bear. - My, you are eager, are you not? - Please. I am trying to be stealthy. - Calm yourself. There is plenty of me to go around.

Jaheira

normal - Oh, calm down. I'm happy to see you too. - I would poke you back, but I fear that's what you want. - My, such strong wrists. - Well you certainly have the 'omnipresent' part down, don't you? - Please go poke the ranger instead.

combat - You have my attention - now do something with it. - What? What do you want!? - Do you know, I begin to wish they had never brought me back. - Yes, yes, have your fun. It isn't you they're trying to kill.

stealth - Dry those sweaty palms and let us try this again, shall we? - Argh, my knees! Oh. It was a twig. - Would that I could hide from you, too. - Careful, or I will take your toy away from you.

Minsc

normal - ARGH! My EYE, Boo! They went for my EYE! - Know that if you poke Boo, no higher dimension will keep you safe! - Heehee. Heeheeheehee. - Well, Boo? How do you want to do this?

сombat - Are you perchance a squeaky wheel in need of a kick? - I am armed! Armoured! And entirely sick of your foolishness. - I begin to grow annoyed. It is well for you that Boo does not let me learn the bad words! - Ignore them, Boo. Let them gaze deep into their own abyss, and wonder just what it is they are trying to achieve.

stealth - A little to the left? But not so hard you make me giggle. - Boo...? Are you dancing down there, or...? - Hush! I am surprising Boo for his birthday! He is... uh... eh... how old do hamsters get...? - I am the night. A pity, then, that it is so bright out.

Minthara

all modes - You had my attention, now you have my fury. - Phlar Lolth ssinssrickla. - Your suffering will be spectacular. - Stop, or die.

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain x Curly

Previous - Part 7 - Next

Warning: Abortion mention.

You were watching the ultrasound you were doing on Anya, and you ran your hand over your face upon seeing the fetus.

"When"

Anya: "...I found out just before the crash..."

"Why didn't you tell me?" You turned to look at Curly on the stretcher and then saw Anya, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Anya: "For a moment I thought that... you wouldn't do anything for me either... and then, with all the responsibility you had on your shoulders... I didn't want to give you more problems."

"Why did you think I wasn't going to help you?"

Anya: "...You were always on the captain's side..."

"Well, when he had reasonable decisions, of course I agreed! Ugh... I don't want to talk about this now, let's focus on this now... How many weeks approximately?"

Anya: "...14 weeks..."

"Great, you're still on time. I know I ordered misoprostol, it must be somewhere."

Anya: "What's that?"

"It would help you to abort"

Anya: "How did you manage to get them to add that?"

"Well, I lied saying that some of the crew had gastric ulcers due to the consumption of aspirin to treat the inflammation caused by radiation when they had to go on walks outside the ship... And I sent Curly to ask for it so they didn't ask questions."

You mentioned searching through the cabinets for that medication until you found the tablet and handed it to her.

"I warn you that it's going to be hell, it's completely your decision, and I'll be with you to help you with all this."

You said, holding the pills while she watched you, slowly taking the box.

Anya: "How do you know?"

You fell silent and your eyes quickly moved to give Curly a glance, and then back to Anya, who understood immediately.

"Those are the side effects mentioned in the content if you take them when you are pregnant."

You told him right away and then sat down sighing.

Anya: "You look tired... Shall we grab a drink?"

You knew very well why he was saying that now, but you nodded to leave that place, not without first greeting your husband, letting him know you would be back soon.

Anya: "How was that?"

"I had gotten pregnant a few years ago, and we were about to make a new delivery, before that I asked Curly for a new load of medications, I was going to finish it myself on the ship."

Anya: "Why didn't you stay? Why didn't you do it in a safe way?"

"They keep an eye on everything you do, and they judge you. I wouldn't have gotten this job back, they would have done thousands of physical and mental tests to tell me I wasn't qualified to be co-captain... And I didn't want Curly to find out either."

You shrugged and took a seat while you prepared what was like hot chocolate, placing the powder in some cups and pouring water over them.

Anya: "Didn't he suspect anything?"

"I knew how to hide it, at that time there were only men on the ship, I lied saying it was my period, no one cared enough to ask more questions... Although Curly was very worried, he couldn't neglect his work that much either."

Anya: "...How was it? I want to know exactly what I'm going to face."

"...Hemorrhages, pelvic pain, depression, infections.... infertility"

You looked at the cup in your hands while saying this last part, taking a sip of its contents.

Anya: "...There aren't too many painkillers left in the nursery... Not for the three of us... Not for all this time we have to wait-"

She pressed her lips together as she placed her hand on her belly and tightened her uniform.

"Oh right, I haven't told you yet, the ship is heading to a Pony Express station, there we can ask for a rescue, we'll arrive in two more months."

Anya: "Even so, there aren't enough."

"I've already endured hell, I can do it again, don't worry about my dose."

Anya: "But-"

"Think about yourself! Please! Stop thinking about others!"

You slammed the cup against the table, causing a bit of the liquid to spill.

"It's your decision... Just...Decide... For you, not for others."

Anya: "Captain..."

You lifted your head upon hearing her say that, and you could see a small smile on her lips.

Anya: "Thank you"

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

All of your Time | Yandere Hybrid SatoSugu

The thing about introverts is that they need to recharge

They need time by themselves to be able to handle more interaction

They greatly value their lonesome 

Whether to enjoy their imagination without distraction or to put themselves nose-deep in their field of interest

They have a safe space – a time or place meant to belong to them and only them

It’s why you didn’t go out on the unplanned drinking escapade when your boss and his partner offered

“No, thank you I have something to do tonight.”

Unbeknownst to you, you smashed their hearts into a tiny million pieces with that polite sentence

Though it wouldn’t be the first time

The only time they could get you to agree was when they made plans with many of your friends at a significantly later date

They decided to be nice about getting your affection so why was this so hard

Why was it taking so long to get any of your free time

“Sugu! I’m tired of waiting! Why can’t we just take them now!?”

“We both decided to be patient with them…you’ve already said you didn’t want them to hate you. Right?”

“...Yeah…”

“So we’ll be taking the long way…for now.”

He says that but their patience is running thin

And like a starving pack of wolves, they need something

“Oh yeah (Y/n) kind of really needs their alone time.”

They decide to do some digging as to why this keeps happening

by they I mean Suguru eventually gets an answer from your friend

“They make plans with themselves all the time. Honestly, we’re just lucky the days we do hang out don’t fall on the dates they’ve already picked out.”

Why must their darling be oh so fickle?

They decide to go to their other plan 

One they’ve crafted after many trips with you home where they stayed 3 meters behind and you didn’t know they were there

Passing by an ally you always do stopping at a familiar sound

“Oh my! Two cute friendly kitties in one day? I must be dreaming!”

You aren’t and when you return home you’ve got two fluffy cats that refuse to leave your side

Finally the perfect turnaround of seeing you composed and restrained at work

Then seeing you fawn and coddle them when they transform into cats in your home

Suguru and Satoru had gained their wealth through several means

Privilege, hard work, physical prowess, and agility that made them a force to be reckoned with in the underworld

Suddenly their ability to transform into their ‘lesser forms’ comes in handy when they feel the need to have more of your time

This time when you cancel going out with them they’re not too hurt

Knowing you're already running back home to be with them

It’s the perfect little plan that lets them have see so much more of you:

“Awww my little Nightsky~your like my little guardian! Even when I’m in the bath you watch after me, thank you!”

The black, purple-eyed cat purred in contentment as you let your fingers massage the cat’s head. Readjusting your robe you slipped into your slippers and made your way to your bed. On your way, you lightly rubbed the cheek of your white cat who was sat on his cat tree aggressively flicking his tail. 

You cooed,” Don’t be jealous Cream, it’s just that you get a little crazy whenever I let you in while I’m taking a bath.”

The cat meowed indignantly. Chuckling to yourself you grabbed your phone from your nightstand. Plopping on your bed you started scrolling through unanswered messages sent to you. In your peripheral you watched the cats mew at one another before beginning to playfully wrestle.

“Be careful on the cat tree, you two.”

They seemed to ignore you subsequently rolling off the perch and onto the floor. Having seen them do this exact action before you didn’t bother looking away as you read the messages from your friend in your department. Your lips pursed as the string of messages ended with a voice note.

“Hey, those two are still asking about you. Why don’t you give them a chance? Maybe they just want to be your friends?”

Sighing you prepped yourself to make your own voice note, unaware of both your cats’ attention solely directed towards you.

“If they do want that–and I highly doubt that–don’t they feel off? Like did you see how that grumpy old man gets so mousy when they’re around? I just don’t think I’d want to associate with that.”

After ending and sending your voice note, you hold your phone as it pings with messages from your friend. Holding in a giggle you tap back your response. Conveniently Cream and Nightsky are at your side rubbing their bodies and tails in front of your face as they both sprawl out on your forearms.

“Guys!”

You scold them but you have no plans to move them instead continuing to text your friend. Occasionally kissing your cat’s heads you continue to inform them–your friend—of even more dirt you’d found on your overly-friendly employers. It lightly amuses you how it looks like your cats are reading the texts as well though you're sure it’s your fingers quickly moving that they’re so entranced by.

A ping goes off and you quickly shoot up to throw on some clothes. The cats look curiously as you crazily hop around before snatching your keys. You smiled at your approaching cats,” Okay boys! Our delivery gal got caught at the gate. So I’m going to go get food be my good boys!”

Blowing kisses, you disappear with a slam and locking of the door.

Your footsteps disappear down the hallway. 

And your apartment is silent. 

For a little while.

“Geez are we really that off-putting?”

Standing and looking longingly at the door is the pouting and naked, Gojo Satoru. An owner of the company (Y/n) is currently employed at and the only white-haired man who was rubbing his face into the intimate threads of their robe.

Suguru Geto, also stark naked and the CEO of that company was sighing and holding the bridge of his nose, “ Perhaps we really won’t be able to convince them otherwise.”

“Why don’t we just take them now? Burn the condo and sweep ‘em off their feet?”

“Because I know you know they’d hate that.”

Satoru lifted his head with a sadistic smirk and shrugged his shoulders,” So? They’ll get over it!”

Suguru put a disappointed hand over his face if only to hide the smile that tickled his lips. “They’re not like me…or you…we have to be gentle. Too much shock and we’ll ruin them forever.”

Satoru whined, abandoning the robe he snagged to join Suguru on the couch. Posturing himself right above his husband, “C’mmmooonnn! They’re strong enough, they can take it!”

The ravenette wasn’t swayed, teasingly turning his head as he rested he his chin on his hand. “No ‘Toru too high a risk.”

“Then why don’t we take another approach, Satoru lightly turned Suguru’s head towards him flashing his award-winning smile,” How about we work a different angle.”

Suguru’s brow quirked in intrigue.

“One where we happened to be their perfectly timed saviors.”

“Do you really think that’d work?”

“I say we try it! Otherwise, I’m back to Plan: A!”

Suguru couldn’t help but laugh bringing the man down to nuzzle his own nose. Planting a kiss on his lips, he opened wider as Satoru dove in. Pulling away after a minute Suguru cutely mimicked his cat form as he batted his eyes,” Am I forgiven for me and (Y/n)’s time in the bath?”

Satoru sucked his teeth. “You almost made me forget you slimy snake! How dare you?!”

Suguru shrugged with a smirk on his face, sending a scolding look when Gojo growled and angrily clutched at his hair. The tension was released when they both let out boisterous laughter. 

The apartment wasn’t silent anymore.

And you’d returned from getting takeout a while ago.

“What the actual f–!”

[itsnesss]

hii maybe a yandere!junho ?? I cant stop thinking about him 😩 i love your writing btw💕

𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | you wake up restrained in a small room, facing jun-ho, who reveals his obsessive love for you. his yandere tendencies surface as he believes he's protecting you from the world. you must navigate his dangerous devotion and find a way to escape

warnings | junho!yandere, kidnapping/restraint, psychological manipulation

word count | 2.1 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You wake up with a start, the cold floor chilling your bones. It’s hard to remember how you got here. The faint flicker of a hanging light bulb illuminates the room. It’s a small, almost claustrophobic space, with gray concrete walls. In front of you, sitting on an old metal chair, is him: Jun-ho. His dark eyes watch you with an intensity that makes you shiver.

"Finally awake," he says in a serene voice, but it’s loaded with something else, something unsettling. "Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?"

You try to speak, but your throat is dry. Your voice barely comes out as a whisper.

"What… what’s going on?"

He smiles, and the gesture should comfort you, but there’s something strange in his eyes, something you’ve never seen before.

"I saved you," he replies, leaning forward. "They were going to hurt you. I couldn’t let that happen."

"They? What are you talking about?" you ask, your heart pounding rapidly.

You try to move, but your wrists are tied with a thick scarf. You look at Jun-ho in disbelief.

"This… this isn’t real."

He slowly gets to his feet, brushing his hands off like he’s just finished an important task.

"Don’t worry. You’re safe with me. No one will ever hurt you again. No one will ever look at you that way again."

His voice, though soft, has a sharp edge. Memories begin to return in fragmented flashes. The last time you saw him was at the café near your workplace. He was always there, sitting at the same table with his black coffee, watching you. There was something about him that unsettled you but also intrigued you, like a mystery impossible to ignore.

"Jun-ho… why am I here?" you manage to ask, though the answer seems clear in your mind.

He leans closer, dangerously close. His warm breath brushes against your face, and you can smell the faint aroma of coffee he always carried.

"Because I love you."

The confession hits you like a punch. You instinctively recoil, but you can’t go far because of the restraints.

"Love me? This isn’t love…" you say, trying to stay calm.

His expression hardens.

"Not love?" he repeats, as if tasting the words for the first time. He paces around you, each step echoing in the small room. "Didn’t you see me? I was always there, watching over you, protecting you from all those men who didn’t deserve you."

"Jun-ho… this isn’t right. Let me go, please."

He stops behind you and places his hands on your shoulders. His touch is firm but not rough.

"Not right?" he murmurs near your ear. "Isn’t it right to want the best for the person you love?"

Your body tenses. The danger in his voice is palpable.

"If you really love me, you wouldn’t do this," you try to reason with him.

He chuckles softly, a sound that makes you tremble.

"You don’t understand. This is for you. For us. You can’t keep living in that world full of people who don’t value you. I’m the only one who can."

"It’s not your decision…" you protest, but he moves quickly in front of you, leaning down until his eyes are level with yours.

"Of course, it’s my decision. Because no one else cares as much as I do."

His gaze is so intense it feels like it could pierce your soul. His obsession is undeniable, but behind it, you see something else: pain, loneliness, desperation.

"Jun-ho, listen… you don’t have to do this. We can talk, find a solution," you say, trying to keep your voice gentle, though inside, you’re terrified.

He smiles again, but this time there’s sadness in his eyes.

"You’ve always been so kind… so understanding. But you don’t get it. If I let you go, they’ll hurt you. I can’t let that happen."

"Who are they?" you ask, hoping to buy time to think of a way out.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he steps back a few paces, as if lost in thought. Finally, he speaks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Everyone. Everyone who tried to get close to you. Everyone who didn’t deserve you."

The air feels heavier. The idea of what he might have done to "protect" you starts to sink in.

"What did you do, Jun-ho?"

He looks at you, and for the first time, he seems vulnerable.

"What I had to."

His words are simple, but the weight behind them leaves you breathless. Your mind fills with horrible images, but you force yourself to stay composed.

"Jun-ho… let me help you. This doesn’t have to go on like this."

He shakes his head.

"I don’t need help. I’ve already done everything necessary."

You start to notice a slight tremor in his hands, as if guilt is beginning to catch up with him.

"If you really love me… trust me. Let me go, and we can figure this out together."

For a moment, it seems like your words are reaching him. He lowers his gaze, and you can see the internal struggle on his face. But then, he straightens up, and his expression hardens again.

"I can’t risk it. If I let you go, you’ll go back to that world… and I can’t allow that."

