#implied rape/non-con

[bloody-bee-tea]

June of (minimal) Doom 2024 Day 17 - You don't want to do that

If you haven't checked the tags then take this as your content warning for referenced/implied rape/non-con and forced prostitution.

When Satoru freezes at his side, despite the punishing beat that’s still going strong, Suguru realises that they shouldn’t have come to this frat party in the first place. When Satoru had asked him—almost begged him to come—he should have put his foot down and told him no, instead of giving in to his every whim like Suguru is prone to do.

They could have had a relaxing evening in their bed, instead of coming to this godforsaken party where the sight of someone is leaving Satoru frozen in fright but hindsight is twenty-twenty, as they say.

They’ll just have to deal with this, whatever it is, and then Suguru can drag Satoru home, away from whoever is putting that horrible look on his face and cuddle him until he’s all better.

“Satoru,” Suguru says, his voice full of concern because he’s not sure Satoru has even taken a breath in the last minute and he is proven right when Satoru sucks in a shuddering breath.

“Suguru, I’m so sorry,” he gets out, his voice shaky and now that doesn’t make any sense of all.

Clearly it’s Satoru who is frightened; why the hell would he apologise to Suguru?

“If it isn’t Satoru-chan,” a reedy voice says and Suguru decides he doesn’t like the guy before he even lays eyes on him.

Seeing him doesn’t make it any better because the guy is leering at Satoru in a way that makes Suguru’s stomach churn.

“Mahito,” Satoru whispers out, one hand sneaking out to tightly grip Suguru’s sleeve as if he needs something to hold on to and Suguru shifts on instinct, puts himself slightly in front of Satoru as if he could shield him from this Mahito that way.

“You look absolutely stunning,” Mahito says, leaning around Suguru to better be able to look at Satoru and the way he doesn’t even spare Suguru a glance rankles in a way he’s not used to. “A true sight for sore eyes.”

“Wish I could say the same,” Satoru weakly says and then he addresses Suguru without ever taking his eyes off Mahito. “We wanted to leave, remember? Let’s go now, it’s getting way too crowded here anyway.”

“Aw, you don’t even want to catch up with your old friend?” Mahito asks before Suguru can react to Satoru’s words and Satoru finches as if he’s been hit. “I didn’t know you were in town or else I would have hit you up earlier.”

Suguru still has no clue what’s going on but even over the loud music he can hear the threat in those words. He has no idea who this guy is or what his history with Satoru is but Suguru knows that it can’t be anything good.

“Yeah, you’re right, let’s leave now,” Suguru says, reacting to what Satoru said instead of giving Mahito more time to speak but before he can even turn around to Satoru, Mahito’s hand shoots past him, snatching Satoru’s wrist in a way that must be painful going by the hiss he lets out.

“Mahito,” Satoru says warily, though he doesn’t try to remove his hand from his arm and Suguru can see the fear in his eyes.

“Get your hands off him,” Suguru says, reaching for Mahito’s wrist in turn and squeezing until he lets go of Satoru.

“You have quite the ape on your side it seems,” Mahito drawls out, roaming his eyes up and down Suguru’s frame and he feels dirty for it. “Why don’t you stay with me for a while, Satoru, I am much better company, as I am sure you remember.”

“No,” Satoru get out, and even though it’s quiet his voice is steady.

Suguru still has no real clue who this guy is or what’s going on but it’s clear that they have history and going by the surprise in Mahito’s eyes, he’s not quite used to Satoru telling him no. Suguru is immensely proud of him for that.

“Satoru,” Mahito warningly says and Satoru flinches back at that once more. “Come with me.”

His voice demands to be obeyed and there’s a split second where it seems Satoru moves without his conscious thought but then he steps closer to Suguru, hides behind his back and he says it again.

“No.”

Mahito’s eyes narrow in a way that makes Suguru shift his weight subtly in case the guy darts forward to attack and the motion must have been enough to bring his attention back to Suguru because his mismatched eyes fall on Suguru once more.

His gaze speaks of danger and it’s enough make a shudder run down Suguru’s back but it’s certainly not enough to make him cower in front of this guy.

Not when Satoru is this scared already.

“Ah, is this your latest boy-toy?” Mahito drawls out, addressing Satoru again. “He looks so boring.”

“Let’s go home,” Satoru repeats again and something cruel passes over Mahito’s face as he hears it.

“You don’t want to do that, Satoru. Walk away from me now and who can tell what will happen. Word of what you did back in the day might even reach your boy-toy and then what will he think of you? What will you do if he leaves you all alone after learning what you’ve done.”

Mahito’s voice makes Suguru sick to his stomach and it seems Satoru is not fairing much better because he’s pale and shaking and Mahito’s words are clearly getting under his skin.

“Shut up!” Satoru yells out, clearly scared out of his mind but it only makes Mahito laugh.

“You just need to come with me,” Mahito tells him again. “We had such a good time together, don’t you remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” Satoru spits out and Suguru needs to get them out of Mahito’s presence right this moment because Satoru looks as if he’s about to throw up.

“Wonderful,” Mahito claps his hands together as if those are the greatest news he ever received. “Then let’s go back together. I’m sure there are so many people who’d love to see you again!”

Suguru doesn’t think. He feels Satoru flinch again and it’s as if his body is moving on it’s one. He practically watches how his arm flies out, hand curled into a fist and in the next moment it connects with Mahito’s face.

Mahito crumbles like a puppet with its strings cut and some people around them stumble back when they realise what just happened.

“Suguru,” Satoru yells out and pulls him back. “We need to leave, come on, we have to go!”

He’s yanking on Suguru’s arm and even though Suguru would love to do nothing more than to wait for Mahito to pick himself up again so he can beat him down again, he reluctantly follows Satoru as he drags him out of the house.

“You think someone saw?” Satoru mutters once they are outside and Suguru huffs out a laugh.

“A lot of people saw. Question is if any of them care.”

“Right, right,” Satoru gives back and then falls silent.

He stays that way all the way back to their apartment and Suguru decides against pressing for now. It’s clear that meeting Mahito was not a good thing and Satoru seems more than rattled right now. Suguru doesn’t want to make matters worse by asking questions out in public, so he’ll wait until they are in the privacy of their own home.

“Come to the bathroom, we have to treat your hand,” is the first thing Satoru says after the door is closed behind them and Suguru looks down at his hand.

He didn’t even realise he split the skin open with his punch but he dutifully follows Satoru.

“Satoru, are you okay?” he asks him once he’s seated on the toilet, Satoru kneeling in front of him and he immediately bites his tongue when Satoru flinches.

“I should be asking you that, you’re the one who’s bleeding,” he still gives back and even smiles at Suguru but Suguru knows him well enough to see the strain behind it.

“Satoru,” Suguru mutters and reaches out with his uninjured hand to cup Satoru’s cheek in it. “Are you alright?”

There’s a beat of silence before Satoru chokes out a “No”.

It’s not a surprise, not with how shaken up he still seems and so Suguru simply nods.

“Are you—not going to ask?” Satoru haltingly asks once he deems Suguru’s hand treated enough for now and Suguru hums in thought.

“It came as a surprise to you to see him,” he states and even though it’s not a question, Satoru still nods. “And you don’t want to see him again.”

“Never,” Satoru spits out and even though there’s anger blazing in his eyes now, his hands are still shaking with fear.

“Okay,” Suguru simply says and Satoru stares at him as if he grew a second head.

“Yeah, right,” he then says, disbelief colouring his voice and Suguru sighs.

“Satoru, you could have murdered someone and I wouldn’t care. It doesn’t matter to me.”

Satoru laughs hysterically and it sets Suguru on edge. He wishes he could ease whatever it is right now that’s plaguing Satoru but he doesn’t know how to.

“It’s so much more degrading than that,” Satoru whispers and there’s a crazy look in his eyes. “And if I tell you then you’ll ask for the why and when I tell you about that—you won’t get it, you’ll think I’m such a spoiled, stupid brat who doesn’t even appreciate what he has and then there’ll be that and the disgust of what I have done, what was done to me and then you’ll leave me!”

Satoru’s voice cracks over the last words and Suguru’s heart splits clean in two when tears fall down Satoru’s cheeks.

It seems he has already decided on what will happen in their future, but Suguru is not going to accept that vision, because there is no way in any universe where he’s going to leave Satoru.

“Satoru,” he says, his voice strong and steady and Satoru’s eyes immediately snap to his as if he doesn’t have another choice.

Suguru doesn’t know what happened to Satoru—though with what he just said there’s a sickening suspicion forming in his mind and even though Suguru would love to reject that completely it would explain why Satoru sometimes gets so peculiar about anything physical between them—and in all honesty he knows so little about his past that it should probably bother him, but Satoru never talked about it and even when Suguru pressed he skirted around the questions with meaningless non-answers and eventually Suguru got the hint. He stopped asking and Satoru started relaxing.

And no matter what it is that Satoru did, that was done to him, Suguru doesn’t care.

“Whatever you did, whatever you had to do, it all led you to me, so I don’t care. If it means you found your way to me then I don’t care. You’re here, now, and that’s all that matters to me.”

Satoru blinks at him, clearly taken aback by what Suguru just said and Suguru thinks he might have fucked up when Satoru’s tears flow even more freely.

“How can you even say that?” Satoru sobs out eventually and Suguru pulls him into a hug.

“Because I love you.”

And really, it’s as easy as that for him. He loves Satoru and whatever it is that happened in his past and with Mahito, it’s clearly upsetting to Satoru, so Suguru is not going to judge him for any of it should Satoru ever want to tell him.

“Do you want us to move?” Suguru asks once Satoru’s sobs have died down a little bit and he curses himself when that sets Satoru off once more.

“You would just do that?” he cries out and Suguru shrugs.

“Satoru, you’re my everything. If you think you’re not safe here anymore, if you’re going to be afraid after meeting Mahito in this city, then we’ll move, no questions asked.”

“How can you still be like this when I’m keeping so much from you?” Satoru wants to know and he sounds exhausted down to the bone, so Suguru makes the executive decision to move them to the bed.

Satoru is still in his arms, awkwardly perched on his lap, but that makes it easy to simply tighten his arms around him and standing up, much to Satoru’s surprise it seems because his squeak nearly makes Suguru go deaf.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to bed,” Suguru tells him. “I’m exhausted and you’re no better.”

Satoru doesn’t argue with him which lets Suguru know just how tired Satoru really is and in a matter of minutes they are safely cocooned in their blanket.

“It doesn’t matter to me how much you keep from me,” Suguru says, once Satoru is curled into his arms. “I just know that today was upsetting to you and I’m trying to figure out how to make it better.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Satoru whispers and Suguru growls at that.

“You deserve everything,” he fiercely says and is not surprised when he feels new tears soak his shirt.

“That’s not true,” Satoru mutters, “you’ll see. I’m going to—I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Suguru thinks that he should probably agree enthusiastically to that but seeing Satoru this distressed today really puts a damper on things.

“Only if you want to,” he mutters and kisses the top of Satoru’s head. “Only if you feel ready.”

“I’ll never feel ready,” Satoru admits and leans back to properly look at Suguru. “But you said it wouldn’t matter to you, no matter what, and I—I trust you more than I am afraid,” he goes on and Suguru loves him so much it feels as if he’s drowning in it.

“I love you,” he breathes out and when Satoru leans in for a kiss he doesn’t even mind that it tastes salty.

“I love you,” Satoru replies when they part and there’s a new resolve in his eyes.

Suguru will not let whatever it is that Satoru will tell him tomorrow change anything but he definitely knows one thing: he’ll be immensely proud of Satoru for facing whatever it is that haunts him.

And once everything is said and done, Suguru will make sure to remind Satoru that he still loves him—always will—and then they’ll figure out their future.

But they’ll do that together, too.

[steddieunderdogfics]

For hurt/comfort weekend:

When it’s over, you’re the start by Ammis (implied, referenced non-con)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52142113

And

Let’s (not) do the time warp again by Here_We_Go

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42297414

When it's over, you're the start by Ammis

Rating: Teens and Up

4,684 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Soulmates Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Protective Robin Buckley, Protective Eddie Munson, Post-Battle of Starcourt (Stranger Things), Rape Aftermath, Established Relationship, Hurt Steve Harrington, Implied/Referenced Torture

Summary:

Set immediately post Starcourt. In a universe where the Russians didn't stop at beatings, Steve is holding on by Robin's hand and Eddie Munson had reasons to think there'd been one more body in the rubble.

