#he is imprisoned and humiliated

[arliedraws]

ooooohhh who do you like/ship in macbeth? 👀

Omg a MACBETH ask!!!

Umm...I would ship Macbeth with a LOT of characters. I really, REALLY like when Macbeth is a young man and Lady Macbeth is at least a decade older, so that's my top ship right there. The Mommy thing is...so fucking delicious. Big murderous warrior asking Mommy to please fuck him? Trying to convince her he's a big strong man???? Lady Macbeth taking care of her boy????

Then Macbeth/Banquo--very into the best friends things lately, but I like that this is much more toxic than my usual. I like the idea that when Banquo had a son, Macbeth was...jealous of the attention Fleance received from Banquo. Also, having your ex-lover murdered because you believe he's the better man and you think he's going to take your throne? The only thing is that I wish Macbeth had been the one to kill Banquo, but oh well.

Also, Macbeth/Malcolm. Older man/younger man. Macbeth is physically stronger and aggressive while Malcolm is young and manipulative? Yeah, feed me.

You'd think with my love of enemies-to-lovers that I'd like Macbeth/Macduff, but I honestly think Macduff is sort of boring. Theoretically, it's hot, but it doesn't actually get me going. I could ruminate on this and get myself there eventually though.

Also Macbeth probably fucked (got fucked by???) the witches? And liked it?

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

[cws: psychiatric abuse, torture, homophobia, ableism, sanism, racism, pictures of taxidermy. boy this show is a lot sometimes lmfao]

-

so something @thecottageinthedark noticed recently that i'm still fucked up about is that pericles' cage in the asylum isn't actually a bird cage.

it's a bell jar.

for those who don't know what a bell jar is, it's a type of taxidermy display for preserving delicate specimens, most often birds. it's easy for their feathers to get dusty or disintegrate over time if they're left out in the open; a bell jar not only keeps off dirt and keeps people from touching them, but it's made to create a vacuum inside to keep everything where it is.

another layer to this reference is that the book The Bell Jar, by Sylvia Plath, is a retelling of her own experiences with mental illness and the attempts made to treat it at the time. notably, one of the major themes of the book is psychiatric abuse.

pericles is also not only a gay man forcefully committed to an asylum in what is most likely intended to be the 70s, but a very obvious and already horribly handled fantasy metaphor for both physically disabled people and POC. (in particular the talking animals' role in the worldbuilding heavily mirrors Black americans irl, which holy shit there is so much to unpack there all by itself. there is So Much)

(fun little bonus on the side: he's kept in a cell with extremely bright blue/white light 24/7, at an angle where it'd be even more difficult to block it out than if it were overhead. this would make it impossible to get any decent fucking sleep, which is widely recognized as one of the worst forms of torture to exist. they did this to him for 20 years straight.)

so, to recap: gay man and analogue for disabled people/POC, who is also portrayed as an ~evil crazy malicious psychopath,~ is kept in not only a display case for scientific specimens, but one specifically made--in-universe and out--to recreate something that is done to his demographic as a metaphorical disabled person/POC.

and not only that, and not only do people talk about him--in front of him, like he's not even there--as a specimen while gawking at him in this position, but he is being displayed like the stuffed and mounted corpse of a disabled person/POC.

he is said to belong on that display for 'the rest of his miserable [disabled/POC] life.' no one disagrees with this. he's painted as smugly bullying the violent abusive guard. in general he's portrayed as Scary and Evil Now for having been in this situation. and when he escapes, it kicks off what end up being the most heavy-duty problems for the protagonists, which result in the Bad Ending for the nibiru timeline; if he had stayed there, continued to be objectified and tortured with homophobic/racist/ableist violence for the rest of his life, the timeline almost certainly wouldn't have been doomed.

and they used a real person's autobiography about their experiences with psychiatric abuse for this. and to position them in the role of someone it should have not only happened to, but been even more horrifically dehumanizing and cruel.

yeah. i..... yeah.

the creators of this show are genuinely really good at putting together layered references like this, some more obscure than others, which are rewarding to discover and add depth when you do, and it is a crying fucking shame that they like to use it for shit like this. god damn lmao

[rubensmuse]

the fact that you can redeem arcann but not vaylin is. i can only call it misogyny

[ectoplasmer]

biting him biting him biting him bi

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

How to train your pet Human pt.2 (Yandere!Alien X GN!Reader)

part 1, part 3

CW: Abduction, imprisonment, yandere themes, death, pet/owner relationship, tickle torture, humiliation, sexual themes, angst

"There they are~" Kirtch bent to pick (Reader) up, lifting them easily like a child and carrying them with one hand under their butt. (Reader's) face scrunched up in embarrassment. They were wearing an ugly shirt, both baggy and synched tightly, flowy around the body but locked in place like a neck corset at the top and wrists. When Kirtch first presented the tacky gift, (Reader) had ran to hide, forcing Kirtch to wrestle the outfit onto them.

With all of the unnecessary buttons and ties, (Reader) was incapable of taking it off themselves, and was now sulking.

"I have a lot of duties today that cannot be completed in my office, so I thought you might enjoy coming with me so you don't have to be couped up alone." Kirtch gently knocked his forehead into (Reader's).

'Escape chance, escape chance, escape chance-' "Yeah, that sounds nice." (Reader) tried to contain their excitement, consciously aware of their heart beating loudly in their chest.

"Wonderful! I've packed a couple of toys to keep you occupied if you get bored, as well as snacks." He replied happily, seeming so pleased with himself as he briskly walked down the hall from his bedroom towards the main hall. The two passed by many other aliens walking up and down the corridors, none of whom seemed to be the same species as Kirtch. Everyone wore the same cloak, standing them out from the creatures in the shopping district, a uniform slightly lighter in color than Kirtch's. Most would pause while walking to rub a hand over where their noses should have been, and Kirtch would raise a hand in response.

"What are they doing?" (Reader) whispered.

"It is a sign of respect. I am their superior, so if they are not in a rush to get somewhere they are greeting me."

Fear tickled (Reader's) spine. "Are you guys in the military?"

Kirtch laughed, a high pitch clicking sound that almost sounded like a broken music box. "No. I'm just an upper level leader in our trading company."

They arrived in front of a decorated wall, and Kirtch squeezed (Reader) a little while smiling. "Now this is a very important meeting, I need you to be as quiet as possible, okay?"

(Reader) huffed. "I'm not a child."

"I know you aren't. You're a very sweet pet, who is most definitely a grown adult human."

They felt humiliated. It had been almost a month since they were bought by Kirtch, and they did everything in their power to not anger him or appear as though they needed "release". (Reader) constantly watched and waited for the perfect escape attempt, while fighting off Kirtch's affections in as non threatening a way as possible. Like they were emulating a cat. (Reader's) skin burned, but they held back their tongue.

The wall opened, revealing a board room (at least that's what (Reader) assumed it was), a bare room only decorated with a long table surrounded by stools. Kirtch sat (Reader) on the floor and pulled out a sack from the inside of his cloak. While they didn't want to immediately act the part of a good pet, (Reader) was curious as to what was in the bag. The first thing they pulled out, however, was a taxidermied cat. (Reader's) eyes widened, and they couldn't contain their anxiety, shaking as they stared into the cat's glass eyes. Was this some kind of threat?

"Do you like it? I've been meaning to buy you more human toys, so I thought you would appreciate a stuffed animal." Realizing that the 'gift' was not malicious, the nervousness immediately dissolved into mental fatigue.

"Oh. I get it. Stuffed animal. Yeah." They put the animal back in the bag, hoping Kirtch didn't think their exhausted smile was permission to buy more dead bodies.

More aliens entered the room, greeting Kirtch before taking their seats. (Reader) couldn't understand what the meeting was about, since they were all speaking in Kirtch's native tongue, but their voices and faces were tense. The meeting went on for well over an hour, but (Reader) found it surprisingly entertaining, dubbing over their conversation inside their mind like Mystery Science Theater, chuckling with how wild their hand movements were. It was very human of them.

(Reader) fucked up, accidently snorting at one of the angrier aliens. Although they didn't understand the language, one of his sentences sounded awfully like "Pineapple farts", and with how intense his face was, it made it seem like he was describing how his ass felt. Their sound was so quiet it was almost inaudible, but the alien still noticed and spun his head in (Reader's) direction so quickly his exoskeleton creaked. (Reader) bit their lip to hide a smile, turning away from the conference to pretend to munch on their fruit (?) slices.

The irate alien began ranting louder, and (Reader) caught a word they had heard from a few of the underlings they had been introduced to. Bah-blk. Human.

Shit.

They snuck a glance towards the group very slowly to view Kirtch's expression, worried they may have angered him by interrupting the meeting. And indeed, his almost perfectly flat face was pulled into a scowl, but it wasn't aimed at (Reader).

"(Reader), pet, could you come here for a moment?"

His voice was light and smooth, as it always was when speaking to (Reader), but Kirtch's face was grave as he refused to break eye contact with the alien in front of him; said alien's shell glistened like he was sweating under Kirtch's glare. (Reader), not wanting to be punished later, left their spot on the floor and shuffled over to their owner. Kirtch pulled (Reader) into his lap the second they were within his reach, still staring daggers at the poor alien across the table.

He spoke to the offender, holding (Reader) lovingly with one arm as if to make a point. The man was panicked, waving his arms and sweating profusely, sounding apologetic. It wasn't enough, whatever it was he was saying. He referenced (Reader) as Bah-blk again, and then he was dead.

Before (Reader) could understand what it was that Kirtch had pulled out of his robe, a soundless shot was fired across the table, green blood splattering across the wall as the alien's head was pierced by some kind of projectile.

Everyone turned away, unsurprised by the killing. It was a lukewarm reaction, as though this wasn't the first time they witnessed someone die at Kirtch's hand. The body fell, head slamming into the table with a wet thud.

(Reader) didn't know what he had said, but to kill him... It was jarring. The young adult hadn't payed any attention to the tears dripping down their chin until Kirtch wiped them off. The roughness of his hand startled (Reader), making them flinch away from his touch.

For the rest of the meeting (Reader) couldn't pry their eyes away from the dead body lying across from them. It was a nightmare seemingly without an end, staring at a corpse while his murderer held (Reader) tenderly, rubbing his thumb on their side absentmindedly while discussing business with colleagues like it was a regular Tuesday.

If (Reader) was more aware, they would be disgusted with themselves for not fighting Kirtch as he picked them up to go back to their room, but they just wanted to go back to the safety of their *bed*, and couldn't force their brain to focus on anything else.

The bed was more like a twin sized pillow nestled in a metal cage, but it was soft and felt secure, like when (Reader) was young and thought that hiding under their blanket would protect them from the shadow people in their closet.

"Are you alright, (Reader)?" Kirtch asked, his voice full of concern.

(Reader) curled up, pulling the blanket tight over their face.

Kirtch sighed, and crouched down by (Reader's) bed. "(Reader), please don't be upset with me. If this is about my colleague, please know that what I did was necessary."

"Murder is never necessary."

"He tried to accuse me of not being.. as invested in the job as I should be. And that the reason for my lack of dedication was you. He used very strong language." Kirtch placed a hand on (Reader's) back. "I told him not to disrespect you. Yet he continued."

(Reader) began crying, shaking under Kirtch's touch. "Are you saying that I'm the reason he's dead?"

"Oh, pet.." Kirtch sighed again, pulling (Reader) out of the fetal position and into his arms. "I've always been incredibly interested in humanity. When I was a young child, there was a 'book' in my father's study about primitive species, and that's how I learned about humans. Did you know that you and I experience life differently from one another? Our brains function differently. We have different pain receptors; our brains' physiology are almost nothing alike; the diseases humans are capable of developing simply for existing are concepts we've never had to worry about. Even how we perceive the color spectrum, humans are so unlike any other sentient species I have met."

"I was so fascinated by Earth, especially by humans. We are not allowed to visit Earth as it is a restricted area, so much of what we know is recorded knowledge from captured defectors. My chances of meeting a human were next to none. Then, we had to dock in Dol-Hu, a shady planet only inhabited by criminals and those in hiding. And wandering through the market, I saw you."

"The one thing I've always wanted, for the past seventy years, I recognized you as a human immediately, even though you were so much cuter than I could have expected. You're so soft, and fragile, in comparison to my armoured flesh. You were bent over, but I knew from descriptions I had memorized what you were. As one who has always loved Earth, I am fluent in every Earth language we know of, so I was excited to communicate with you. I was so eager to have a piece of humanity. And now here you are."

(Reader) rolled over, their heart clenching painfully as they looked up into Kirtch's sadly smiling face. "I wonder what I look like through your eyes."

Their heart began doing somersaults in their throat as the tears continued flowing.

"You may have been the only human I've ever known, but I can say with confidence that you must have been the best humanity had to offer. I only want to give you the best life possible."

(Reader) wrapped their arms around Kirtch's midsection, sobbing loudly. His body didn't bend or squish under the full strength of (Reader's) embrace. And that was how (Reader) fell asleep, crying themselves into a nap.

When they awoke, they were alone, lying in the bed with the cat tucked into their arms. (Reader) left the room to find Kirtch at his desk, working on paperwork. The giant heard (Reader) behind him, and turned his attention on them, smiling as he held out his arms in an offer to pick them up. And much to his surprise, (Reader) willingly entered into his embrace, and allowed him to set them on his lap without pouting or making a fuss.

"I have a few more documents to look over, then I can play with you, okay?"

"Okay." Their voice was quiet and monotone, (Reader's) mind still fuzzy from crying so much before falling asleep.

"Are you still upset? Is there anything I can do to make you happy?"Kirtch laid down his work, trapping (Reader) in his arms.

"No.. you can continue working."

"You're more important than my work. I consider your unhappiness to be a crises."

Worry began to prick at (Reader's) skin. "I'm really fine, we don't need to play!"

"Need?"

Memories of the day (Reader) was bought flashed through their mind, causing them to go red and hot as they started to squirm in Kirtch's embrace. "I-I- didn't mean it like that!"

One hand left (Reader's) body to grab something from Kirtch's desk. "Don't fret, I recently purchased a new toy I thought would bring you joy."

(Reader's) eyes bulged out as they froze in anticipation, their heart hammering in their chest. But what Kirtch retrieved did not appear safe to go near any genitalia, a strange contraption formed of multiple thin prongs on a handle. Embarrassed that they had assumed something sexual was about to happen, (Reader) bit the inside of their cheek, puzzling over the strange discomfort they were feeling. "What's that?"

Kirtch raised (Reader's) shirt, and dragged the device across their skin, causing an involuntary shudder. It tickled.

"Ah! No!" (Reader) accidentally laughed, trying to push Kirtch away. He trailed the toy from their pelvic area visible above their pants to their left armpit. The light tingling sensation forcibly clenched their stomach muscles as they let loose a howl of laughter.

They couldn't breathe correctly, laughing so hard that their spasming abdominals made it feel like they were choking. But they couldn't stop, begging Kirtch to "knock it off" while their cheeks hurt from the smile they had. That damn toy tickled every inch of their body, not even noticing when Kirtch removed their pants. They kicked futilely, unable to break free from the assault. Their sensitive skin was almost becoming painful to the touch, but the laughter only got louder.