Desperation grips you. You need to find a way to make him see reason before it’s too late.

"What do you want, Jun-ho? What do you really want?" you ask, trying to keep his attention.

He steps closer again, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I just want you to be mine."

His answer feels like a sentence, and you know words won’t be enough to change his mind. But you can’t give up. Not now.

"Jun-ho, if you keep going down this path, we’ll never truly be together. This isn’t love. It’s fear."

The word seems to affect him. He takes a step back, his gaze faltering.

"Fear?" he repeats, as if trying to process it.

You nod, even though the fear in your own heart threatens to overwhelm you.

"You’re afraid of losing me. But keeping me here isn’t the solution. If you love me, trust me."

The silence that follows is unbearable. Finally, Jun-ho sighs and lowers his head.

"I don’t want to lose you…" he admits, almost in a whisper.

"You won’t," you reply, summoning all the conviction you can. "But you have to trust me."

For a moment, you think you’ve reached him. But then he lifts his gaze, and his expression is a storm of emotions.

"Fine," he finally says, with an eerie calm. "But if I let you go, promise me you’ll never abandon me."

Your heart stops. You know any wrong response could trigger something worse.

"I promise we’ll talk about this. But first, I need you to give me a chance."

Jun-ho stares at you, assessing you. Finally, he pulls a knife from his pocket and cuts the ties around your wrists.

"Don’t make me regret this," he warns.

You rub your aching wrists and look at him carefully. Every move has to be calculated.

"I won’t," you respond, though your mind is already planning how to escape this place.

[ourwhisperingtorment]

The many times the show made it obvious that the Hwang bros love and care for each other

Inho gave his kidney to Junho because he can’t let his little brother die. If that doesn’t scream “LOVE” I don’t know what does.

Junho in s1. Do I need to elaborate? He literally risked his life going there. He killed ruthlessly. I know that he is aware there’s a high probability that Inho’s already dead (considering he was one of the players) but he still went on. He wanted justice if his brother was really dead. That is DEDICATION. And you can’t have dedication without love.

The Frontman looking at Junho’s ID for too long. I’m pretty sure his brain froze there for a moment before experiencing mixed emotions as to how he can keep his little brother alive. Also the, “bring him to me alive,”—no one is allowed hurt his little brother except Inho himself

The VIP room when that one fucking VIP asked Junho to stay, and Junho replied, “but I must serve the other guests.” We all saw the frontman look their way (it’s only 1 second so it’s a blink and miss it). He recognized his little brother’s voice. (But at that moment, he was unsure so he didn’t do anything.)

Inho shooting Junho on the shoulder but hesitating and shaking before doing so. After shooting him, he looked so distressed. He even hallucinated an image of his brother when he was cleaning his wound. He’s clearly on the verge of crying too. This was the very first time we saw that the frontman still has humanity in him.

I’m pretty sure it was Inho who sent Captain Park to rescue his brother. To ensure he’d make it out of the island alive. But also to keep him running in circles so he wouldn’t find the island again. He wanted his brother away and safe from the games.

Junho’s last word before being in a coma & Junho’s first word after being in a 1 year coma is “hyung.”

Junho continued to search for the island for 2 years after that 1 year coma. We all know he wants to see his brother first before trying to save everyone there. Is he even trying to save the players at this point? When we all know he could ruthlessly kill people who got in his way of searching for his brother? (Well, he has a sense of justice. But I would still say his brother comes first.)

Junho not telling Gihun about the frontman’s identity. His face looking all sad and depressed whenever Gihun mentions “the frontman.”

Remember the snipers who shot the cars trailing Inho’s limousine? The snipers didn’t shoot Junho’s car but instead, there was something attached in his car that only affected one wheel. Inho really couldn’t risk some snipers shooting his little brother.

I’ve said this in another post but I’ll say it again: Their relationship wouldn’t be so complicated if they didn’t love each other.

[junqkook]

— ROTTENFOLK: AFTERMATH (m.)

PAIRING. jungkook/reader, taehyung/reader GENRE. faerie au, angst, smut WORDS. 10,234 RATING. explicit

SYNOPSIS. six years after escaping from the faerie realm, you’ve done everything to hide yourself and your son from the high king. but you should have known he would never let you go so easily.

CONTENTS. boyfriend taehyung, faerie king jungkook, human reader, mother reader, father jungkook, kidnapping, manipulation, slight dubcon, riding, grinding, creampie, unprotected sex (stay safe!), rough sex, hair pulling, biting/marking, possessiveness, accidental exhibitionism/voyeurism, infidelity, multiple orgasms, hinted f/f, pregnancy, multiple smut scenes (!), overstimulation, fingering, dom jungkook.

NOTES. this is a sequel to rottenfolk. i highly suggest reading rottenfolk before reading this one. Y’ALL GOT ME MISSING THIS WORLD, so i gave in to my own desires and wrote this. i’ll warn you all now: this is not a happy story.

EXTRA NOTES. UNRWA; Care for Gaza; Direct Aid For Gaza. please consider donating to and/or sharing these organizations.

— rottenfolk. rottenfolk: aftermath.

Taehyung’s arms wrapped around you from behind and you giggled, leaning back into his chest. The smell of breakfast filled the kitchen and your boyfriend’s warm lips pressed chaste kisses against your neck.

“Missed you this morning,” he murmured.

You hummed and closed your eyes, losing yourself in the feeling of him. “I woke up early and decided to treat my lovely boys to breakfast today.”

Taehyung chuckled and pulled his mouth away from your neck, resting his cheek against yours instead. “You know what Soobin told me last night?”

“What’d he tell you?”

“He concocted such an imaginative story,” your boyfriend of three years started, a lightness to his voice that comforted you. “Said he saw magical creatures in the forest by the park that knew his name—”

Your eyes shot open and you tensed in Taehyung’s arms. “What?”

He continued without noticing your reaction. “Yeah, he was telling me all about these—actually kind of grotesque now that I think about it—”

You whirled around in his arms and faced him. “When did he tell you this exactly? Where?”

Taehyung cupped your face and smiled at you. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Don’t worry, it’s just a story, he was probably watching YouTube or something and got the ideas—”

“Tae,” you pressed. “I’m serious. Please answer me.”

He held up his hands in defense and nodded. “Okay, okay. He told me while we were walking home from the park yesterday. He was really excited about it and said the fairies told him they’d see him again. It’s nothing bad, sweetheart. He’s just a five year old with an active imagination.”

You cursed under your breath. “Why didn’t you tell me last night?”

Taehyung shrugged and crossed his arms. “I don’t know, it didn’t seem like pressing information to share. And you were dead tired when you came home, so it must have slipped my mind.” As he watched you flutter around the kitchen nervously, he continued. “Can you tell me what’s going on with you right now?”

You sighed and faced your boyfriend. “Remember when I told you about Soobin’s father?”

Taehyung pursed his lips. “Yeah. You said he’s dangerous.”

“He is,” you said. “I didn’t think he’d find me, or even be interested in it, but—he doesn’t know about Soobin. And I planned to keep it that way.”

“Okay,” Taehyung replied slowly. “So what’s changed?”

“Everything,” you whimpered. “If Soobin said that to you, it means his father knows about him. It’s… his people,” you said carefully. “They’re the only ones who would tell Soobin that they’re magical creatures and—if they know about my son, it’s only a matter of time before he knows, too.”

Taehyung rubbed his temples, making sure to keep his voice low. “So, what do we do now?”

Before you could answer, the sound of padding footsteps through the house interrupted your conversation. “Mama, good morning!” Soobin’s sleepy voice called out. He appeared from behind Taehyung, rubbing his tired eyes.

Scooping him up into your arms, you pressed kisses to his chubby cheek. He murmured half-heartedly and buried his little face into your neck. The tips of his growing horns pressed into your skin lightly. You smoothed down his dark hair and gave Taehyung a pleading look.

“Morning, little man,” your boyfriend said, patting your son on the back. “You ready for breakfast?”

Soobin sat up in your arms, turning his small body to look at his surrogate father, who had been in majority of his life. “Yes,” he mumbled, squirming until you set him down so he could grasp at Taehyung’s large hand. “Good morning.”

You watched Taehyung lead him over to the table, helping him scoot his chair closer to the table once he was seated. Hurrying, you brought over your boys’ plates and then went back for yours. Soobin and Taehyung waited for you to be seated to start eating.

“S’good, Mama,” Soobin said around his food.

You smiled. “Thank you, Binnie,” you replied. You almost had no appetite, the thoughts of Jungkook swirling in your head. You hated that your chest still ached, even with the years distancing you.

The day passed achingly slowly, every minute and every second feeling like an eternity; every sound and every shadow brought with it a wave of anxiety that you hadn’t felt in a long time. You felt bad for not allowing Soobin to go with Taehyung to the store, ignoring his pouting with a heavy heart.

Finally, when it was time for bed, you tucked Soobin in with a kiss to his forehead. He looked up at you with his eyes that were so like his father’s, pupils slitted like a cat’s, that you couldn’t help the wave of fear that shot through you. But you knew Soobin wasn’t like Jungkook, no matter how much he grew to resemble him in his looks with every day.

“Binnie,” you whispered, sitting at the edge of his bed while your hand stroked the strands of his dark hair. “I love you.”

He gave you a smile that was so soft, you hated yourself for seeing any part of Jungkook in him. “I love you more, Mama.” You chuckled, your worry easing a tiny bit. “I don’t know why you were sad today, but tomorrow will be better!”

You blinked back the tears that you could feel prickling in your eyes. “I know it will be,” you answered him, leaning down to press another kiss to his forehead. “Sweet dreams, baby.”

As you stood, you noticed Taehyung smiling at the scene from the doorway. “Night, little prince,” he said to your son. The word jabbed at your ribs and you felt like you couldn’t breathe for a moment.

“That’s a new nickname,” you managed to get out between your nerves.

Soobin giggled from his bed. “The magical faeries called me that!” he said excitedly. “Wouldn’t it be so cool if I really was a prince, Mama?”

You turned to give him a strained smile. “It would be so cool, Soobin.”

“So cool,” he repeated, his voice trailing off as his eyes shut. “G’night, Tae.”

When you shut the door of his bedroom, you nearly collapsed—if it hadn’t been for Taehyung’s arms wrapping around your waist, you would have dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung whispered in panic as he held you up. You tried not to cry into his chest, finding comfort in his arms for a few agonizing seconds before you stood completely.

“Nothing, just—I’m fine,” you lied. “We should go to bed.” Taehyung’s lips pursed, not believing you for once second. “Please,” you whimpered.

With a sigh, Taehyung nodded. “Okay, okay. Let’s go to bed.”

Once in your own room, Taehyung’s warm body against yours, you rolled over until you were on top of him. He gazed up at you with hooded eyes, his hands finding purchase on your hips.

“I thought you were tired,” he murmured.

“How can I go to sleep when my man is laying there, looking that good?” you teased, wiggling yourself until you were slowly grinding against his clothed cock. He groaned and you could feel him hardening underneath you. With a shudder, you started grinding yourself against him harder, the friction delicious against your clit.

Taehyung’s hands slipped under your shirt and dragged it off your torso, your hips never stopping their movements against him. He sat up in the bed, his hips rocking up, and his mouth started sucking one of your nipples harshly. You pushed yourself off his lap for a few seconds to rapidly tug your pajama pants and underwear off, pulling Taehyung’s sweats and boxers halfway down his thighs as well. His cock was hard and red and you wrapped your hand around the length of it, pumping it quickly.

“You’re so hot, you know that?” he groaned against your breast, flicking and twisting your other nipple with his fingers. You tried to keep your voice down as you mewled, pushing yourself flush against his body and guiding the head of his cock to your slit. You rubbed it against your slit a few times, the head bumping into your clit with every drag, before you started to lower yourself onto it.

“You’re so big,” you panted into his ear, the burn of his cock stretching your walls making you clench tightly.

“No matter how many times I fuck you, this pussy is always so tight for me,” he grunted, grabbing for your hips and removing his mouth from your chest. His fingers dug into your bare skin and you sank down completely, shivering and clenching his cock inside of you.

Taehyung’s fingers found your clit easily after years of learning your body and he started to rub as you ground your hips into his. Soon, he was thrusting up into you roughly, his fingers on your hips helping you move up and down to keep pace with him. You gripped his hair and tugged his mouth to yours, kissing him deeply, the slap of your skin against his filling the room along with your little noises.

You orgasmed quickly, your wound up body giving way to pleasure easily. As your walls spasmed around his snapping hips, Taehyung cursed under his breath and held you down on his cock as it twitched, spurts of hot come filling you up. He didn’t stop grinding you against him while he rode out his own release, his fingers sliding down to play with your clit.

“Taehyung,” you whined, “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he mumbled against your shoulder, his eyes shut while he savored the feeling.

You couldn’t help your bucking hips, chasing the feeling of his fingers pressed against your clit. You blinked your bleary eyes open and glanced toward the window, meeting cat-like eyes that startled you into a second orgasm while the head of Taehyung’s spilling cock continued to rub against your g-spot.

You had to bite down on your bottom lip to stop the shout that tried to tear itself out of your throat—a mix of fear and pleasure.

Rocking your hips against Taehyung’s softening cock inside of you, you wrapped your arms around him and kept his head buried in your chest as he pressed kisses to the tops of your breasts. Your eyes never left the ones staring back at you.

Jungkook watched you with heat in his gaze, even though the rest of his face seemed as through he were bored and uninterested.

The shockwaves ran through your body, igniting every nerve in your limbs while your boyfriend’s cock slipped out of you, his come following. Your breaths started to quicken when Jungkook’s form left your window, and for a second you thought you might have imagined it. For a second, you let yourself breathe.

Then you realized he had moved toward Soobin’s window, on the other side of the hallway.

With a small yelp, your throat closed up and you couldn’t breathe. Taehyung lifted his head, startled at your sudden sound, and you ripped yourself away from him, not even bothering to clean the mess dripping between your thighs as you hurriedly dressed yourself, moving at a speed you had never moved before.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Taehyung asked, tucking himself back into his pajamas and shifting off the bed.

You didn’t have time to answer him, messily dressed now. Rushing to the bedroom door, you yanked it open and sprinted to your son’s bedroom, heart pounding and blood rushing through your ears.

You threw open Soobin’s door and for a second, time seemed to stop.

The window was open and Soobin was in front of it, Jungkook leaning against the windowsill from outside. Your son turned to look at you, surprise etched into his features, and Jungkook’s eyes found yours for a second time that night. Beside each other, the two looked so alike that you wondered how you had deluded yourself into believing they would never know.

“Sweetmeat,” Jungkook’s voice drawled, your body shuddering on instinct alone. You couldn’t stop shaking, rooted to the spot as his hand settled on top of Soobin’s head. “It’s been a while, I see.”

“Mama!” Soobin cried out, a smile pulling his lips up. “You know faeries? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Jungkook,” you choked out, taking a step into the room as Taehyung’s footsteps sounded behind you. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, every atom in your body completely focused on the father of your child. “Get away from him.”

The faerie king hummed and he moved his hand down to Soobin’s shoulder. “I will not.” Those eyes that were the same as Soobin’s darted down to the young boy before darting up to yours again. “All these years, you’ve kept him a secret from me.”

Taehyung was behind you now, his voice shouting something at Jungkook, but all you could hear was the pounding of your heart and the sweet voice that came from the faerie. You were already inside the bedroom, Taehyung right outside the doorway behind you.

“Close the door, ____,” Jungkook said softly.

Your body moved on its own, shutting the door before Taehyung could force his way in.

“Now lock it.”

You locked it.

Taehyung’s panicked voice and slamming hands against the door barely registered in your head as you turned to face Jungkook.

“Jungkook, please,” you whispered, tears pricking at your eyes. You took a few steps forward, stopping only when you saw his fingers tighten around Soobin’s shoulder. “Please. He’s my son—”

“And mine,” he interrupted harshly. Jungkook’s eyes narrowed when your breath hitched, Soobin’s wide and curious eyes turning toward him once again.