Let's (not) do the time wrap again by Here_we_go

Rating: Teens and Up

22,393 words, 3/3 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Time Loop, another steve is stuck in a timeloop fic <3, saving the world with the power of exasperation and metal music, and love of course, Platonic Soulmates Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Protective Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, BAMF Eleven | Jane Hopper, BAMF Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Angst, Humor, Protective Robin Buckley, BAMF Nancy Wheeler, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort

Summary:

“Explain,” Erica snaps from where she and the others have all turned to watch the show. “That was my time loop password!” Dustin says and spreads his arms as much as he can while still wrapped up in Steve, clearly expecting awe. Lucas is the only one who delivers, “No fucking way,” he gasps. “Yes fucking way!” Dustin crows - Or Steve Harrington finally breaks the time loop and the aftermath.

Thanks for the recs!

These recs are a part of Theme Weekend. The theme this weekend is Hurt/Comfort.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

[overdueforarevival]

Whumptober Day 16 - Looked Around (In A Blood-Soaked Gown)

'No, I can't feel anything'

Summary: Bellatrix Black has been betrothed to Rodolphus Lestrange since before she could talk, her whole life has led up to this moment and there is no way out. Her sisters beg to differ, but her sisters don't understand the world the way Bella does.

Also posted to AO3

Everything is as it should be. Bellatrix Black has been handed off to her new husband and from the ashes of a girl bound by her father has risen a woman who will not be ruled by her husband. Rodolphus Lestrange sits next to her now, talking loudly to someone a few seats away from them as he digs into his food piggishly. If Bellatrix had ever been caught with so little regard for her manners, she’d have been skinned by her mother.

Nobody reprimands her husband.

Everybody is here now, every member of the Black family has congregated to witness the first marriage of this new generation. Bellatrix Lestrange, eldest daughter of Cygnus Black, promised to Rodolphus Lestrange before she could even speak.

Bella’s mother insisted that her wedding dress have long sleeves, something to cover the mark on her arm so nobody will know. Rodolphus has already had a little too much wine and his dinner jacket is strewn across the back of his chair, his sleeves rolled up. Everybody can see his Mark. Nobody finds it as offensive as Druella had insisted it would be on her. Perhaps that’s the difference.

Her parents sit at the opposite end of the room, as is proper once their daughter has been married off. They raise their glasses to her, smiling with pride in their eyes, a look that Bella has been yearning for for years and all she had to do was say two simple words. I do.

I do not want to do this. I do want to go home. I do wish somebody would wake me from this awful nightmare.

Nobody wakes Bellatrix up and she can do nothing more than sit in her regret, wishing that she’d grown the backbone her younger sister seems to have.

Andromeda had come to her room last night, wrapped up in her nightgown, hair pulled up tightly in curlers and wrapped in a cap. She hadn’t bothered to knock, simply barging in and marching over to Bella’s bed, sitting down next to the girl.

‘You don’t have to do this, you know,’ Andy had said, looking across at her sister imploringly. ‘We could leave tonight and never look back, they’ll never find us. We’ll be safe,’

‘It’s too late, Andy,’ Bellatrix whispered back, circling her arms around her knees and staring at her forearm. There’s a black mark there, a snake in a skull that drifts lazily back and forth. Red, swollen marks litter it all over, deep cuts from her fingernails, trying to undo her mistakes. Nothing will change this back, though. The choice has been made and there’s nowhere to look but ahead.

‘It’s never too late—’

‘Sometimes it is,’ Bella snapped, looking up at her sister through the untamable curls that hung from the top of her head. ‘It’ll all be over tomorrow,’

Andy huffed at her words. ‘Or perhaps it’s only just beginning. Come away with me, please,’

‘I said I won’t, Andromeda. Now go away,’ Bellatrix hissed. She felt it in her chest before she saw it with her eyes. A rush of rage and then Andy was flying backwards through the room, soaring right into the wall where she crashed with a loud cry of pain.

For a moment, the girl laid there, stunned, and Bellatrix merely stared at her. There was a little red spot of blood on her wall now, Bella would have to call one of the house-elves to clean it off. Andy took a moment to collect herself and then slowly rose to her feet, looking over at her sister only briefly before shaking her head and sweeping from the room. Bellatrix watched, and didn’t feel a thing.

Narcissa is sitting next to her now, her Maid of Honour, she didn’t need any of her friends seeing her like this. Facing them next year at school will be difficult enough. How will she explain to them that being married off before the last year of school was a Black family tradition? When she brought it up to Marcel, she had laughed, presuming it to be some kind of joke, and promised that neither of them would marry until they were thirty.

‘We can still leave, Bella,’ Narcissa says quietly, looking down at her food. ‘I’ll find a way, we can talk to Professor McGonagall! She’ll do something,’

She’s only thirteen, just about to enter her third year of Hogwarts. Narcissa knows nothing of the world, confined only to the walls of their house and the bounds of Hogwarts. Bellatrix knows now how the world works and where her place shall be. On the arm of her husband and at the feet of the Dark Lord.

‘There is nothing to be done, Cissy, leave it alone. Soon enough it will be your turn,’ Bellatrix points out, carving off a polite piece of her turkey and bringing it to her mouth.

‘They’re already talking about speaking to the Malfoys about having me engaged to Lucius. I can’t stand that boy, he’s foul,’ Narcisa frowns and Bellatrix wishes she could find some sympathy for her sister, but sympathy has use for either of them.

‘They all are, Cissy. You must learn to ignore it,’ Bellatrix responds coolly. ‘Now drop it, there is nothing to be done,’

‘But—’

‘I won’t hear it. I am married now, I have more important things to think about,’ Bella tells her in a clipped tone. She barely contains a wince at her own words.

‘More important than me?’ Narcissa asks, a hint of what little childish innocence they might all hang onto seeping into her voice.

‘Yes,’

Narcissa bristles as if she wants to find a response, but before any words might be found, Rodolphus ceases his boisterous laughter, and turns to Bellatrix, grinning widely.

‘I believe, wife, that this dinner party is drawing to a close,’ he smiles at her, holding out a hand. Bellatrix knows her place, so she slides her hand on top of his and stands with him, smiling out at the crowd of people in front of them.

He begins giving a speech, something about the prosperity and union of their houses, but Bella doesn’t pay much attention. Little Sirius and Regulus are sitting at the children’s table, dressed in tightly fitting dinner outfits. Bella doesn’t remember being their age, holding the innocence they do, although she’s noticed a look in Sirius’ eye lately that she’s only ever seen in the mirror.

She brought him out onto the dance floor earlier tonight and when he lifted his hands up for her to take, she could see the bruises around his wrist, five fingerprints digging into his flesh. Bella didn’t say a word, didn’t feel a thing. Pity won’t help the boy.

Sirius looks over at her now, grinning from ear to ear and she smiles back at him. He’ll be off to Hogwarts in a few years, Narcissa will no doubt be told to keep an eye on him. Bella hopes he finds his place at school the way she did, hopes that whatever rebellion he is clearly trying to strike up will wither and die. Rebellion has no place in this world, obedience and intelligence are all that will get you through life.

‘—and now, ladies and gentlemen, might I invite you all to join us for the bedding ceremony!’ Rodolphus calls across the room. Bellatrix looks away from Sirius as the boy frowns in confusion. The Blacks never really upheld this tradition, but the Lestranges still view it as a necessity.

People jeer and guffaw around the room, some of those with less decorum bang their cups against the tables, chanting for the ceremony. Rodolphus joins in, cheering loudly and guiding Bellatrix away from their table and out of the grand hall. Narcissa’s eyes follow her sister, but Bellatrix keeps staring straight ahead.

Sirius runs up to Bella as Rodolphus is leading her away, her husband scowls down at the boy, holding tighter to Bellatrix’s hand.

‘Where are you going, Bella? Can I come?’ he asks innocently. Bellatrix looks down at her cousin, ignoring the tight grip around her fingers.

‘No, Sirius. Stay with your brother and mother,’ she tells him firmly. Hurt flashes across his face, normally Bella would have felt bad and tried to fix it. She doesn’t feel a thing for the little boy in front of her.

‘I want to come with you!’ Sirius insists.

‘But you can’t. Now run along,’ Bellatrix says calmly and allows herself to be led from the room by her husband, leaving behind her young cousin to stare after her with that awful look in his eye. One day, he’ll understand. One day, he’ll know why she must do this.

There’s a room on the second floor specifically for this ritual, it’s a plain room with nothing but a bed and a low wall around it to keep everybody else away. Andromeda is by Bellatrix’s side as she is led towards the bed, it should really be Narcissa but Cygnus has said that she is too young to witness this. Bella agrees wholeheartedly.

Andromeda helps her unlace her dress. It’s a white dress, white as the snow that they used to make angels in and as it falls to the floor, Bella wonders if anybody else can see the blood on it. The blood of her sisters, sliced through the throat as she pushes them out of this new life. The blood of her little cousin with his big innocent eyes and childish thoughts. The blood of a girl she used to be, shed away to make way for the woman she must now become.

Andy takes the dress away, setting it on the chair that sits in the corner, leaving Bellatrix in just her silk chemise. It’s an awfully exposing position to be in and she can’t bear to turn around and meet the eyes of all the people watching. Druella said that she should imagine herself somewhere else, alone on a cliffside perhaps or hidden away behind a hundred locked doors. She also said that it would hurt, but to pay it no mind, it doesn’t last forever.

Rodolphus has removed all of his clothing and is standing on the opposite side of the bed, grinning at her in that awful way all men seem to have mastered. Bellatrix stares at his hair, perfectly straight and styled on top of his head and finds herself wondering if their child will inherit her unruly curls or his perfect locks.

‘Aren’t you going to look at me?’ Rodolphus jeers, stepping forward to kneel on the bed. ‘Go on, have a look. You know you want to,’

An unwelcome burning sensation pricks at Bella’s eyes and she blinks furiously to keep it at bay. She will not cry in front of all these people. Rodolphus is a man who gets what he wants, though, and another piece of advice that had come from her mother was to always obey your husband’s command.

So she lowers her eyes, down to his shoulders and his chest, his stomach and then even lower. Bella wants to throw up, though she’s fairly certain that won’t go over too well. Rodolphus moves closer, walking on his knees until he reaches her side of the bed and then reaches forward, grabbing her by the straps of her chemise and yanking her forward.

Without protest, Bellatrix allows herself to be pulled onto the bed, allows his lips to attach to her skin wherever he pleases and lies on her back as his hands run all over her body. The canopy of the bed is covered with a tapestry, a scene depicting a man and a woman. She sits on a swing, smiling over her shoulder as the man’s hands rest on the rope, holding her in place. They look like they’re in love, like in those books Marcel always tells Bella about.

Bellatrix stares up at the tapestry and imagines herself, for the first time, as the woman on the swing. A woman who is loved, a woman who is looked upon by a man and seen as a person, not a thing. Not a trophy or a trading card to better a man’s place in society.

Above her, Rodolphus is moving back and forth, his hands on her hips, pushing her down and Bellatrix is sure she remembers her mother warning her of the pain, and yet nothing hurts. Bellatrix cannot feel a thing anymore.

[angellesword]

BAGGAGE | JJK (14)

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Genre and warnings: best friends to lovers, co-parenting, idiots in love, slow burn—really slow burn, mutual pining, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, cursing, blood, stabbing, loan sharks, OC cusses excessively so watch out, hurt/comfort, implied/referenced gang rape/non-con, non-graphic rape/non-con, non-consensual drug use, sexual violence, physical violence, vomiting, food poisoning.

Pairing: dad! Jungkook x adoptive mom!Reader

Word Count: 8k

← Previous Chapter (13) | Next Chapter (15) →

⚠️‼️WARNING!!! TRIGGERING SCENES AHEAD. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. PLEASE MIND THE WARNINGS ABOVE!!! ⚠️‼️

*****

Jungkook woke up feeling wet kisses splaying on his face. He begrudgingly opened his eyes, neck stiff because of his unforgivable sleeping position across your bedroom door.

"Mornin' Kookie~," 

"Hmm?" Jungkook blinked. His brain had yet to catch up on what was happening, but his blurry eyes could already make out the tiny figure of his son.

He saw Soobin waving his little hand and smiling down at him.

"Soobin?" Jungkook blinked. Soobin beamed at him in response, prompting Jungkook's sleepiness to be washed away. He unconsciously wrapped his arms around Soobin's body to pull him closer.

"Kookie, hello!" 