"pleASE! KIRTCH, stop!!" (Reader) heaved. Their whole body felt tender, highly reactive to each touch. Which made them aware of the fact that the only thing separating them from Kirtch's lap was a thin pair of underpants. With how they had been writhing on his lap, they were relieved that Kirtch didn't seem to have a dick that could become aroused from such movements.

(Reader's) smile fell. I have no idea how Kirtch's species reproduces. Maybe he can get erections, but he won't get one for me because he sees me as a pet. An animal. Their heart turned to concrete as it dropped out of its cage.

Kirtch halted his attack when he saw (Reader) go limp. "Are you tuckered out, pet?"

(Reader) tried to slide off his lap like jelly. "I'm done playing. I want to go back to bed."

"Alright, my stubborn little grump, what is it now? You were all smiles but a second ago, so what is it plaguing your mind?"

They tried to scrunch up their nose to prevent more tears from sheepishly forming. "I'm not a pet. I'm a human. I want to be treated like an equal!"

Kirtch's smile was replaced by a hurt scowl. "Is it so unpleasant being my pet?"

"No!" (Reader) interjected, not understanding why it pained them so much to see Kirtch upset, "I just want to, I just.. I don't know. This is confusing, and it feels.. weird. You're really nice to me, and sometimes it feels like... but then other times you treat me like I'm a cat. This isn't what I want. Either be a bastard and treat me like an animal or treat me like-" Their words caught in their throat. Treat me like what?!

A fearful kiss was placed on their forehead, ghostly with hardly any pressure. Kirtch's hands trembled on (Reader's) sides. "All I wish is to adore you for the rest of your life."

He pulled (Reader) into his chest, petting their back in a comforting manner. "I'll give you anything you ask for, I'll do anything you ask of me. Just to keep you happy, with me. You are all that I've ever wanted. All I wish is to care for you, and spend all my attention on you. If there is anything you want, please ask me. I need you to love me."

(Reader) felt so confused. Like a squid was destroying their gut, everything was uncomfortable and scary. They knew that Kirtch viewed them as a pet, he loved them how (Reader) loved their family dog as a child. But when they heard him begging for their love, it made them wish for an odd moment that he wasn't an alien. That (Reader) was sitting on their boyfriend's lap right now, a strange human man who sometimes infantalized them but only out of affection. Why couldn't this be simple? Why did (Reader) want him to kiss them right at that moment?

"I want to go home. I want to meet someone kind and fall in love." (Reader's) words stabbed Kirtch in places he never knew could hurt.

"I can't do that, (Reader)..." Kirtch's embrace constricted almost painfully tight. "You're all I've ever wanted. You can't ask me to let you go. I'll take such good care of you, you'll see. I have the rest of your life to make you fall in love with me."

They sat there, holding one another in agonizing silence, both loving each other in a way that they couldn't explain. The way their brains functioned didn't just mean that Kirtch could see a wider range of colors than (Reader), but the way their species experienced love was too vastly different for the other to comprehend. Despite Kirtch wanting to own (Reader), that was the greatest love he had ever felt, since his species did not pair bond and only mated when two beings agreed amicably that they wished to procreate. He knew that humans felt many forms of love, love for a mate, love for their offspring, love for a friend.. but to something that never felt any of those forms of love, Kirtch couldn't understand the difference between them.

"I love you, my little pet. And I will always love you."

[creators-island]

DANGEROUS DEVOTION AU

In wich Narinder doesn't try to sacrifices the Lamb and offers a position as his only wittness. Having nowhere to go and devoting themselves to Narinder, The Lamb accepts, only to find out that Narinder' s mental state has been seriously damage while in his imprisonment.

This also affecting the manifestation of the crown. For wich, now, the Lamb is the one who once again has to take care of the Flock and the faith of the cult. Over the years the Lamb hears Narinder's side of the story, why he was chained, and why the other Lambs couldn't be revived. This only enranges the Lamb, who once again searches for revenge on the othe Bishops.

Not content with their current punishment, the Lamb tears back their trapped souls and forces the into humiliation. They slave the former Bishops, much to the disgust of Narinder, who only wishes to let things go and be at peace.

The Lamb however isn't satisfied with that answer, thinking Narinder spoke from the mental illness and not from his true self. This leds them to fill Narinder with fervour in hopes it brings him back to his revengeful self. It doesn't. It puts the god in a constant catatonic state.

The Lamb not realizing this, thinks their god's illness has gotten worse, for wich now they don't leave him alone at any time. Unknowingly chaining him with devotion.

Narinder's Siblings notice this... They do not like it.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give.

> idol!jungkook x f!reader / angst, fluff, suggestive / wc: 8.3k

> warnings: mention of infidelity (no one did u can breathe ily), mention of a classmate slipping their number in oc’s pocket and oc feeling unsafe, mention of puking, mentions & allusion to s/x, alcohol consumption, making out, boob!e fondle, gr*nding kinda? jungkook is hard™️ they’re so in love it’s sickening

> in which masterlist!

playlist! and if/or when - ruel / hate everything - jungkook cover (gsoul) / hits different - taylor swift / statue - lil’ eddie / i wouldn’t ask you - clairo (i had to get in the zone & this is so oc-coded i need u to listen i’m so srs)

next: in which you don’t want to give up jungkook (even when he gave you reasons to, even if they give you reasons to).

note: this was a journey. happened back in june 2019.!! i’m ripping off the bandaid <3 deep sigh writing this made me realize how my babies have come so far. hopefully will follow up with a fluffy fluff lowkey inspired by the underwear live soonest lols i’m excited for it 2 stay tuned 🫂 reblogs & feedback are much appreciated <3

—

you forgot the walls of the apartment building you’re living in are thin. a small portion of the white paint has been chipped off, it looks like a birth mark, you note — except it’s not, and you’re the one who caused the irregularity.

your favorite glass is scattered across the kitchen floor, reduced to shards and to sparkling pieces almost as miniscule as dust. you don’t know what came over you. you don’t know why you threw it at the wall instead of filling it with cold water to only drink three sips like you usually do.

just when you thought you’ve been faring well in holding yourself together today, a fresh wave of sorrow overwhelms you. your knees buckle as you begin weeping, the loudest you’ve been since this nightmare has started. it swallows the knocking sounds at your door, but it’s still not loud enough to quell jungkook’s quivering voice playing like a broken record on loop inside your head.

“we should end this… i think it’s for the best, before we get drained.”

the rain is coming down fiercely and you’re freezing inside his car, parked outside your apartment. after all, his balenciaga windbreaker can only do so much against the blasted airconditioner. your throat is painfully dry, and your hands and face are numb from the piercing cold. but those are the least of your concerns because you feel like your head had just been dunked in ice water. the sting in your eyes are burning warmer as the seconds fly by and the muffled sounds of the torrential raindrops drum frantically in your ears. they’re clouding the car windows, mirroring jungkook’s tear-stained cheeks.

“i’m leaving again in three weeks. and i’m leaving again next year… and i’ll be gone again soon after that for a long time. i-i don’t know when i’m coming home, ___.” he pauses. the heel of palms press against his eyes, as if that could possibly barricade the saltwater leaking from them. “i never know where my life is taking me and you have your own… there’s too much-too much going on. i think that i’m just wasting your time, that this isn’t- it’s not going anywhere.”

“open the door! hello?! ___!”

“what do you want?!” you seeth in annoyance, swinging the door open to reveal your pesky neighbor.

he scratches the top of his head awkwardly at the sight of the mess that you greeted him with, having not bothered to pretend that you weren’t wailing your heart out.

”hey, i know you’re going through something…” his lips remain parted as he struggles to find the correct word, his right eye twitching voluntarily. “soul-crushing? right now. but i heard glass breaking and i was concerned that you, uhm, might’ve hurt yourself.”

the apparent nervousness and sincerity in his actions pull you out from the isolating disassociation you’ve imprisoned yourself in. you feel humiliated, presenting yourself in your most pitiful form infront of a kid two years younger than you. you envy him for having it together after storming out of his parents’ house while you-

“i’m not hurt. it was just an accident.”

you’re shamelessly lying infront of his face because the truth makes you feel too ashamed of yourself.

he only nods, smiling in relief. “i don’t know how to help make you feel better, so i just brought honey like i used to do before.”

you sigh, the familiar jar of honey and its red checkered lid waving at you like an old friend. has it been a year?

“bro, i told you i can’t accept this anymore.”

“you and your boyfriend already broke up. what’s the big deal?”

you have never wanted to smack someone more, the genuine confusion painted on his face feels like an infuriatingly harsh slap to yours.

“he wasn’t threatened by your honey, you dipshit. we just found out my blood sugar was getting a bit high!”

“oh- i’m so-”

you angrily slam the door shut. the silence you’re left with is suffocating, and you find yourself breaking down again.

he jumps in surprise when you open the door again, yelling- “and we’re not broken up!” before ripping away the jar of honey from his sweaty palms. he’s left completely flabbergasted, an inexplicable heaviness weighing on his chest when he hears your sniffling from the other side of the hard-wood.

“does that mean i can deliver again next week? i have too much in my kitchen…”

he doesn’t receive a snarky answer, surprisingly, so he continues talking.

“and f-y-i, your left cheek is bleeding! you might want to check on that!”

—

“you didn’t even give me any signs…”

you inhale a deep, shaky breath in a fragile attempt of keeping your composure. you want to scream, rip apart this thick tension with your bare hands, and force him to admit that this is just some kind of sick joke. you finally see him in person after months and all he has for you is a gift bag filled to the brim with heartbreak. this is too casually cruel, not something you would’ve expected from your jungkook.

“do you really mean that? or is there something else you’re not saying…? look at me.” you plead, weakly tugging at the hem of his long-sleeved shirt. the horrors of long-distance relationship stories claw their way out of your skin, adding fuel to the fire of your deepest fear. “you didn’t cheat on me, right? that can’t be it. we- we always-”

after you ended your last relationship, you cried at the parking lot of your university and continued living your life the next morning as if nothing happened at all. you did it all for yourself, anyway. he was gradually tearing down your confidence and your dignity; and you didn’t want to become a person the future you would despise for not being wiser, stronger.

and here you are at present day: spending the cozy sunday night solving chemistry problems on your desk. you have a blue bandaid plastered on your face and a cheek full of fruit and honey. and you would say you’re fine, but jungkook wasn’t here to sweetly dote on you while treating your wound. he isn’t here to taste the honey from your lips with that coquettish smirk of his. he isn’t laying on your bed, fighting to stay awake because he wants to fall asleep with you as his pillow.

no matter how hard you try to shut out this thought, it keeps knocking on the door. he’s going to be doing these sweet nothings for a different person when he finally reaches a more stable place in his life. you want to kneel on the ground, beg the heavens to meddle with destiny and never let you hear about it.

because that means he will never set foot in your apartment again, and the personal belongings you left in his room will be thrown out to erase the traces you left behind.

so this is how it begins.

the ugliest parts of you are swimming to the surface, tying themselves around your ankles because jungkook took away the ground from beneath your feet after unearthing your soul and… nothing makes sense to you anymore. if you wake up every morning to tend to your garden, and you look outside the window to learn that the sun has stopped burning, what do you have left?

your lips inevitably curve into a frown, but you inhale a sharp breath, patting your eyes dry before they can smudge the black ink on your notepad. and then you dip a strawberry in honey for the third time.

—

“no, baby, no- that’s not it.”

the dread and insecurity weaved into the cracks of your voice fill him with nausea and panic. he captures your frigid hand with haste, firmly holding it to his pounding chest.

“i would never do that to you. just the thought alone fucking disgusts me… you’re the only one. you’ve ruined me for everybody else.”

“then why are you giving up on me? am i becoming a burden?”

jungkook feels painfully numb, mind floating as the buildings outside the window get left behind him as a mere, passing blur.

“yah, jungkook-ah. are you crying?”

a torturous moment of silence passes as he struggles to find his voice. his tongue is tied, and his lost eyes are betraying the nights he spent practicing how to explain himself to you. back then, the reasoning he curated made sense. but faced with the consequences of his actions, the love of his life’s brain running a thousand miles per hour, recording a tale of woe and heartache on his passenger seat — he has never felt this much loathing for himself and his weaknesses.

you release a shaky breath, patting his rosy cheeks dry with your sleeves. you smile at him kindly, and he watches you in sheer disbelief. he can’t fathom the perpetual luck he’s been blessed with that he met, who he believes to be, the purest soul to grace this corrupted world. they’re damp with your tears, so it’s practically useless, but the sweet gesture is a stray beam of sunlight in the midst of the dull gray clouds.

the comforting rubs on his shoulder extracts him from his torturous thoughts, and only then does he feel the wetness on his face.

“you’ve been holding it back for the past week. just cry it out.”

he nods wordlessly, hiding himself in the fleece blanket from his lap. yoongi can feel a lump forming in his throat as he witnesses his youngest brother breaking down, jungkook’s pain also being his pain. as a group who’s been living together for the past decade, no one will be able to empathize with them as well each other. especially during times like this.

“___ hasn’t called?”

jungkook shakes his head wistfully, wiping away the tears that slid down his nose. he is dying to send you a text message, worried sick, and still used to hearing about your day the same way he is used to sleeping on his stomach.

“hyung,” the sound of the word borders on a sob. “it’s over. this is killing me… it’s all my fault.”

“but isn’t that what you wanted?”

“exactly. so why am i crying?” his hands ball into closed fists. “i’m an asshole.”

“enough of that!” yoongi loudly whines out his scolding. ”we all know you had your reason.”

“but, hyung, i fucked up!” he tenses up, blurting out the acknowledgement that’s been haunting him day and night. “she told me the most romantic thing and i felt so… fuck, i’m so angry at myself. i ruined everything. and i’m scared that i’d end up making things worse if i try fixing it.”

“stop beating yourself up. we can’t solve things this way.” yoongi grabs a bottle of water from the cupholder between them, twisting the cap open before handing it to jungkook. “drink first.”

once he starts drinking, he realizes that his throat has been awfully dry and sore. it’s most probably best for him to rest his voice. he can already foresee the concert rehearsal being absolute hell tomorrow. if he can’t sing, he doesn’t know how else he’s supposed to keep himself sane.

“talk to me. what did she say?”

“you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, do you know that?”

and with that revelation, he loses the warmth of your touch, and he comes crashing down like a wingless aircraft.

“i also need time to think about it. that’s only fair, right? that i get to decide, too…?” you swallow thickly, lips parting as if the words are resisting to come out of your mouth.

he looks at you with an emotion you can’t name, a push and pull between longing and trepidation.

if this was a movie, he would brave the rain and somehow perfectly deliver a poetically romantic speech that would sway your heart. if this was a movie, you would take a warm bath together, make out in the bathtub, and make love on your bed. if this was a movie, the day would end with the two of you tangled up, peacefully asleep and rhythmic breathing in sync. but he knows you. apparently not as well as he thought, but to some extent, he knows you. if he pulls you closer in the heat of the moment, you would feel suffocated and defensive and you would push him away; and he would lose you for good. that much he knows. so he lets you leave and he stays in the car— heartbroken, crestfallen, and regretful, because he might’ve just recklessly thrown away the best gift the universe has ever given him.

“i was thinking about how she never would’ve made this much sacrifices and efforts for anyone else and i feel like… i- it’s all going to waste because our future is uncertain. i can’t be committed to her as much as she is committed to me. and, and i felt like the guilt was eating away at me, you know? i wasn’t thinking straight.” jungkook chews on his bottom lip, a last ditch effort to prevent himself from sobbing. “it just… consumed me? like i was drowning… and all i could smell and taste was the saltwater.”