“You’re my dad?” he asked quietly.

Jungkook’s eyes seemed to soften for a moment. You thought it must be a trick of the moonlight. “I am,” he told Soobin. “And I’ve come to bring you to your real home, where you belong.”

“Mama can come, too, right?” he asked, glancing at you before looking at his father.

“Of course,” he said easily. “She is mine, after all, until she draws her last breath and an eternity after.”

He tilted his head and then beckoned you over. You dropped to your knees, wrapping your arms around Soobin and yanking him away from the High King.

“Please, Jungkook,” you whimpered. “Please, leave us here. Leave us alone.”

Jungkook’s eyes hardened and his hand shot out like a bolt of lightning, fingers wrapping around the collar of your shirt and dragging you toward the window roughly. Soobin’s small hands dug into your shirt and you heard him make a distressed noise where you had tucked him close.

“Do you forget yourself, human?” he growled, voice dangerously low. You could feel the anger simmering under the surface, unlike anything you had seen from him years ago—he had always been indifferent to you, never angry. You supposed it was only natural after finding out you had kept Soobin a secret, no matter how unnatural Jungkook was. “Answer me.”

“No,” you said shakily. “I am yours.”

“You will be returning with me to the Faerie Realm,” he snarled. “If only because my son has wished for it. You belong to me, sweetmeat. You are mine to do with as I please.”

“Yes,” you replied quietly, never looking away from his slitted eyes. “I am yours to do with as you please, my king.”

“Now get up and come.”

You did as he asked, rising to your feet and releasing Soobin from your grip, though he kept his hold of your shirt as he looked between the two of you. You couldn’t stop your body from removing his hands from you, even as your hands shook and your breath caught when he begged you not to. Your fingers didn’t even twitch when Jungkook lifted him out of the window and kept him on his hip. You followed immediately after, surprised when Jungkook grabbed a hold of your upper arm and maneuvered you on the branches so that you didn’t fall over as the three of you descended to the grass.

Jungkook kept a tight hold on Soobin’s hand as he led you two away from your home. He didn’t need to keep any kind of grip on you—he knew you would follow him, unable to refute his orders, especially not when he was leading your child away with him.

You didn’t look back at the house once.

The sounds and smells of the Faerie realm was something you hadn't realized you had missed so much. Nostalgia for the years you had spent among these fair folk blossomed in your chest, flowering through your skin until you could feel the tingle in your fingertips.

The faeries through the forest watched the three of you with wonderous eyes, all colors and shapes, the whispers like the sound of bees buzzing through the night air. When you looked at your son, his eyes were taking in everything around him with delight and curiosity.

Soon enough, you were walking up toward the palace that you had known so well before, familiarity settling in your bones as you took the trek.

"Soobin," Jungkook said softly—you didn't think that the High King could ever sound so soft while speaking. "Do you want to see your room?"

"Jungkook," you called, taking a few steps toward them so that you were right behind your husband and the faerie king.

His cat-like eyes cut to you, not nearly as soft as they were when looking at your son, and you hesitated to reach out to touch him. Your brain was screaming at you that any move you made would be a terrible idea.

"You'll wait your turn, sweetmeat," he said to you with a smile that could carve through flesh. "Though I thought you would remember where your place is here."

"Of course," you replied quickly, simmering down so as to not scare Soobin with your own fear.

"Mama," your son said excitedly, his small hand still gripping Jungkook's. "This place is so cool! Why didn't you tell me you knew faeries?" he questioned.

Looking at him now, your heart ached for the way you, too, had once looked on in amazement and only excitement in this realm. What would this place, with its cunning smiles and sweet dangers, do to him and his precious, innocent smile?

"I'm sorry, baby," you cooed, dropping to your knees on the ground in front of you and cupping his face in your hands. You brushed his dark hair back, fingers trying not to bump onto his little horns—they had always been sensitive to the touch. "The faeries have just been so busy, I haven't seen them in so long and forgot to tell you about them."

"Can I play with them?" he asked.

"No—"

"Of course—"

You and Jungkook cut yourselves off, meeting eyes as Soobin looked between the two of you. You could almost see the thoughts swimming around in Jungkook's head, as if deciding what to say. You were too afraid to make a sound, furrowing your brows a bit and hoping that he would have some sense to how your child had been raised so far.

"Why don't your mother and I discuss that and let you know tomorrow, okay?" he eventually said, smiling sweetly at your son—his son. Soobin nodded ecstatically, throwing his arms around you for a tight hug. You squeezed him close to you, kissing the top of his head. "Now say goodnight and I'll show you to your room."

"Goodnight, Mama!" Soobin exclaimed, letting go of you quickly and slipping his tiny hand back into his father's. How were you going to explain everything to him?

Jungkook paused to look back at you as you were getting up from your knees. "I trust that you remember where your chambers are?" he inquired, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Your cheeks flushed with heat and you willed them to go back to their normal color, not wanting to look embarrassed in front of your son. "Yes," you eventually choked out, ignoring the quiet chuckle that Jungkook let out, leading your son down the hall and towards whatever room he had assigned for him.

Sighing, you turned to the other side of the hall, ashamed that your feet did remember the way to Jungkook's chambers, where you always slept, ready to embrace him into you night after night. And you hated that your groin tingled at the memories, the release from earlier still sticky against your skin, even as it dried.

"Sweetmeat," Jungkook cooed as he came into his chambers, a devilish smile playing at his lips.

Your cheeks flushed as you sat on the bed, ashamed at your own body for reacting to his voice like this. The memories flooded your brain, every muscle in your body thrumming as you expected his touch.

"Well," he said, now standing in front of you and his hips sliding between your knees. "I see you have become forgetful in your time away," he murmured, his fingertips brushing your cheek and then tucking your hair behind your ear. "Usually you would await me with nothing on that smooth skin of yours."

You cleared your throat awkwardly as you looked up at him, your legs automatically spreading wider to make room for him to stand between them. You bit your bottom lip and couldn't stop yourself from leaning into his palm, his skin warm and so familiar to you.

"I can't," you whispered, shutting your eyes so you wouldn't see the look on his face.

To your surprise, he leaned down so that his nose brushed yours. Against your better judgement, you let your eyes flutter open and you met his slitted eyes, soft as they looked at you. There was no rage or wrath.

"Why can't you, sweetmeat?" he whispered back, every word making his lips brush against yours lightly with how close he was. You took in a shaky breath, leaning back on your hands to try to put distance between the two of you. "Don't you want me to have you?"

"Yes," you replied on instinct, screwing your eyes shut as his body pressed against yours. "But Taehyung—"

Jungkook's thumb pressed against your bottom lip, stopping you. Your eyes opened again, watching how his were trained on your mouth. "No need to worry about that human," he told you. "You were always mine first." Before you could object, he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips—you never thought you would receive a simple peck from the High King, whose touch had always been so rough and ragged on you.

"I—" You breathed against his mouth, leaning in for more of his kisses. He stayed just out of reach and it felt like a punishment. "I want you," you whimpered, letting one of your hands come up to cup his cheek. You met his eyes shyly, a spark traveling through your abdomen at the dark way he looked at you, like he wished to devour you. "I want you," you repeated.

"You'll never be anyone else's," he said to you as he crawled over your body, gently pushing you back onto the lush mattress. Your heart was pounding in your chest as he tugged your baggy shirt over your torso, revealing your bare breasts to his gaze. "I simply allowed that mortal to loan you," he growled, leaning down to nip at your hard nipple.

"Yes," you sighed, your fingers digging into his dark hair. "I'm only yours." His mouth enveloped the tip of your breast, biting down around the areola and making you hiss from a mix of pain and pleasure. "I belong to you."

Jungkook pulled your sweats down your legs, lifting his head from your chest for only long enough to remove them completely and undress himself as well. Your eyes marveled at his body, not realizing how much you'd missed looking at it. Of course, you couldn't help but let your eyes trail down to his cock, which was already hard and you could feel the tingling between your legs.

His smirk widened as he grabbed your thighs, yanking you towards him until the underside of his cock was pressing against you. A quiet whimper fell from your lips.

"You don't need to be loosened, do you?" he asked sweetly, though you could hear the tinge of mocking in his tone. You'd heard it so often, right here on this very bed, that you could detect anything in Jungkook's voice.

Your cheeks were hot. "No," you whispered, shaking your head. "But I should clean fir—"

"No," he replied, rocking his hips toward you playfully. "I'll fuck you right now."

You wanted to protest, still dripping with Taehyung's cum. A pang of guilt throbbed in your chest, but the ache of desire drowned it out quickly. Your breath caught in your throat as he slowly pushed the length of his cock inside of you, a groan leaving his lips when he bottomed out.

"How are you still this tight?" he asked you, almost incredulous. "Just fucked and still this tight around my cock?"

Clenching around him, your eyes rolled back as he pulled out only a few centimeters before pushing back inside slowly. "I can't help it," you whined, spreading your thighs further apart until your knees were about to touch the silky bedcovers. "You make me this way."

When you met Jungkook's eyes, they were dark and hungry. "You're so wet," he told you, his fingers finding the flesh of your hips and digging into your skin. "I'm going to replace all this cum inside of you with my own."

Before you had a chance to say anything, or even start to feel a shred of shame, he pulled out almost all the way and then shoved himself inside of you, starting a brutal and quick pace. The bed was already shaking with the force of his movements, and your hand darted to your mouth for something to bite down onto.

As he thrusted into you, the lewd sounds echoing in the bedchamber and cum dripping past his cock and down your skin onto the bed, all your thoughts melted away. You had missed him. You'd missed everything about him—your body had missed him. Logically, you knew that this was wrong, that you had finally managed to find peace with the family you had created—but now—

"Jungkook," you moaned, releasing your hand from the bite of your teeth, and slid it onto his shoulder. "I need you—"

"Of course you do, sweetmeat," he cooed, though you could feel the shiver that went through his body. "You belong to me."

You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him even closer to your body. One of his hands moved up from your hip, his palm dragging lightly against your bare skin, cupping your breast and squeezing it in his hands. You whimpered and he pinched your nipple between his fingers, almost too painfully, but you liked it—maybe a little too much.

When his hand moved higher up your body to your neck, squeezing it gently while he shoved himself deeper and deeper into you with every thrust of his hips, you couldn't help the wanton moan that ripped its way out of your throat. Your legs tightened around him, trying to hold him inside of you forever while you twitched and squirmed, your orgasm building quickly and intensely.

"That's it, sweet thing," he purred, pushing his cock in as deep as it would go, using his other hand to push your thigh up so he could shove it in further while you came, clenching around him sporadically. "Did your human make you feel this good?"

"No," you croaked, seeing stars. "No one has ever made me feel this good." And you weren't lying, even though the guilt had started to eat its way through the pleasure in your abdomen.

Jungkook hummed and then started up his agonizing pace once more, making your body squirm and your toes curl.

"I can't," you begged, hands lowering to the bedsheets and clawing them in your fingers. "It hurts—"

"You can," he replied smoothly, and the head of his cock brushed the sensitive spot inside of you. You clenched hard, a cry falling from your mouth. "You will, human."

He pulled his cock out of you and when you looked down, it was wet with a mix of your slick and the cum that had still been inside of you. You didn't have the energy to feel embarrassed, though your cheeks did flush a little hotter than before. In one fluid movement, Jungkook turned you onto your stomach, his hands finding purchase on your hips and pulling them up so that your ass was in the air and your face was pressed against the bed.

You felt the slide of his cock back into you, eyes rolling back and fingers gripping the sheets. As it filled you, the squelch of it entering you again filling the room, Jungkook fisted your hair in his hand and pulled your head up.

Your body was still reeling from your orgasm—the second one that night—so you could do nothing but let him hold you in place there, a little moan coming out of your throat with every harsh thrust.

"That's a good girl," he groaned, his cock twitching inside of you while his thrusts started to slow down. "You always did take my cock so well for a human."

"Yes," you whispered, feeling a little bit of your spit on the corner of your lip. "It's all for you."

Jungkook moaned, shoving your head back down onto the bed, fingers still tightly gripping your hair. The slight pain from his hold mixed well with the pleasure of him rubbing against that spot inside of you over and over until you could barely take it.

"It's like you were molded for me," he said roughly, his body towering over yours as he tried to bury himself inside of you as far as he could go.

"I was," you said in a broken whimper, and you felt the twitch of his cock, followed by a spurt of his release, hot inside of you and filling you completely.

He rolled his hips a few times, and while still inside of you, his hand released your hair and curled around your torso, fingers finding your clit immediately. Your eyes widened for a second, the feeling of his fingers moving against your clit mixing between pleasure and pain. While his seed slipped past his cock and down your thighs, the feelings all crashed into you at once—guilt, pleasure, pain, shame, tingling—and you couldn't help but buck your hips against his hand and orgasm a second time.

When you were done, seeing stars behind your eyelids, he finally pulled out of you, letting his seed spill out of you and allowing your body to fall completely against the cool bed.

Turning to face him as he laid next to you, you couldn't even muster up a smile. Even with sweat on his face, his dark hair clinging to his skin, he still looked beautiful and ethereal.

Jungkook's eyes met yours and you couldn't stop your panting, your body completely spent—you couldn't even bring yourself to care about the mix of your slick and his seed still dripping out of you and onto the bed.

"Are you spent, sweetmeat?" he asked, a smirk starting to play at his lips.

You sighed and nodded, eyes still focused on his. "Yes," you replied slowly. "It's been... A long time," you settled on, not sure how to navigate your absence, even if he had originally allowed it.

"Well," he said gleefully. "You will get used to it again, soon."

It was then that you realized you couldn't see his other hand. When you let your eyes follow his arm down to his hand, you realized it was stroking his still hard cock, your slick and his come mixing all over it. Your cheeks flushed and your eyes widened—though, you could already feel the heat of desire in your belly and the tingling between your thighs as you clenched and unclenched around nothing.

"We are going to have so much fun, sweetmeat," Jungkook snickered, rolling over towards you to lick into your mouth.

The music and feasting was something you had missed, watching all the faeries let loose and be themselves, as grotesque as that might look to your human eyes. Jungkook had seated you at the table, taking Soobin away to introduce him to others and show him around a bit.

You were dressed in a gown made of silk, the neckline dipping almost halfway down your chest, but still covering your breasts from view—Jungkook could be possessive when he wished.

The faeries had given you looks, some with curiosity and some with suspicion—others even with pity, if you weren't completely delusional. Your eyes stayed trained on your son, who was learning how to play a game from the other young faeries around him.

"He belongs here," Jungkook whispered in your ear, spooking you for a moment. You looked up at him as he grinned at Soobin, watching him still as he took his seat beside you at the table, his hand patting your thigh before resting on the arm of his chair.

"I didn't think he'd fit in so well," you admitted, unable to stop the smile on your lips and the softness in your voice when Soobin laughed, holding hands with a young faerie who was dripping sap from their limbs.

Jungkook hummed and lightly tapped your chin with his fingers, turning your face to look at him. "Eat," he said flatly. "You belong here, too."

You swallowed nervously. Your eyes darted down to your plate, full of deliciously smelling food, the aroma calling to you. "Jungkook," you whispered, looking back at him.

His fingertips were so soft against your skin that their presence there could've been a hallucination—but you could feel a razor sharp tingle where they touched you, a subtle threat in the gentleness.

"Jungkook, when will we be able to go home?" you asked quietly,

Though his face hadn't changed, you could feel the tension settling in between your bodies. He hummed and let his fingers drag down from your chin to your neck, and then further down to your collarbones. You shivered, letting your eyes flutter shut while they continued their way down between your neckline, every touch of his igniting the nerves in your body.

His hand shot up and gripped your throat, startling your eyes into opening. He didn't tighten his hold, simply keeping a slight pressure on your neck. Jungkook's expression was wicked—and cruel.