Jungkook winced when his son embraced his neck and tried to climb over his shoulders. It's true that children had the energy of Olympians. Jungkook wasn't able to protest when Soobin decisively climbed his shoulder, using it as a foundation to reach for the doorknob.

Soobin didn't hesitate. With a twist, the door flew open.

Shit.

Jungkook was caught off guard. He was leaning on the closed door, so he and Soobin fell sideways when it opened. Thankfully, he immediately caught his son and protected his head from colliding on the tiled floor.

Jungkook breathed a sigh of relief. That was close. Hell would break loose if you saw even a small bruise on Soobin's skin.

"What's wrong with you two?" Your voice sent shivers down Jungkook's spine. Speak of the person, and they shall appear. His decelerating heartbeat spiked up again at the sound of your pissed-off voice.

Jungkook was forced to flick his gaze on you. He was surprised to see you on the ground. 

You appeared to just have been woken up, too. You scratched the back of your head and yawned.

"Did you sleep on the floor near the door?" Jungkook couldn't help but ask. He sat up and helped Soobin get on his feet, wanting to check if his son got injured. But before Jungkook could do so, Soobin was already jumping into your arms.

"Ma!" Soobin pulled at your neck, visibly making you cringe. It solidified Jungkook's conjecture that you also dozed off on the floor.

However, you vehemently denied it.

"Soobin, no hugging for now. Your Mama got a stiff neck from sleeping against the door."

"I did not sleep here!" You growled at Jungkook as you fought a yawn. This was in contrast to how softly you whispered to Soobin to lay low with the hugs.

Jungkook dramatically gasped, acting all scandalized. "It's not good to lie in front of your kid, you know~."

For some reason, Jungkook was in a good mood. You, sleeping on the floor and against the door, hinted that you weren’t as unaffected by what had happened a few hours before. You probably listened to Jungkook's speech with your ears against the door.

Perhaps you went as far as almost opening the door for Jungkook—this was dangerous wishful thinking, though. Jungkook had to force himself to shake the thought away. There was another way to see if you intended to allow him to stay.

Call him selfish, but Jungkook wanted to test that theory. He licked his lower lips, eyes ogling at you, who was unconsciously mumbling that your neck only hurt because you cracked it the wrong way.

"I know how to relieve stiffed necks." Jungkook started before trailing off. He couldn't stop himself from staring at your neck.

Jungkook forced himself to clear his throat.

"Do you want me to massage your neck?"

The thought of physical contact would make you recoil if you were disgusted by an ex-convict. Jungkook's hands were clammy. It was his idea to test the waters with you, but it didn't mean he wasn't nervous. He had only developed the habit of smiling, joking, and thinking about sexual stuff when things were making him anxious. It was his coping mechanism.

A few seconds had passed now. Jungkook was half expecting you to reject him, already content with the thought of feeling your neck pulse.

At least you were alive, Jungkook thought. You were alive and near him. This should beenough. You also hadn't explicitly told him to go, so he could—

"Alright."

Jungkook's train of thought paused at that. He didn't know if he ever whipped his head so fast it felt like it almost snapped.

He didn't care. Jungkook had to look at you and confirm if he heard you right:

He did.

"You can massage my neck later." You carried your son and stood up. You unconsciously purred when Soobin kissed your cheeks and requested omurice for breakfast.

You looked pointedly at Jungkook. "You heard your kid. He wants to eat. Chop, chop, Kook."

You didn't wait for a response and just went straight out of the bedroom and to the kitchen.

Jungkook breathed out, suddenly feeling hollow. But in a good way. The anxiousness filling his heart was emptied.

He smiled to himself. Omurice sounded good for breakfast.

***

The neck massage was scheduled another time even though your neck was stiff now. Blame it on your phone, which had been ringing nonstop.

"It's the team." You rolled your eyes, though one could see that you weren’t annoyed. It was more of a fond gesture.

It was lunchtime now. Your breakfast went well. You and Jungkook dropped Soobin off at the daycare. The kid's schedule was packed since it was the school's foundation day. Jungkook didn't want to leave Soobin alone, but the teacher advised that kids Soobin's age should learn how to adjust and be more independent.

You had no choice but to drag Jungkook away from the school premises. You had other things to do, anyway. Your beeping phone was one of your agenda.

"The team's calling to know if you've accepted our job offer."

Jungkook stopped licking his ice cream in a cone, head twisting to look at you to see any sign of mirth.

You were dead serious. You furrowed your brows at Jungkook. "What."

"Nothing," Jungkook bit his ice cream until his teeth ached. "I just thought you've retracted the offer."

"Why would I do that." You frowned and offered Jungkook a tissue. What a disgusting asshole. His hands were covered with melted ice cream.

Jungkook took the tissue to cover the sight of his trembling lips. He wanted to throw the ice cream as he couldn't bear the cold. However, he didn't have the heart to waste food. He was constantly reminded of what he had to endure as kids threw ice cream at him while wearing the clown costume.

Those days felt like a lifetime ago, yet Jungkook was still here. It didn't change the fact that he felt like shit.

"You read the paper I handed you," it wasn't a question. Jungkook knew you knew of his past now. There was no way you would stay still after knowing that the person who babysat your son used to be in prison.

Frankly, even until now, Jungkook was waiting for you to drop the news to him—that he would have to leave sooner or later. You showed mercy earlier, but who's to say you wouldn't change your mind?

"I didn't." You surprised Jungkook by this admission. You squared your shoulders and snatched the ice cream cone from your best friend. You threw it in the trash can. Jungkook was about to protest, but you shushed him.

"You look stupid trying to finish that ice cream. You should have thrown it away if you didn't want it." It was Soobin's dessert in the first place. The kid handed it to Jungkook earlier before you left. Soobin thought his father wouldn't miss him so much if he had ice cream with him. "And wipe your goddamn mouth and shut it, will you? Don't look too surprised that I didn't read the paper. I told you I was shocked and needed time, but you didn't exactly give me time to process shit with your cheesy line last night."

"I'm sorry." Jungkook's cheeks heat up. He dodged your gaze, but it didn't take long for him to look at you again. You were scoffing at him.

"Now you're actin' all shy? I'm telling you now, bastard. If what you said last night was shit, I swear I will fucking—"

"It's true." Jungkook cut you off. "I mean it."

It was only then that Jungkook noticed your frozen body. Your shoulders sagged in relief upon hearing Jungkook's confirmation.

"Good." You held your head high, "Because I'd rather hear the truth from you than that paper. Do you still want to have dinner with me?"

"Lunch." Jungkook looked at the wristwatch you had gifted him. You had time before Soobin got off school. "Let's have lunch. In our usual place."

Jungkook realized he didn't want to bare his heart out in a fancy restaurant where people acted all stiff and fancy. He wanted to be in a safe and familiar environment where he knew there would be no judgment on whatever he did. No one would eavesdrop as everyone was busy in their own world.

It's the ADA. Jungkook hadn't been here in years. Many things had changed, but sadly, the one thing Jungkook hated the most remained.

Natsume--the fortuneteller who sang his prediction, was still in business. Jungkook met Natsume's teasing gaze. He started playing his guitar, ready to piss off the brunet. Luckily, you had come prepared. You immediately pulled Jungkook inside the ADA restaurant.

"I warned you earlier that Natsume still sings. You said you don't mind." You gave Jungkook a warning look. "Don't fight him. We didn't go here for that. You have a responsibility to me."

Jungkook clicked his tongue and wriggled out of your iron grip. He sighed, "Fine."

You chose a table far from the window. You couldn't have Jungkook distracted because of Natsume. Thankfully, Jungkook didn't talk about the fortuneteller anymore. He looked deep in thought. Jungkook wasn't sure where to start. The paper he gave you last night was the summary of his criminal case. Jungkook envisioned you reading that paper and bombarding him with questions.

The thing was, you were feeling generous to him. You didn't immediately go straight to questioning, opting to order food first. You didn't have to ask Jungkook. You knew he liked crab spring rolls. They were perfect with a bottle of soju.

You almost ordered the alcohol but stopped when you remembered Jungkook didn't drink anymore.

"Let's not drink. Soobin is fussy when he smells alcohol." You thanked the server after he placed your order. What you said to Jungkook was an excuse and the truth. Your son would scrunch up his nose whenever he got a whiff of your favorite wine. Jungkook knew of your intention. He smiled nonetheless.

"You're a good mom," Jungkook said sincerely, and with a quick snap, he broke the chopsticks apart to start eating the complimentary edamame. It felt nostalgic to eat this, giving Jungkook the illusion that you two were high school students whose only worry was how to earn money. 

Your lives were way more complicated than that now. You could never go back. You had Soobin and other things to consider when making decisions.

You weren’t sure whether to nod or shake your head. You settled with a subtle cough.

"I try to be. It wasn't easy at first..." You trailed off and shook your head. "Anyway, there were lots of challenges. You're doing better than me. Soobin warmed up to you fast."

Soobin liked Jang Min and Lee Sung, though it took him some time to get used to meeting up with them. But with Jungkook, things were different. You wondered if it had something to do with their biological relationship.

Jungkook couldn't use that fully as an excuse. He thanked the server for bringing in their food before answering you. "I told you before, didn't I? I've experienced handling kids."

You briefly remembered that as you felt your neck turning crimson. Jungkook had a phase where he was obsessed with getting you pregnant. You never really got the chance to know where Jungkook's fetish started. It was his cue to tell you how things started.

With a warm meal before you two, Jungkook told you how he messed up his life.

Nine Years Ago, 2014:

The thought of dropping out of university had been on Jungkook's mind for a long time, though he never gave it much thought.

That was until Jimin asked Jungkook to accompany him in social work. Jungkook didn't get it at first. Jimin was his promising senior who talked money as Francis, his business-minded boyfriend, greatly influenced him.

Jimin recently graduated college, but he was still in touch with Jungkook. As his hubae, Jungkook looked up to his Jimin-hyung. The latter usually talked about improving life, and that was all Jungkook wanted.

He longed to give you a life where you wouldn't have to struggle. You could pursue whatever studies you wanted without having to think about money.

Money talked, so Jungkook didn't understand why Jimin wasted his time entertaining illegal immigrants. It was on the outskirts of Incheon. These foreigners lived underground with their families. Jimin and some other kindhearted people visited them to feed them and offer them some minor work to get them through one day's meal.

Jungkook frowned at this. Jimin was just starting a small business. He often asked for help from the immigrants to run his business. Jungkook thought Jimin was better off with other people who were far more competent than these illegal settlers.

Jungkook didn't even want to be here. Jimin urged him, saying that if Jungkook really wanted to be business partners with him, he had to first see the kind of work Jimin was doing.

Jungkook didn't think interacting with these immigrants would convince him, but his perspective changed when a kid clung to his leg.

The kid was very small and obviously malnourished. He didn't seem to understand the danger his body was in. A carefree smile decorated his lips.

"Hyung, thank you." The kid's teeth were black and yellow. In normal circumstances, Jungkook would subtly kick the child or say something to make him go away.

But something in this child's smile softened Jungkook's heart for some reason.

"You and the other hyung there help my mom earn money!" The kid pointed at Jimin, who was busy talking to a woman. Jungkook figured that the woman was probably this kid's mother.

"We haven't eaten in days. I thought we'd have to get beaten up first."

"What?" Jungkook was taken aback. He was sometimes mean, but he didn't go around hurting people. What did this kid mean when he mentioned getting beaten up...?

The kid showed his bruised arms; he didn't have to explain for Jungkook to understand what was happening:

The kids and the people living underground were exploited. 

Jungkook clenched his jaw. The memory of younger you working in a bar lit up in his head, making him clench his hands into fists.

The indignation that abruptly clogged his veins was too much to bear, acting like a big block stopping his heart from beating.

His vision doubled. It was too much. These kids had gone through so much at a young age.

Just like you.

"I'm sorry." Jungkook dropped to his knees to look at the kid in the eyes. It was not fair. This kid was still smiling despite life being cruel to him. He didn't understand why the innocent had to suffer when far worse people were walking this planet.

"Why?" The kid caressed Jungkook's hand on his cheek. "You saved us! We want to thank you!"

After the kid said this, the other children went up to hug Jungkook. They kept calling him hyung to offer their thank you. Jungkook couldn't accept their gratitude, knowing that this was Jimin's work.

Their pleasant smile should be directed to Jimin and not him. However, when Jungkook looked at his friend, Jimin stood there, offering him a small smile and encouraging him to appreciate this moment.