“i see,” yoongi sighs, crossing his legs and intertwining his fingers infront of his stomach as he finds the right words to say. “that’s a normal response. our brain is a very complex friend… but you know, everything i’ve been through as myself and as a part of our team, hmmm, they taught me that there are times when a problem doesn’t necessarily need a solution per se. you just keep going until the fog clears up and then you move past it.”

fuck, jungkook needs a glass of whiskey. or two. or twelve. he listens intently despite seeming like he’s spacing out.

“this won’t last forever and time slips away from us without us even noticing. you should do what you want to do. if we’re going to deprive ourselves of good things, what will we have left after everything is over? money we can’t spend in one lifetime? there’s no happiness in that.”

yoongi frowns, wishing he could do more to alleviate the weight hanging on jungkook’s shoulders.

“you deserve love outside all the noise, too. focus on the present which you can still control and deal with the future when it arrives. if you do otherwise, you’ll just be tormenting yourself… and i know it’s easier said than done but! do you want to hear something i’ve had on my mind lately?”

with a flushed face and swollen eyes, he tilts his head to curiously spy on his hyung.

“what is it?”

“your motivation to work out after our shows is so you can stay awake and spend time with her. that’s why you fall asleep everywhere else. do you know how scary and endearing it is to watch that? is that what you call ‘not being committed enough’?”

yoongi fails to hide his gummy smile, body vibrating with silent laughter as pictures of jungkook falling asleep standing up flash before his eyes.

“seriously, you punk! you scare me! i just pass out and die straight after while you- really, you’re really unbelievable. i envy you. for being able to love with everything you have until they break your heart. i mean it!”

“but i’m the one who broke their heart this time.” jungkook somberly utters in defeat, bottom lip jutting out and chin quivering.

yoongi encouragingly pats his shoulder, shaking his body lightly. ”you can make it up to her. she’ll reach out before we leave. have some more patience.”

jungkook’s eyes turn into slits, suspiciously squinting at the man sitting beside him. “why do you sound so sure?”

“because she loves you. why else?”

—

you automatically pause from eating cup ramyeon when your phone lights up on top of the journals you’ve been reviewing for the past hour.

“ah, shit! shit!”

you abruptly cover your mouth with your hand, exhausted eyes watering because you accidentally bit your tongue after reading the name of the sender of your newest text notification. you take sips of cold water, peering at your phone as you do so. your hands itch to type out a response, but the screen dies and turns black, another of yoongi’s messages in the same pile of unanswered ones from your friends checking up on you tonight. you can’t talk to anyone right now; you need to get shit done.

after eating your dinner at the convenience store, you come home to a plastic of fried chicken hanging on the doorknob of your front door.

Eat lots and stay healthy! I’m feeding Jungkook well too. Don’t worry. — Yoongi

you peel off the blue handwritten note, sticking it on the cover of one of your books. you carefully carry the food using your free hand, and you can feel it radiating on your skin, the heat of a freshly-cooked meal. you were always worried of being a bother when you occasionally ask him how jungkook is doing on tour, but this made your heart significantly lighter. gaining a good friend after losing your lover, perhaps life can show a smidge of mercy when it wants to.

too bad you’ve always been one to be greedy.

—

“ah, seriously. why did you have to break up with ___?”

“we’ve been through this a million times!” jungkook exclaims in exasperation as he fiddles with the controller, bumping his knee with taehyung’s. “focus. you’re supposed to be helping me forget.”

“i don’t remember agreeing to that.” taehyung responds with a shrug, smirking when he picks up a booster and runs past his friend’s character. “you finally found someone who could put up with you and you let them go? i won’t let you forget.”

jungkook scoffs, eyes rolling upwards. “bro, i should be the least of your problems.”

“nuh-uh.” taehyung tuts with a grin, belly aching with laughter when jungkook’s car jumps over his to steal the lead. he didn’t even know that was possible. he plans on using the same trick against him later. “i’m making you my biggest problem so i don’t have to deal with mine.”

“they’re not married yet. you still have a chance, you know?”

“yah!” he gapes at jungkook in shock, entirely forgetting about the game. “take that back!”

“don’t act like you haven’t thought of it!”

“yeah, but i don’t say it out loud. it sounds too wrong! i still have my morals left!” he cries out, stomping his feet on the floor.

jungkook lightly punches his arm, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “i meant you have a chance if they break up. i have morals too! what do you think of me?!”

“oh…” taehyung blinks. “you know who else have probably thought of that too, though?”

“who?” jungkook boredly questions as he scrolls through the game collection, contemplating about which one to play next.

“all the other people waiting in line for ___.”

the realization renders him motionless, stirring up the possessiveness coursing through his veins. for the love of god, he doesn’t want to be petty but that struck a nerve. he wants to storm out of the house and look for you, beg on his knees for you to take him back.

“aish, hyung, you’re driving me crazy! why would you tell me that? are we torturing each other?!”

“are you crying? yah, jungkook-ah.” taehyung watches his hunched figure with a guilty wince, hesitant hands rubbing the expanse of his back. “i’m sorry- i’m sorry… do you want a hug?”

jungkook stays quiet, head hanging low to hide his face crumpling with anguish. the loose but affectionate hug that he gets pulled into prompts him to fall apart, catharsis blossoming in his ribcage and turning his bones into jelly.

he hears obnoxiously loud sniffles, and he abandons taehyung’s shoulder to look at his face. “are you crying, too?”

“stop ruining the moment.” taehyung groans, forcefully pushing down his head again.

namjoon comes out from his bedroom in search for another extension cord, still sipping on the half-empty iced americano he took from the fridge only ten minutes ago. the heartfelt scene on the couch causes him to halt on his tracks. how did they go from playing games to crying together? he silently observes the two members for a moment before deciding to approach them.

“what am i going to do with the two of you?” he grunts, ruffling his hair in frustration. “shall we go out for drinks to disinfect your wounded hearts?”

the mention of alcohol makes them perk up, jungkook’s tearful doe eyes sparkling at the prospect of temporarily erasing the pain that has uncontrollably spread throughout his system. he wants to drink until he forgets that he has hands, until he forgets what it feels like to touch you.

“thanks, monie-hyung. i’ll have my appetizer.”

and the iced americano gets snatched away from namjoon’s unsuspecting hand within the blink of an eye.

—

“this is not a barbecue restaurant.” you stare blankly at the orange neon lights spelling out the name of the night club your friends secretly conspired to bring you to.

“___, loosen up! the fastest way to move on is to find someone else. this is the best place for that.” aera turns around from the passenger seat of the taxi, her red lips painting a thrilled smile. “just forget about jungkook. we all knew this shit was going to happen. i’m surprised you even lasted that long!”

“i don’t know what you’re trying to imply but i don’t appreciate your tone.” you warn her with a sharp, threatening look. “and the ‘someone else’ that i found at a bar before turned out to be biggest fucking jerk i’ve ever met. i’m not doing this again.”

“things might be different this ti-” mi-ran aids in persuading you, but it only adds fuel to the fire.

“oh my god! fuck off!” you yell in irritation, aggressively getting off the car and slamming the door shut on their faces.

you never look back, ignoring the shouts of your name and half-assed apologies. you don’t have the slightest idea about where you’re going — your feet have a mind of their own and they chose to go the opposite way of home. this isn’t how you envisioned your night. you just wanted to listen to the sound of the meat grill and complain about life giving you a taste of true love just to cut your tongue with it until you bled. was that too much to ask?

you’re about ninety percent certain that you just lost two of whom you treated to be your closest friends. you think of ah-young, and you briefly consider crashing at your best friend’s band practice, but you’re too exhausted to travel to the other end of the city.

with eleven seconds left in the timer, you cross the street with swift and long strides alongside a crowd consisting mostly of employees wearing the same navy blue uniform. at last, you’re among the bright and lively restaurants, the inviting smell of good food making your stomach sting with hunger.

it’s only taehyung who recognizes you when you unknowingly pass by, almost choking on his glass of somaek, the combination of soju and beer. with his career on the line, he is confident that he can recognize that balenciaga windbreaker anywhere and anytime. meanwhile, instead of talking about you, the youngest is drunkenly reminiscing about the alleged ghost encounters he had in their old dorms. their leader is tragically left to tend to the grill alone. he deeply regrets not dragging any of the older members with them.

“everyone, i think i just saw __-”

a grimace of cluelessness is plastered on taehyung’s face when jungkook claps once, enthusiastically pointing at him as if he just announced something inspiring and life-changing.

“you’re right, you’re right! that’s it! what i’m kind of trying to say here is…” he pauses, facial muscles relaxing into a gloomy expression. he sniffles and rubs his nose, making it a brighter shade of red. “when we move houses again, i won’t have stories like these to bring with me. the new ghosts will be my memories with ___.”

none of the other two dares to speak after that, the oddly satisfying sound of meat being grilled and the chattering from other tables occupy the uneasy and heavy silence. instead, they begin filling their own shot glasses with pure soju. namjoon is the first one to spill it down his throat, slamming it on the table before dishing out his phone from his pocket. by this time, all of them are already drunk, double vision blurry and speech a little slurred. they gave up on counting the green bottles and cans of beer a long while ago.

“shit, that was a good metaphor. i need to write that down.”

“namjoon-hyung, he’s crying again!”

jungkook’s head slumps on the table with a thud, hot tears escaping down to his temple as he laments. “i miss her so much. why did i have to break up with her the second we got home? why…? am i so impulsive? what do i do if… if she agrees that we- h-how am i supposed to live with myself after that…? i’m never going to love again.”

they shuffle apprehensively on their seats, but still, they tell jungkook what he needs to hear since he won’t remember tonight’s events, anyway.

that’s not going happen. she just needs some more time. i’m sure she’s missing you too. everything will be okay.

but it’s been almost two weeks of radio silence. their flight is in nine days, drawing nearer and nearer as if it’s purposely taunting jungkook. everyone is thinking the same thing, and everyone is afraid to say it out loud.

—

it’s 7am when his work alarm goes off. with a disgruntled noise, a hungover jungkook drowsily drags himself out of bed, eyes still closed as he swings the bedroom door open.

“oing?” he creates a noise of confusion when his arm bumps against an object. he blinks at the brown paper bag hanging on his doorknob, removing one of the handles to peek at its contents.

he buffers for a moment, staring blankly at his belongings safely tucked inside. there’s his black mini bluetooth speaker, tinted lipbalm, wired earphones, bucket hat, facial cleanser, moisturizer, and shampoo. these are everything he left on top of your study desk and in your bathroom. neatly folded on the side is his windbreaker, which he recalls as clear as daylight, how you reveled in its comfort the last time that you were together. the fabric softener you use has replaced his perfume, the cherry scent forming a rain cloud of nostalgia and longing above his head.

if this is a nightmare, he is begging for somebody, anybody, to break into the room and to bring him someplace where hope is not desolate.

his wounded heart, as his namjoon-hyung described, is experiencing an excruciating pain he never even imagined was possible. he now understands, why the broken heart syndrome is a real thing.

he can’t read you. is this your way of ‘reaching out’? have you kicked him out of your house, out of your life? for good?

the dread of losing you forever is gnawing at his insides. nausea almost succeeds in knocking him off his feet. his brain hisses with static. he panics at the disgustingly familiar sensation brewing in his digestive system, sprinting to the bathroom to spill out his guts.

they say that you don’t realize what you have until you lose it. that early morning, jungkook realizes that he’s only a human being after all.

—

“when did i put that there?”

you’re sorting out your dirty laundry after showering when you notice a tissue paper tucked in the front pocket of your denim jeans. you huff out a sigh, ripping it apart into tiny pieces over the trash bin with raging vexation. you will never understand how men thinks that these kind of stupid tricks are supposed to compel you into seeing them anywhere near attractive and desirable in your eyes. if anything, they make you feel unsafe and if your paths cross again, you will run the other way. great. another person in the lecture room to avoid. just fucking great.

at this point, you want to mockingly laugh at your own misery. just when you thought your day couldn’t possibly get worse, it fucking does.

you tuck yourself in bed by midnight, texting a friend about your joint presentation next week, and then rereading your conversation with namjoon from this morning for the nth time. you’ve been hoping it will shine light on the right path to take, because you’re still lost and hurt.

Namjoon:

he’s been devastated since

can’t this be sorted out?

stuff’s just been overwhelming and honestly i’m as anxious as him

i'm not trying to force you into getting back together with him ofc but please talk for closure atleast..

you’re also my friend. i think you need it too..

you scroll a bit further down afterwards, and your heart drops to your stomach when you see the three dots under the contact name ‘my jungkook’. you click on it as it beckons you to, only to allow time to flow like a river with no sea to kiss, idly watching the bubble appear and disappear, appear and disappear. almost everyday, you catch a glimpse of him at the very least, typing a message and never sending it.

the same goes for tonight, it seems.

his silence is torturing you. in the car, in your inbox, in your call history. a person knocks on the door and a part of you foolishly predicts that it’s jungkook not using his copy of the key out of respect.

you succumb to the yearning, heading to your shared media and files that you’ve been actively resisting for the past three weeks… for this exact reason.

you randomly click a video sent by jungkook three months ago.

“i know you’re in class but i’m too excited to show what i got you today!” he beams at the front camera, bunny teeth cutely showing. he picks up the first item from the hotel bed with his free hand. “you already own this book but this one got a different cover, see? it’s hardback? they say it’s a limited edition.”

he eyes it fleetingly, obvious that there is something else he is dying to mention.

“i won’t show it too close. you can look at it when i go home. there’s a little surprise inside.”

he scrunches his nose before teasingly sticking his tongue out.

“and then here we haaave-”

following that, he shows you an adorable fluffy white bunny with red eyes. it occupies more than half the screen, and without a doubt, it is soft and huggable.

“cooky’s new sibling! we found it at a gift shop and hobi-hyung said it looks like me.”

he presses his cheek to the bunny’s. “i accept. we do look alike, but my eyes are so much bigger.”

in the upcoming seconds, the video is muted except for his breathing. he plops down on the bed while ruffling his dark hair, staring at the camera wordlessly, evocative of when you catch him dreamily watching you study while you’re on a videocall.

“i miss you.” he smiles sadly, deep dimples appearing on his cheeks. “don’t forget to text me when you’re on your way home.”

he drops on his back, the firm mattress breaking his fall.

“mmmwah!“ he kisses the camera, and your screen freezes on the final frame.

the silence in the aftermath is defeaning. you tear your glasses off your face, burying your face in the pillows. you arrive at your final decision then and there. you don’t care. you don’t care. you don’t care anymore. you cannot bear to spend more of your days like this. his things that used to live here might be gone, but you look for him everywhere. you look for his car in the parking lot. you look for his hair when you see flowers. you wait for his name to be called in the coffee shop. on your way home, you linger at the playground where you used to usually meet.

because if your relationship with jungkook is truly doomed to fail, you want to watch its foundation collapse on the ground, burnt down to gray and black ashes that disintegrate when you try to grasp them in your hands… with good grace, it’s the only way for you to believe that there’s no more home to come home to.

with a trembling hand, you press the call button and for the very first time, you beg someone to stay.