"This is your home," he cooed, though nothing about his tone was soft. He leaned in closer, bringing you closer in as well with his hand around your throat. Your breath caught and he brushed his nose against yours lightly, eyes never wavering from yours. "I thought I did well to remind you of that earlier, sweetmeat."

Heat flooded your cheeks, traveling down your chest and between your thighs. You clasped them together instinctively and shuddered when you saw Jungkook's gaze glance down towards your legs.

"Should I remind you here, sweetmeat?" he continued, snickering at the way you were going pliant in his grasp. "Shall I show my court who you belong to?"

You wanted to say yes—everything in your body was craving him already, wanting every bit of him all over you. And to have every faerie in his court watch as he took you—over and over again—you could barely resist the temptation.

But you couldn't give in right now.

"I want you to," you whimpered, shutting your eyes again as he leaned in closer, licking your lips lewdly. He bit your bottom lip and you gasped, allowing him to press closer, kissing you lazily. His hands released your throat and moved back to the nape of your neck, holding you in place while he kissed you.

"Ew!" a voice exclaimed, a voice that was too familiar—and the entire reason you were planning to refuse his tempting offer.

You tore yourself away from Jungkook, who looked puzzled. "Binnie!" you breathed, shifting in your seat. "What's up, honey?"

Jungkook's hand stayed firmly in its place at the back of your neck, hot and heavy.

"Mama, what are you doing?" your son asked, crinkling his nose up in disgust.

"Your dad and I, we just—we just missed each other, that's all," you explained quickly. "Sometimes adults do that when they really love each other!"

Soobin frowned, tilting his head to the side. Before he could ask anymore questions, Jungkook smiled down at him. "Why don't you go to bed, Soobin?" he said, though you could see even your son, at such a young age, instinctively knew to heed his king's command.

An older faerie, one whose hair looked like sea moss trailing all the way down to its feet, arrived quickly and started to pull Soobin and the other young faerie with him away from the table.

"Wait!" he cried out, rushing over to your side.

You quickly enveloped him in your arms, raising him up to your lap. "What's wrong?" you asked, cupping his cheeks in your palms.

"You didn't give me a goodnight kiss," he pouted, wrapping his small arms around you for a hug.

"Aw, my baby Binnie," you cooed, kissing the top of his head. "Mama loves you so much." He looked up at you, his pouting lips still the same, and you kissed his cheek three times.

"I love you, too, Mama," he replied, leaning up to give your cheek a kiss as well. He looked over to Jungkook. "Can I give Dad a kiss, too?"

You hesitated, looking over at the High King, whose face was unreadable. Then, he opened his arms up in a welcoming gesture—Soobin hurriedly climbed down from your lap and rushed to his father, who gave him a peck on the cheek and ruffled his matching dark hair.

Once your son was bounding away, happily chatting with the faeries surrounding him, you sighed and turned to look at the High King, who you found already watching you.

"This is his home," Jungkook repeated harshly. You pursed your lips, hating yourself for the butterflies in your stomach when you knew Taehyung was waiting for you in the human realm. "Soobin belongs here." You didn't want to admit it, though you knew both of you knew perfectly well that he did fit in here—especially once his horns fully grew in atop his head. "Our other children will belong here, too."

Your cheeks flushed and your eyes widened, taken aback at his words. His face was unreadable, even after spending so much of your time with him. "Other children?" you gasped.

"Yes," he said easily, turning away from you and looking over the dancing and partying faeries. "I need many heirs."

A faerie took his attention before you could formulate any words in response to his statement, but you couldn't stop the pounding of your heart in your chest and the quick soar of elation that filled your head with dangerous thoughts—thoughts of the two of you together for the eternity you had promised to him, of you as his bride, of belonging to this world eternally.

You didn't see Jungkook for the rest of the night, but that didn't stop your imagination from running wild with the possibilities of your future together.

The nights passed in a blur of music, little adventures with Soobin, and reliving your memories from years ago. You couldn't help but lose yourself in this world, fully immersed in the customs and life of Faerie—especially now that you were anticipating your new familial life with Jungkook, as he'd implied.

The door shut behind him quickly and you were already slipping the straps of your dress off of your shoulders, the glitter from the fabric sticking to your skin. It fell to the ground softly and Jungkook's hands were already running down your arms, his body right behind yours.

You turned your face sideways to glance back at him, heat already pooling in your lower abdomen at his touch.

"Lie to me, sweetmeat," he whispered, dropping his head to press kisses to your shoulder, nipping at the flesh with his teeth.

You shuddered as his clothed body pressed into your bare one from behind, the tickle of the fabric causing goosebumps to raise on your skin.

"I want to go home," you murmured, your body molding against his as he walked you forward, bending you over onto the mattress. He undid his pants, letting them fall to the ground, and slid his hard cock against your ass.

You whined and pushed back against him, not even embarrassed at how slick you already were. You were already clenching around nothing in anticipation.

"How badly do you want me?" he asked, keeping one palm spread on your back to hold you down. His foot kicked your legs further apart to open you up completely to him. "Do you crave me?"

You moaned as the head of his cock pushed into your folds lightly but pulled away before giving you what you wanted. "Yes," you said. "I've never stopped wanting you."

Jungkook finally—finally—pushed his cock into you, sliding all the way in easily. He said nothing for a while, simply groaning and thrusting in and out of you, filling the room with the lewd sounds of skin against skin. You were gripping fistfuls of the sheets, even biting down on them when his pace became unforgiving.

"How often did you picture me when that human was buried inside of you?" he asked, and you could hear the large grin in his voice. You didn't answer, heat flooding into your cheeks. "Were you hoping it was my cock inside of you, filling you with my seed?" You moaned in response, clenching tight around him as he picked up his pace even faster, almost slamming his cock into you over and over. "Answer me," he growled, his fingers finding your hair and pulling your head up from where it was flush against the bed.

"Yes," you admitted, your voice shaking. "I wanted you to be the one fucking me—"

Jungkook's door opened and you flinched, though his grip on you didn't loosen and his movements only slowed, never stopping.

A woman came into view, though your eyesight was blurred and you had to focus them to see what she looked like.

"Ah, Wife," Jungkook purred, slowly pushing his cock into you so you could feel every centimeter.

"Husband," she replied easily, barely glancing at you.

You clenched around him from your shock, your little breathy sounds fading into the background. You couldn't stop your body from pushing back into him, wanton for him.

"What is it?" he asked, his hips still pounding into you from behind. You were staring at the woman, unable to take your eyes off of her as you took in her beauty. Her hair was a light blue, the very tips turning white and ending near her hips. There was a small golden crown wrapped around head, weaving through her hair like vines. Her ears were long and pointed—longer than Jungkook's ears.

"I see you returned your pet," she said instead, blankly looking over your form. You felt like you were being shown at an auction, but you couldn't muster up any feelings of shame, still used to the way the High King would keep you exposed to anyone who opened his door—even his apparent wife.

"I have," he returned gleefully, snickering. His cock slipped out of you with a lewd sound and his hands gripped your body, forcefully turning you over from your bent position so that you were laying flat on your back on the bed. You let out a small sound at the shift, but his cock was already burying itself inside of you again, brushing against your g-spot and making you moan loudly instead. "Isn't she exquisite?"

"She's very loud," his wife said plainly. "I can see the appeal."

Jungkook rocked his hips into you at a slow pace, one of his hands moving up to your breast and kneading it, pinching your nipple hard as you cried out, clenching and unclenching repeatedly.

"They require you in the meeting hall tomorrow morning," his wife continued. Jungkook merely hummed, his eyes completely focused on his cock disappearing into you over and over slowly. "Do not forget to attend."

"You should really try a human woman," Jungkook redirected, biting his lip and hissing as his bottomed-out cock twitched inside of you. You whimpered, unable to help the flush of arousal at the thought of her joining, memories of the others flooding your head for a few moments. You wrapped your legs around Jungkook's hips, pulling him tighter against you as he chuckled.

"I have humans," she replied, eyes running up and down your sweaty body and stopping for a few seconds too long on your breasts. "I find myself more inclined for the men of the species."

"Your loss," he grunted, grabbing your hips and yanking you harder towards him, picking up his brutal pace again and filling the air with the sounds of your skin slapping together. "Close the door."

You watched her nod her head towards him slightly before she retreated, pulling the door shut behind her. You could feel the orgasm building inside of you as he continued his movements, all your thoughts and words scrambled in your head.

"That's it, sweetmeat," he cooed, hissing as he rushed his pace. "Come all over me."

You moaned loudly at his command and felt complied to respond with your body, the pleasure tightening in your belly first as your orgasm hit you like a wave, shockwaves throbbing through your body as he continued to thrust into you through it.

"Jungkook," you panted, tightening your legs around his hips and fisting the sheets in your fingers as you winced. "It hurts—"

"Take it, human," he said blankly, his eyes focused on yours intently. You bit your bottom lip and shivered, trying to move your hips along to his bruising pace. "You're so good for me," he purred, leaning down as he stilled inside of you so that he could lick into your mouth lewdly. You could feel his cock twitch before he came, spurting his seed deep inside of you.

"Jungkook," you whimpered, arching your back, arousal swirling in your belly at the feeling of him releasing.

He shushed you as he rode out his orgasm, keeping himself flush against you even as he began to soften and his come started to slip out of you and down your thighs to the bed. As you kissed him back, licking back into his mouth and running your fingers through his dark hair and touching his horns lightly, causing him to growl against your lips, you couldn't help but remember the faerie that had stopped by.

"You're married," you whispered against his lips.

He pulled back just enough to look at you and a razor sharp smile was present on his mouth. "Yes," he said. "The High King must be wed for the future of Faerie." When you didn't say anything, pondering his words to you earlier, he continued as his finger began to trace your cheek. "Did you think I would marry you, sweetmeat?"

Your cheeks flushed. "No."

Jungkook laughed loudly and then pressed a harsh kiss to your pouting lips. "Humans are so fascinating when they lie," he finished, and you could feel him getting hard again inside of you. You squirmed underneath him as he kept you pinned down, a gleeful glint in his eyes as he watched you.

"Again, Jungkook?" you whined, though you were already clenching around him and rocking your hips up into him, your body begging him to start moving again.

He hummed and grinded against you slowly, enjoying the sounds your sticky bodies made with every movement. His hand came to grip your face and he held you still, pulling his cock out halfway and then sliding back in slowly. "I will keep you here, bred and ready for me for eternity," he said roughly, the head of his cock brushing against your g-spot again and making you mewl. He took the opportunity to lick into your open mouth.

When he released you, you sighed against his lips and pressed your thighs against the bed to allow him in deeper. "For eternity," you promised.

Jungkook's hips bucked into you and started another brutal pace, filling the room with your moans for the rest of the night.

"Soobin!" you called, running your hand down your belly bump and feeling the fabric of your dress, like silk, cool against your palm. Each of your fingers was adorned in rings, some metal and some vine. "Bring your brother and sister from the trees."

Your oldest son rolled his eyes, his horns curled backwards and ears almost as long as Jungkook's. He was taller than you now, his growth spurt hitting him years prior, and you couldn't help but smile at him sweetly as you made your way to the long table. Jungkook was seated at the head of the table, your family feasting inside the castle on a rare occasion. His wife was seated to his right and you made your way to his left, huffing as you struggled to sit comfortably.

Jungkook's smile to you was as sweet as it could be. "They should be content to play," he started, but you tutted at him and leaned back in the chair.

"I want them to have some connection to human manners," you replied easily, already used to having the same conversation every time you ate inside.

"I think it's good for them," Hana said, interjecting for once into the conversation.

You nodded your head at her, gesturing. "See?"

Jungkook sighed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms across his chest. "Yes, yes, go ahead and gang up on me."

"Daddy!" your daughter called out loudly, the rushed footsteps of her and her siblings filling the hall as they ran over to the table. Jungkook immediately opened his arms and let her jump into his lap, running his hand down her long dark hair. "Minnie hit me!"

Jungkook hummed, looking over at his two sons as they took their seats beside you, Soobin first. "And what did you do back?"

Ha Yoon smiled wickedly. "I bit him."

Jungkook and Hana laughed. He let her down from his lap, patting the top of her head. She bounced over to you, pulling on the tips of your hair the same way she used to as a baby. You lowered your head as much as you could and then winced when she nipped at your cheek with her sharp teeth. She giggled when you returned it with a kiss to her head and then rushed over to sit beside her brother.

"Soobin," Jungkook started as the servants, a mix of faeries and humans alike, began to place the food on the table and into your plates. "Have you thought about Hana's proposition?"

Soobin perked up, though your body tensed. Jungkook's eyes cut to you for a brief second, noticing your reaction, before he returned his gaze to your son.

"Yes," he replied, his voice much deeper than it had been when you'd returned to Faerie. "I'd like to go."

You bit the inside of your cheek and shoveled a spoonful of food into your mouth, now used to the wonderfully rich tastes this world had to offer you.

"Wonderful!" Jungkook said, smiling widely. "The carriages leave tomorrow for the Court. You'll go with them."

"My brother will teach you well," Hana said, smiling at Soobin sweetly. She had been like a second mother to him all these years, so you understood that your anxiety was rooted in nothing but jealousy and a wish to keep your children near you. "Oh, and Jungkook," she continued, turning her attention to her husband while you fussed over Soobin and Minhyuk.

"Yes, Wife?" he hummed, making a face at his daughter, who looked the most like him out of the three children.

"I'm pregnant," she giggled.

Jungkook's ears twitched and he turned to her quickly, all sounds quieting in the hall. "You are?"

"Yes."

"That's wonderful, Wife," he said smoothly, reaching over and holding her hand in his. You eyed their intertwined fingers and rings with a rush of jealousy, but the anxiety in your chest worsened. "Faerie will be full of my children's laughter."

They looked over at you expectantly. "Congratulations, Hana," you gulped, smiling as wide as you could to mask your fears.

She smiled tightly back at you, her eyes darting down to your own pregnant belly. "Thank you," she said.

Jungkook reached over and took your hand in his so that he was holding both of your hands. "We will celebrate and have a feast tomorrow with the courts," he said. He squeezed your hand and then released Hana's first, using his now free hand to pat your arm before he let go.

"So we're going to have another brother?" Minhyuk asked, speaking for the first time since he sat down. Your middle son was rather quiet and looked more like you than his father, though you didn't think Jungkook minded. He spoiled them all the same.

"Or sister," Hana told him, her face back to the usual stoic expression that everyone was familiar with.

"And it'll be two of them," you told him. Minhyuk tilted his head and then went back to his food, shoveling it in ravenously.

"And there will still be time for more," Jungkook said wickedly. "From both of you." His foot bumped into yours and you looked up at him through your lashes, arousal swirling between your legs when he winked at you and reached over to rest his hand on your thigh. Hana gasped and you looked over to her, watching how her cheeks flushed pink and you could see that Jungkook's other hand was below the table in her direction as well.

He released both of you again and continued his food, the children chatting with each other and him, mostly, excited to have their father's attention since most of his morning and afternoon had been spent in his office and among his advisors.

Once the children were done with their food, they excused themselves from the table and went to go continue playing. Soobin decided to go off on his own from his siblings, but you still had no idea where he went on nights like these; Jungkook always quelled your worries, telling you that he was at that age now where he should be left alone when he needed to be, instead of fretted over.

Jungkook gestured for you with his hands and you rose from your chair, moving over to stand in front of him. He placed his hands on your belly, eyes devouring you in a way that made you want to push your thighs together for relief. He smirked.

"Have they told you what it is yet?" he asked.

"No," you replied quietly, glancing over at Hana. "They say it'll be another boy."

"Faeries and their theories," he sighed, though his tone was fond. "We'll be visiting the Unseelie Court in a few days," he continued.

"Me as well?" you asked, confused. Usually him and his wife went, but you stayed here.

"Yes," he said. "Hana will be going with Soobin. You will come with me."

You bit your lip as his hands started to travel down your dress, using his fingers to pull the fabric up higher and higher, pulling you closer to his lap as he did so. Even after all these years, he was still insatiable.