Jungkook's heart throbbed painfully in his chest, and when he cast his gaze back at the kids, the pain he felt subsided, and it was quickly replaced with pride.

Jungkook smiled with only one thought in mind: I will make these kids proud.

Present, 2023:

You always knew Jungkook was closed off. He was not the type of person who would share personal experiences like this. When Jungkook told you before that he would drop out of college, you thought he was making a mistake—that he was blinded by money and pride. You never knew Jungkook's catalyst to venturing with Jimin was those kids.

The children made Jungkook want to do better, but it was also them who became his downfall.

Six Years Ago, 2017:

Things had already escalated, so Jungkook was forced to retreat to a corner, his back pressed on a cold wall with no way of stepping back.

He fucked up.

He fucked up so badly with business the same way he fucked up with you when he slept with your Jisoo-unnie.

There was no room for regret after that night. Not when he didn't have time to process things. Jungkook had to rush Jisoo to the hospital when they woke up naked on the couch.

Jisoo couldn't breathe. She was vomiting blood. The doctors said it was anxiety and her sickness acting up. Jisoo was advised not to do strenuous activity. Their tacit agreement to relieve their agony was more harmful than helpful.

Jisoo was in a daze. Looking at her made Jungkook's stomach cramp. The silence was suffocating him, too. Jungkook knew how to butter her up regarding business, but outside you, their pain, and Bighit, Jungkook and Jisoo didn't have much in common.

They were strangers who loved the same person and shared similar problems. What happened last night changed it for the worse.

Jungkook couldn't handle it anymore. He spoke.

"I'm gonna tell her."

The braid of promise from last night was combed just like that. Jisoo slowly turned her head to Jungkook, her eyes dead, and her lips were parted slightly.

Jisoo didn't say anything. She simply cupped her stomach before gently lying in bed. She turned her back to Jungkook, sick of his face already. She got what she wanted.

Jungkook sighed. He stayed in Jisoo-unnie's room for hours until he got the signal from the nurse that Jisoo could go home.

Jisoo didn't want to go home. There was no going back now. Not for Jungkook, though. He had problems he had to face, so he went home.

His home no longer felt safe after what he and Jisoo did. Jungkook couldn't bring himself to sleep, the panic and grief catching up to him every time he closed his eyes.

He avoided you like the plague, thinking that things were better off when he was alone. After all, you wouldn't understand what he was going through.

You hadn't met those immigrant kids. You didn't know what Jungkook and Jimin were fighting for. Most importantly, you didn't know what it felt like to be on top and to suddenly fall from grace.

Jungkook could almost taste it: the venom in your voice when he told you his business with Jimin had failed. He could imagine the ‘I told you so’ look painting your eyes. He could also imagine you telling him he should have just stuck to university.

Jungkook didn't really want to see you. He didn't want to see and hear about yourdisappointment in him.

But Jungkook ended up hearing it—only that with a different reason. Jungkook wasn't expecting you to show up at Bighit’s board meeting. He underestimated your capability to get what you wanted. It never occurred to him that you would buy Ango's share just so you could legally attend the meeting.

It was ridiculous. At that moment, Jungkook thought you had come to rub salt in his wound. Why else would you show up there? There was no reason for you to buy a losing share. Jungkook knew you. You would never bet your money on something risky. You didn't even want to invest in the Bighit in the first place. You only did so to appease Jungkook after your previous fight from before.

When you showed up at the meeting, Jungkook made himself think that you had bad intentions, so he hurt you first. He told you he slept with your Jisoo-unnie just because he didn't want to hear you talk shit about Bighit’s downfall.

He thought his belief was warranted because when things truly started going down, you were nowhere to be found.

It was all good at first. Jungkook thought it was better this way. Because more than anything, and despite Jungkook being fucked in the head for betraying you, Jungkook wanted you safe and worry-free. This was why he and Jisoo sought solace in each other's body. They didn't want to involve you in a mess.

In their own fucked up way, Jungkook and Jisoo loved you.

Jungkook never heard from you again after confessing his betrayal. He tried to reach you, but the case of Bighit was beyond saving. Jungkook, along with Jimin, was facing the consequences:

"When will Mushitaro arrive, Jimin-hyung?" Jungkook's skin felt itchy. The unforgiving cold wall rubbed his body, only proving to him that their current predicament was truly pitiful. He and Jimin were both grown men forced to be cramped into a small jail cell. It smelt rotten here.

Jimin couldn't do anything to appease his friend, though. He scratched his skin and was also getting agitated by the overall atmosphere of the place. "I'm not sure, Jungkook-ssi."

Three hours had passed since the police officers arrested Jimin and Jungkook. They were two different people, but Jimin said they would be having a joint lawyer. Mushitaro, their chosen representative, had yet to arrive after Jimin contacted him earlier. The law enforcers refused to let them call again.

Jungkook was antsy and feeling aggrieved. Though Mushitaro was representing him too, he still had the right to call someone—you. It was unfortunate that the officers were treating him like shit. Jungkook couldn't complain. This wasn't like the last time the police invited them over. They had an arrest warrant now, leaving him and Jimin no choice but to have their hands cuffed. It had been a few days since their last board meeting. Their other board members flew out of the country, but it didn't matter. Almost all of Bighit’s operations were handled by Jungkook and Jimin. They couldn't escape liability even if they wanted to.

This was made clear a few hours later when Mushitaro finally arrived. The lawyer knew what he was doing. Jungkook and Jimin were transferred into a much bigger room, and they were given a cup of cold water to cool down.

Jungkook normally kept his cool. He was a manipulator at best. Surely, he had thought of a way to get out of this mess. Unfortunately, the laws were difficult to circumvent as Bighit’s operation extended to illegal immigrants.

"Piercing the what?" You interrupted Jungkook's storytelling when you didn't understand the legal terms. Jungkook was at the part where he was repeating what Mushitaro had told him years ago.

Jungkook took a bite of his crab spring rolls as he responded to you, "Piercing the corporate veil."

You struggled to listen to him. Jungkook explained that companies usually had limited liability, meaning that their obligations couldn't be passed down to their board directors and stockholders. In short, if the assets of the company reached zero in value but still had some liabilities, the creditors couldn't run after stockholders like him and Jisoo.

However, with the piercing of the corporate veil, the general rule would not apply. Jungkook and Jimin were going to prison.

"The probability of Jimin-hyung and I being convicted at that time was high. That's how piercing the corporate veil works. We are both board members who oversee the operations of Bighit. We can't argue that we don't know what's happening in our company when our signatures are mostly needed in our transactions."

Jimin's boyfriend, Francis Fitzgerald, was also a board member of Bighit. Francis was a certified public accountant, so naturally, he dealt with the company's financial statements. Unbeknownst to Jungkook and the others, Francis used the company's money for his own gain and concealed the fact that the Bighit was incurring debt.

"But why are you affected by it? Isn't it solely that son of a bitch Francis' fault?" You questioned. Jungkook's chest heaved as he repeated to you what Mushitaro had said. This whole thing was still painful to talk about, but:

Generally, Jungkook and Jimin were not liable since corporations like Bighit, weren't similar to partnerships where the board members had a fiduciary relationship. Jungkook might not be the one who orchestrated the fraud, but he concealed it after finding out the truth.

You scoffed at this. But in Jungkook's defense, he and Jimin only concealed the fraud because they were trying to protect their employees.

Bighit was a business process outsourcing organization. The people they hired to take calls and be in the customer service department were the same illegal immigrants underground. Jungkook and Jimin wanted to give these people a chance at living, so they helped fake their documents and hire them.

They were good at their jobs. Jungkook never hesitated to give them a profit share and higher benefits, especially for their retirement fund. Fitzgerald embezzled the money that was supposed to be for the employees. Even their legal reserves that weren't allowed to be used or to be distributed were gone.

Jimin signed documents and trusted the auditors Fitzgerald hired. Meanwhile, Jungkook blindly followed where Jimin was going. He was getting billions of money in the beginning, so he didn't mind. What more could he ask for, knowing that their employees and their families were basically worshipping Jungkook?

When things started going downhill, Jungkook was caught off guard. He was imprisoned with Jimin, and all his assets had been frozen. Mushitaro did his best to defend them, but this was a case that enraged the public. He also couldn't milk enough money from his clients so in the end, he did the bare minimum just to have the case closed.

It was difficult. Mushitaro was being harassed by Bighit’s employees too. Most of them were deported, while the other went into hiding. They threatened the lawyer to pass their messages to his clients, saying that they wished Jungkook and Jimin to both rot in hell and that they made their lives worse. They were doing okay underground, but now they couldn't even spend time with their deported family members, and they were hiding much stricter under the police's noses.

The employees said they wanted their backpay and promised retirement funds. Once, Jungkook was visited by someone in prison. The police officer said his visitor went by your name, so Jungkook cleaned himself up for the first time in days and immediately went to see you.

But you were nowhere to be seen. Jungkook came face to face with a Bighit employee instead. No one knew how the immigrant managed to bring a knife with him, but he did. He was raging when he slashed Jungkook's eyes with a knife.

The officers were quick to seize the immigrant while some of the guards went to attend to Jungkook. He was obviously shocked. He covered his eye, feeling the blood trickling down his hand. He heard loudly how the immigrant cursed and told him to die.

That was the beginning of Jungkook covering his eye with a bandage and the hell he'd face in prison.

"Wait." You grabbed your best friend's hand to get him to stop talking. It was all in the past now, yet you couldn't seem to take it. You also had too many questions.

"Y-You went to jail after I flew to France? Where..." You stuttered a breath and trailed off, feeling your heart clench tightly in your chest. Your ramen had gone cold now. You didn't have the stomach to eat it. All you could think about while looking at your spicy red broth was the blood cascading down Jungkook's eye from before.

Regret poked at the pit of your stomach. You wanted to vomit, but you couldn't. This wasn't about you. It was about Jungkook. You bit your lip and forced yourself to ask, "Where was Jisoo-unnie...? She....she didn't help you?"

Didn't she tell you I was gone? Despite leaving and not wanting to deal with bullshit, you made sure to leave traces so that Jungkook and Jisoo would know where you went off to. Sue you for being a hypocrite, but you were desperate then. You wanted your best friend and sister to see you thriving in spite of their absences in your life. You were pretty sure Jisoo managed to find your address in France because of the clues you left.

You hated your sister, but at the same time, you craved her validation and longed to see the pain in her eyes as you hurt her back.

Why didn't Jisoo tell the convicted Jungkook about your whereabouts?

"Jisoo-noona and I never talked to each other again after...." Jungkook didn't complete his statement, yet you understood it. After we betrayed you. Their last proper conversation was when Jungkook told you that he slept with Jisoo.

They didn't exactly talk at the hospital when Jungkook brought Jisoo there. However, Jisoo showed up at Jungkook's door a few days after you left. She brought a bottle of wine and soju.

Jungkook resolutely refused the offer, almost slamming the door in the older woman's face.

"I can't, Jisoo-noona," he held the doorknob tightly. "I'm not going to drink anymore." Not after what happened. Not after we fucked up. Not in this lifetime.

Jisoo understood what he meant, though she still deflated. Her pain was too much. Her body felt like deteriorating. Her chest was hollow. She begged, "We're not going to do something stupid, Jungkook. I'm just lonely. My little girl isn't answering any of my phone calls."

She had the audacity to get sad after what she had done, but Jisoo was just human, after all. She couldn't take the separation from her sister. She missed you despite everything. Talking to Jungkook gave Jisoo the illusion that you were still within reach.

Jungkook couldn't deny it, either. He missed his best friend, too, but he knew he messed up. He had a lot on his plate right now and couldn't be bothered to carry more burden and guilt by hanging out with Jisoo.

Besides, Jungkook knew his free days were numbered. He couldn't keep involving your sister in this mess, so days after his arrest and that immigrant slashing his eye, Jungkook wrote to Jisoo. He told her not to visit or associate with him as many of Bighit’s employees were indignant with him and would lash out at anyone close to him. Jungkook also told her to extend the same explanation to you.

Jungkook wrote to you every day, yet he didn't get any response. He assumed you really didn't want anything to do with him anymore. It was both a relief and a shame.

Despite everything, Jungkook continued writing to you. It wasn't to get you to visit him or anything. His days in prison became slightly bearable every time he let out his emotions through his letters.

The messages were mostly nonsensical—at least, this was how it started. Jungkook would reminisce about your moments together, tell you about his life in prison--how he was coping with his Jimin-hyung there, and how much he missed you.