—

jungkook’s breathing ceases, heartbeat violently racing in his chest. the ‘chimes’ ringtone tickle his ears, his phone vibrating incessantly in his hands. the two features he specifically customized in your contact settings so he will immediately recognize that it’s you who’s calling.

it’s been four days since you dropped off his things. and here he was, laying on his bed and struggling to find the right words to say because he refuses to believe that this is how it ends. the paper bag is still hanging on the doorknob. he hasn’t touched it since the first time. he doesn’t have the courage to do so.

fuck giving you space. he wants drown himself in you and never come up for air. he’s more than willing to suffer your anger or your coldness. he’s prepared to prove himself worthy of a second chance every second of every day. he wants to occupy half of your desk and half of your closet again. he selfishly wishes to be the first and the last person you fall in love with.

but until the very end, you’re the braver one.

“love?” your voice is quiet, barely audible, but it’s there, and he hears the affectionate term of endearment distinctly. “i’m sorry. i tried, i really did, but i couldn’t do it…”

“baby,” he falters breathlessly, half of him in disbelief, convinced that he has officially lost his goddamn mind and delusion is bleeding into reality.

“i tried living without you like you wanted- but i can’t-” you hiccup in between small sobs on the other line. “i love you, jungkook. i can’t live carrying around all this love with me. it’s too heavy…”

exploding and breaking apart, jungkook’s heart is a meteor that has entered the planet’s atmosphere, and he doesn’t know where to begin digging for the fragments so he can piece himself together again.

“we are too young and we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing and i love you too much. you don’t have to protect me… i’ll take my fair share of the responsibility, so just-” he hangs on your every word, and then you pause, your following words eliciting a powerful punch to his gut. “just let me love you and let me learn my lesson the hard way… let’s do that, okay?”

the walls of him room ebbs and flows in like the sea. he rests his forearm over his eyes, his skin gradually dampening with tears. he once promised himself that he would never put you in this position. he should be the one begging for forgiveness, repenting and crawling on his knees. but rather than wasting his time with surfing through another tsunami of self-blame, he reminds himself: i want to be a better man.

“okay, baby. let’s do that, hmm? let’s do that. it’s what i want too.” he coos softly with a hoarse voice. “are you at your apartment?”

you hum in confirmation, sniffling. “come home.”

—

a half-naked jungkook abruptly opens the door to yoongi’s room, wearing gray sweatpants with his left arm awkwardly inserted in one of the black t-shirt’s armhole.

“hyung! can i borrow your car? mine’s getting a check-up.”

yoongi tears his eyes away from the computer, hanging the black headphones on the nape of his neck. he merely shrugs before throwing the car key, and jungkook catches it in one hand with ease.

he sighs in relief, politely bowing his upper body to express his gratitude. “thank you, hyung.”

“what are you doing?!” yoongi half-smiles with fondness, jokingly waving him off. “just go- go. leave!”

—

jungkook nervously stands before your front door, head woozy with anticipation and fear. what if things have changed? what if your relationship never goes back to the way it was?

“oh. you’re back together?”

he whips his head back to find your neighbor arriving home from his part-time job. huh, he just realized that he has never really learned what his name is. the only information he has on him is that his sister owns a bee farm.

“how did you even know?” he asks with knitted eyebrows. “you haven’t been giving out honey again, have you?”

“she only accepted it once.” the stranger puts his arms up in surrender with a roll of his eyes. “and don’t make her cry again, will you? she blasts sad songs late at night.”

and with an unpleasantly forceful shut of the door, jungkook is left alone in the hallway. his jaw clenches as he glares at the next apartment, but he rubs his face to release his frustration before he goes to meet you.

“we need to move in together.” he grumbles to himself as he enters your unit, relocking the door behind him. he removes his sneakers, neatly setting them down beside your pairs of shoes by the doormat.

he pads on the wooden floor with his white toe socks, looking around the dark and quiet living room. a faint orange light is seeping under the gap between the floor and the bedroom door, which he recognizes to be your favorite mode on your multi-colored nightstand lamp. he cautiously cracks the door open, and he is instantly greeted by your curled up figure, peacefully sleeping.

it’s muscle memory when he hangs his backpack on the backrest of your study chair before anything else. he also brought the paper bag you sent, putting it down on the floor.

he squats down infront of you, lightly prying away the phone you’re hugging to your chest and placing the device on the bedside table. the light is shining over your skin, and there are a thousand of photos and videos organized into the most treasured folder in his gallery, but not a single one of them will ever do you justice.

god, he missed you so much. it hasn’t been two years, but the life he had before he met you feels like an extremely distant memory.

he sighs, talking in hopes that he appears in your dreams. “how do you do this? you make it impossible not to love you.”

he unconsciously frowns at the sight of your puffy eyes. never again. never again. never again. he chants inside his head. he plants a kiss on each of your eyelids, taking his time to bask in the feeling of your weight under his lips.

he climbs on the opposite side of the bed, tucking you underneath the blanket before securely holding you from behind with his thigh hanging over yours. the warmth of your body and the scent of your shampoo cures the headache that’s been bothering him the whole day. he drifts off to sleep soon after.

—

the feather-light brushes through the silky locks of his hair pulls him out of his slumber half an hour later. he can make out your silhouette through his half-open eyes, the little-mermaid-like scene feels too vivid for a dream.

“why didn’t you wake me up?” you whine, sulking with a pout.

“i’m sorry.” he answers quietly, sitting up to engulf you in a tight embrace as endless apologies tumble from his tongue. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i gave up. i’m sorry that i hurt you. i’m so sorry… are you angry at me?”

“i’m upset.” you admit after a few beats, not seeing the point in sugarcoating it. “it hurts when i remember you saying that. and i understand you but… but i don’t like that you decided alone for us. if you do that again… then it will be over between us.”

he has an arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand firmly holding the back of your head. it’s a little hard to breathe, but it’s so reassuring to feel that he doesn’t want to let you out of his embrace. because you hated it — hated how it felt like letting you go was so easy.

“i regret everything. i’m sorry.” he whispers, concealing his tears by nuzzling his face on your neck. “and you’re not a burden. that’s not true.”

he knows that you mean your every word, so he lifts up his head to gaze directly into your eyes, showing that he is as sincere and true to his.

“from now on, all i’ll think about is what i can do to make you happy and safe without compromising our relationship… i’ll do better. i’ll love you better. i promise that i’ll be stronger for us. i won’t make the same mistake twice.”

you wish jungkook could be kinder to himself, treat himself with the same gentleness that comes so naturally with you. why is it that humans find loving themselves so laborious? why does being have to come with such a curse?

taking glimpses at the past, you should’ve been reminding him of these affirmations everyday.

“you don’t have to be strong all the time. i’m not asking for that.” you shake your head, voicing out yourself in a tone so soothing and illuminating. “i don’t want to go anywhere far away from you so think of yourself, too. i told you before, it’s okay to hold on to me. i’m also strong.”

jungkook feels so safe at home. he doesn’t remember what he was so worried of anymore.

“and you know what? if you really see it that way, then i’m telling you now. i want to waste my time on you. you can’t stop me.” your threatening eyes widen in conviction, provoking a sheepish smile to tug at the corners of his lips. “i always get what i want.”

“and you want me?” he innocently points at himself.

“love you.”

“i love you.” he replies, nosing at your neck before leaving a chaste kiss on your skin. “so much.”

“then put yourself in my shoes.” you hum, combing his hair with your fingers, lightly tugging to initiate eye-contact. “i want to take care of you just like how you want to take care of me. i think we have something rare and beautiful…” you pause, self-conscious about coming across as too needy now that you’re face-to-face, but an epiphany shatters your apprehension with a bow and an arrow.

this is what he needed to hear from you that day.

“so stay with me.”

jungkook’s vision becomes unfocused. he’s speechless; the only sound in the room is the humming of the airconditioner, but it’s almost as if you can hear the gears of his brain working their hardest. the pain that glossed his enchanting doe eyes has been replaced with a devotion you’ve never seen expressed so passionately in them before.

“all the time i own is yours.” he declares, cupping your face, the pad of his thumb daintily stroking your cheek. “all of it. we can do anything you want to do. let me make it up to you.”

“anything?” your face lights up with joy and mischief, and the butterflies in jungkook’s stomach come alive. he wants to make it his life’s mission to make you smile everyday; and that, he will do. “then i want you to kiss me.”

the sultriness of your enticing voice makes him go haywire. it’s been too damn long. he has forgotten what it feels like to kiss you. he slowly inches closer, his lips brushing against your lips before he pulls you in deeper, a fervent display of his yearning and apologies. he swallows the needy moan that escapes you as he slowly lays you down on the mattress, stripping off his shirt and mindlessly tossing it somewhere when you impatiently tug at it with another whimper. you cage his face in your hands, bringing back his lips on yours as if he’s the air that you breathe.

he wants to grieve for all the wasted time because everyday, he craved for this. to be honest, he forgets his name when he’s kissing you. outside, the crowds scream his name for being the best at what he does best, and he happily lives for the euphoria of it all. but in this room, there is only you and him. you communicate using the unspoken language of love with your lips. you bare the soft animal in yourselves with your teeth sinking in the other’s skin. you allow your rawest desires and truths to unravel with a slip of the tongue. he exists beyond his name, becomes an indecipherable enigma even to himself. what is the use of an explanation if there is no meaning anyway? all he knows is that he loves you despite all the reasons, against all the reasons.

he sneaks under your shirt, fingertips teasingly exploring your skin as if he’s drawing a map. he feels you quiver when he finally reaches your chest, gently kneading the soft flesh in his palm. this makes you mewl in pleasure, arching your back as your hand unconsciously curls around his wrist, the cotton fabric separating the two of you. the action electrifies jungkook, makes him lose himself a little more, which he didn’t think was still possible.

“touch me, please- jungkook. need you-” you choke out a desperate whimper, nearly sobbing as you guide his hand between your thighs. you can’t bear to spend another second untouched; the last time you made love feels like an eternity ago. he slips past the waistband of your underwear, the only article of clothing you’re wearing below. but to your disappointment, he gently caresses your hip bone instead of dipping his long fingers into your wetness.

“shh, hold on, baby-” he forces himself to break away from the kiss, swollen and red lips glistening with spit. “baby, look at me. you didn’t drink, right? i don’t want to take advantage.”

you gape at him with your chest heaving up and down, dumbfounded. “how could you even think of that right now?”

his eyes widen in panic, worried that he might’ve offended you. “no, no, no-” his palms skim your thighs, guiding them to wrap around his slim waist. you gasp when he presses up on you and his hard length rubs on your folds, sending jolts of electricity up your spine. a gush of arousal dampens the thin material covering your center.

“i want you so fucking bad that it hurts.” he gingerly wipes away the tears that you didn’t even notice streamed down to your temples. you can’t remember the last time you cried before today, they must’ve gotten tired of asking for your permission. “but you were crying when you called, baby. i had to make sure.”

“oh, my boyfriend is such a gentleman.” you muse dreamily. pepper his face with delicate kisses, lips curving upward with an adoring smile. “look at him enjoying my kisses.”

you playfully squeeze his cheeks together, making his pillowy lips pucker.

“you really wanted to break up with me in this case, huh? you wanted to live without me and my kisses? no way.”

his eyelids flutter open, and he shakes his head as he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…” his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh. “going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

“good. you better.” your high-pitched giggles bounce off the walls as his lips trail down to your neck, licking a bold stripe over your ticklish spots. “i don’t have the patience for it, but i’ll be your trusty assistant.”

it’s ridiculous, how even the sound of your laughter turns him on even more.

—

jungkook learned that you finished your exams yesterday, having spent majority of the past two weeks pulling all-nighters to prepare for them. you seem to be confident about the results, the way you talked about it without concern. he never once doubted that you’re resolute and persevering, but acing your exams in the middle of a breakup is beyond what he can digest. it must’ve been a grueling experience, he can only imagine.

he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and then your lips, before dragging the blanket higher over your naked figure, a thicker one he brought out from the cabinet. poor thing, you fell asleep on his lap while he was drying your hair, incoherently murmuring about how tired you are.

he walks to your study space, fixing the loosening towel wrapped around his waist. one by one, he pulls out the items from the paper bag, returning them to their old places on your desk. he toothily grins at the windbreaker, ecstatic due to his plan on wearing it at work today. he wants to give it back to you smelling like him again.

an index card lands on the ground when he unfolds it, making him peer down in curiosity.

“what’s this?” he mumbles, bending down to pick it up.

jumbled thoughts. a letter shoved at the back of the mailbox. a hesitant confession. a bittersweet reminder that says: a wound does not magically disappear overnight. it requires the proper treatment to heal correctly, and even then, it might still leave a scar.

These are only a few of many. Why is this the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? I’m usually the more logical one. Was it really so bad that we weren’t going anywhere?

and messily crossed out at the end,

I miss you.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[dia-souls]

Diabolik Lovers Dark and Horrific Facts (Based on HDB and MB Games and CDs) part1/part2

(⚠️ Violence, humiliation, torture, rape,... ⚠️)

Shu threatened to blind Yui with a dart and humiliated Yui in front of his brothers. (HDB dark.08)

When Yui tried to convince Shu to go home faster because it was raining, Shu pushed her to the ground and stepped on Yui's fingers, breaking them. (Do-S Kyuuketsu Vol.6)

Shu gave Yui a knife and asked her to cut her neck so that Shu could drink blood more easily. And Shu squeezed Yui's neck to the point of suffocation to suck more blood. (Do-S Kyuuketsu Vol.6)

When Reiji saw Yui reading his experiment notes, he tried to strangle her to death. (HDB Maniac.07)

Reiji imprisoned Yui in the dungeon and chained her hands and punished her with a whip because he saw her talking to Shu. (HDB Dark.07)

Reiji forced Yui to drink a tea that was poisonous to his potion and used her as his test subject. (Do-S Kyuuketsu Vol.5)

Ayato used Yui's face as a target for playing dart and threatened her. (HDB Dark.07)

Ayato threw Yui into the lake and tried to drown her, even though Yui did not know how to swim. (HDB Maniac.03)

Contrary to the belief of some who think that Ayato has never beaten Yui, he slapped Yui hard right at the end of the CD to keep her awake and suck more blood from her. (Do-S Kyuuketsu CD Vol.1)

Kanato stabbed Yui with a fork and injured her body. (HDB Dark.01)

Cordelia and Richter had sex in front of Kanato when he was a child. (HDB Maniac.prologue)

Kanato threatened Yui that if she doesn't find Teddy, he will rip her to shreds. (HDB Maniac.01)

Laito grabbed Yui by the neck and squeezed her neck tightly, trying to suffocate her. (HDB Drak.07)

When Yui resisted Laito, Laito took her into the bathroom and held her head under water. (Do-S Kyuuketsu CD Vol.4)

Laito turned some of the previous brides into his familiars and told them to attack Yui, then after that he killed them all himself. (HDB Manservant.end)

Subaru took Yui to the bathroom and tore off all her clothes and tried to rape her. (Do-S Kyuuketsu CD Vol.2)

Subaru took Yui to the torture chamber and forced her to choose how to punish her. When Yui didn't, Subaru chained her hands and left her there alone. (HDB Maniac.02)

All the brothers threatened Yui to suck her blood until she dries up.