"I will go prepare and find Soobin," she interrupted, standing up and dragging your attention away from Jungkook.

He stopped her for a brief second, though his hands continued their work until your dress was lifted enough for him to slide his fingers along your unclothed folds, gathering the slick of your arousal on them before he pushed two inside at once, making you whimper as you leaned back on the table.

"Be ready for me tonight, Wife," he told her. She nodded her head.

Then she took a few steps forward, leaning down and pressing her lips to yours. You gasped into her mouth, letting her tongue press against yours as Jungkook snickered from below you, continuing to work his fingers in and out of you. Hana pulled away with an obscene pop of her mouth, biting down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and make you hiss, clenching around Jungkook's fingers.

"I will be," she told him after, leaning down and kissing him harshly. He groaned and rubbed his thumb against your clit with every lick of her tongue against his. Then she pulled away and left the hall, you suspected to her own quarters.

Jungkook pulled his fingers from you and put them in his mouth, licking your slick off while he maintained eye contact with you. He let go of your dress, letting it drop back down to cover your legs, and stood from his chair, walking past the table and looking back at you.

"Come, sweetmeat," he commanded you. Rushing forward as fast as you could in your condition, you slipped your hand into his and allowed him to lead you out into the hall. Jungkook took the opposite turn from the hall leading to his bedroom, instead leading you towards the doors that led into the massive back gardens of the castle, one of your favorite places. You could feel your cheeks flushing with excitement already, knowing he was going to splay you out for anyone wandering the garden to see.

Your packed suitcase was ready beside you, but you ignored it and spent your time fixing Soobin's shirt collar and patting down his hair. He shook his head around, huffing as you fussed over him.

"Mom, I'm not going to be gone so long," he protested, though his voice was soft. You frowned, letting your fingers run through his dark hair one last time before you lowered your hand.

Hana flicked his nose lightly, earning a noise of complaint from the now young adult. "A mother worries, Binnie," she chided him. You smiled lightly when he lowered his head, mumbling an apology to you at her words. He held your hand lightly and pressed a kiss to the back.

"My sweet boy," you said almost tearfully, bringing him in for a hug even though he stood much taller than you. He wiggled uncomfortably, trying not to press too hard against your belly as he returned the hug. "Be safe."

He pulled back with a large smile. "You, as well."

Jungkook arrived, pressing a hand to the small of your back to nudge you forward. "Let us go, sweetmeat," he told you, still using his favorite nickname of yours after so many years. "Yeon will care for the children while we are away."

You looked back, waving to your other two children, who were still so young they couldn't care any less about all of them leaving for about a week's time. "Take care of him, Hana," you said quietly, grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze.

She smiled pleasantly. "As I always have," she replied, returning your squeeze.

Jungkook ruffled Soobin's hair. "Do give them some trouble," he said wickedly, sharing a similar smile of mischief with his oldest son. He leaned over and pressed a long kiss to his wife's mouth, sliding his hand to the back of her neck to keep her close while Soobin started to put their bags in their carriage. When he pulled away, her lips were plump and red from his.

You waved to them as they got in and the drivers led them away, your own carriage pulling up to the front and the servants opening the door. Jungkook easily tossed the suitcases in and then helped you up, always more caring and careful when you were carrying his children. He slid into the seat beside you, never preferring to be across from you like in the shows you had always seen, even if sitting beside each other was more cramped.

"Do not worry, human," Jungkook told you blandly, not even looking out of the window as the carriage started to move, taking you away from the place you had become so familiar with. "We will only be visiting a few days and then we will be back with our children."

You couldn't help but take his hand in yours, thankful he simply opened his palm and let you intertwine your fingers together. "I know," you said, leaning over and resting your head on his shoulder.

As the carriage continued on, you dragged your free hand down your belly nervously, hoping that all your fears concerning the courts were unwarranted and simply human anxieties.

all rights reserved © junqkook | 13 MARCH 2024 | the reposting/modifying of any kind on any medium is strictly not allowed. translations are not allowed.

[aventurineswife]

Is it getting sent? Its not? Just trying in case. I sent the same thing twice because i thought it didnt send..my internet is just bad, anyways in case it wasnt sent, in case you want an idea, my idea is to knit a sweater to them while they are on a work trip and their reaction to that once they are back.

“Both your hands in the hole of my sweater” | Part 1

Summary: While your partner is away on a work trip, you, as their beloved partner, spent the time knitting them a sweater. Upon their return, they’re met with the surprise of a handmade gift.

Tags: Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Sweet Gestures, Knitting, Work Trip, Homecoming, Surprise Gift, Cozy Moments, Light Romance.

A/N: DON'T WORRY ANON!! I GOT YOUR REQUEST AND IT HAPPENS SOMETIMES!😭 BUT TY FOR THE REQUEST, ITS SO CUTEE!! 🤭 HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!🫶 KEEP THEM COMING!! I LOVE WRITING AND READING ABOUT THEM🤭

Part 2, Part 3

Blade

When Blade returned, he found a neatly wrapped box on the table, a card with his name written in elegant strokes beside it. He stared at it for a while, the ordinary sight feeling so foreign in his chaos-filled world. Carefully, he picked up the card, reading your short, heartfelt note.

Inside, folded with care, was a dark sweater, thick and soft to the touch, the colors subtly resembling the night sky. His fingers brushed over the stitches, a strange warmth spreading through him as he realized you'd made this by hand, stitch by careful stitch.

Later, when you found him, he was wearing the sweater, silent but eyes warm. "You don’t… have to keep doing things like this." he murmured, almost unsure how to express the mix of comfort and gratitude he felt.

But you only smiled, reaching to fix the collar. "I want to." Blade looked down, hiding a small, softened smile. In that moment, something in him felt less fractured.

Sampo Koski

Sampo was a lot of things, but genuinely speechless wasn’t usually one of them. When he saw the sweater, though, his usual charm faltered for a moment.

“Ohhh, look at this!” He held it up, the color and style fitting his flair perfectly. “Did you really make this? Just for me? You sure you weren’t thinking of another guy?” he teased, winking, but there was an unusual warmth in his tone.

“Try it on, Sampo.” you insisted, playfully rolling your eyes.

He did, grinning widely as he adjusted it. "Well, look at me, all cozy and stylish! This is priceless! I’ll bet this sweater’s gonna get me some deals. And, hey, it even makes me look extra trustworthy!” He spun dramatically, though he couldn’t quite hide his flustered expression as he pulled you into a spontaneous hug. “Thanks, sunshine. Gotta admit, it feels nice knowing someone’s thinking of me.”

Gepard Landau

Gepard was more than surprised to find a package waiting for him when he returned from his post. Unwrapping it, he found a perfectly tailored sweater, every stitch immaculate and precise. He touched it, admiring the way the thick, warm material felt against his calloused hands.

When he saw you, he was already wearing it. “I… I can’t thank you enough for this,” he said, looking down slightly. "It must have taken you a long time."

“Not as long as you’re worth.” you said, smiling as he blushed.

He cleared his throat, his usually stoic face softening. “You know, we don’t… often have people who think of us like this,” he murmured, his voice a mix of appreciation and humility. “But I promise to keep this safe. And warm.”

Aventurine

Aventurine returned from his business trip a bit weary but still grinning. When he saw the sweater you’d left for him, he smirked, instantly recognizing the effort and thought that went into every fiber.

“Treasure, did you really make this for me? Oh, you’re a gambler with your time, aren’t you?” he teased, slipping the sweater on. He admired himself in the mirror, watching the way it fit just right, from the shoulders down to the sleeve length.

You watched as his fingers lightly traced the stitches. "Only for you.” you replied, enjoying his pleased expression.

He winked, slipping an arm around you. “I knew I made a winning investment choosing you.” With a chuckle, he whispered, “I’ll be showing off this masterpiece everywhere. It’s my lucky charm now.”

Sunday

Sunday returned home after the festival, exhausted yet tranquil. When he found the sweater waiting for him, neatly folded and smelling faintly of lavender, he was deeply touched. His fingers gently traced over the knitting, imagining you working on it alone, stitch by careful stitch.

When he finally slipped it on, he felt a warmth far beyond the wool’s soft embrace—a warmth he rarely felt, a moment of peace. "Thank you." he whispered, though he’d yet to see you.

Later, when you returned, he was still wearing it, his serene smile brighter than ever. "This… this is like a dream." he murmured, as if speaking to himself. He drew you close, his arms encircling you as he let himself feel a bit of reality’s warmth, away from the dream he often clung to.

[satsugacafe]

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐔𝐲𝐫𝐮 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞…

➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Hello! Can you do Uryu dating a human without powers headcanon? I would love to read it. Thank you!

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: I wholeheartedly apologise for taking long, and giving the impression that I ignored your request. I hope this was to your liking :)

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: You’re a human without powers dating Uryu

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

˚₊‧꒰ა It doesn’t matter whether you know about him being a Quincy of not, as a gentleman, Uryu will be looking out for you. Be it walking you home, ensuring Hollows weren’t near your house or area, or no one trouble you.

˚₊‧꒰ა Dates with him will be quiet, but memorable. Picnics, visiting the ice-skating ring and watching him effortlessly glide across the ice, library dates, cooking dates, going on walks, even having a sewing course.

˚₊‧꒰ა Study dates are also on the list. He wants to see you do your best and is more than willing to organise binders and cue cards if needed.

˚₊‧꒰ა That’s one thing you must expect when dating him—somewhere along the line, you would pick up sewing tips from him anytime you have tears or holes in your clothes. Though he prefers you inform him so he can whip up something new and fancy (with a cloak).

˚₊‧꒰ა With the expectation of receiving clothes made by him, he can’t resist placing Quincy crosses in discrete places and brushes them off as his signature. “Uryu, what’s this cross?” “…my signature.”

˚₊‧꒰ა As much as we know he has his Quincy pride, part of him feels relieved to have someone who isn’t a part of the whole “superhuman.” You’re his slice of normalcy and someone he cherishes deeply.

˚₊‧꒰ა You will suddenly feel his gaze on you at random times, and should you meet him head-on, a faint blush will appear before he averts his eyes. He likes to admire you in silence and secrecy. Simply observing you in your mundane world of activities gives him a sense of accomplishment—you’re safe and here with him.

˚₊‧꒰ა Every minute spent with you is one he holds near his heart. He loves the fact that it reminds him of what it felt like to be normal without Quincy’s duties to uphold. He probably couldn’t remember what it felt like to live as a regular human who knew nothing about Hollows since he grew up learning about them all his life.

˚₊‧꒰ა At the same time, he feels guilty when he has to step aside to take care of Hollow situations or leave with the gang to help his friends. Every second away from you, feels like he’s losing what it means to be a normal human, and at peace.

˚₊‧꒰ა That’s why, he would back out on missions and leave it to others to handle. He trusted the others to oversee everything and only reached out to him when the situation was grave.

˚₊‧꒰ა You would eventually know about his Quincy background. Probably due to seeing him in uniform or overhearing a conversation and confronting him. He feels guilty that you caught him, and can’t bring himself to lie even when he wants to. At least your acceptance was a breath of relief.

˚₊‧꒰ა He doesn’t often speak about his background or history. Should he inform you of anything, it would be the basics about his abilities, that Hollows were Quincy’s poison and shouldn’t be allowed to exist, hence the reason he hunts them.

˚₊‧꒰ა You would give him support, which only pushes him to protect you all the more. At night when you think he’s sleeping, think again. He’s on your rooftops being your bodyguard.

˚₊‧꒰ა “I heard from Inoue that you spent all night standing guard on my roof?” Teasing about it makes him turn tomato, if you did find out because you would. Uryu can’t keep you hidden from his friends because they will find out and let it slip. They proceed to embarrass him, telling you how he loses sleep over you every night.

˚₊‧꒰ა Speaking about him being a tomato, that image would also appear often should you bring him home-cooked meals or gifts and emphasise that you were thinking about him since he works so hard to keep everyone safe. “Please don’t overdo it Uryu—you’re too hardworking.”

˚₊‧꒰ა “It’s my job as a Quincy to keep you safe, however, I’ll return safely.” Uryu gets softer even though he acts tough when you caution him on being safe and not overworking because you want him to return to you in one piece and alive. “Yes, Mr ‘It’s my job as a Quincy.’ Just come back safely.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Goes into a slight heart attack if he ever heard you were injured. Even if you tripped and stubbed your toe or walked into a wall because you’re clumsy as hell. Do expect a lesson on being more careful as he dresses your injuries.

˚₊‧꒰ა He will go to the ends of the earth to save you from any enemy. There isn’t a situation created, that could hinder him from rushing in to save you. He’ll fight anything and everything.

˚₊‧꒰ა Uryu understands that as a human without powers, you might feel left out and probably unworthy of being with him. To prevent any insecurities from developing, he tells you from time to time how much he appreciates the simplicity of your non-powered nature.

˚₊‧꒰ა “I know you probably feel as though you’re not doing much given your inability to have powers, but I want you to know that your greatest power is the love and support you give me. Thank you.” He’ll whisper to you softly one evening after returning.  

˚₊‧꒰ა He appears quite shy at first when it comes to physical affection since he’s not the physically affectionate type. Staring at your hand and telling himself to hold it or receiving hugs from you. He genuinely wanted to feel the warmth you emitted through touch. That was in the beginning, but once the honeymoon stage was gone, he was confident. He finds the energy you emit to be tranquil.

˚₊‧꒰ა Kisses to your forehead or temple whenever in public and he chooses to be affectionate. Your cheeks would be the closest to your lips he would get, unless you trick him or there isn’t a soul in sight, and he sneaks a quick one. Behind closed doors, he melts.

˚₊‧꒰ა It was hard for him to imagine being someone into cuddling, but he proved to enjoy the gesture more than he likes to admit. It happens in private when he knows the gang isn’t going to randomly pop out.

˚₊‧꒰ა Uryu cuddling you was a moment he couldn’t believe was so…peaceful. Your scent, warmth, presence, everything, was enough to make him forget about the world. The minute you pulled him closer, kissed his forehead and brought his head to rest on your chest or neck, he melted.

˚₊‧꒰ა Your arms are his favourite place in the world to be. The weight on his shoulders is gone. All his responsibilities—vanished. “This…feels nice. I like being in your arms.”

˚₊‧꒰ა In those moments, he loves to listen to you talk about your day, whether it was a great or terrible day. Uryu wants to hear all about it and help you navigate. Give him something to solve that wasn’t on a world-altering level.

˚₊‧꒰ა He usually falls asleep in your arms like that. When you remove his glasses to stare into his pretty blue eyes while raking your fingers through his inky hair, straight to sleep (probably reminds him of when his mom used to do that).

˚₊‧꒰ა Also, you once came across his Quincy uniform lying haphazardly on the floor, which wasn’t Uryu’s behaviour at all and tried it on. Let's just say that when he saw you in it, he almost caught a nosebleed and mentally saved the image to make a uniform for you as well—just for matching couple purposes.

˚₊‧꒰ა You had convinced him to let you two walk around during Halloween dressed like that so it wouldn’t be suspicious.

˚₊‧꒰ა His father learning about his relationship was quite pleased that his son found someone who wasn’t going to bring problems and was normal. You were a breath of fresh air, and Ryuken was welcoming. You would be someone who would keep his son away from his Quincy ambitions.

©satsugacafé 2024: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

[kinardsboy]

Buddie shippers have tried to coin the moral superiority and high ground with their ship and I’m sick of it

This not only comes from a place of homophobia but also heteronormativity. Buddie is inherently better because “they’re a family” ignoring the fact that Evan and Tommy could easily build their own, they are constantly pushing buddie into heteronormative roles, ESPECIALLY Buck.

They go out of their way and try so hard to prove Tommy never changed for the better, that he is still the same person he was nearly 20 years ago. That he isn’t deserving of Buck, all to prove their claim of “your ship bad and toxic therefore mine better.” Again, putting themselves on the moral high ground so their criticisms and weird hater behavior seems more justified and acceptable than when we speak out.