Jungkook thought it wasn't that bad until he started receiving letters from people underground. The immigrants were still feeling resentful toward him and Jimin. They detailed how worst their lives had become after being deported. Those who were hiding in South Korea managed to hide their identity, but the blame and pressure were palpable in their letters.

Even the kid who clung to Jungkook’s legs before sent him an alarming message:

My mother hanged herself. I alone now. Blame you giving false hope. You break me. The letter was written childishly. The kid forced himself to write in Korean despite knowing too little about the language. Jungkook took the letter to heart. He couldn’t sleep nor eat. And it wasn’t like there was something to fill his stomach with.

New prisoners were treated like garbage. Jungkook spent his days two cells away from Jimin. He got away from the immigrants wanting to hurt him, but the people in prison were much worse.

“You stink,” Jungkook’s cellmate spat on his face. He hadn’t eaten in two days, his mouth smelling like rotten fish and acid. Jungkook managed to get a small cup of miso soup by massaging the kitchen head’s feet for two hours. Unfortunately, Jimin didn’t know how to navigate a life in prison. He was too righteous, igniting the anger of most prisoners. He wasn’t given any ration, so Jungkook set aside his hunger and gave Jimin-hyung the soup.

“Pardon me, boss.” Jungkook didn’t wipe the spit on his cheek and just bowed his head obediently. “I’ll stay in the corner, but you can call me any time you need something. I will do anything for you.”

It was the lowest of the low, but Jungkook had to swallow his pride. This person he called boss had a lot of food stash. He was quite popular in this place. Many prisoners tried to curry favor with him. Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to please him. People like him got an ego boost whenever they thought they were being worshipped. True enough, he clicked his tongue and threw a KitKat bar to Jungkook.

“Eat that for now. Come sit with me at the table during lunchtime. Ya gotta eat, your breath will kill me.”

“Thank you, boss.” Jungkook ate half of the chocolate and saved the other half for Jimin. The boss shook his head disapprovingly. He thought Jungkook was stupid. He used the little money he had to buy papers so he could write a letter for someone outside the prison, and yet. The boss shook his head one more time, and yet he never received a response.

“I didn’t receive any of your letters.” You interrupted the storytelling again. “Where did you send them? How…” How stupid are you to think I could ever bear to see you suffer? Do you really think it would take me more than two letters to respond to you? But you didn’t say any of this. It would break Jungkook’s heart more. You changed your question, “What did you write to me?”

Jungkook didn’t have any appetite anymore, either. But reminiscing his life in prison made him want to stuff all the food before him in his mouth.

“I was told you got my letters.”

Life in prison started to get better when Jungkook started buttering up Fukuchi—the boss, though he had to face some initiation at first.

Jungkook couldn’t refute anything. He was tired of deep diving in the sea of the prison’s garbage truck just to get him and Jimin something to eat. Jimin joined his food-searching quest, but he wasn’t much of a help.

“You’re making this harder for me, Jiminnie-hyung ~ Can you just sit there and watch out for the prison guard, hmm~?” Jungkook maintained his sweet tone in spite of his exhaustion. He had to remind himself that Jimin-hyung was hurt; hence, he couldn’t move fast. His cellmates had beaten him up again. They said they didn’t like the way Jimin looked when they admitted to using his toothbrush to clean the floor. His cellmate's exact words were, “You should be thankful we’re cleaning our space with your damn toothbrush. Aren’t you acting all pure and shit? Your saliva is our holy water. Save us, Saint Jiminnie.”

The precious nickname Jungkook made up for Jimin was now tainted. They laughed and kicked Jimin when the latter told the officer what his cellmates did to his toothbrush.

Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to tell Jimin to just let it go. But at the same time, he felt like Jimin-hyung should have known better than to fight those idiotic cellmates of his. He was both frustrated and empathetic toward his friend. All he could do for Jimin was search for some food on his behalf.

Thankfully, Jimin listened and watched out for guards as Jungkook swam in the sea of garbage. He found a half-eaten pudding and handed it to Jimin.

“It’s expired,” Jimin said. They weren’t in the position to be picky, so Jungkook only beamed at him.

“I haven’t met anyone who died because of expired food. Come on, Jiminnie-hyung.~ That would do.” Jimin was on the verge of passing out. His face was pale, and his lips were chapped. He needed to eat something. With a few more coaxing from Jungkook, Jimin finally swallowed the expired pudding.

He felt a little better for a while, but Jungkook had terrible luck—his words were jinxed a few hours later. Someone from Jimin’s cell banged the gate, calling the officer’s attention to report Jimin’s state.

“Heyo! Anybody there? The blond lad right here is dyin'. We don’t want his rotten corpse in here. Help!”

Jungkook jolted awake at that. He desperately stuck his head on his cell gate, hoping to see Jimin-hyung. His action was for nought, so he helped bang the gate to get the officers’ attention, too. Fortunately, the guards appeared and were able to bring Jimin to the hospital. Jungkook would never forget the image of his friend curled into a ball while clenching his stomach. He was vomiting as he got food poisoning from eating the expired pudding.

It was a blessing in disguise, though. Jimin was able to eat slightly better food at the hospital. Jungkook swore he would never let his friend suffer again. His choice led to some drastic consequences, but he couldn’t care less:

He sought Fukuchi’s protection for his and Jimin’s sake. The initiation was hell. To Jungkook’s horror, even the correctional officers licked Fukuchi’s bottom. Everyone turned into a slave when money and power were involved. They did not bat an eyelash when Jungkook ran around the prison hallway. A group of prisoners chased after him while the others stayed locked up in their cells, watching menacingly through the crack of the gated cell how moronically Jungkook ran.

Jungkook was in the shower room. He slipped and fell because of the wet tiles marred by mold. The prisoners caught up to him. They dragged Jungkook’s already fragile body to the ground.

"Don't make trouble." Someone pressed Jungkook’s face to the floor until he couldn't breathe properly, and then he felt that person grabbing his hand, his fingertips caressing Jungkook's wrist. "It'll hurt more if you resist."

The brunet felt the syringe sinking deep into his skin. It hurt at first— but soon, it only tickled. His heart started beating so loudly that he thought it would burst inside his ribcage. His vision was doubling, too, but the euphoria pumping through his veins made him lose his inhibitions. Every emotion was amplified. Jungkook giggled when someone took off his pants, spreading his legs wide until he felt a police baton sinking deep into his hole.

Jungkook screeched. There was blood everywhere, yet the prisoners did not stop. He lost count of how many times the syringe corrupted his bloodstream. Every hole of his body (his ears, nose, mouth, and even eyes) was coated with the sticky liquid coming from those men.

His body was painted with nasty teeth marks. The shades of blue, purple, and green were such a sore in the eyes that Jungkook had to cover his body with bandages even after months of the attack. It fucked him so badly, but he could only swallow his grievances for his and Jimin’s sake.

At least now, they were not treated like trash. They had full meals now, and Fukuchi grew more satisfied with Jungkook’s mind. One day, Fukuchi introduced him to someone outside the prison.

“Lee Sung.” The outsider offered his hand for a shake. Jungkook was forced to accept the greeting. Lee Sung was a sadist at heart, though. A blade was hidden in his palm. It slashed Jungkook’s skin when they shook hands.

“You look alive. Aren’t you using the dead apple?” Lee Sung let go of the brunet’s hand, acting as if he hadn’t just caused Jungkook’s hand to trickle down with blood.

Jungkook was unfazed. He gently wiped his bloodied hand in his pants. He lied through his teeth, “Well, someone has to be sober for this, don’t you think, Lee Sung-ssi~? We can’t all be Snow White.”

‘Dead Apple’ was the drug injected into Jungkook on the day of his initiation. The effect of the drug was unapparelled, bringing the user into a different universe because of the ‘high’ feeling. It was called Dead Apple because the users would often lose consciousness or act like hypnotized zombies who would do your bidding as long as you hit something inside of them. For example, Jungkook saw Jimin through rose-colored glasses, so one of the prisoners who injected him with Dead Apple pretended to be Jimin and Jungkook, under the effect of the drug, fell into this pretense and didn’t question whatever those men did to him. It was only after some hours after the assault did he come back to his senses. 

Coming to his senses didn’t necessarily mean he would forget the assault. He remembered it all too well, and nothing—not even the unadulterated euphoria would convince Jungkook to try it again. He associated that drug with his loss of freedom and more hatred for his already wretched body. One could call him a hypocrite because despite knowing the deadly effect of Dead Apple, it did not stop him from letting other people have access to it.

Life, especially in prison, was not like a fairytale. The initiation he had to be part of Decay of Angels—Fukuchi’s group, wasn’t enough to prove he was worthy. Jungkook had to strategize to keep Fukuchi’s business prospering. He was in charge of thinking of ways to supply the other inmates with drugs while making sure the higher-ups would not suspect a thing. Some officers were part of this scheme, but not all of them could turn a blind eye. Truthfully, Jungkook had been devising plans to get the officers already in this plan to keep supporting them.

Fukuchi soon realized how essential Jungkook was to this whole ordeal, so from being a chess piece, Jungkook was promoted to king. He had the privilege now to meet members of Decay of Angels who were not in prison.

Lee Sung was present at this meeting. He was tasked to get a feel of the king in prison. One look and Lee Sung already knew Jungkook was dangerous. Lee Sung had to find a way to break him.

“And how does staying sober benefit the Decay of Angel, Jungkook-ah?”

Jungkook tilted his head as he raised his hand to show his five fingers, “Five percent.”

Lee Sung was quick to snort at the number. Fukuchi came to the rescue, “Lee Sung, I know it sounds insignificant, but do note that Jungkook-ssi right here has been in this game for only a few days.” He also explained that the officer who had been eyeing the Decay of Angels had been transferred to another jurisdiction, all thanks to Jungkook’s effort.

Now, the drug dealing in Incheon was much more free. 

Lee Sung finally looked pleased because of this. He jutted his chin out, “Very well, then, Jungkook-ah.~ Just tell me what prize you want, I can give it to you.~”

Jungkook jumped into the offer at once. He wrote a name on a piece of paper and handed it to Lee Sung. The latter laughed, thinking that Jungkook wanted someone killed. That could easily be arranged, but the brunet was enigmatic. Lee Sung never would have thought that someone could be this stupidly sweet.

“Consider it done,” Lee Sung stood up and saluted. Sometime later, Jungkook received a letter from Gogol. It contained printed photos of a kid smiling while holding hands with his adopted parents.

Choi Yeonjun. Did you like his new name, Jungkook-ah? The bottom of the letter said.

Jungkook breathed a sigh of relief. The kid who clung to his leg was okay now. Jungkook couldn’t stop with just this, though. Every time he did something for the benefit of the Decay of Angels, he would ask Lee Sung to grant him the favor of helping the previous employees of Bighit. Unfortunately, his efforts were not enough. He slowly incurred a lot of debt to Lee Sung. The latter said it wasn’t his money. It was his boss who lent Jungkook the money.

The death threats toward him and Jimin lessened, too. Of course, this didn’t go unnoticed by Jimin. He confronted Jungkook about it, knowing well that his friend was behind this. Jungkook had always been one step ahead of everything. Sadly, he was not one to make rational choices.

It was easy for Jimin to figure it all out. Jungkook would sometimes joke that Jimin could see the future, therefore giving him the ability of flawless. “Your conjecture has always been flawless, Jiminnie-hyung~!” Jungkook used to tell him.

It wasn’t any different now. Jungkook was being treated like a God in prison these days. He had the privilege to sit beside Fukuchi, and Jimin was not blind not to see the rampant spread of Dead Apple. In fact, one of his cellmates offered him to try the drug. Jimin firmly refused. He easily connected the dots, and when his conjecture had truly become ‘flawless,’ he then confronted Jungkook.

“This is dangerous, Jungkook. You have to stop.” Jimin was not one to resort to violence, but he couldn’t help but grab the younger man’s shirt and slam him against the wall. “You are dealing with illegal drugs, for Pete’s sake. Aren’t you afraid? You only have a few months in your sentence. Don’t make a decision that would harm you.”

I’m doing this for you. Jungkook wanted to shake Jimin. I’m doing this for the people who used to believe in us. I can’t abandon them. You said they’re important to you. I just want to make you happy, Jimin-hyung.

However, vulnerability and truth didn’t sit well with Jungkook. He wriggled out of Jimin’s grasp. “Just trust me, Jiminnie-hyung.”