[devildomwriter]

Why Lucifer is A Good Brother

*Somewhat chronologically in order everything is canon and if you want the reference I’ll give it to you*

*Heavy spoilers*

All angels consider each other siblings but out of the millions, possibly billions of angels. Lucifer chose to take five brothers and a sister (originally) under his wing.

He gave Mammon a challenge to become his apprentice and when he succeeded he welcomed Mammon with open arms and never rejected him afterwards even with all the trouble he caused.

He gave Asmodeus the nickname “Jewel of the Heavens” something he still loves to this day even as a demon.

He made Levi feel seen and useful even after the peace treaty between realms made his position obsolete.

He bonded with Beelzebub who was originally his guard and took him and his twin under his wings. He also introduced Lilith to the twins who became inseparable.

When Lilith fell in love he visited the Human World to see if this man was good and kind.

When Lilith broke a Celestial Law this man WENT TO WAR WITH AN ENTIRE REALM and GOD to save her. He asked his brothers to side with him and carried guilt for doing so after the war.

After the war, he pledged eternal loyalty to the man in control of the realm he was at war with for most of his existence all to save his sister despite the humiliation. He saved her even though she wouldn’t remember him and he could never see her again and he carried the burden for thousands of years until MC’s ancestry was revealed.

The Devildom and Celestial Realm hold very strict laws so he took whatever means necessary punishment-wise to correct their behavior. In the Celestial Realm, it was so his brothers weren’t outcast and in the Devildom it was so they weren’t imprisoned or killed.

His brothers believe he’s more loyal to Diavolo than to them but he does this FOR them.

When the brothers struggled with becoming demons he was there to comfort them.

When he accidentally created Satan he took full responsibility for the absolute murderous maniac and did his best to raise the personification of hatred.

He cared about Satan so much that when the brothers were offered the chance to return to the Celestial Realm, the realm he once ruled, he told them to return and he alone would stay with Satan so he wouldn’t be alone. Even though this decision meant he wouldn’t be able to see his brothers and they’d be seen as enemies, he wanted what he believed was best for them and what they wanted.

Lucifer did everything he could to master new demon magic, insert himself into Devildom politics, and befriend his enemies all for his brothers’ sakes to give them the same position of respect they had in the Celestial Realm.

In Nightbringer when he was incarcerated in Cocytus the fact his brothers were being held too enraged him to the point he broke free and even fought Diavolo believing he had something to do with it. And when Raphael cried having to sentence him, Lucifer wasn’t angry he felt sorry for Raphael—a former brother.

Lucifer continuously fights those many times stronger than him all for his family’s sake.

Even though it pained him to see his former angelic brothers for the exchange program he remained cordial even though it was at first awkward and a reminder of all the pain of the past. He did this for his former brothers.

When Belphegor threatened treason and war, he lied to the ruler of the Devildom and hid Belphegor away to PROTECT him.

He lashed out at Mc and nearly killed them because he saw them as a threat to his brothers. First when Luke held the Grimoire that could control them and MC got in the way; then threatened them because they were making pacts with all his brothers; then why they betrayed him and found Belphegor because this could reach Diavolo and Belphegor would be punished for treason. In Nightbringer he originally remained suspicious and cold because MC could control his brothers without a pact and then had the grimoire which could control them. Lucifer only attacked MC when he was being protective of his brothers.

When Lucifer had amnesia he immediately bonded with his brothers again and revealed many things he’d done secretly to help them like pulling strings to get Mammon the car he worked so hard for.

He was even willing to sacrifice himself to let MC live who became family (or romantic interest—up to you) and his final ask was that they take care of his brothers.

Lucifer’s methods seem strict, unforgiving, and cruel but remember this is HELL, the DEVILDOM. Law only recently was created and Diavolo may be forgiving but who’s to say his father or descendants would be just as lenient? If his brothers don’t behave it could mean the worst and he refuses to lose another family member.

[makingqueerhistory]

Spooky Queer Books

Since spooky season is starting, I thought I would share a list of my favourite queer books that are great for this time of year.

Some of these links are affiliate links.

It Came from the Closet: Queer Reflections on Horror

Joe Vallese

Horror movies hold a complicated space in the hearts of the queer community: historically misogynist, and often homo- and transphobic, the genre has also been inadvertently feminist and open to subversive readings. Common tropes--such as the circumspect and resilient "final girl," body possession, costumed villains, secret identities, and things that lurk in the closet--spark moments of eerie familiarity and affective connection. Still, viewers often remain tasked with reading themselves into beloved films, seeking out characters and set pieces that speak to, mirror, and parallel the unique ways queerness encounters the world.It Came from the Closet features twenty-five essays by writers speaking to this relationship, through connections both empowering and oppressive. From Carmen Maria Machado on Jennifer's Body, Jude Ellison S. Doyle on In My Skin, Addie Tsai on Dead Ringers, and many more, these conversations convey the rich reciprocity between queerness and horror.

Into the Drowning Deep

Mira Grant

The ocean is home to many myths, But some are deadly... Seven years ago the Atargatis set off on a voyage to the Mariana Trench to film a mockumentary bringing to life ancient sea creatures of legend. It was lost at sea with all hands. Some have called it a hoax; others have called it a tragedy. Now a new crew has been assembled. But this time they're not out to entertain. Some seek to validate their life's work. Some seek the greatest hunt of all. Some seek the truth. But for the ambitious young scientist Victoria Stewart this is a voyage to uncover the fate of the sister she lost. Whatever the truth may be, it will only be found below the waves. But the secrets of the deep come with a price.

The Devouring Gray

C. L. Herman

After her sister's death, seventeen-year-old Violet Saunders finds herself dragged to Four Paths, New York. Violet may be a newcomer, but she soon learns her mother isn't: They belong to one of the revered founding families of the town, where stone bells hang above every doorway and danger lurks in the depths of the woods. Justin Hawthorne's bloodline has protected Four Paths for generations from the Gray--a lifeless dimension that imprisons a brutal monster. After Justin fails to inherit his family's powers, his mother is determined to keep this humiliation a secret. But Justin can't let go of the future he was promised and the town he swore to protect. Ever since Harper Carlisle lost her hand to an accident that left her stranded in the Gray for days, she has vowed revenge on the person who abandoned her: Justin Hawthorne. There are ripples of dissent in Four Paths, and Harper seizes an opportunity to take down the Hawthornes and change her destiny--to what extent, even she doesn't yet know. The Gray is growing stronger every day, and its victims are piling up. When Violet accidentally unleashes the monster, all three must band together with the other Founders to unearth the dark truths behind their families' abilities...before the Gray devours them all.

Tell Me I'm Worthless

Alison Rumfitt

Three years ago, Alice spent one night in an abandoned house with her friends, Ila and Hannah. Since then, Alice's life has spiraled. She lives a haunted existence, selling videos of herself for money, going to parties she hates, drinking herself to sleep. Memories of that night torment Alice, but when Ila asks her to return to the House, to go past the KEEP OUT sign and over the sick earth where teenagers dare each other to venture, Alice knows she must go. Together, Alice and Ila must face the horrors that happened there, must pull themselves apart from the inside out, put their differences aside, and try to rescue Hannah, whom the House has chosen to make its own. Cutting, disruptive, and darkly funny, Tell Me I'm Worthless is a vital work of trans fiction that examines the devastating effects of trauma and how fascism makes us destroy ourselves and each other.

[assriels]

here i go again

pairing: cassian x reader x azriel

summary: your half of the bond snaps and you’re faced with a choice.

word count: 4.7k

warnings: more of cass’s inner monologue speckled with az and reader’s thoughts as well, some brief mentions of sexual content!, angst angst angst

a/n: i truly was not planning on writing a part two but the love that everyone has shown me on the first part has inspired me :’) ty everyone for making my first fic posting so memorable; ALSO because i’m a sucker for happy endings, i will be writing an alternate ending for this story that is not as angsty i promise

(banners by @/cafekitsune!)

part one

When the bond first snapped, Cassian had initially tried to continue on as normal, engaging in his usual banter and friendly affection that your relationship ordinarily dictated. But as the days stretched into weeks and then months, he wasn’t sure he could keep a lid on his emotions for any longer.

Six months, normally a small blip of time in a near-immortal’s life, felt like an eternity. Six months of picking up the scraps of his broken heart was torture of the purest kind. Six months of clinging to every ounce of affection you offered him, playing it over and over in his mind to placate the urges the mating bond so desperately wanted satisfied.

Occasionally, he’d gently tug on that golden string tethering him to you, but he’d be met with an endless, empty void; the bond hadn’t snapped for you. And maybe it never would, Cassian caught himself thinking more times than he’d like. Maybe your love for Azriel was so powerful it overshadowed anything that the mating bond could offer you.

Azriel was your chosen mate and maybe no Cauldron-born matchmaking could override your unyielding loyalty and dedication to the male you spent the last twelve years loving.

Maybe Cassian was destined for loneliness in perpetuity, forced to watch his mate – the one person he loved more than life itself – live in immortality with someone who was not him.

The night of Starfall, Cassian had taken your advice and met Feyre’s friend, a beautiful high fae female who had become a regular at Feyre’s studio. They’d hit it off that night, and eventually spent the night tangled beneath the sheets of Cassian’s massive bed.

And while Cassian couldn’t deny the charming allure and beauty of this female, she wasn’t you. He wanted her, absolutely he did, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t slept with others in the past while his heart belonged truly to you. But it was like the mating bond had imprisoned his desire, reserving it for the one person who could satiate it.

He couldn’t even finish that night, and an ugly mix of humiliation, guilt, and disappointment swirled in his gut for the next few days, even as his one time lover graciously accepted his onslaught of apologies and assured him it was alright, that it happens, that she wasn’t offended. Through it all the bond was screaming at him.

Wrong, wrong, this was all wrong.

Cassian quickly disposed of the notion that he could just ignore the bond after that night. If sex and distraction were going to do nothing to keep his desperate need for you at bay, Cassian was forced to find alternative means for managing this newfound revelation.

And so, despite the brief moments of hope the snapping of the mating bond sparked in him, Cassian resolved to continue his journey of getting over you. Admittedly, though, it was becoming increasingly more difficult, as if the bond was becoming impatient and was spurring him to make bolder and bolder moves towards you.

But Cassian was nothing if not respectful and he couldn’t ever imagine telling you of the bond and forcing your hand to choose between him and his brother. So, he slowly titrated his daily dosage of you, gradually spending less time with and around you in an effort to relieve himself of the aching pain of his longing. He was mindful of his words and actions, not wanting to clue you in to the raging conflict between his mind and his heart; he disguised his purposeful avoidance of you with excuses that he had suddenly become overwhelmingly busy.

It was a tactic he knew wouldn’t last for long, but it might give him enough time to figure out what he should do next.

But ever the keen observer – having picked up a thing or two from spending so much time with the Spymaster of the Night Court – you noticed the change, however slight, in Cassian’s behavior. At first, you had fallen for his ploy; with newborn fatherhood forcing Rhys to be partially out of commission, it made sense that Azriel and Cassian had been busier than usual.

As Nyx grew, however, and both Feyre and Rhys were more adjusted to life with a child, Rhys had resumed his usual duties – but Cassian was still busy as ever.

It only took one passing comment from Azriel for you to begin perseverating on the idea that maybe Cassian was avoiding you. Az had confided in you once about Cassian’s constant denial of his invitations to spend some time together despite the arsenal of ideas that Azriel threw at him.

Drinks at Rita’s? No... A flight around Velaris? No. Lunch with Rhys? No. Training? No.

Azriel lamented that every conversation ended with Cassian hastily making an excuse to exit; it wasn’t like him, and it was beginning to get concerning.

So, you decided to test the theory yourself.

It was a lot more difficult getting Cassian alone than you thought it would be, which was strange in and of itself. Your past with him had lent itself to many occasions where you’d find yourself alone with Cassian on an errand, training, eating meals. But lately, it was like Cassian was a ghost, disappearing as soon as you had your sights on him, seemingly vanishing out of existence before you could even mutter a greeting. It seemed like everywhere you were, Cassian had pressing business elsewhere.

(Once you had walked into the kitchen, and Cassian had left in the middle of making himself a meal, mumbling something about Rhys needing his help, his half cut vegetables abandoned on the counter.)

You had every intention of cornering him with Azriel’s help, but before you could execute your sneaky plan to ambush him during training, you quite literally bumped into him on your way from the library to the dining room; clearly, he hadn’t anticipated that you’d interrupt your usual perusal of the House’s libraries to make yourself a snack.

Cassian fumbled for words, flustered and taken aback at the suddenness of your presence, still unused to the heightened feeling of his emotions around you.

You were about to interrupt his awkward stumbling, but a feeling so visceral, so outrageously all-consuming flooded every nerve in your body and you felt like you would collapse onto the floor. It was like the world had suddenly decided to start spinning in the other direction, scrambling your sensibilities, and the only thing tethering you to your reality was a thin golden string that led you directly to Cassian.

Cassian was your mate? And by the feel of it, the bond had already snapped for him who knows how long ago. Why did he not say anything? How long had he known? What the fuck?

The questions repeated themselves incessantly in your mind before you had the wherewithal to erect the strongest mental shields you could as you made flimsy excuses for why you needed to leave. Funny how, as soon as you had the opportunity to speak to Cassian alone, you were the one spinning white lies to explain your sudden departure.

If Cassian had felt your awareness on his side of the bond, he didn’t let on, only stared bemused after your retreating figure.

You wound through the maze of hallways in the House with such precision that you had to have set a record for how quickly you made your way from the dining room to Azriel’s study; you hadn’t even meant to go there, body habitually routing its way to your lover in moments of distress.

Azriel.

Your heart twisted painfully at the thought of him, and you contemplated not telling him or Cassian that you had felt a bond whip into place. But you knew that would be a disservice to all parties involved in this sadistic twist of events.

You would talk to Cassian, have a discussion, figure out what this meant for your friendship and his and Azriel’s brotherhood, but you needed to collect yourself and unscramble the tangled web of thoughts knotted in your mind before you did any of that. You needed to talk to Azriel.

You stood outside his study with your forehead pressed to the door, not yet having the courage to open it.

In the past twelve years you’d been in a relationship with the Shadowsinger, you had many conversations exploring the what if’s of your future. The notion of the mating bond snapping between you and someone else – or him and someone else – had been something you both considered. Neither of you were naive enough to assume that it would be as simple as just choosing each other – what with the intensity of the mating bond – but neither of you really thought that it would happen either, often just assuming that it would snap between the two of you in due time.

You had been so incredibly enamored with each other since the day you met; everything had fallen so beautifully into place that it had been easy to throw all caution to the wind and fall helplessly in love. Mating bond be damned.

You knew that if a bond had snapped between you and anyone else, the choice would be simple. You and Azriel prepared for something like this — the swirling lines of complementary ink on both of your torsos had been proof of that — but never did either of you consider that it would involve the one other person that you both loved almost as much as you loved each other.

You had a long history with Cassian, and though nothing romantic had ever occurred between you, somehow the choice was now infinitely more impossible. It wasn’t difficult to admit that you loved Cassian, you knew him and cherished him for as long as you could remember. But could you love him in the way that the mating bond demanded? Could you love him in the way that he deserved?

Those were questions that you couldn’t answer, too confused as you contemplated the implications of your mate being someone you loved in an entirely different way than you loved Azriel.