When that doesnt work? No problem. They just turn to straight homophobia and conservative talking points.

“Tommy wanted Eddie first but settled for Buck” sure man, I’m surprised you could take Eddies dick out of your mouth long enough to type that sentence.

“Tommy only wants sex, like most gay men do” Yes this is an actual quote from a post criticizing Tommy! Again! Homophobia! If Tommy only wanted sex theres.. grindr.. its fucking LA?? However I do find it interesting that the idea of queer men (Gay men especially) wanting sex and not feeling bad about it is something that upsets these people so much.. i wonder why the idea of gay sex makes them uncomfortable 🤔

Which brings me to their next talking point

The daddy kink scene.

I don’t even want to go into the awful violent things that were posted in response to a gay man flirting with his boyfriend, but I’m sure most of you all have seen them already so I’ll keep it vague. We all know Buck initiated that flirting scene, we all know Buck brought up daddy kink and Tommy reciprocated.

But because they can’t possibly imagine their precious little baby Buck partaking in such heinous kinks? Well then it MUST be Tommy who started it! Therefore BuckTommy is bad because Tommy is into “gross” or “immoral” kinks and makes everything about sex and so..? Yep! Buddie better ! Buddie the safe clean option!

SPEAKING of making everything about sex lets talk about the way buddie shippers tried to say “youre a vision in a cone” was about PUPPY PLAY??

Again I find it sooo interesting that these people are trying to base morals and high ground on two men possibly engaging in kink. Isnt that interesting?

The compliment was obviously not puppy play kink but even if it was who the fuck cares? They’re grown ass men? They can partake in kink???

Why are you twice now claiming that BuckTommy , and lets be honest here, mainly Tommy is a bad person and ship because of sexual attraction? Because of kinks?

Good thing their fave is a fucking catholic cause they all sure act like one

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Break Free

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.8k

Warnings: angst, prison!wanda

Summary: Four new prisoners get admitted into the Raft, and you now have four new clients as the resident psychiatrist. Wanda is an interesting person and the more you get to know her, the more you understand the position she’s in. She’s a hero even if she doesn’t see it.

Squares Filled: "I won't let you be hurt anymore." for @scarletwitchbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

When you got into the psychiatric field, never did you think you would be at one of the most dangerous prisons on Earth. The Raft houses the most dangerous criminals known to man. They started letting superhumans into the prison since it’s the only safe place to put them.

Never did you think you’d ever see any of the Avengers here, either.

You’ve seen some of the worst humans known to man, so why the hell are heroes locked up here? They didn’t do anything wrong. It’s no secret that the Accords were put into effect, and you know some of the Avengers signed it and others didn’t. Everyone heard about the fight at the German airport.

If you were on the team, you wouldn’t have signed it, either.

Thaddeus Ross walks with you down the hallway where the Avengers are staying. You’re the on-call psychiatrist where you work with each prisoner one-on-one and provide them with a bit of therapy and medication to help them. Since they’ve just arrived, Ross is introducing you to them since they are now your new clients.

“We will be giving most of the other prisoners to Dr. Farrow so you can focus solely on our new guests.”

“Are you sure this is the best option? They didn’t do anything wrong.”

Ross stops walking and looks at you with an unreadable expression.

“They violated the Accords. They’re criminals.”

He won’t listen to reason so you don’t say anything more of the matter. Everyone knows who the Avengers are but Ross takes you to their cells to do introductions anyway.

“Meet Sam Wilson a.k.a the Falcon.” Sam paces the entire cell and only pauses when he locks eyes with you. “Steve Rogers right-hand man. If he gives you any trouble, don’t hesitate to punish him how you see fit.”

“Real mature,” Sam rolls his eyes and goes back to pacing.

Ross takes you from his cell to the next.

“Clint Barton a.k.a Hawkeye.” Clint looks at you but doesn’t say a word. He’s known for being stealthy and not making any noise. He’s not a big talker which is going to be a problem for you. “He’s one of the most notable spies besides Black Widow. Don’t let him manipulate you.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Clint bites out.

Ross takes you to the next cell.

“Look, I have a family. They’re going to be worried about me. I’ll do whatever, just get me out of here.”

“Scott Lang a.k.a Antman. He’s a talker. Won’t shut up. Wouldn’t blame you if you skipped his session every once in a while,” Ross scoffs.

“Come on!” Scott begs, but Ross ignores him.

The final cell he takes you to is the one you’ve been looking forward to the most.

“Wanda Maximoff.” She is sitting on the ground with a straight jacket on and a blank look on her face. She looks so broken. What have they done to her? “The witch.”

“Why is she in a straight jacket?”

“We can’t allow her to use her magic. Be careful with her. She’ll get in your head.” Ross takes you back to his office before you can say anything else about it. He must know that what he’s doing is wrong, right? “You’ll be given two hours with each person a day while also tending to some of the other prisoners. I don’t care who you start with but plan your time however you’d like. Any questions?”

“Are you sure they belong here?”

“Yes. They’re criminals. They went against the Accords that over a hundred countries had signed.”

You don’t think the Accords should have ever happened, but you keep your opinions to yourself. You start the day by having sessions with the other prisoners because you’re unsure how you’re going to go about treating the Avengers. They have nothing that needs to be treated but if you don’t do your job, you’ll get fired.

After lunch, you decide it’s time to talk to the Avengers. You wanted to start with an easy one, Scott, but you find yourself in Wanda’s cell with her.

“We didn’t get to meet last time but my name is Dr. Y/N. Can you tell me a little about you?” Wanda doesn’t speak. She looks at you but you don’t think she’s seeing you. She’s distancing herself from the situation. “Wanda, don’t do that. Don’t disassociate.”

“What do you know? You have no idea how I’m feeling,” she says and looks at you.

“You’re right. I don’t, but I do know that disassociation hurts more than it heals. I’ve been doing this a long time, Wanda. I want to help people and understand them better. I believe in the power of medicine which is what I give out.”

“Do you think I need help like that?”

“No. I don’t think what they’re doing to you or the others is right.”

“It’s fine,” she sighs and looks down.

“No, it’s not. It’s not humane.” She looks at you. “I don’t think you did anything wrong here.”

“They seem to think so.”

“For now, don’t think about them. Think about us. It’s just you and me in this room. I just want to get to know you.”

“Because you have to.”

“Because I want to. I could just sit here and pump you full of so much medicine you’ll forget your own name or I can get to know you and understand you as a person.” You hate that she’s in a straightjacket. You fight the urge to take it off her but then Ross will blow a fire under your ass for doing it. “Your choice.”

Wanda doesn’t say anything for five minutes as she contemplates her options.

“What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with your interests. What do you like to do in your free time?”

“Before… Sokovia… I loved going to the movies with my brother. We’d sit in the back and make fun of the characters.” She has a faint smile on her face from the memory. “We’d do everything together.”

“You must miss him.”

You’re no stranger to what happened in Sokovia.

“He was my best friend.”

“What about afterward? How did you cope with the loss of your brother?”

“I didn’t. My home was ruined. My parents were gone. My brother was gone. I had no one left. I was living in a place with strangers. I usually kept to myself. I liked playing guitar. Tony got me one. I watched a lot of TV.”

“What were your favorite shows?”

“The Dick Van Dyke Show. My family and I used to watch those when I was a kid. It makes me feel close to them.”

“What made you feel safe?”

“Vision.”

“What will make you feel safe now?”

Wanda looks at you in surprise. She didn’t expect you to ask her that question. Normally, prisons don’t care about the comfort of their prisoners but you do. She looks down at the jacket wrapped around her and you nod in understanding. She flinches back when you approach her but she doesn’t move away from you. You step behind her and undo her jacket so that her arms aren’t restricted. You take the jacket off her and lay it over your arm.

“I can’t do much but I can do this. You don’t deserve this.”

Wanda looks up at you with unshed tears in her eyes. Your phone rings and you look at the message Ross sends you.

My office. Now.

“I gotta go. I look forward to talking to you again.”

You leave her cell and make your way to Ross’ office. He doesn’t look too happy and you have a feeling it has something to do with the jacket still over your arm.

“Who gave you the authority to remove her jacket?”

“Me. I did what was best for my patient. Isn’t that why I’m here? To help them become the better versions of themselves? Isn’t that why you hired a psychiatrist and not a psychologist so I could prescribe them medicine if needed?”

“Yeah, but--”

“Then let me do my damn job. No one who isn’t clinically insane deserves to be in a straightjacket.”

“I don’t like your tone, Y/N.”

“You want to fire me? Go ahead. Good luck finding someone who will want to come out here.”

“You’re dismissed,” he says through clenched teeth.

You’re the only one here who doesn’t put up with Ross’ bullshit and he knows it. Everyone else is afraid of him but you won’t let him control you like he does everyone else. You respect yourself too much to let him.

Scott is the easiest to talk to since he won’t shut up. You ask him one question and he’ll go off on a tangent that has nothing to do with what you asked him. Clint is more reserved and will only give you one or two-word answers. It’s clear he isn’t interested in talking with you. Sam is more talkative than Clint but loves to compare this to his experiences with the Air Force. Wanda is the only one you connect with on a personal level. There’s something about her that’s pulling you to her, and you know it’s not her magic.

The next time you see Wanda, you’ve brought her something to eat. She is lying in her bed when you enter, and she sits up to greet you.

“I don’t like what they serve. I brought you something from my personal stash,” you wink at her.

“Thank you,” she smiles.

You sit down on the other side of her bed and share your food with her even though you let her eat most of it.

“Tell me, do you like your powers?”

“I’m kind of stuck with them so I have to, right?”

“That’s not what I asked. Do you like them?”

“Sometimes, no.”

“How did you get them?”

She knows you know how she did but talking about it helps the mind come to terms with what happened so that it may start to heal from it.

“Do you want the short version or the long version?”

“Whatever version you’re comfortable with giving.”

“My parents were killed by a bomb hitting our complex. The bomb came from Stark Industries. Pietro and I grew up to hate Stark and anything that he did. We attended every protest against him, did everything we could to try and stop him from making weapons and destroying cities for his selfish purposes.

“Hydra saw us and gave us an opportunity to strengthen our country. They gave us a way to fight back those who had too much power. They had Loki’s scepter. Apparently, I was born with the ability of magic but it was so weak that had I not been with Hydra, it probably would have diminished into nothing. The experiments they did allowed the mind stone to reactivate that side of me. It gave me my abilities.”

“Did you want to volunteer for their experiments or do you think Pietro had to convince you to?”

“I think we wanted to matter. I think we were looking for a reason for why all the bad things were happening to us.”

“Do you think you’d do the same thing if you had the chance?”

“No, I don’t,” she sighs. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why do you do what you do? Why prisoners?”

“I believe in helping everyone regardless of what they’ve done. Some prisoners think prison is a rehab and use that to get better. Some don’t, but I believe in the power of medicine. I just want to help people.”

“And us?”

“I’d use medicine if I thought it would help. Honestly, I don’t think you guys have done anything wrong. I don’t think you guys deserve to be here. You’re heroes in my eyes, especially you.”

Wanda looks into your eyes and tries to understand what you’re thinking. Her cell has power-dampening technology in the walls so she can’t use her magic. She glances down at your lips. Time stops and the only thing that matters is Wanda. She barely moves an inch when the alarms go off and the red light flashes in the hallway.

“Shit, I gotta go.”

“What’s happening?”

“A prisoner escaped. Finish the food. I’ll be back for it later.”

Wanda watches you leave and she doesn’t realize she’s smiling until she sees her reflection in the glass. Ross got a handle on the prisoner who escaped. One of the nurses came by to administer medicine for him but they didn’t know that the prisoner doesn’t like to be touched without warning. He knocked her out. You’re the only one who knows this about him since he’s worked with you since he came here.

That took the next three hours of your time, so it’s nearing dinnertime when you’re finished. Wanda deserves more than the slop they serve, so you’ll fix her a plate from the nurses’ station. You’re plating the food when you hear commotion come from the other nurses.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Tony Stark is here.”

You drop what you’re doing and head over to the command center where you spot Tony talking to Ross.

“If Sam’s going to talk to anyone, it’s you, Tony.”

“Yeah, let me see what I can do.”

Steve and Bucky are men on the run, and Ross is searching for them since they violated those stupid Accords. Ross thinks if Tony talks to Sam, he’ll tell him where they are. Tony leaves Ross’ office and you rush to catch up to Tony.

“You’re not on Ross’ side, are you?” you whisper.

Tony pauses and looks at you. He doesn’t know who you are and he doesn’t trust you to reveal his true motives.

“Get back to work before you get in trouble.”

Yeah, he’s not on Ross’ side. Tony and Steve are best friends. He’s here because Steve needs him. If he is going to get Sam to tell him where Steve is, then he can’t let Ross know. Tony has a plan. You’re not sure what it is but you’re going to use it to your advantage. If this goes sideways, you’ll get fired but if it works, you can get Wanda out of here. You rush over to her cell and open the door without letting it close.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

“I need you to trust me for the next ten minutes. Come on, I’m getting you out of here.”

“What?”

“I don’t have much time. Tony is here talking to Sam. I don’t even know if this is going to work but I have to try. You don’t belong here, Wanda. None of you do. I won’t let you be hurt anymore. Come on.”

Wanda jumps out of bed and follows you out of her cell. She feels her powers heighten inside of her now that she is no longer under the influence of the power-dampening technology. All eyes are going to be on Tony so you’re banking on none of them seeing you and Wanda escaping.

You hold her hand the entire time you’re running with her to where Tony’s helicopter is. Of course, there are guards patrolling the area and moving shipments in and out of the area. If you go now, you’ll be spotted and she’ll be in even more trouble than she already is.

“Shit, that’s a lot of guards. I really didn’t think this through.”

“I got this,” she whispers.

She uses her magic and puts each and every one of the men to sleep. They all fall to the ground like dominoes, and you know you’ll have even less time to get her on that helicopter.

“Yeah, that works,” you nod. “Come on.” You run with Wanda to the helicopter and practically shove her inside. “Keep your head down and don’t let Tony see you.”

“Wait, what about you?”

“I have to stay and make sure they don’t find you. Don’t tell me where you’re going but I’ll find you, okay?”

“No, it’s too risky. You have to come with me.”

You pull her in for a hug and run your hand down her back.

“I have to help the others. It’s what I do, remember?” You pull away but keep your hands on her. “Wanda, you deserve to be free. Now, go before Tony comes back.”

You’re about to leave when she pulls you back into her. This time, her lips plant themselves on yours. You kiss her back feverishly, not knowing when the next time you’ll be able to do this again. You pull away seconds later and run away so that Tony doesn’t spot her. He comes walking out moments later with Ross on his heels.

Wanda peeks her head out one of the windows and looks at you. You give her an encouraging nod and disappear back into the prison. You have to have faith Friday disabled the audio and video but you’re prepared for the ugly alternative.

In case Ross figured out Wanda is gone and you helped her, you have to get the others out as soon as possible. They don’t belong here. They’re heroes and it’s time people start seeing them as that.

x

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[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 7

WC: 1109 Masterpost CW: panic attack, dissociation, past imprisonment

Danny felt like he was on a roller coaster. One moment he would be feeling safe, embarrassingly falling asleep on Hood mid meal, and the next a stool would scrape across the floor. That screech of metal on linoleum was distinct enough that Danny could swear he was back in the lab. His newest wound stung. The collar pinched at his neck. The acidic bite of bleach stung his nose.

They were talking.

They were talking too close to him.

Danny wanted desperately to hide, but there was no hiding in the lab. There was no hiding in the Box. Acrylic walls on all six sides, electrified metal frame, coated in a ghost shield; the box was torture. Danny pressed himself into the corner and squeezed his eyes closed. He didn’t want to watch their faces. He didn’t want to see the cold cruelty in their eyes, not even one more time.

Had it always been there?