Jungkook was in too deep. He needed to pay his debts to Lee Sung’s boss, save some money for himself, and start all over again. Their sentence was only reduced because the Decay of Angels paid some of his dues. They were billions of yen as their case impacted the Korean economy.

Jungkook wanted to reclaim his life and maybe…maybe see you again.

You still hadn’t responded to any of Jungkook’s letters, but he didn’t plan on giving up. He tripled the letter he sent, hoping that you would find it annoying and finally reply to him. He would take anything from you, even if it was just pure hatred.

Everything would be okay in no time. He would be out in prison with Jimin soon, so he smiled at his friend, thinking that Jimin understood him.

Except that he didn’t. 

Jungkook had no one else to blame—

Only himself.

He should have known Jimin wouldn’t keep his mouth shut. He wouldn’t blindly trust Jungkook when the well-being of other people was involved. It didn’t matter if they were prisoners. Jimin wouldn’t want these people to harm themselves more.

Jimin was righteous. He couldn’t just watch Jungkook destroy himself and the others, so he did what he thought was right: he told a police officer about the drug scheme in prison.

What a joke.

Did he really think he could make a difference? The police officer nodded along with Jimin, even escorting him to where he could report such a crime.

Jimin sighed in relief. He thought he could sleep well that night, but he couldn’t.

Jimin wasn’t escorted to report the crime. He was stuck in the giant walk-in freezer in the prison’s kitchen.

At five twenty-four in the morning, Park Jimin was found dead. 

********

A/N: Hello. It's been almost a month since I last updated. I hope you still remember this fic ~~

I know this chapter is upsetting. :(( I'm sorry, there might...? be more to come.

Also, a little update: life is being a total bitch to me. I have a hard time adjusting at work, and would sometimes use the little free time I have to just cry. It was a public holiday in my country last Friday and this coming Monday, but being in accounting means having no break. I still need to work :// My health is being compromised lately as I am working the night shift. It's super stressful because almost everyone around me keeps saying that I am losing too much weight. I KNOW it already :((( anyway, I'm rambling. Please tell me your thoughts about this chapter.

If you feel like dropping this fic, please do so! But please be kind in the comment or don't tell me at all.

Thank you ~~ See you next time! (Hopefully soon, but damn it's quarter close next month, so I will probably be busy waahhh)

Got more suggestions about the tag/warnings? Feel free to tell me. The goal here is to be more mindful.

[samanddean76]

Title: One Way Or Another

Author: SamandDean76 | Artist: Bluefire986

Ship: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Word Count: 14,976 | Rating: Explicit

Major Warnings: Rape/Non-Con

Tags: Alternate Universe, Stanford Era, Alpha/Beta/omega Dynamics, Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha Sam Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Canon-Typical Violence, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Mpreg, Transformation, Collars, Dean Winchester Whump, True Mates, Revenge, Or Justice, Alpha John Winchester, Omega Mary Winchester, background John/Mary, Alpha Zachariah, background Zachariah/Mary (past rape), Alpha Dick Roman, Alcoholic John Winchester, Minor Character Death, Eventual Happy Ending, Written for the Wincest Big Bang 2024, Original Art by Bluefire986

Summary: Dean woke up in the hospital, bruised, battered, and a newly turned Omega. His life had been left in shambles, and his only hope was that Sam would leave Stanford and come back to mate the brother that he hadn’t seen in four years. Not since the day of Sam and John’s last big fight.

Sam received the dire news and promptly put his life on hold, so that he could help Dean, the big brother who had done everything to protect him growing up. Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he allowed Dean to be put up for auction where he would be sold to the highest bidder.

Together the boys work to unravel the mystery surrounding the disappearance of their father, Dean’s assault, and the long-buried secrets that their pack was desperate to keep hidden away. Knowing that the only way they could live their lives was if the truth was brought out into the blinding light of day.

I am so proud to finally be able to present my Wincest Big Bang story to everyone! @bluefire986 created some wonderful art for the story, that helped to enrich the journey that I sent the boys on. @jld71 was the beta who kept me on track. And my Muse went wild so that I might be able to create an A/B/O alternate universe where challenges are plentiful, and rewards are many. I hope you enjoy it!

Story on AO3

Art on AO3 | LiveJournal

[mr-business-whump]

Day 21: Stalked

Sometimes, Hiccup felt like he was being watched.

He wasn't, he couldn't be.... but when he'd see a flash of light as he walked at night sometimes, when he saw a flash of red hair disappearing behind something every time he turned around, the way he'd get letters in his mailbox with no stamps, no address, just his name with all sorts of horrible, obsessive things said about him... it made him wonder what exactly was going on.

read it here!

[lifblogs]

Fandom: The Bad Batch Rating: Explicit Pairings: Royce Hemlock/Tech (Non-Consensual Pairing), Tech/Phee, Tech & Crosshair & Wrecker & Hunter & Omega & Echo Word Count: 3632 Summary: Tech is facing his first mission since Tantiss with trepidation. A word said to him in comfort is enough to bring repressed and forgotten memories to the surface, and he feels like he's being torn apart inside. WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, PTSD, Flashbacks, Attempted Self-Harm, Near-Attempted Murder-Suicide, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Author's Note: I'm so sorry.

[minty-mumbles]