So you opened the door to Azriel’s study, seeking safety and refuge with the one person who could help you make sense of this impossible predicament.

One look at you standing in the doorway told Azriel all he needed to know. The time he prayed would never come was finally here. The knit of your eyebrows and the quiver in your lip shattered his usually calm countenance as he tried to ignore the overwhelming feeling of dark uncertainty settling in his chest.

The sad, resigned smile that he gave you as he sat at his desk made tears well up in your eyes. You felt guilty and confused and so, so horrible, wondering what must be running through his mind as he looked at you, understanding intuitively that you had found your mate.

And that it wasn’t him.

You wanted to soothe the fears that were so clearly written all over his face, but you couldn’t find the words, afraid that if you opened your mouth nothing but nonsensical blubbering would come out. But you needed to say something, to explain the overly complicated cocktail of emotions roiling in your gut.

However, before you could even begin to string together a coherent sentence, he crossed the room in three long strides, resting his palm against your cheek as his thumb ran a soothing path back and forth across your skin. Azriel leaned down to kiss away the tears that had escaped before pulling your head into his chest.

The comforting warmth of the body you knew so well worked wonders on your nerves, your mind already clearing itself enough to tame some of the turmoil that had overtaken your consciousness. You allowed yourself to focus only on the feel of the strong planes of his body against yours, losing yourself in the luxury of his embrace.

“It’s Cassian,” you said after a few long minutes.

Though your words were muffled into the fabric of his shirt, Azriel had heard them loud and clear. He almost laughed at the sheer atrocity of it all; how could the Cauldron be so spiteful? You — the greatest love he’s ever known — and Cassian — his brother in all but blood — were mates.

He felt as though the Mother had taken Truthteller and carved a path through his chest, leaving him to piece together the vestiges of his heart after she had stolen you from it. But he wouldn’t let himself fall apart, not when you were so clearly in need of his unwavering stability.

“Does he know?” Azriel cursed the way his voice betrayed him; it sounded so small as it broke over each syllable of his question.

You tightened your arms around his waist, anchoring yourself to the steady thrum of his familiar heartbeat, “Sort of. It’s snapped for him, but I don’t think he’s realized that I know yet.”

Your words hung in the air, heavy and somber. Neither of you said anything, only holding each other as a gentle breeze wafted through Azriel’s open windows. You wondered again what must have been going through his mind, wondered if he was as scared and sad and torn as you were. By the way his fingers trembled almost imperceptibly as his hand ran up and down the length of your spine, you concluded that he was.

Azriel wanted to stay like this forever, savor the moments before either of you had to make a decision. Infinite possibilities raced through his mind, and his heart warred with itself.

He loved you — gods, did he love you — but he also loved Cassian. Knew that Cassian was an honorable male, had a suspicion for years that Cassian loved you the same way that he did. But even then, Azriel wanted to be selfish. Wanted to beg you to choose him because if you didn’t he wasn’t sure what would happen to him.

You had been his lifeline since the day he met you; he didn’t think it was possible to love and be loved the way you had shown him, and he greedily didn’t want to live a life without it.

But he loved you so fiercely that your happiness was paramount, your decision to choose for yourself was of utmost importance and, arguably, was the only thing that mattered in this moment. Azriel couldn’t help but think, though, that you deserved the love and connection of a mate, deserved the love he’d seen blossom beautifully between Rhys and Feyre, and if that meant you’d leave him, then he was glad it would be for Cassian.

“I don’t know what to do,” came your small, rasped confession. You pulled your head away from his chest to look up at him, eyes glassy with unshed tears, “Tell me what to do, Az.”

He gave you that sad smile again (and you quickly decided you hated that you were the cause of this forlorn look of his), his scarred hand coming up to tame the wisps of hair that had clung to your forehead, “I can’t, love.”

After a beat he added, “I think you should tell him, though. Soon. He deserves to know, and you both deserve the chance to…talk about it.”

You knew what he was dancing around saying, knew that he meant he would let you go if you decided that you wanted this mateship with Cassian rather than what you had with him. That it was all in your hands, and entirely your decision. Your heart twisted painfully as you were confronted with the bottomless depth of Azriel’s love for you; he would sacrifice his love and happiness for yours without contest.

“Az…”

“You have me,” he started again, his hazel eyes burning into yours with such unwavering loving conviction you were glad his arms were around you to keep your knees from buckling. “No matter what you choose, you have me. Mating bond or not, I’m yours. If you want to see where things go with Cassian, you should. I’d wait for you…even if you decided you’d never come back to me, I'd wait.”

His heartfelt confession made another round of tears burn your eyes as you nodded. You cradled his neck, pulling him down to kiss him. Both of you savored the familiar feel of your lips moving together in a practiced dance.

“I love you.”

Azriel knew you meant it; even if you chose to explore your newfound mating bond, knew that nothing could ever take from him the parts of yourself you allowed him the privilege of loving. And so he said it back, insistently ignoring the gnawing worry that it would be the last time.

It wasn’t that much of a shock when Cassian felt you tug oh-so-tentatively on the bond the week after he ran into you in the dining room. He had immediately noticed your shift in demeanor, the heat creeping up your cheeks as you made a beeline out of the room despite having just entered. He had felt something change on his end of the bond the moment your skirts brushed past him in your rush to exit. The bond had finally snapped for you, but he couldn’t reach you, your consciousness locked behind steel-reinforced shields.

A rush of conflicting emotion had erupted in Cassian’s chest at the realization, and it took every ounce of self discipline he had to not chase you down. He knew you would need time, would probably want to tell Azriel before anything else, so he waited and ignored the incessant nagging of the bond to seek you out. He would do this right, would leave the decision entirely up to you despite his overwhelming desire for you to choose him.

Truthfully, Cassian didn’t think that you’d open up on your end so soon after it had snapped, and he tried not to read too much into what that could mean. Instead, when he felt that gentle pulse from you beneath his ribcage, he tugged back in acknowledgement.

Cass…?

Your voice flooded every inch of his head and it was sheer bliss to feel you so intimately intertwined with his mind.

Hey, you.

He replied, heart thundering so loudly he worried that you’d hear it.

Can we talk? Meet on the balcony near the library? Maybe in an hour?

Cassian had never been so anxious, had never been so uncertain and nervous and excited in his life. Regardless of what happened — of what you said — he just wanted to see you. His avoidance of you these past few months was nothing short of torture, and just the thought of being near you again in a way that meant something sent Cassian’s entire being into a new plane of happiness.

Wouldn’t miss it, sweetheart.

You didn’t reply, but he felt you send a wave of fondness and appreciation towards him; Cassian felt like a starved man who had just been offered a loaf of bread.

He had intended on getting at least a little bit of work done in the hour before he was set to meet you, but Cassian found his mind drifting to thoughts of you as he flew around the perimeter of Velaris, running through scenario after scenario that could happen. His excitement was overshadowed by the looming possibility that you would reject the bond, and just the thought of it sent bile churning in his gut.

Cassian knew how much love existed between you and Azriel, had seen firsthand how much you both had committed yourselves to each other. Part of him felt guilty; Azriel was his brother and he didn’t want to be the thing that stood in Az’s way of keeping the love that everyone knew he deserved and that you so willingly provided. Cassian’s mind was twisting circles around itself as he thought about how this would end. Because while Azriel loved you, so did Cassian. And he would be a fool to give up so easily on the opportunity to show you just how much you meant to him, how much he adored you.

Before Cassian could make any headway in finding a solution for this impossible situation, it was time for him to meet you. So, Cassian fluttered his wings and made his way towards the House.

You were already standing on the balcony when he landed, pacing as you alternated between worrying your bottom lip with your teeth and biting your nails. Even with confusion marring your features, the golden hour light of the sun encased you in such warmth, that you glowed luminescent, and he wanted to freeze this moment and remember it forever.

Cassian tamed the urge to kiss the worry away from your raw, swollen lips and massage the crease out from between your brows, and instead said, “Hey.”

You looked up at him and stole the breath straight from his lungs with the radiance of your smile, though dimmed no doubt by the anxiety that plagued you.

“Cass,” you started, soft and the slightest bit hesitant. “Hi.”

An awkward silence that never existed between you two settled in the air now, neither of you wanting to be the one to broach the subject you knew tormented you both day and night. You had almost backed out of having this conversation three times within the past hour, but you knew that it needed to be done. For all of your sakes.

“We’re mates,” you said, and Cassian didn’t miss the way your statement sounded half like a question, as if you still couldn’t wrap your head around the notion. He nodded, stating more definitively, “We’re mates.”

Again, another silence permeated the too large space between you and Cassian thought he’d hurl himself off the ledge of the balcony to avoid the palpable awkwardness of it all. This certainly wasn’t what he pictured in his mind when you both finally had the conversation about your mateship.

You cleared your throat stiffly, not quite meeting his eyes as a cute blush betrayed your serious countenance, “I’m not really sure what to do, Cass. I’ve been thinking about this nonstop for the past week and…I just don’t– I don’t know what to do. I really just–”

Cassian aptly noted the way your emotions showed so clearly on your face. Maybe it was because he could also feel you unwittingly sending them down the bond, but he could tell that your stuttering and frantic fumbling for words was wrought from a week’s worth of anxiety and spinning your thoughts over and over in your mind, probably similar to the way that he had been doing for the past six months. He hated thinking that you felt even a fraction of the confusion and pain that he had endured for the past half a year.

Slowly, in the face of your pain stricken confusion, Cassian's resolve to fight for your affections was crumbling.

Your eyes finally met his, and the glassy sheen of tears that marred their usual clarity made Cassian’s heart lurch; how he wished you would never look at him with such an anguished expression on your face.

“I care about you, Cassian. I care about you so, so much,” you said, and he knew you meant it. He saw it in the way your brows twisted together in earnest and the way your fists clenched at your sides determinedly. He could feel the conflict storming beneath your ribs and wanted to do everything he could to chase it away, make it so that you never faced uncertainty for the rest of your days. But he let you continue, his pulse thundering so loudly he almost couldn’t hear you over the rush of his own blood.

“I just–” you trailed off then, unable to voice your thoughts as they were a tangled mess roiling around in your head, ricocheting off the walls of your skull.

What were you even going to say? You thought you had made a decision, thought you would tell him that you couldn’t accept the bond, that you could never leave Azriel like this. But one look at Cassian and the hope he so desperately tried to mask in his eyes left you floundering, the mating bond begging you not to sever it, not to hurt Cassian. You didn’t expect to be at such an impasse; how were you supposed to choose between instinct and desire? Love and connection? Weren’t they all one in the same anyway? But if they were, how could they be split between the two most important people in your life? What a cruel, cruel fate you all had been subjected to.

Cassian watched as you puzzled through your thoughts, and his desire to ease your worry spurred him to action. He knew the decision would tear you apart, would obliterate not only your relationship with Azriel, but his too, even though he knew Azriel would never hold something like this against either of you. But Cassian loved you both too much to tip the scales in his favor at the cost of ruining his family, of hurting you, of forcing you to make an impossible decision and living with the regret of hurting them both.

So, he chose for you. Despite the way that his heart screamed at him, begged him not to reject the bond, he did anyway. He used every ounce of self control he had to hold himself together and remind himself over and over again that this was the right decision. The future with you that Cassian so desperately wanted was a hair’s breadth away, and for a few precious seconds he allowed himself to sit in the bliss of the in-between, pretending that his next words would be I love you instead of—

“I don’t think we should do this, Y/N,” he said, forcing his voice not to shake, his eyes not to water with the pain of pushing you away. “Maybe…maybe the Cauldron got it wrong.”

He hoped he sounded more convincing than he felt. Because how could the Cauldron get it wrong when being near you, loving you felt so right?

The look you gave him at his words was a mixture of relief and…something else that he couldn’t place. Was it disappointment? Regret?

Cassian didn’t let himself dwell on it further because if he did, and if he convinced himself that he saw even a glimmer of disappointment at his rejection in your eyes, he’d take everything back and say fuck it, I love you, give me a chance. So he averted his gaze as you took his hand, iron willpower crumbling at the sweet euphoria that filled his chest at your touch.

“Cassian,” you rarely used his full name, but you did now and he looked up at you and into your eyes. When he finally met your gaze again, you pulled him into a wonderfully tight hug, “Thank you. I– thank you.”

Despite the searing sting your words left on his heart, Cassian let himself pretend that you were his for the last time as he reveled in your embrace, holding you so steadily, so delicately that if you didn’t know he loved you before, you must have known now.

You pulled away after a few moments but kept him close, holding his face in your hands as your thumbs brushed the apples of his cheeks, eyes searching his face in earnest, “You know I’ll always love you right, Cass?”

You knew it was a cruel and selfish thing to say to him, especially because you could feel the echo of his true feelings down the bond that was slowly, painfully weakening at Cassian’s unwanted rejection. But you needed him to know, needed him to understand more than anything that your love for him transcended the romantic and was existing in a plane reserved solely for him. You wanted him to know that you couldn’t ever thank him or repay him for his sacrifice born out of pure unadulterated love for you; you only wished you could do the same for him.

Briefly, you concluded that — in an alternate universe, another life — Cassian would have loved you with a ferocity that put the heat of the sun to shame. But in this life, you couldn’t tear your heart away from Azriel; your love for him was built on the foundational elements of trust and choice, and you would pick him time and time again.

In this life, you would be greedy and accept Cassian’s sacrifice of his own love for yours, and you would damn well make sure it was worth it.

As if he could read your thoughts — and maybe he could now — he nodded and pulled you in again with a parting kiss to your forehead.

“I know," he said, closing his eyes and leaning in to your touch, savoring the fleeting moments that you had been so close to being his, telling himself that he was grateful for the love that you would offer him, even if it wasn't in the way he so desperately desired. "I know."

[imaginedanvrs]

a galaxy stands between us

part 1 l masterlist

summary: five years ago, a monster from another world attacked. though it was entrapped and kept hidden from the world, a secret that dangerous can only be kept for so long before it finally gathers the attention from the avengers, but what they find is the last thing anyone could have expected

word count: 3.6k

warnings: imprisonment & confinement, unethical use of sedation, institutionalized abuse, shock collars, straight jackets, themes of schizophrenia, marvel canon violence

In, out. In… out. In, out. Your breathing had changed. It was different somehow, harder to pull the air into your lungs and expel it.

  The material that was somehow classed as a blanket scratched at the palm of your hands, every fibre catching on the flecks of skin that were almost as rough as the grey material beneath you. Even if you could speak, you wouldn’t complain because the alternative was having no barrier between you and the floor which became so impossibly cold at night. Besides, it was hardly the object of your main discomforts. 

  The chains weren’t so bad. Although they made your wrists and ankles raw until they bled only to be placed back on twelve hours later, they were still preferable to the straight jacket you would be placed back in once the morning came. You hated that. You hated the way it managed to confine every movement that you could possibly wish to make should you have the control to do so. It was unnecessary and humiliating even after all those years. You knew that. They knew that. Still, it was the collar that was the worst, the obnoxious bulky ring that they never turned off so at a moment’s notice you could be struck by those lightning bolts that came from within.

  The sound of mechanical movements, clicks and a long beep broke through the silence of the room and a sudden stream of light flooded the space just as swiftly. You winced, even though you were expecting it to happen any moment, having been interrupted from the blanket of darkness that you had been immersed under for an excessive amount of time. You blinked, registering the solid shadow that filled the orange glow on the wall you were facing, until it grew larger and its physical body reached your side. 