It must have.

It was never true, he was never their son.

How had he ever thought that they cared?

He was so stupid, stupid, stupid—

Something pressed into his hands. Something soft and warm. The smell of herbs burst around him, chasing away the scent of bleach. Danny clutched at the warmth, curled around it. It was never warm in the lab, not unless they were experimenting on him with heat. And that was never warm like this.

“There you are, Kid.”

Kid?

“That’s nice, isn’t it? You can kept it as long as you need. Just keep breathing for us.”

Who?

“You’re in the safe house. Your wounds are treated. The collar is off.”

Danny felt around his neck with shaking fingers. The skin was tender under the bandages, but there was no collar.

“It’s just me, Red Hood, and Nightwing. Nightwing is getting you a drink. Do you think you can drink something?”

No, no he didn’t. His throat felt tight.

“That’s okay, Kid. How about a suck’em candy?”

Warm fingers brushed against the back of his hand, actual skin touched his. Danny shuddered. He let his hand be turned for the candy to be placed in it.

“Pop that in your mouth.”

Danny listened to the warm voice. He wanted to bury himself in that warmth. Why was it so warm here?

Tart citrus bloomed over his tongue, chasing away the rotting taste of stale recycled air and bile. He moved the candy around his mouth. Each breathe filled his nose with the lemon scent mingled with the herbs. The tension went out of him so suddenly that he collapsed.

Those warm hands caught him. He was pressed against a whole band of warmth and Danny let out a sigh. The earthy scent of death joined the other smells. A liminal. Red hood. He was… safe. The safe house.

-

They took turns staying awake that night. While they likely would have anyways, what with it being the kid’s first night with them, the panic attack pretty much guaranteed they would sleep in shifts. Dick slept first and it was only training and a strong cup of coffee that had him alert and ready for his shift. He was glad for the second cup when he heard stirring from the bedroom.

It was early, early enough that the sun wasn’t up yet, but the kid was standing on slightly shaky looking legs, peering out of the door.

“Hey there,” Dick said softly and with a smile. He approached the door but left a good few feet between them. “Did you sleep well?”

The kid nodded. “Better… than in a long time, yeah.”

“That’s great! Are you hungry.”

He nodded again before glancing to the side. His hand flexed where it was holding onto the door jam.

“Is there something else you’d like before food?” Dick asked gently.

Another nod.

“It’s okay to ask. We want you to be comfortable.

The kid’s mouth worked for a moment before he managed to ask, “A shower? It’s just that… Hood mentioned one and…”

“Of course! I bet you’d like to be clean,” Dick said. “I’d like you to use the shower chair we have and to leave the door open, in case you slip or something, but I wont look in unless I hear something concerning.”

“Okay,” the kid agreed quickly; quickly like he was afraid Dick would take away the offer. They had a lot of work to do.

Dick stopped at the closet and grabbed a bath towels, two wash cloths, and the med kit. He set the towels down on the closed toilet seat and the med kit on the small sink counter. “We’ll put a water proof bandage on your new stitches and get you wrapped back up after the shower. Be gentle around it and your neck, but you should be good to clean up well!”

“I will be. I won’t make you redo your work.”

“Hey, no, that’s not what it’s about,” Dick said quickly. “We just don’t want you to hurt yourself, okay?”

“I… okay?”

Holding back a sigh, Dick instead turned with a smile and bandage. It was good to see the stitches didn’t look too bad and they were soon covered up with the temporary covering. Dick explained how the shower worked, pointed out the shampoos, conditioners, and body wash, and then left the kid alone. He took up watch just outside the door. If the kid slipped, he wanted to be able to be there at a moments notice.

“Kid already awake?” Jason rasped from the couch after the sound of running water filled the apartment.

“Yeah. He’s in the shower now. The wounds look good.”

“Credit goes to Tim, he did the stitching.” Jason stood and stretched with a pop.

He had taken off most of his uniform, as armored as it was, to be able to sleep. Still, he looked stiff and rubbed uneasily at his arms. Dick would have to make sure the other took some pain meds once they were at the new safe house and that he got some more sleep.

“I’ll be sure to pass it along,” Dick said instead of voicing any of his current thoughts. He was sure they wouldn’t be welcome right then. “I figured we’d do breakfast here?”

“Yeah, I want to get some food in the kid since we didn’t really get another chance yesterday,” Jason agreed as he made his way to the pitiful kitchen.

Dick closed his eyes and listened to the running water and Jason clanking about.

They could manage this. They were through the first night. They just had to handle it an hour at a time.

---

AN: I'm so out of it I almost forgot Trauma Tuesday! Luckily I had this written on Saturday. Poor Danny had a hard time of it, but his brothers are there to help!

I no longer tag, but you can subscribe to the masterpost.

[mockerycrow]

REWRITTEN: Undercover I (Soap x GN!Reader)

undercover masterlist | next (original)

summary; you’re apart of an undercover joint task force between the CIA and MI6, meant to infiltrate Makarov’s ranks. Your mission is thrown out the window when Makarov finds you out, and the 141 takes you in for interrogation after finding you half dead.

A/N: THIS IS REWRITTEN! I’m rewriting it all, major plot points aren’t really changing but I kept rereading my work and I hated it. please enjoy new and improved undercover. 3k words.

[warnings; gore, description of injuries, descriptions of torture, near death experience(s), waterboarding, medical and military inaccuracies. watch out for pov switches.]

Everything fell apart due to the intense lack of communication; something anyone could’ve seen coming from a thousand miles away. Information staying classified, secret—it was a death sentence the second more eyes landed on Him. Maybe the death sentence was written into existence the moment I breathed in the air in that conference room where my teammates sat. We’re the guys they call for the dirtiest work they need to get done; it isn’t something I’m proud of, of course.. Not when your death has been faked numerous times, stitching together new stories and burying your old ones. To an extent, I wish it wasn’t like this, living in a world where this type of work is necessary, but humans are inherently violent and animalistic. 

Someone would’ve started this cycle eventually. 

You curate a mask to wear so perfect you find yourself believing your own lie. The shit you make up sticks with you, too. The stuff you end up doing as a result never leaves, either. Imagine making up an entirely new life and living it for years only for a tiny slip up to break the new reality you’ve been living. Having to break genuine bonds, having to disappear on people you knew you were using, but sometimes cared about? It hurts more than I like to acknowledge. You get used to the guilt in your gut and the blood coating your hands, the red puddling at your feet. Sometimes, you can’t tell whose it is. Yours? Theirs? The innocent kid who got too involved? It all feels the same at the end of the day.

Most people lose themselves in their lies like I said, but not me. I know exactly who I am.

One one hand, I’m Zhenya Antonenko; one of Makarov’s most trusted right hands. Zhenya, a big brother with an unstable past and a bloody trail following me.

On the other hand, I’m myself. Just me, myself, and I.

I only have myself, except for my Captain, the only person I’ve properly trusted for a couple of years now; can you blame me when you’ve lost so many people to the mission? Whether from discovery leading to death, or legitimately believing the lies you’ve been spewing to yourself? Nobody understands having to gun a person down you started out with just to keep yourself safe; keeping the operation safe.. Because the mission comes first. 

“We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful who we pretend to be.”

“..status?” “...alive…..”

Searing pain—deep aching pain. Rough, calloused, careless hands—

“...one of his—...” Fuck. That accent; it’s not Russian. Not Slavic at all in general.

It’s Scottish. What the fuck? Did I fuck up?

You’re in terrible shape; critical condition. Soap wishes he didn’t have to untie you and tend to your wounds; you’re one of his. You deserve the slow, painful death your injuries would bring onto you. 

His gloved fingers wedge themselves into the knots of the rope tied around your wrists. It’s a little slippery; the rope is stained with your blood, either from your wrists due to struggling or any of your pre-existing injuries. You’re alive, barely—but they have to act fast if they wanna keep you alive. Your skin is visibly.. Off; lacking its usual color, maybe. You’re shivering in the chair, your clothes soaked in freezing water, mixing with the blood already embedded into the fabric. Price is untying the ropes around your ankles. 

“Alright,” Price gruffs out, his voice low and rough. “Grab ‘em. Off to the truck.”

Soap hooks his arms under your armpits as Price grabs your limp legs, both men grunting quietly as they lift you. They shuffle together in tandem, working their way to the truck in the back of the warehouse. The truck is running as Gaz opens the backdoor for Soap and Price to shove you in there. Soap steps up onto the truck and sits in the backseat, dragging your body inside with him. He takes the opportunity to assess your wounds in a surface level manner first. Soap almost grimaces—almost.

Your lips are parted ever so slightly, the skin chapped and a light layer of dried blood on them, dried so much that it would flake off if you tried to rub them together. The blood is likely from you biting your tongue, or the fact that your top lip on the right side is split open so badly you need stitches, or perhaps from the fact that your nose is broken. The structure of your nose is noticeably out of place and there is blood trailing down your lips and chin, thick and dried droplets down the front of your already ruined shirt. The left side of your jaw, near the hinge—swollen and out of place. Torn, maybe? Broken? Fractured? All possibilities. Your left eye is swollen shut, your left eyebrow split open, too. Like you got your face smashed, but they somehow managed to mostly hit your left side over and over. 

“Wonder what the bastard had to do to earn all that.” Soap mutters, his voice low with a slight bite to his tone. He leaves you untied; if you woke up, he’s sure you’d immediately slip into shock. You’re not a threat, not in the state you’re in. Soap watches you struggle to breathe; labored and uneven. It almost is similar to agonal breathing, something the body does in a desperate attempt for a proper source of oxygen. Maybe some of your ribs are broken. His eye’s trail your abdomen—the red seems to spread, dribbling onto the seats below your body, slicking his skin. Soap tugs up your shirt, and he swears under his breath from the gaping wounds in your belly, his hands reaching down to apply pressure.

Price is about to comment, catching sight of the stab wounds when Ghost exits the warehouse with a couple of documents—a laptop, a thumb drive. All items that were left behind. “Seems like they didn’t see us comin’.” Ghost utters, his voice rough as he stuffs the items into a backpack left in the bed of the truck. “Makarov was here.”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed; your struggle to breathe breaking the silence. You gasp, almost like a gurgle, reminding them of their finds; documents, technology, and you.

…Am I dead?

Is this Hell? Did Makarov finally end me? ..It’s funny, really. I thought I would’ve died from—

Oh, welcome back.

I feel heavy as I suddenly come to, like I’ve been drugged. My tongue is dry and heavy in my mouth and it almost feels too big. Tastes like metal.. Blood. I barely manage to lick my lips which I immediately regret, my cotton like tongue swiping over the split in my lip, lighting up my nerves—however, I don’t have the energy to properly react to the tingling pain. My head feels… full, like there’s pressure. My thoughts are.. Fuzzy, almost. As if there’s something in my skull, blocking them. My ears are ringing, and fuck, it feels like someone is bashing the inside of my head with a metal baseball bat. Ironic.

I feel so incredibly heavy, my limbs comparable to anvils. The fucking pain crawls up my back and into my nerves as I wriggle my fingers, fuck, fuck! Fuck, fuck fuck fu—

“They’re awake.” Utters a gritty, low voice, borderline baritone; British. I manage to open my right eye as my left.. Is seemingly swollen shut, but I regret it from the corneal pain as I close my eye again, the luminescent light above us burning deep into my eye.

A gloved hand roughly grabs my jaw, which fucking hurts. Something is seriously wrong with my jaw, the ache is fucking terrible feels bone deep. I look up, a looming figure over me. My eye refuses to focus for a moment, but I can tell the guy is wearing a mask, a vest—a rifle. I blink languidly and—oh. In front of me, stands a large man; broad shoulders, stocky. A wide chest, and a pair of eyes that make me wanna curl in on myself. He’s staring down at me as if I’m Makarov himself. Big and brown, empty…

I can tell that he is not a man Makarov has worked with before. Who is he?

I shakily inhale and I shut my eye as his fingers dig into my jaw, causing me more pain and nausea bubbling up from it. Fuck. 

“Zhenya Antonenko.” His voice is full of venom, deep and gritty. He’s mocking me—he’s British. I hiss softly as he finally lets go of my jaw, and he holds up my I.D., my fake I.D.. I look at the man in front of me, who is wearing some sort of skull balaclava mask thing. I wanna stay in character, spit or curse or something, but the pain in my mouth is enough to keep me silent as well as the exhaustion. My head tilts forward, my neck incredibly sore and aching. His fingers push under my chin, bringing my head back up. “You’ve worked for Makarov for years, yeah? Makes me wonder what you did to make the man leave you behind.. Bloody and beaten, no doubt.”

I don’t respond—of course I don’t, there’s no reason for me to. I gotta keep up my mask, y’know? It fucking sucks, having to keep the act up, but I don’t know what could happen to the operation if I let it slip. Ugh.. maybe I fucked it all up anyway, considering Makarov found me out. The guy in front of me looks like he wants to tear me apart, limb from limb. Huh. I survived Makarov’s torture.. I’m sure I can survive his.

I want to throw up, despite not having anything in my stomach. My head is reeling and fuck, I just.. I’m aching so badly. Every sensation is blending together. 

My head whips to the side with a blooming, stinging sensation against my cheek—He slapped me. “Pay attention.” The man hisses—Skull-face, I deem him in the moment. I blink and I turn my head to face Skull-face as he walks over to a tray nearby, his boots heavy against the ground. The door behind him opens, my eyes flickering over to it and three more men walk in. Shit.

The first man I see is young, tall; he has dark skin and even darker eyes; brown, I think. There’s a small atrophic scar under his eye. His shoulders are wide but nearly as bulky as Skull-face’s; he’s definitely well built. I watch him cross his arms across his chest. My gaze flickers to the next man that catches my eye—he’s also tall and built, maybe a bit beefy. He’s pale with brunette hair and… mutton chops? Odd choice.. But alright.. Mutton-chops is leaning against the wall of whatever this room is. His eyes are trained on me like a cat who is hunting. It makes me shudder a little bit. The last guy I see; a bit shorter than the others, but he isn’t lacking any muscle. Thick forearms, for sure. He’s pale, brown hair and blue eyes, mohawk. Pfft, mohawk.. Who has a mohawk these days?

I flinch as Skull-face pats my jaw to get me to pay attention, making me hiss as he purposely chooses the bad side. God, it has to be swollen by this point. 

I can barely think.. Jesus. 

“I’m only repeatin’ myself once, y’hear? You’ll know what Hell truly feels like, you only got a taste with Makarov.” Skull-face threatens. I swallow harshly; I can’t afford another beating, or whatever this fucker has planned in case I don’t follow the rules. I already feel so light headed and dizzy. Hesitantly. I nod as a response instead of using words. “Why don’t y’tell us what Makarov was doin’ in that warehouse, hm?” He utters, glancing over to a tray and picking up a few papers—the text that I can make out, they look vaguely familiar. Must’ve been documents they grabbed from the warehouse. I wheeze a little, wincing, my chest spasming. Fuck.

He waits for a response. I swallow again, my eye fluttering as I utter out, “I took an oath.” Weakly. I feel a bead of sweat drop down from my temple, down the side of my face. I’m sweating from pain, that deep ache in my ribs, in my jaw—everywhere, honestly. I don’t know what doesn’t hurt by this point. “An oath.” Skull-face murmurs, almost as if he’s amused but I hear no humor in his tone. He walks closer towards me as he sifts through the documents in his gloved hands. “An oath for a terrorist.”

I see the way his eye twitches when he looks at me; to be fair, all I can see is his eyes but folks say the eyes are the road to the soul, right? And what his eyes are telling me right now is that he’s holding himself back from wrecking my shit further. I glance away for a moment, but he shoves the documents in front of my face, all typed up in Russian. “Y’know what this is?” 

My eyes scan the paper, recognizing it—”It’s Makarov’s plans, his plans on how he will slaughter entire cities with the biological weapons he’s trying to get his bloody hands on.” Skull-face gruffs out. His throat is tight, I can tell he’s furious. 