Febuwhump Day 13: Forced to Harm a Loved One

Read the full collection of my febuwhump ficlets on AO3

~~~

“N-no, no!” 

Warriors cringed internally as he heard Wild’s cries. It was terrible having to listen to the sound of his pleading and know that it was he who was causing Wild so much pain. He was the one responsible for this, he was the one choosing to do this to Wild. He was-

Warriors did his best to shake off those thoughts. It wouldn’t help anyone if he fell into a downward spiral of horrible thoughts. Wild needed him to be present and aware. And really, Warriors wasn’t the one who was hurting him. Not that he would ever say it- and certainly not now- but it was Four who was the one causing Wild’s pain. 

Warriors was just the one holding him down, not letting him get away or buck Four off of him where the smithy was straddling Wild’s weakly kicking legs. 

Warriors was just the one holding him down, and that was almost worse. 

Wild was a free spirit. Warriors had known from the day he’d met the champion that he was a hard one to pin down, figuratively and literally. He was always moving and didn’t like being told to stay still. (One time Legend had snapped irritably at Wild about his habit of rocking back and forth on his feet, and the look WIld had shot the veteran had been absolutely scathing. No one ever mentioned that particular habit of his again.)

Being told not to wander off was also irritating to the champion, but at least he’d finally gotten in the habit of letting them know when he was planning on disappearing. Warriors thanked the stars for that, as it had saved them more than one headache in the past few months.

All of this put together signaled a very free-spirited hero.

Warriors had always suspected that Wild had some sort of issue with being restrained or confined. For a split second of selfishness, Warriors wishes he was not having that suspicion confirmed.

But the life of a hero wasn’t easy. The battlefield was a dangerous place, and even if a delirious hero pleaded and begged, his blood-soaked bandages needed to be changed. Warriors wished that they hadn’t let Wild put his tunics back on after dressing his wound in the first place. But they couldn’t’ve known that the wound would end up becoming infected.

Warriors looked up to check the process, trying to gauge how much longer this was going to go on and how much longer he would need to listen to his brother cry. The smithy’s eyes were frantically cycling through nearly all the colors of the rainbow, but he kept as steady a hand as possible in this scenario. 

It took a great deal of careful maneuvering to get Wild out of his Champions’ tunic. They persisted though, even as Wild cried out in pain and panic. 

If it had been anyone else, they would have simply cut the tunic off and spared themself the trouble. But they both knew that Wild would kill them later if they destroyed the tunic his Zelda had made for him. They didn’t bother to be so careful with his undertunic, simply using Warriors knife to cut it off of Wild. He would be able to borrow one of the others' spare tunics until the group reached the next town. 

The entire process of removing his clothes so they could get at his bandages seemed to be agony for Wild. Warriors knew from experience that lifting your arms when you had an injury on your side hurt. But it wasn’t only that. 

“No, stop, I don’ wan- I don’ wanna take m’ clothes off. Sto’ it- Four, stop.” 

Wild’s words were slurred but still understandable. Warriors risked a glance up at Four, and found that the smithy looked like he wanted to cry to. He visibly steeled himself, took a deep breath, and continued. His eyes had settled on purple and green, the blue and red retreating from his gaze. 

Warriors tried to follow his example, taking a steadying breath and trying to ignore Wild’s wails.

Wild may be confused and combative- as evidenced by the bruise forming on Four’s cheek- and more than a little out of touch with the situation, but he was obviously still present enough to recognize the two of them. It only made the situation worse, that Wild was able to call out their names when he begged for them to stop. 

Wild had taken his shirt off in front of the rest of the group plenty of times, not to mention the time he had shown them all his cars. But there was a difference between removing clothing consensually when you were lucid enough to understand what was happening, and having your clothing removed and cut off when you were only partially present in your own mind. 

Warriors felt sick.

Maybe Wild had no reason to be this defensive. Maybe he was just delirious and confused. That still wouldn’t make it okay, but it would make the whole situation easier to smooth over when Wild comes back to himself. But Warriors had a sinking suspicion that the issue ran deeper than that.

Maybe, Warriors hoped, Wild simply didn’t want to show off his scars. The champion acted rather nonchalant about them, but that didn’t mean he was obligated to show them off. 

But maybe, Warriors shuddered, maybe Wild was afraid of something, something that Warriors himself had been through and would never wish on anyone. There were very few reasons someone would try to forcibly remove someone else’s clothes, and none of them were good. 

To Wild’s hazy mind, which obviously didn‘t recognize that he needed to change his bandages, there would be only one option left. Being held down and stipped out of his tunic… 

Warriors’ next breath came out as a shuddering gust of air, and he had to resist the urge to gag.

The cries of their names made it obvious that Wild knew who was trying to get his clothes off. Warriors and Four were only trying to help, but from Wild’s point of view? 

Warriors wished the other heroes were here. Twilight, at least, would be able to help soothe the panicked champion. The ranch hand had a way with the wild hero, and always managed to calm him. Maybe restraining Wild wouldn’t’ve even been necessary in the first place.

Anyone else would have been a help too. Just having someone there to reassure Wild who was actively trying to disrobe him or holding him down would have made their task easier.

But there was no one else here. It was only Four, Warriors, and Wild, alone in a strange era. The other heroes were Hylia-knows-where, separated from the three of them by the very fight that had injured the champion. 

Leadership now fell to Warriors. He was the oldest, and the highest up in the pecking order the heroes had seemed to naturally fall into, back when they had first met. He was the one in charge.

Normally, Warriors would not flinch at this. He was one of the finest captains in the Hyrulean military. He was more than used to leading, even if he had to make a hard decision that might hurt some of the people under his commands. 

But selfishly, Warriors wished that just this once, the burden of making hard decisions did not rest on his shoulders.

[lancedoncrimsonwings]

Augusnippets Day 25

Path of Hurt Prompt; "Intimate Whumper"/"Sadistic Whumper" Part 2

Day 25 of @augusnippets August 2024 Whump writing challenge! (Augusnippets Masterlist)

Characters;

- POV/Whumpee; Lancelot - The Weeping Monk

- Whumper; OC "Mistress"/The Sorceress

(Characters; Whumpees)

(Characters; Whumpers)

(Ao3 Link)

Wordcount; 498

TWs; intimate whumper, non con, implied rape, mind control, gaslighting/guilt tripping/manipulation.

Direct Continuation of Day 16

"Look at me, My Lancelot..."

Lancelot turned, slowly.

Immediately he jerked his head away at the sight of his Mistress, completely naked, pale skin bathed silver where she stood in the pool of moonlight gleaming through the bars of his window, raven hair glimmering as it flowed across her shoulders. The sight burned itself into his memory, a forbidden desire searing behind his eyes.

"I said look at me."

Lancelot rose his eyes to her face and studiously kept them there.

"All of me. I want you to look at my body."

Lancelot swallowed. Her words were coy, seductive even, but there was an edge beneath he couldn't place and he felt the oddest sense that he was failing her somehow. He did exactly as she asked, methodically sweeping his gaze over her form without even truly seeing what he looked at, settling back on her face again.

"Do I not please you?" She asked, sharply.

Ah. He had offended her.

"You are very pleasing, my Lady." He replied, carefully. Stoically.

"And yet, you do not want me."

She very pointedly looked down, then.

"I..." Lancelot swallowed again. His heart hammered in his chest, understanding beginning to dawn on him, a harsh recognition of what she wanted.

"Do you not... desire me?"

"My only desire is your command." Lancelot replied, inhaling sharply as she reached her hand forwards, touching him on the inner thigh, her knuckles brushing against his soft manhood- which threatened to harden at the very idea of her touch there. He felt nauseated, an uncomfortable prickling sensation clawed across his back.

"If I commanded you to want me...?"

Lancelot's lips parted as she took hold of him. That change to her scent he'd noticed before suddenly made sense. It was her arousal he could smell.

These were more than mere questions, more than a mere game.

She was testing him.

"I will do what you ask of me." Lancelot managed to say, suppressing a shudder when she stroked her hand up and down his length, half ashamed as his body began to react to her, yet it was everything he could do to obey her, was that not his purpose?

"Good..." she whispered, kissing along his jaw now, stepping so close in front of him that she pressed his hardening length against the soft skin of her hip with every movement of her hand. His mind howled against the bars in his head, but what they spoke of he couldn't know, why terror gripped his heart the same way she gripped him, why he still had that powerful urge to run, flee, hide...

Yet obedient as he was, he held still, closed his eyes to her touch, allowed arousal to smoulder within him like the candle had his skin just moments ago.

"You'll be good for me, won't you, Lancelot..." she sighed into his ear, hands on his shoulders shoving him backwards.

He wanted to say no.

He yielded to her touch.

Anything for her...

Lancelot and the Sorceress;

Day 1- Brainwashing

Day 16- Sadistic/Intimate Whumper Part 1

So close to the end now, genuinely can't believe I've managed 25 days so far! Very nearly failed a few days but I'm proud of myself for doing this much \m/

Day 28- Mind Control/Betrayal Part 1

Day 31- Betrayal Part 2 - Breaking the Conditioning/Forgiveness

Lancelot and the Sorceress will be back in another one or two of the prompts, but this scene won't be directly continued for the Augusnippets. At least for now I will be leaving the rest to the imagination, but do let me know if you'd like me to continue this prompt!

Thanks for reading as always, onto the next!

[wellthebardsdead]

The loved & the forgotten pt6

Part 5 here

———

Vivienne: *wrapped in Kaidans cape as Taliesin carries him down the hill back to the horses, whole body aching from the ordeal he’d narrowly survived* im sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…

Taliesin: *tears freezing to his face as he trudges through the snow holding the smaller elf tight* shhh don’t apologise, we’ll get you back into the city and take you to a healer alright?…

Vivienne: *just staring off into blank space, eyes glazed over as his mind struggles to process everything that’s happened* I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…

Taliesin: *sighs and gently covers his face with the dark fabric to keep him warm before looking back to see Kaidan throwing the spear away for the hundredth time* Kaidan give it up! It’s going to keep coming back to him!

Kaidan: *catches it as it comes flying back like a boomerang* HOW THOUGH!? *snaps it over his knee only for it to reform* WHAT EVEN IS THIS FUCKING THING?!

Taliesin: I don’t know but it’s clearly bound to him, I’m sure that Neloth fellow can tell us when we get to solstheim. *pulls himself up onto his horse and holds Vivi in his arms*

Vivienne: I don’t want to meet him anymore…

Taliesin: I?… why not love?…

Vivienne: *looks up at him with such sad hopeless eyes* I know the truth now… I know why I’m so despised… why I’m not allowed near the temple… why the daedra want me dead… except for… *feels the ring on his finger and tears up again* I don’t understand anything anymore…

Taliesin: shhh *leans down and presses his forehead to his* can I kiss you?…

Vivienne: *sniffles and shakes his head breaking into sobs again* I’m c-covered in piss.

Taliesin: …I was wondering what that smell was…

Kaidan: *suddenly climbs onto his horse, spear nowhere in sight* right, let’s get going.

Taliesin: I… Kaidan-

Kaidan: don’t ask, let’s just go.

Muatra: *stuck under a bunch of stones from boethias statue and tangled up in the sticky webs of the cocoon Mephala had created to protect Vivienne. Rattling violently as it tries to escape and return to its masters hand, following the enchantment Vivec placed on it long ago*

*A few hours later*

Vivienne: *laying on a bed in the white phial, now clean and warmly dressed, letting out soft frightened whimpers as Quintus inspects the full extent of the damage*

Kaidan: d-do you really have to look in that deep?

Quintus: *kneeling between the dunmers legs* yes though- outside of an extreme amount of bruising he thankfully has no further physical damage though- mental and emotional damage I’m afraid I can’t heal… Did he tell either of you who did this to him? Judging by the bruising on his pelvis and hip bones and the- claw marks on his torso, I’d say he’d been molested by a frost troll.

Taliesin: no he wouldn’t say, he just keeps repeating that he’s sorry and he knows the truth now… but it wasn’t a frost troll I assure you, whoever it was-

Vivienne: *staring up at the wooden ceiling* Molag Bal…

Everyone: *goes silent*

Kaidan: Molag b-WHUGH!!! *suddenly gets pinned to the wall by his cape as muatra explodes through the window and stabs into the fabric and old wood* ugh… fock…

*a few more hours later*

Vivienne: *laying in his bed in the corner club, Kaidan & Taliesin both sitting beside him, tentatively letting him know they’re there but both too scared to lay beside him just yet in case they frighten him after what he went through*

Kaidan: *gently stroking his hand, letting the dunmer feel how warm his skin is, how full of life he is* shhh, it’s just me lyrebird, don’t be scared…

Taliesin: *brushing his now clean fluffy white hair from his face* would you like anything before bed?… I can make you that tea you’d li-

Vivienne: *sniffles and sits up hugging onto both of them wanting to be held and comforted*

Taliesin: *looks to Kaidan and nods* I’ll lay by the wall and-

Kaidan: he’s in the middle and I’ll guard you both with my body.

Taliesin: I- was going to say so he’ll have room to move if he wakes up in a fright but… yes… thank you, love…

Kaidan: *presses his forehead to his and gently strokes the altmers cheek* okay climb in- *carefully moves Vivi into his arms* I’m just holding you now okay Vivi?… you know We’d never touch you without your consent…

Vivienne: *nods sadly and rests his head against his chest as Taliesin gets comfortable* I know… I’m sorry I went off on my own… I wanted to get rid of the sword- I wanted to be left alone I just-

Kaidan: shhh, you don’t need to apologise… we’re not mad… *looks up to see Taliesin waiting looking equally as tired and concerned as him* okay we’re going to lay you down now, if you’re scared you can tell us alright?…

Vivienne: *nods and curls up a little as Kaidan lays him down, feeling so pathetic and small* i should be used to this… being used like this… I’ve been touched like that hundreds of times why-… why am I so afraid now?…

Taliesin: *tucks the blanket up over him and let’s him see where he’s resting his hands* I’d be surprised if you weren’t frightened after that ordeal…

Kaidan: He’s called the prince of rape for a reason, love… *lays down beside him letting him see every movement he makes, both him and Taliesin utterly terrified any wrong movements could trigger a panic reaction*

Vivienne: he said… I’m his spouse?… his bride he called me… Vivec- me?… I?… married him a long time ago and when the nerevarine destroyed the heart of lorkhan Vivec- slept with him and… gave birth to me as- his new life…

Taliesin: you gave birth… to yourself. I… given everything I’ve read about vivec that honestly makes a lot of sense but… this still isn’t good…

Kaidan: you’re telling me… he’s married you without your consent-*spots the ring on Vivienne’s finger* is that-

Vivienne: *holds up his hand looking at the ring* …no, it’s not a wedding band it… was the ebony blade I think but… Mephala- when she saved me she… said this ring would keep me hidden but I don’t understand how…

Taliesin: maybe it’s ench- *eyes going wide watching as vivienne clenches his hand and suddenly disappears entirely* LOVE?!

Kaidan: VIVI?! *feels the bed in a panic and earns a surprised giggle as he unintentionally pokes his armpit*

Vivienne: *opens his hand and snickers a little at their responses* oh it turns me invisible!

Kaidan: *sighs and smiles with relief, just so happy to make him laugh after the horror he’d endured* don’t scare me like that.

Taliesin: *smiles and holds his hand close to his dunmer lovers* can I hold and kiss you goodnight dear?…

Kaidan: me too love?…

Vivienne: *smiles sadly, feeling loved that they care enough to ask but feeling terrible that they feel like they have to* you don’t have to ask me- I’ll always say yes- *blushes as Taliesin takes his hand in his and kisses his forehead while Kaidan just hugs him close*

Taliesin: We want to be sure we won’t scare you…

Kaidan: You went through something traumatising love… we don’t want to slip up and make you relive it.

Vivienne: *looks up at them before rubbing his eyes as tears begin to form* o-oh- s-stop making m-me cry- *sniffles* I’ve cried enough today I… j-just hold me…