  “...if the blood pressure is too low we’ll have to stop…” you heard the shadow say. 

  “...stop it being a pain in the ass…” another voice joined. You recognised them both but didn’t think you could match their voices to a face. 

  “...keep it sedated…” they continued as you felt another thick material being wrapped around your arm. You realised it was the one that squeezed your arm uncomfortably though it was nothing compared to the way you were handled by the people. 

  “Claw their eyes out,” another voice joined, far clearer and instantly recognisable. If you let your eyes fall to the far corner of the room, you would see the bear man lurking. He always made his appearances at that time, just as you were being given more of the fluids that came in needles, and left once all of your senses dulled once more. Nothing lingered once that happened. You ignored him as you always did because he only lived in your head and that was the single most unreliable source there was. 

  “Those chains can’t hold you. Kill them and leave,” he continued to instruct, remaining still enough for you to make out the outline of the bear skin draping his body even from the corner of your eye. You weren’t quite sure where your mind had gotten its inspiration when it conjured his attire. “Stop them before they poison you further!” He demanded, apparently your subconscious was playing far closer attention to those beside you than you were. You didn’t have to, you knew what they were doing and that despite what the bear man said, you were powerless to it when they slipped the needle back into you. The contents were swiftly flushed through your system as the man you conjured up grew more enraged. You closed your eyes and ignored the flurry of demands that carried across the room to your ears alone. He would be gone soon. 

~

“We know that at the very least they have information about it but they won’t give us anything. Romanoff, you think you can do some digging?” Steve asked from the end of the conference room. 

  “I’ll see what I can find,” Natasha agreed, certainly intrigued by the matter she was tasked to pursue. Aliens on Earth certainly wouldn’t be a first, nor would an underground company keeping one be, but actually finding it before it was released? Now that would be new. 

  “You reckon this is something we should prepare for?” Wanda asked her girlfriend as the pair left the conference room together after the meeting. The rest of the team dispersed in other directions to carry out the tasks they had all been assigned by the captain.

  “Maybe. Five years without any signs doesn’t necessarily mean nothing is happening but it is strange,” Natasha considered. “If I had to guess, I’d say this company is waiting for the right moment to play the alien card.”

  “So you think they are keeping it?” Wanda continued, always curious to learn what dots the older hero connected to reach the conclusions she did. 

  “Any bio-company with that much money and that little recognition is something worth looking into, especially if they just so happen to have a fully armed swat team that they don’t want anyone knowing about,” Natasha explained as the pair arrived in the kitchen where Bruce was making himself a coffee. 

  “But you saw the photos of the scene after it was detained, how did a swat team manage to capture whatever was capable of all of that?” The Sokovian questioned. 

  “How did they manage to get to it before anyone else?” Natasha added. “These are the things I need to find out.”

  “Maybe they made it,” Bruce chimed, having heard half the conversation. Both women turned their heads to the scientist. “Or maybe they found it and it escaped so they captured it again,” he theorised. 

  “That would make sense,” Natasha considered. 

  “Either way, once you’ve got any information on it let me and Tony know so we can start preparing the right containment,” he requested. 

  “You want to keep it here?” Natasha and Wanda said at once. 

  “S.H.I.E.L.D is no more equipped to deal with aliens than we are, so why not?” It was something Natasha hadn’t even considered, though she had only heard about it half an hour ago, but she knew it made sense to keep the creature in the tower, even if it did unnerve her to think about. 

  “We don’t even know if this thing is still alive,” Natasha pointed out before she allowed any of them to get too carried away. “You heard Rogers, the only reason we’re looking into it now is because of rumours an agent heard on their undercover mission.” 

  Aside from the rumours that a creature was being kept by the lesser known bio-company, the photos of an aftermath from a gruesome attack were the only pieces of information the agent had been able to gather due to that not being the sole purpose of their mission. They were undercover in one of the major rising crime rings in the country and had found a connection to the bio-company. There was no concrete evidence for any of it, but even the chance of the intel being legitimate meant that it needed the Avenger’s attention. 

  “It might not even be real,” Natasha stated. Bruce and Wanda nodded, though all three knew it would be useful to prepare. 

  By that evening, the Russian redhead had gathered enough intel to work with. She hadn’t made any attempts to speak to the sketchy organisation regarding the alien they might be holding, understanding that there wouldn’t be any transparency on that topic, but she had found a location and a way in. There was only one holding base that they kept so far off of the records that the spy had to call around numerous contacts to even find the start of the trail until she followed it back. If they were keeping a creature from another world, it would be there. 

  The other issue the spy faced was entry. Sure, the team could storm the place, but on what grounds? What if they couldn’t find anything? What if she was wrong? The legal consequences would be endless and it would give the government more ammunition to attempt to take control over the Avengers as they were always searching to do. Instead, Natasha planned to play the ‘random inspection’ card and thought it would be a good chance to bring Wanda along so that the Sokovian could attain the undercover skills she had been asking for. 

  The spy finished up her paperwork, requested the necessary team and prepared for the following day, unsure of what exactly they would find. 

~

It was unusual for the bear man to appear when you were being handled. Apparently it meant your medication was being altered, according to him, and it allowed your mind to open more windows for him to slip through and cause problems. You despised how isolated you were in your room, and yet it somehow felt even more lonesome when he was there because you knew he was merely a figment of your desperate imagination. He was your mind’s attempt to ease the pain and in doing so only made you aware of how much of your sanity was falling through your grasp. 

  “How can you just sit there and let her do that?” The bear man said, watching on as your handler roughly manoeuvred your limbs into the white strapped jacket that clung to your frame. You didn’t have the strength, and hardly the feeling, to help her position your body right. None of them were ever gentle, as evident by the purple blemishes that littered your skin. 

  “Do something,” the man instructed. “Do something!” He yelled far too loud. You squeezed your eyes shut but that did nothing to block out the endless orders he barked at you. With your hands entrapped between your torso and jacket, you had no way of even attempting the dull the screaming that brutally crashed down on you.

  “Go ‘way,” you pleaded, just barely loud enough for the woman handling you to understand. 

  “What’d you say to me?” Your handler spat, giving you no chance to muster the strength for a response because she was shoving you forwards until your face collided with the unforgiving floor. She wasted no time in placing a heavy boot into the middle of your back to force you down until your body twisted unnaturally in the straightjacket. “You think I want to be in here with you, freak?” She continued in a way you had heard countless times before. “Little fucker,” she hissed, lifting her boot only to bring it straight back down on your head. Your body was numb enough to take the blunt of the force, but you still registered the sickening crack of your skull hitting the floor. 

  You were left more disorientated than you had been prior to your handler’s arrival, unsurprisingly. Still, you didn’t cry or scream or feel sorry for yourself, you just laid in the relief that the bear man was gone for the time being. 

~

“It’s just that we weren’t expecting anyone,” the manager muttered as he looked at the two heroes sceptically. 

  “Again, that’s the point,” Natasha said firmly, allowing herself to become irritated by the third person they were talking to in twenty minutes. “Now I can have my boss take time out of his busy schedule to phone your boss to ask why you’re still making us waste our time by standing out here, or you can let us do our job,” she continued with a glare that was enough to make the sweating man back down. 

  “Okay, okay,” he stumbled out of the way to let the pair in despite the security guard eyeing them with lingering (and well placed) suspicion. “Eugine here will give you the tour.” He shifted uncomfortably to stand behind his subordinates. “My apologies,” he added before scurrying away to let Eugine take over. 

  “Right this way,” he beckoned and wasted no time taking Natasha and Wanda through the first corridor, most likely with the intention of getting the tour over and done with as soon as possible. Neither complained when Eugine rushed them down one hallway and towards another, simply making notes that they had no use for and pretending to be interested in what little information they were given. It would all be recited again once they had access to the main database. 

  Once all three passed by an empty office, Natasha and Wanda exchanged a glance that wasn’t difficult to conceal with Eugine paying as little attention to them as possible. “If you could excuse me for a moment,” Natasha said politely as they passed by the women’s washroom. Their tour guide looked to the redhead irritably but she was already making her way inside. After checking that she was alone, Natasha opened up the vents above the sink and swiftly made her way inside to follow the lesser used route back to the office they had passed. It was still empty, but Natasha worked under the assumption that anyone could return at a moment’s notice. 

  “Bruce? You there?” The Russian asked as she withdrew the unique USB drive that would send any files straight back to the tower. 

  “Ready and waiting,” he spoke into her comns. 

  Given how paranoid the bio-company was, it took Natasha some time to gain access to their files while Wanda kept Eugine in place. He, of course, wasn’t happy to be kept waiting, but one subtle comment from Wanda about ‘that time of the month’ silenced any further complaints. She could always resort to her powers if necessary, however she knew there was some importance in learning to navigate missions without them. 

  “Got it!” Bruce called. Natasha made quick work of covering her tracks as she left the office the way she had come, though this time she didn’t return to the washroom and kept going as per Bruce’s instructions as he guided her through the building towards a room on the building map labelled ‘containment’. There was nowhere else in the building that held any similar labels and the pair agreed it was their best bet. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any vent leading directly into the room due to the obsessive security for it, something else Bruce was tasked with handling. 

  “A little overkill, don’t you think?” Natasha quipped in an effort to conceal her nerves. If she didn’t know any better, Natasha would have assumed the door in front of her was for a vault of some kind. It was made from what she could only assume was several layers of reinforced steel and a series of locks across the entire perimeter. Whatever was inside clearly wasn’t meant to get out and while it raised obvious concerns over why the bio-company was keeping such a beast, it was also a bad idea for Natasha to enter alone. 

  “I can’t access the camera footage inside. Nat, you can’t go in blind, we have no idea what’s in there,” the scientist warned. 

  “I handle you just fine, Banner,” she continued as she eyed the door. 

  “I’m serious, Nat.” 

  “So am I. Look, we have no solid proof that they’re keeping anything behind this door so we can’t call the team in for backup, just like we also can’t get Captain America or Iron Man to come undercover here next time. We deal with this now or we let it kick us in the ass later,” Natasha explained firmly, adamant on not leaving the building anytime soon. 

  “She’s right,” Wanda agreed though instead of her voice coming through the device in Natasha’s ear, the Sokovian appeared by her side with Eugine trailing behind her with a red glaze over his eyes. She looked at her partner sheepishly, knowing she was meant to be avoiding using her powers. “And if you could open this now before security comes,” she added. The pair heard Bruce sigh and grumble a defeated ‘yes’ as he worked on disabling the locks. 

  “You ready?” Natasha asked her partner as her widow bites began to emit a faint blue as she held them up once the locks began to unravel. 

  “Sure,” Wanda winced as she produced a swirling red sphere between her hands and stared straight ahead. “We’re long overdue for a fight with an alien.” 

  Several short bursts of steam escaped from the main locks on the left hand side of the door until an obnoxious ‘thud’ indicated Pandora's box was ready to be pried open. A red glow encapsulated the door as Wanda steadily pulled it open in its entirety, revealing the contents of which neither had expected to find. They shared a stunned glance momentarily and each lowered their respective weapons. 

  “Is that…?” Wanda trailed off as she assessed the sight of you slumped against the fall wall with only a trace of consciousness behind your eyes. 

  “Guys? What is it?” Bruce called out. 

  “It’s a kid,” Natasha stated. 

  “No,” Wanda said as she took the first step towards you. You didn’t seem to have registered their presence. “She might have come in as a kid, but she’s not anymore.” Wanda crouched down in front of you as Natasha stood back to observe and keep watch, snapping herself out of the initial shock and back to the mission at hand. “Hey,” the Sokovian greeted, eyeing the thick collar around your neck warrily. 

  “Wanda,” Natasha warned, unnerved by the whole ordeal that didn’t make any logical sense. 

  “It’s okay,” Wanda assured as she noted the straight jacket you were concealed in and raised a steady hand to your head where a red mist covered your eyes to simply peek at your condition. “She’s sedated,” Wanda stated. “Let’s get her out.” She didn’t leave any room for discussion as the red whisps fully enveloped your frame and lifted you off of the floor. Natasha didn’t object, dutifully leading the way as she pushed all questions to the back of her mind. They could wait. They had to, because they were about to meet the swat team responsible for your entrapment. 

  “I need the quinjet here, now!” Natasha ordered as she shot at the first few to clear the way all while Bruce tried to direct the trio as best he could. He had no idea which way the swat teams were coming from, he could only direct them to the quickest exit and unlock every door between them. 

  Wanda tried to aid in disarming and throwing those that followed them, but she needed to keep most of her attention on ensuring that you stayed safe and between them so that the entire mission wasn’t for nothing. Fortunately, Natasha had taken on more opponents than that before and shot anyone that came too close with a prision to they couldn’t rival until they made it through the nearest fire exit. The quinjet was hovering a few yards away with its loading door open, unable to land because of the rest of the swat team shooting wildly and not paying attention to the Avengers behind them. They went down in an instant and Wanda propelled all three of you off the ground and into the jet. 

  It was difficult for you to understand what exactly had just happened, but you were aware that you were no longer staring at the same four walls that you had been for… well you had no idea how long. With the drugs in your system, all voices and sounds seemed far away and muffled just as everything you could see was incredibly blurred beyond recognition. You had no idea where you currently sat, nor could you identify the figure that was pulling a seatbelt across you as the walls and ground began to shake. You didn’t allow yourself to be hopeful that what was to come would be any better, especially when the bulky collar around your neck woke up and sent an onslaught of electricity through your body. 

  If you weren’t so sedated, you would have screamed, begged, wailed at the intense pain that struck you. Instead, all you could do was silently cry though it was immediately clear what was happening to the two Avengers when the collar blinked red and your body convulse in response. You gasped, finding it suddenly impossible to breathe until the heavy device was ripped from your burning neck by Wanda’s powers on impulse. 

  “Shit, it must have been set off by us leaving,” Natasha theorised as the pair inspected the scarred and freshly burnt rings around your neck. 

  “You think there could be anything else under there?” Wanda asked as she motioned to the jacket covering your body. Natasha didn’t get the chance to answer before Steve’s voice cut in.

  “Once you get here we’ll take her to the hulk’s containment room,” Steve informed from the speakers on the jet. 

  “She’s going to medical,” Natasha corrected at once as she watched you slump in the seat helplessly. Your eyes were still half open, but she could tell you could make no sense of what was around you. 

  “We have to be careful,” Bruce added. “I of all people know that being locked up is intimidating, but it can also be the best solution.”

  “So you want to keep her the same way they did?” Wanda objected, not believing what she was hearing. 

  “Just until we can get some blood samples and understand-”

  “You saw what just happened,” Natasha snapped, glaring straight at the camera in the corner of the jet that she knew Steve was watching. “She’s in a straight jacket and collar while sedated. She’s going to medical,” she finalised. There was a heavy silence for several moments before Steve spoke again. 

  “Medical first, then the containment room,” he compromised. 

  “Look at her, she's barely conscious,” Wanda stated to the camera. “What are you so afraid of?” 

  “What happens when she is.”