I know what the plan is—I’ve read those exact papers several times myself. I’m more shocked by the fact that they know that he was searching to get his hands on weapons like that in the first place. My head buzzes as I shift my eyes to Skull-face, who is staring at me as if he’s expecting an answer out of me.

I swear to God my vision whites out when he lifts my fucking shirt and opens the shitty stitches across my stomach—

Hot liquid spills from my belly and immediately soaks the spandex of the waist band to my pants, choking and wheezy noises leave my throat as I reel from the fucking pain. God, the pain.. My eyesight blurs back into colors, but no focus yet. I gasp quietly, trying to get a hold on my pain. However, Skull-face doesn’t give me a chance as he viciously grabs my jaw again, squeezing so harshly my lips part and my jaw feels like it’s being ripped out of its hinges. “My deal is simple. Fill in the obviously missin’ gaps, an’ we’ll let the medics work on ya.”

I try to get a steady breathing pace again, breathing through the pain. I close my eye, my throat bobbing as I swallow. “I have nothing to say to you.”

Someone grunts and walks towards me—more like stomps towards me, so I naturally open my unswollen eye only to see Mohawk seething in front of me. “Y’dont seem to understand the situation yer in. Do you understand that you fell for a trap?”

Mohawk grabs the front of my soaked shirt—tears, blood, water and whatever else—as he barks in front of my face. I struggle to focus on his face—rugged and young, sporting some light stubble with an atrophic scar across his chin. His jaw is strong and so is his nose. His eyes—blue and fierce. 

He wants to kill me. I can tell. I don’t blame him.

I wince as he tugs on the front of my shirt, peeling it from the open wound on my stomach. I feel sick. “Makarov does not care for you!” Tell me something I don’t know..

I’ve known that since the beginning. He doesn’t care for anyone, not really. We were always just pawns to him. Everyone is.

I must’ve spaced out again because I snap back to reality when something squeaky is rolled into the room. I lift my head—oh fuck. Mutton-chops has a big bowl of water on a cart, wheeling it closer. “I told ya, I wouldn’t repeat myself.” Skull-face gruffs out and my heart drops to my fucking stomach, my eyes widening. Someone must’ve noticed the change in me because I hear someone laugh. My leg kicks out instinctively when the cart is rolled closer—That one guy, the basic dude, scar on his cheek, his hands shoot out and hold down my leg. 

I barely get enough time to react before a hand is grabbing a chunk of my hair and forcing my face into the water. I struggle against my binds, against the hands on me, against the fucking bowl of water that’s against my face. I fight and fight, my wrists screaming for relief as I give myself rope burn because I’m fucking drowning, I’m fucking drowning, I’m gonna die and it’s all going to be for nothing—

My head is ripped out of water, making me gasp and choke, spitting out water that I inhaled. The dread from the feeling of drowning remains as I sputter and wheeze, the water running down my face and neck, soaking the neckline of my already damp shirt. 

Fuck, I’m gonna die. I’m gonna fucking die.

I keep gasping for air, trying to level out my breathing. I feel exhausted, all of the fight in my soul having already left my body. My limbs feel heavy, like there’s weights tied to them like before. My vision is blurry as I lift my head, looking at the three men in front of me. I have to bite back an angry laugh because I know they’re just going to stand there and watch me die. Maybe they’ll resuscitate me like Makarov did—just to remind me how much power they have over me right now. 

Makarov.. He held me under the ice cold water until I passed out. I don’t know what happened after that, I don’t know how long he left me like that or if he left me like that at all. All I remember is being on my back on the cold concrete below me, my hands remaining tied behind my back as I sputtered water out of my throat and nearly inhaling it back in.

He did it more than once to me. I don’t know how many times. Maybe it’s the brain damage making me forget. 

Fuck. I don’t know. I just don’t fucking know.

My head falls forward as my vision is filled with black dots, and then—I’m out, water dripping off of my chin and face, my pants wet with my blood from my stomach.

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[pascaloverx]

HAUNTED

Summary: You awaken from a two-year coma to find that Detective Lois has been eagerly awaiting your recovery, believing you might have witnessed something crucial to catching a serial killer. What you didn’t expect is to learn that she suspects your doctor of being the murderer—and even more shockingly, it appears that you are married to him. Now, you must uncover your lost memories and find out who Charlie Mayhew truly is to you.

Author's Note: Yes, I'm writing another fanfic featuring Nicholas Alexander Chavez’s character from Grotesquerie. The characters belong to the universe created by Ryan Murphy in the series Grotesquerie (2024). This fanfic will include violence, strong language, and adult content. It will portray the character Charlie Mayhew as a doctor. I hope you enjoy the fanfic, but there's nothing certain about its future.

PREVIEW TWO

© credits for the owners of the pictures used. they don't belong to me. credit is not mine for the pictures.

ONE

The tension in your hospital room is palpable, Detective Lois and Dr. Mayhew locking eyes as if each were ready to strike. You’re bewildered, unsure of whom or what to believe. But one thing is clear: Dr. Mayhew is your husband. He appears to be the quickest path to recovering your memory—even though Lois seems convinced he’s the reason you’re in this condition.

“Detective Tryon, as eager as you are to drag a statement out of my wife, she’ll be of no use to your scheme of blaming me for your incompetence,” Dr. Mayhew says, running a hand through his hair with a clear hint of tension. “She remembers nothing, and your persistence will only confuse her further.” He sighs heavily, while Lois watches him with a mocking smile, as if her patience has completely worn thin.

“Your performance is so convincing. You must have taken acting lessons at some point in your life,” she says, stepping toward him with a threatening air. “I can’t allow you to harm this woman before she has the chance to tell the world who you really are.”

“Enough!” you exclaim, frustrated by their bickering. Both turn to you, their expressions shifting to something like concern. “Detective Tryon, I appreciate your efforts to keep me safe. But if this man truly is my husband, that must mean something,” you say, almost on instinct. Perhaps you’re being foolish, even hasty. But there has to be something to this. Taking a risk is all you have left—now that you don’t even belong to yourself.

"Are you really willing to risk your life to be near this man, Y/N?" Detective Tryon holds your arm, her grip nearly desperate, as though trying to pull you away from Dr. Mayhew. The force of it makes you uncomfortable, and you wince, letting out a low sound of pain.

“Release my wife, Detective,” Dr. Mayhew snaps, his tone finally sharpened, his calm composure cracking. “I remind you that if we report your misconduct to your superiors, your entire baseless case will fall apart.” He steps between you and Lois, his hands slipping into his lab coat pockets, the stance a clear challenge.

"What would truly please you, right?" Lois challenges, staring straight into Dr. Mayhew's eyes. You watch them silently, still feeling the ache in your arm where Lois had grabbed you.

"Would you like to know what would actually please me?" Dr. Mayhew whispers, moving closer to Lois. "I’d be pleased to have my wife with me again, without the interference of a lunatic so obsessed with her own failures that she needs to ruin my life just to sleep at night. Careful, Lois. You’re becoming obsessed with me." You're uncertain of his intentions, but the authoritative tone in his voice and the way he carries himself is undeniably alluring.

Lois narrows her eyes, her expression darkening as Dr. Mayhew moves closer, his tone laced with mockery and barely concealed venom. “Is that so, Dr. Mayhew? Obsession, you call it?” she scoffs, a bitter smile playing on her lips. “Let’s not confuse dedication to justice with obsession. But perhaps you’re simply too accustomed to manipulating the truth to recognize it when you see it.”

You watch the exchange, torn between skepticism and an undeniable draw toward him. Despite the sharp edge in his words, the way Dr. Mayhew stands his ground, unyielding and unafraid, stirs something within you. Even as his gaze shifts to meet yours, there’s an intensity there that unsettles yet captivates you—a magnetic pull that defies reason.

“Why not focus on your own affairs, Detective,” he murmurs, his eyes still on you, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, “and let my wife and I… reconnect. Unless, of course, you’ve truly no other purpose in your life than meddling in mine.”

Your confidence is remarkable, Charlie," Lois remarks. "Mrs. Mayhew, if you need me for any reason, here’s my number. I’ll also be visiting again soon to see if there’s been any progress in your memory recovery." She hands you a card with her contact information, then smirks mockingly at Dr. Mayhew. "And don’t worry, Charlie, I’ll let Megan know you’ll be unavailable." With that, she finally exits your hospital room.

Charlie stares at you, irritation burning in his gaze. "Do you believe her?" Dr. Mayhew demands, advancing toward you with sudden intensity. You feel as if the air is being drawn from your lungs with his nearness, his gaze piercing. "Honestly, I don’t know whom to believe," you murmur, leaning back against the hospital bed behind you, your eyes locked onto his.

"Fine!" he exclaims, voice laced with indignation. He turns to leave, but then hesitates, his hand lingering on the door frame as if torn between staying and leaving. After a tense pause, he steps back inside, his tone shifting from anger to something raw and vulnerable.

"Y/N… if you can’t trust me, then at least remember what we once were. Remember the promises we made." His voice drops to a murmur, almost pleading. "I’m not the monster she’s painting me to be." The intensity in his words sends a shiver down your spine, leaving you more conflicted than ever as he finally, reluctantly, exits the room. What makes it all worse is that neither of them is truly thinking about you. Neither one noticed that you’ve only just discovered your own name, that you're lost and confused. They don’t see that you don’t want to be manipulated—you want to be understood.

“You are like him…” you murmur, recognizing that you’re no longer in your hospital room. Everything around you is intensely white—the walls, the bed you're seated on, every corner spotless and untouched. A cross hangs on the wall behind the priest, casting a shadow that flickers slightly, as if from candlelight. The room feels steeped in something sacred, almost otherworldly, like a faint echo of a memory stirring within you. The priest looks at you with a serene expression, though there’s an unmistakable weight behind his gaze. As he steps closer, the almost sacred atmosphere around you amplifies the tension. You try to process the overwhelming resemblance to Dr. Mayhew—even the contours of his face are identical, but the priest’s shorter, more traditional hairstyle highlights the difference. Your mind wavers between doubt and recognition, as if your subconscious is trying to unveil something long forgotten.

“You keep searching for answers outside yourself, yet everything you need lies within,” he murmurs, his deep voice echoing through the room like a quiet revelation.

“Father, I don’t know. I don’t know what to do, what to feel,” you whisper, your voice breaking as you meet his gaze. Tears slip down your cheeks, and a quiet, aching desperation fills the space between you. The priest, unmoved yet tender, holds your gaze.

“Faith moves mountains, and as long as it resides within you, you will be safe,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle command that resonates deeply. “Find your faith, and you will know what—and whom—to believe.”

Despite the haziness, a strange comfort wraps around your heart, soft yet unexplainable. His words, laced with a familiar warmth, guide you into a calm acceptance, though the reason remains unknown. Then, leaning closer, he whispers in your ear, “Now, kneel and seek forgiveness.” Almost instinctively, you find yourself on your knees before him, grasping the folds of his robe at his knees, your head bowed as though in reverence.

“Father, forgive me,” you whisper, your head bowed. His fingers lift your chin gently, compelling you to meet his gaze. “How can I grant you absolution, when your hands are stained with blood, my sweet sinner?” he murmurs, lowering his face near yours, his breath warm against your ear, sending a chill down your spine.

You’re shocked, frozen beneath his intense gaze, but unable to break away. As you glance down, horror floods your senses—you see your hands smeared with blood. Stumbling backward, you gasp, eyes wide in disbelief. The priest rises from the bed, stepping slowly toward you with an unwavering gaze, a faint trail of blood marking his face. You’re overwhelmed with fear, a scream building in your throat until it finally erupts, piercing the silence. And then—just like that—you awaken from your haunting dream, heart racing, as the unsettling remnants of the nightmare fade into the dim light of your hospital room.

Dr. Mayhew, startled awake in the chair beside your bed, immediately reaches for you. “Hey, Y/N, are you alright?” he asks, his voice filled with concern as he stands and wraps you in a firm embrace. His arms encircle you with a warmth that feels protective, grounding you in the present moment, as if he’s trying to shield you from whatever haunted you.

“I… I had a nightmare,” you whisper once you catch your breath, the tension beginning to ease as you lean into his hold. And everything feels like déjà vu. Just like before, you wake from a nightmare involving the priest, and once again, Dr. Mayhew is by your side. You can't help but wonder if there’s a connection between his presence and the terrifying, bloody dreams that haunt you each night.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Dr. Mayhew murmurs softly, his hand tracing gentle circles on your back, his touch soothing. The warmth of his embrace gives you an unexpected feeling of lightness, as though he’s holding you together amidst the lingering fragments of your nightmare.

“Can we leave this place?” you ask, your voice trembling as you try to stifle the tears that have flowed since you woke. He holds you a little closer, and you feel a subtle tension in his grip, as if considering your question carefully.

“We will, soon,” he assures, his tone steady, though a flicker of something unreadable passes over his face. “For now, rest. I’ll be here.”

"Stay here; I need you to answer me—while looking into my eyes," you insist, tugging at Dr. Mayhew's clothes, almost dislodging his tie. Though he’d intended to return to the hospital chair, he remains by your side, his gaze steady yet guarded.

“Will you even believe my answer?” he asks softly, his voice carrying a hint of doubt, as though unsure anything he says would hold weight with you. His eyes search yours, wary yet attentive, as if weighing what he’s willing to reveal.

"You'll have to take the risk and believe that I will," you say softly, though you're unsure if you can truly trust anything he says. Dr. Mayhew's hand reaches gently to touch your face, but you instinctively pull back, murmuring, "I’m sorry."

“Ask me whatever you wish, Y/N,” he says, his voice tinged with impatience, perhaps confused by your conflicting actions—clinging to him, pulling him closer, yet retreating from his touch. You, too, are struggling to understand what you’re feeling, torn between wanting him near and pushing him away.

“Do you love me?” you ask, your gaze unwavering, trying to find answers in the depths of his eyes. His stare holds yours, as if the question should be irrelevant, as if he has already shown you everything you need to know. His expression softens, but the weight of his response carries something more.

"I’m your husband, Y/N," he replies, his voice steady, but there's an intensity in his eyes, a depth of meaning that you can’t ignore. "Doesn't that answer everything?" His words hang in the air, thick with unspoken emotion, and for a moment, you wonder if the truth lies somewhere in the space between his claims and the confusion that churns in your heart.

"Answer me, Dr. Mayhew, do you love me?" you ask, using a more assertive tone, making it clear that you are not satisfied with his previous answer. He smiles, as if he can't believe it. "I love you, Mrs. Mayhew. I would die for you if necessary," he responds confidently. His eyes are fixed on you, as if waiting for something.

"Then even if the truth disappoints me. Even if you think it's going to hurt me, I need you to be honest. About these murders, about Megan, about everything." You speak firmly, staring into his eyes.

Dr. Mayhew's expression hardens as you mention the two things he surely wishes you would forget. For a moment, he looks at the hospital room wall without saying anything. "Honesty is a double-edged sword. As you inflict it on someone, someone can inflict it on you," his gaze darkens, his demeanor heavy, almost demonic. "If honesty is what you want; honesty is all you'll get."

He stands up, lifting his face to yours, now standing directly in front of you. "You think the truth will set you free, but sometimes it only binds you to something far worse," Dr. Mayhew says, so close to your face it feels as though he's about to kiss you. His words are heavy, yet his gaze is devilishly captivating. For a moment, you sense that he's savoring the expression of fear in your eyes. "Then let the truth bind us both, if that's what we deserve," you reply, challenging him, even though a part of you trembles with fear.

He straightens his coat, his hand running through his hair with a sharp, almost angry gesture, as though attempting to pull himself together. "Rest, Y/N. The truth will find its way to you, sooner or later. But I can promise you this: I am, and will always be, honest with the woman I love—even if she doubts me." With those words, Dr. Mayhew places a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, a gesture of tenderness. Then, without another word, he exits your hospital room, leaving you in a heavy silence.