Taliesin & Kaidan: *both smile at each other then at him before embracing one another and their dunmer lover*

Taliesin: …Kaidan where’d you put the spear?

Kaidan: … I left it at the phi- *jumps as it suddenly smashes through the window stabbing into the wall above the bed* …

Taliesin: …

Vivienne: …can one of you move it please id rather not be laying under it again.

[jianghushenanigans]

Whumptober Day 17: Collar | Touch Aversion | “Leave me alone.”

A possessive hand trails across the back of his shoulders. Lan Jue tries not to shrink away from the touch he once craved. He knows that moving away will only make him angry.

He cannot make him angry.

“Peizhi, ah, Peizhi.” His face is right next to Lan Jue’s ear. “What are we going to do with you?”

He can’t see it, but he knows the False Emperor is smiling, because he knows him, he knows him, back before he proclaimed himself Emperor, before he forced Lan Jue into whatever this is. Back when they were just Peizhi and Shulin, exploring each other’s bodies with all the time in the world.

A hand snakes over his shoulder, under his collar, across his chest.

This time Lan Jue can’t help but jerk away in revulsion, but there’s nowhere to go but back into the False Emperor’s body. Instead of getting away he is only gripped tighter.

“Ah, Peizhi, I knew that sooner or later you’d let yourself have what I know you’ve been missing so much.” A kiss is pressed just below his ear. He flinches, and this time the False Emperor lets him topple to the floor, merely staring down at him with a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Leave me alone!”

The smile on Shulin’s face grows broader, horribly familiar. He reaches out, stroking a thumb across Lan Jue’s cheekbone.

“You don’t really want that, Peizhi, I know you don’t.”

“I do!” Lan Jue tries to move his head away, but Shulin’s fingers tighten on his jaw.

“Oh, you do, Peizhi? You want me to leave you alone here, while I go and find Lan Hui?”

Lan Jue had his mouth open to protest again, but it snaps shut at the mention of his son. His son, who he had sent away for his own protection, who he hadn’t realised would be safer closer to home.

“If you want me to leave, then, Peizhi, so be it.”

Shulin pulls away, and Lan Jue… Lan Jue reaches out to keep him there. To make him stay. Because as much as he hates it, as much as it makes his skin crawl, if Shulin is with him he isn’t with a-Hui.

For a second, the expression on Shulin’s face is open, happy. A second staring at whatever expression he can read in Lan Jue’s face has the smile melting into a sneer.

“You’ll have to ask for it, Peizhi. Ask me to stay. Beg me to stay.”

Lan Jue swallows. Lets go of Shulin’s sleeve. Shifts his body around into a proper kneeling form. Bows his head.

“Your Majesty.” The words get stuck in his throat, but he manages to choke them out. “Your Majesty, would you please give this one the honour of your company?”

“Give who, Peizhi?”

Lan Jue knows what he wants. Knows exactly what he wants. Blinks back the tears that come to his eyes.

“Your… your wife. Would your majesty please give this wife the honour…”

Shulin is already on him, hand on his face, pulling him up into a bruising kiss.

Lan Jue doesn’t know how long he can live like this.

A sequel to this

Crossposted here on ao3

[quotidian-oblivion]

Fic Rec To Fill Your Angst Needs

My Mummy Has Tattoos - I_is_a_fangirl_yee - Batman - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

sO. @mispeltnostalgia (Nogolsta/Nog) wrote this fic. It had started out as an English assignment until I, the bastard, came and inspired Nogolsta to turn this into a full fic.

It is very good. Ft. Jason Todd + unreliable narrator to the extreme.

And when I mean extreme, I mean extreme. 'Cuz I screamed. Out loud. In class. Several times.

ouch.

Please do mind the tags though.

[samanddean76]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Mature Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: John Winchester/Sam Winchester Characters: Sam Wesson, John Wesson, Zachariah (Supernatural) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - It's a Terrible Life (Supernatural), Angry Sam Winchester, John Winchester Tries, Sam Winchester Has a Plan, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, but it's not real, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Still Not Real, Revenge, Or Justice, Mystery to be solved, Prompt Fill Summary:

Sam Wesson is trapped in a dead-end job, all the while supporting his father. Or is he? The only thing he knows for sure is that he's in love with his father, and the dreams are getting worse. But Sam has a plan, that hopefully will earn him the one thing he wants more than anything in this world. His father's admiration.

[taxi-cab-to-slowtown]

I'm the Mole

Chapter 30: Swan's Playtoy

For Taxi's 366 Day 60: "flub"

Ships: Dick Grayson/Wally West, Barry Allen/Hal Jordan/Iris West Rating: Mature Fandom: DC Comics Warning: Implied rape/non-con Link to I'm the Mole on Ao3 Why am I doing this?

fic update below cut

Bart stopped next to them. “You alright?” 

Hal was laughing into a scowling Barry’s shoulder. “I thought you were dying,” Barry cried. Hal continued to laugh. Bart watched the two of them in confusion. 

“I don’t know what’s so funny?” Bart screwed his eyes together. 

“Neither do I,” the voice came through a familiar vocoder, made to sound like it was vibrating, Bart had heard that voice before. He turned around slowly as the two Justice Leaguers climbed to their feet. Standing in front of them, bo-staff in hand, feathered cloak fluttering behind him, was Black Swan. 

Bart had never seen his mom back in the days when he had two different IDs, he’d only ever seen the Black Swan costume where it was placed in the glass case in their house. Bart never really thought about just how terrifying his mother would have looked in it. Sure, Deathwing was intimidating, but there was something in the added mystery of the almost full-face mask as opposed to the painted-on blood mask he wore in the future. 

“Black Swan,” Barry growled, stepping in front of Bart. “What are you going here?” 

“Neutron was supposed to kill you,” Black Swan admitted, stepping forward more, spinning the bo-staff with ease in one hand. “But he flubbed that, so I’ve come to finish the job instead.” 

Hal stepped up next to Barry, the ring powering up around him, making a blockade between Barry and Black Swan. Dick braced himself and swung his bo around, dropping into a ready crouch. 

“Look, kid, we don’t want to hurt you,” Hal said. “You might have been able to fight the Team, but Flash and I… you don’t want to mess with us. We’re founders. We’ve been doing this for a long time, and are good at it.” 

“Oh really?” has asked, raising an eyebrow, lips tipping up to a cheeky grin. “Are you really, Harold Jordan?’ 

Bart could watch the moment when Hal’s heart stuttered in his chest. He definitely wasn’t expecting that. Bart wasn’t either. Why would his mom reveal his hand like that? 

While they were all dealing with the shock, he struck. 

Dick twisted, flying through the air and over Hal’s shield, landing on the other side. Barry lunged toward him, and he swung out with his staff, blocking both his blows, and the construct hand that Hal sent down toward them. He twisted and turned, springing up and down and back, and somehow landing a perfect blow on Hal’s chest while also executing a backflip and landing a bit away from them. 

Hal gripped it chest. 

“Why don’t you run on home?” Dick asked, looking Bart right in the eyes. “I’m sure your mother would like to see you.” 

He was sneering, and it took Bart a second to realise that was an act. Dick was playing the jilted lover, angry that Killer Flash had made a baby with Nightwing and not him. Bart wondered if Dick was openly his dad’s husband as Black Swan. He knew that Killer Flash’s infatuation with Nightwing had been ramped up to the point that the two of them had faked Dick’s rape in order to cover up their marriage. 

Bart didn’t know what to do. 

A sharp blade slid out of the bo-staff in Dick’s hands and he lunged toward Barry. Bart made his decision. He lunged forward, grabbing the hero and pulling him, running at his top speed back toward the Allen house. He’d have to trust that Hal would be able to handle himself for a minute or so. 

“What are you doing?” Barry asked him as Bart pulled him into the house, closing the door behind him. 

“Saving your life.” 

***

Dick scowled at where his son had just disappeared with his target in tow. Bart was going to get a talking to when he got home. He didn’t get between Dick and his targets. All that was left now was Hal, holding his ring up toward Dick, surrounded by a faintly glowing green forcefield. Dick stalked toward him. 

“No one ever told me Flash was a scaredy cat,” Dick taunted, stepping toward him. “Barry doesn’t even care enough to take you along with him.” 

He watched Hal Adam’s apple bob, he could sense the fear in him. It made Dick’s confidence rise. It really interested him how words he could speak as Nightwing and boost confidence and morale, he could say as Black SWan and inspire fear. 

“What do you want?” 

“Your little loverboy dead,” Dick answered, kicking at his construct. It didn’t budge. “Hmmmm, that’s not going to work.” 

He pulled something out of his belt and lunged forward, stabbing it into the construct’s centre. It shattered like stain glass. Hal stared at the thing in Black Swan’s hand, it was a small yellow lightning bolt, like the symbol Barry wore on his chest. 

“Oh, this?” he grinned. “A friend of mine gave it to me.” 

He slammed his knee into Hal’s stomach and sent him back onto the ground. He climbed onto his chest, re-pocketing the lightning bolt and then grabbing his hand and pulling the ring off his finger. He tossed it aside, and Hal watched as it skipped over the asphalt away from him. 

The bo-staff came down, a sharp point sliding out of the end of it. Hal tried to move away, but it impaled him in the shoulder. Black Swan pulled it back out, grinning like a maniac. 

“By the way, my friend wanted me to give you a message, one to send to Flash,” He stood up, pacing away as Hal gripped at his bleeding shoulder, fighting back the reflex tears in his eyes and shuffling backwards on his butt as he struggled to stand back up. 

“Alright, what was the fucking message?” Hal grit out, pulling himself to his feet and fighting through the pain of the injury. “What did your friend tell you?” 

Black Swan laughed. “Well, it’s for Barry, but I guess you can pass it on to him.” 

He stepped forward and Hal tensed, but he leaned in up against his ear and murmured. “He said you’re right, Killer Flash did kill his parents, but he’s still alive. He told me to tell you ‘I never gave up hope on you, uncle Barry, I never doubted you would save me.’” 

All the colour left Hal’s face. It was a tossup if it was from shock or from the stab-wound in his shoulder. 

“No, Wally’s dead… he died, ye–” 

Black swan plunged his spear into his side. Hal gasped, groaning as the spear slid out of his side and he gasped, falling to his knees. Dick leaned down. 

“Some days I think he thinks it would be better if he were dead. The screams… well, I can make Wally make whatever sounds I want. My husband and I have a deal, you see. He gets his fuck toy, and I get mine.” 

Hal was staring at him, his blood rolling down his side. Dick grinned, it was feral, and dark. He wanted his claim to be clear, he wanted Hal to know exactly what he was saying. 

“I’ll be back to kill Flash later.” 

And, like the bat he was, he was gone. 

***

Barry carried Hal back to the house bleeding out. He laid him on the kitchen table. Bart watched as Jay, Joan, Iris, and Barry bustled around him, trying to stitch him up. Bart sat on the stairs, face in his hands, tugging at his tufts of hair. He’d messed up. He’d managed to save Barry, but now Hal was laying on the table, pale-faced and dying as they hurried to try to fix him. He was going to die, and it might all be Bart’s fault. 

He stood up, walking up the stairs and into the bathroom, closing the door and sitting down against the wall. He’d wanted to fix things. He could have done better though. If he’d just told Barry that Dick was Black Swan and Killer Flash was Wally West, it would have fixed things, but Bart didn’t want to do that. 

Bart loved his parents. Which might seem like something a villain kid shouldn’t say, especially a villain kid going back in time to change what their parents did, but that didn’t change the fact that it was true. Bart loved them. Bart’s mom was good to him, gentle, sweet. Bart’s dad was all smiles, and love. They never talked about work at the dinner table, and all blood had to be washed off before they sat down to eat, and Dick always asked Bart about his day, and Wally ruffled his hair and smiled at him and said he made them proud. 

Bart loved his parents. 

Bart didn’t want to see the Justice League lock them up and throw away the key. He wanted his mom and dad to come back to the light, and he didn’t mean the Light. His mom used to run with Batman. His mom inspired a whole new generation of heroes. He just wanted Dick to go back to what he once was, and he wanted his dad to realise that Luthor and all of them were wrong, that they lied to him, that Barry couldn’t have done anything because he didn’t know. 

Barry wasn’t at fault for the things that had happened to him. Barry wasn’t at fault for Rudy’s abuse and Wally not getting out. Wally was obsessed with the Flash, obsessed with the idea that the Flash could save him, just because he was hurting. He needed that hope, to get through each day, but that hope turned around and made him believe in something that didn’t exist. 

Flash wasn’t infallible. Flash wasn’t some magic tooth fairy that could come and save him whenever he wanted him to. Flash was a man, just like Wally. A man who could run faster than anyone else, but still a man. He worked a nine to five, came home to his wife and boyfriend, put on a red suit, and ran around saving people. He was a good man, a hero, but still a man. 

Wally had let the dreams of a boy, crushed by reality, blind him to the truth of the world, and it had driven him to evil. It had driven him to team up with a bunch of Eugenicists who wanted a “pure” society, because he’d let those dreams be what guided him. 

If only Bart could make Wally and Dick see where they’d gone wrong, then everything could be fixed. If only he could lead them back to what they were supposed to be. They could defeat the light and bring the world into a better future. That’s what they needed. It would be better for everyone. 

Bart couldn’t tell. He couldn’t let his parents get locked up. All that would do was solidify their hatred of the heroes, he needed them to change sides, to return to the good, who they were meant to be. 

Bart stood up, leaning on the sink. 

But was his desire to see his parents happy more important than Hal Jordan’s life? All his parents would face was prison, but his mom might have killed Hal. 

“Bart?” Iris voice called from down the hall, he tensed. 

“Please don’t let Hal be dead,” he begged quietly, before walking over toward the door and opening it for his great-aunt. “Yes?” 

“He’s going to be okay,” she told him gently. 

Bart lunged forward and fell into her arms, letting out tears of relief. He was going to be okay. He still had a chance. Neutron had been neutralised, and Hal and Barry were still alive. They might be able to win this. 

He could do this, everything could turn out alright. 

***

Dick run across the beam and jumped into the air, flipping and grabbing onto the bar above him, before spinning around with his hands as the fulcrum and launching off. He landed in a hand-stand and then flipped up to his feet, heaving out breaths, hands on his knees. He moved to move to a new exercise, but a hand shot out a grabbed his wrist. 

“Babe, what happened?” Wally asked, worried, looking around at the mess Dick had made of the gym. “You’ve been in here for three hours already.” 

“Wally, let go,” Dick growled. 

Wally stepped toward him, nose-to-nose. “Oh, babe, you can’t scare me away with the hot boy act, that just makes me horny.” He leaned into him, sliding a hand around his waist and pressing kisses up his throat. Dick tilted his head back, eyes fluttering half-closed. “What happened?” he whispered in his ear, kissing behind it and making Dick shiver. 

“Failed mission,” he answered, biting his lip to keep from whimpering. “And our kid from the future showed up in the mountain and he’s the reason my mission failed.” 

Wally froze. He pulled back, eyes wide. “What?” he asked, “our kid… our kid from the future?” 

Dick nodded. “His name is Bart. He’s coming to live with us tomorrow, so I can try to get to the bottom of what he thinks he’s doing.” 

“Oh, fuck.” 

“Walls,” Dick cupped his hands around Wally’s face. “I’m just stressed about the failed assassination, but we’ll figure it out, you and I.” He leaned forward, brushing their lips together. “After all, we always do.” 

[artfulacrostic]

whumptober begins!!

flying headfirst into fate

Dick let go. He'd fallen farther before, he was sure, but in the moment, as his grapple gun snagged on one of his gloves and sent him tipping sideways, he couldn't remember when.

OR: Five times in Dick Grayson's life that there was no safety net, and one time that there was.

+

Whumptober 2023 Day No. 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.” Safety Net

[alexanderpearce]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: In the Earth (2021) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Parnag Fegg/Zach, Martin Lowery/Zach Characters: Zach, Martin Lowery, Parnag Fegg, Alma, Olivia Wendle Additional Tags: Forest Sex, in the literal sense of the term. he has sex with the forest., Character Study, Old Gods, Blood and Gore, Self-Harm, Rituals, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, no beta we die like men

Zach and the thing in the forest, entwined.