[jymwahuwu]

After watching the animation, I felt uncomfortable and had thoughts about handcuffs. just found a reason to be handcuffed and spanked by Wriothesley 🥵🙏💦💦

CW: yandere, forced imprisonment, abuse of power, non-consensual spanking, humiliation

For a whole week… you were uncooperative, stamping your feet in front of Wriothesley's face, arguing with him, or responding with perfunctory- "yes-yes", "got it.", "you're right again anyway". Why? He keeps you in this underwater prison and factory, restricting your freedom. He smiled lightly and gracefully, patting you on the head as if you just weren't mature enough. Like just punched the pillow with his fist, it was completely useless. The anger in your chest burned even brighter.

You were sulking that day, slowly poking at the food with your fork in the cafeteria, thinking about how to escape the Fortress of Meropide. A young and sweet voice sounded next to you. "You look unhappy. Cheer up. Want a milkshake?" "No, thank you." You replied quickly, without even glancing at who the person was. In the corner of your vision, a blue milkshake approaches you, and you turn around irritably.

"I told you no…" Inadvertently, your elbow touched the cup, and the whole cup fell to the ground and broke. You were startled to realize that it was the head nurse, Sigewinne. Guilt builds in you, and you're about to apologize and pick up the pieces, but you hear that annoying voice - Wriothesley's. His boots appear before you. "Wow, what a big scene. Do you mind explaining it?"

Sigewinne waved her hand and raised head to look at Wriothesley. "I'm fine, Your Grace."

Rebellion takes a place in your heart. You swallowed your apology and sneered. "I broke it."

Wriothesley raised his eyebrows. "Really? Well, come to the office with me. Sigewinne, don't pick up the debris. I will ask people to clean it." Sigewinne gave you a worried look and explained. "It's really just an accident, not intentional, Your Grace…"

"Don't worry." He gave a reassuring smile. "Just going to the office to chat."

As soon as you entered the office, you heard the door being locked. Your heart skipped a beat, but you still maintained a stoic look.

Wriothesley walked slowly from the door to you, hugged his arm, and asked in a relaxed tone. "You've been very rude lately. What's wrong?"

You can't believe Wriothesley is actually asking this - "Don't you know you're the reason! When am I going to get out of jail! Why I have no idea how long my sentence will be extended!"

"This is what happens when someone disobeys." Administrator said, taking something out of his pocket. "And now I'm right. You don't look like you're fit to be released from prison."

He quickly lifted the back of your hand, and then with a sound, the handcuff locked your right hand. You suddenly broke into a cold sweat, but your other hand was grabbed and locked in the same way. "W-what do you want to do!" accompanied by a chuckle. "You look better this way, but it's not enough."

Wriothesley sat down leisurely, stretched out his hand, and pulled you onto his lap. As you screamed, a chill ran down your butt, and the covering material was pulled down. But he still felt that it was not enough, and even took off your underwear, not even allowing the underwear to stay on your calves, but threw it on the desk. Before this, you had never known that Wriothesley's strength was so irresistible and powerful. He always allowed you to push him away a little.

A hard slap on your ass. Terrified, you straightened your legs and kicked them, as if that would relieve the pain, but it didn't. "How dare you - how dare you spank me! Wriothesley, I will teach you a lesson once I get out!"

"Ha-I'm waiting." He said, holding back the laughter in his throat. "But now, you're being spanked by me, so watch your words."

The slaps landed on your butt one after another, and his thick arms were waving, showing no mercy, as the loud slapping sound proved. The pain urged your eyes to fill with tears, and you wanted to struggle, but the cold handcuffs reminded you of your position. "Stop this…you have no right to do this…"

"I have. And no one can stop me from doing this." While holding your waist, his big, rough hand slapped your right butt three times in a row. Just when you thought you had adapted… pain. You sobbed quietly, sniffling.

After the slap lasted… you don't know, 2 minutes or 5 minutes later? It seemed like a lifetime, and finally it stopped. "Poor you." The palm touched your heated butt and rubbed it gently, "It's all swollen. If you were obedient, it wouldn't be like this, right?"

"Asshole…" you just struggled to curse in a low voice, "um, let's start again." These few understatement words gave you a huge warning. The slaps started again, even harder than before. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to stop him. "…wait, wait, I'm sorry!! Don't start over!!"

"Ah, too late," he snickered, not stopping to spank. "Well, I can even hear you scolding me in your heart. Just be good, even a little bit, okay?"

What follows is a long afternoon. Wriothesley didn't spank you continuously, but kept you on his lap. He reviews the documents and signs and adds notes. Occasionally, he thinks of you and waves his arms to educate you. You were like a poor little pet, on his lap, with tears hanging from your eyelashes, your hands locked in handcuffs, and butt is swollen and radiating heat.

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Imprisonment

Summary: Tommy holds you to a high standard in marriage, expecting you to care for the children, tend to the house, and serve him. It was all too much and in an attempt to escape from Tommy’s wicked ways, he catches you in a lie.

Warnings: Noncon, misogyny, physical/mental abuse, traditional values and expectations, spitting, degradation, humiliation, forced breeding

Thomas Shelby. The most important, handsome, dangerous man in Birmingham. The man every woman’s knees would give out for just one night with him and would risk their freedom for. 

If only they knew the rope he had around your wrists and neck throughout your marriage, constantly having to watch your tongue, dress elegantly to events with insecure men who used their position of power to have control over others.

What drew you in aside from his constant devotion to win you over was the fact he could provide for you and a family, he gave you a house to live in and share together. He took you in and loved you when you had no money, never once blinked an eye at another woman, always stood up for you but that all changed.

Currently seated in his office, rocking your newborn he was filling out paperwork jaw clenched, nothing but the sound of the clock ticking on the wall filling your eardrums.

Things weren’t how they used to be before the marriage.

There was no quality time together, no signs of affection other than a quick fuck when he decided he needed it. Date nights didn’t exist, the compassion was missing entirely it almost seemed as if Thomas was always preoccupied with business to care for you or the three children you’ve birthed. There were numerous times where you begged and pleaded for just a night out, for Frances to watch the children for one night a month at the least but he wouldn’t have any of it. 

Then whenever you’d question him as to why he was out late doing business matters with women you haven’t even met it would be a simple “it’s just business, nothing more”. But you knew that was a lie, yet you stayed, you stayed out of fear because you didn’t know who he was anymore, or the lengths he would go to, to keep you in the house.

Matters became difficult after your newborn was born, you’d only been married to Thomas for three years and it seemed all you were good for was carrying his children and doing all of the chores outside and in while he was god knows where handling the family business, the great Shelby Incorporated. When you reminded him of what he’d hired Frances for he’d simply respond with, “She’s not their mother, she’s not my wife. It is your job to watch after the children no matter what arises. I take care of the business, you stay home help Frances with chores and ensure that the kids are fed, bathed and taken care of, as a wife should.”

He held you to a high standard that was too much to bare and any opportunity to discuss and come to a compromise would be immediately dismissed as he “didn’t have the time to discuss such ridiculous matters”. 

You had a plan, a plan to take the kids and run to get away from this circle of madness, even if it meant raising the children on your own and working to make ends meet without Thomas’s help.

Their bags were packed and hidden away outside in the shed, covered with a blanket.

The sound of his pen falling aimlessly onto his desk pulled you away from your thoughts, sending your attention to him immediately as to act like nothing was going on.

He picked up the bottom of his whiskey glass, finishing off what was left in a singular gulp, before his blue eyes that no longer sparkled locked with yours in a moment of skepticism.

“Why were you out in the barn today? You fed the horses at sunrise and released them and if I recall correctly there’s still quite a few more hours until sunset.” Stiffening in your seat, you adjusted yourself to make it seem like nothing was wrong while your hands tightened cautiously around your sleeping newborn.

“Oh I just remembered that Harry left his sippy cup out there and he was asking about it. Didn’t exactly want to handle putting Daisy here down for a nap while he was crying for it.” Thomas huffed and folded his hands, his top lip twitched up as he reached for his cigarettes rubbing the rolled up tobacco on his plump lips before lighting it. You hated when he smoked around the children and he knew that. 

“Well I’d prefer you tend to the house, and we have two other children in case you’ve forgotten. Surely they needed you.” At that moment your third began screaming downstairs, he was beginning to start teething and was having his moment of discomfort. Tommy looked at the door expectantly, silently excusing you from the room without one more word, didn’t even offer to hold your newborn while you tended to Patrick.

The following morning after his coffee, he awoke you from your deep slumber dressed in a suit and tie, smelling of teakwood and mint. He was freshly showered, hair combed back while his hands were tucked swiftly in his pockets. 

“The garden looks like it could use your attention today as well. Wouldn’t want my money to go to waste. Also Frances retreived the mail when you weren’t awake, Harry is overdue for his physical so get that taken care of today.” He exited the room, picking up his briefcase on the way out.

When you heard the car door close outside you peaked out the window to ensure he had left and rushed to the closet grabbing a handful of clothes.

Your mind was running in every direction and you were damned if you weren’t going to have your freedom if not for you, your children.

The Shelby household was no place for children, guns everywhere, all out wars in the dining room, the degradation of women. Daisy didn’t need to see that or be taught she were less because of being a woman.

Tommy already had it planned out for her, her whole life sheltered until he found a man suitable to marry his daughter, it was dreadful.

Frances watched you walk rather quickly outside through the green fields of fresh flowers to the barn, carrying three bags. She wasn’t stupid and she was not going to lose her job over this.

After you closed the door to the car once the kids were buckled in she met you outside, causing you to roll your eyes and anxiety rise in your chest.

“Frances please spare me the you can’t do this, he’ll find you this and that. I will not raise my children up in a house like this with a man who shows no care or love for them! So respectfully stay out of it and do what you do best and go wash my husband’s blood stained clothes because it will never be enough to keep him satisfied.” With that you closed the door and made your way out of the driveway, on your way to freedom.

The backroads were empty as you intended not single soul in sight nothing but the warm breeze flowing through the rolled down windows, deer galloping in the fields. You were almost out of Birmingham on your way to a new life for you and the children.

Harry and Daisy were asleep in the backseat while Partrick was coloring in a book, kicking his small legs back and forth mindlessly. The sight made you smile widely.

Coming to a stop light you reached down to retrieve  your address book and directions to make sure you were going the right way but the sound of tapping on the window drew you out of your thoughts.

“Mommy, look it’s daddy!” You immediately froze in a silent panic, not wanting to look up.

When you didn’t move he reached his hand through the window, unlocking the door and taking a seat on the passenger side.

Your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly until your knuckles turned white, the anxiety rising in your chest causing your breath to get stuck in your throat. 

The metallic feeling of his gun settled on your thigh.

“Now don’t make a scene my love. Arthur is going to take the car tonight and John is going to drive us all home. We’ll talk about this later.” Begrudgingly you brought your shaking hand up to put the car in park as a tears flowed effortlessly down your cheeks in defeat.

Stepping out of the car you gathered the kids, crying even more as you felt you failed them. 

“Mommy what’s wrong?” Tommy scooped Harry up in his arms, swiping the hair away from his forhead.

“Mommy’s not feeling well and asked me to pick you guys up. We’re going back home she needs to sleep.” 

The whole ride home the car filled with silence, Tommy’s hand never leaving your thigh as his nails cut deep into your skin. You were terrified to arrive back home in the prison he built just for you.

After putting the children in bed, telling them you love them you closed the door lightly while Thomas stood next to you outside their room, watching you intently.

Once the door was closed he leaned in against you, his lips just inches away from yours.

“If you attempt this little show of yours again I can assure you, you won’t see the children again. You won’t live to see another day.” He pulled you by your wrist ignoring your choked up cries and pulled you into the bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“You thought you could run away from me? Thomas Shelby? And I wouldn’t find out? Mistake number one was the fucking sippy cup. Frances watched you carry those bags out to the barn and phoned me immediately. Forcing me to cut the deal short and to reschedule. Do you think I don’t treat you well? That I don’t give you everything?” You stayed silent, tears streaming down your cheeks as his dominance and power over you filled the room just by the way he circled around you.

“Did you forget your place? Is that it eh?” He stopped in front of you, wrapping his large hand around your small throat, his hand tightened tremendously, forcing you to gasp for any type of air.

He began to laugh menacingly, darkly. His crystal eyes arose with a blue flame, eyebrows furrowing together in anger as he spat on your face.

“You live because I allow you. You are my fucking property, my dearly beloved.” Not letting go of your throat he began walking angrily with grit, slamming you against the wall where books tumbled down from their shelving.

His lips smashed into yours in a heated, hateful kiss, his free hand running down your thigh to your ass, gripping the flesh harshly forcing a desperate screech to escape your lips.

His knee forced your legs a apart as he unzipped his pants with his free hand.

His hardened erect member popped out freely, smacking against your abdomen.

You tried to protest, words barely even understandable while he slid your panties to the side.

The shadow of his dominating eyes loomed over you with power, his nose snarling while a singular vein in his forehead was standing out noticeably.

In one swift movement his hips bucked upward, his cock sliding between your bruised walls that no longer wanted him.

It stung, you were completely dry, your makeup running down your cheeks in a beautiful disaster, and Tommy took a tremendous amount of joy in reminding you how much power he had over you.

“Big will always fuck small darling. You feel that?” He thrusted up into your core mercilessly, ripping your dress down with a flick of his hand leaving your breasts exposed to him as they bounced up and down, causing you to try to hide your face to look anywhere but him.

“That’s all you are, nothing but an appendage, my little slave. Tell me when are you going to learn your role Y/N, eh?” Your hands left his on your thrust, trying with all their might to push him away but he was too strong.

“Thomas please!” He mocked you repeating those words in a childish tone.

You could feel your body beginning to betray you, his cock warming your insides as the pain turned to pleasure, but you stayed crying as shame fulfilled you.

He began to laugh, as he watched your slick begin to slowly ooze out of you, coating his cock.

“Would you look at that? Still a whore for me arent you? You should feel grateful I’m even fucking you, hasn’t felt the same since you gave birth, more spacious, not so tight anymore.” You spat in his eye.

“Fuck you!” He released your neck, causing you to drop straight down onto the dirty floor. 

As you were gasping for air his hand curled into the strands of your hair, dragging you over toward the bed.

Tossing you onto the mattress effortlessly he tugged his tie off, wrapping the expensive fabric between your lips, tying it.

His hand flew back, and came crashing down in a vicious stroke against your delicate cheek, the blow guaranteed to leave a bruise.

“Can’t have you waking the children now can I?” He flipped you over onto your stomach, his body boring over you as he spread your cheeks, taking your flesh in his strong hand aggressively causing you to let out a muffled screech.

He penetrated you once more, his head hung by the back of your head, his hot breath carelessly running down your neck as he drilled into your aching hole.

“Is this all your good for eh?” His balls slapped against your bruised skin, as he spit his venomous words in your ear.

“A nuisance throughout the day but an average fuck at night?” You could feel his cock pulsate in your soaking core, your walls clenching around him involuntarily while you struggled to breath, your head nuzzled into the mattress.

His hands intertwined with yours, his back arching with each forceful thrust.

“Maybe I should put another child in you hm? Would that keep you happy? Shut you up and remind you of your place?” Your muffled protests merely made him laugh, as if he cared what you thought. 

He knew the children were your weak spot and you’d never abort, no matter how much you despised him.

His cock inched deeper with every single movement, causing your thighs to turn weak beneath him as the feeling of ecstasy ran throughout your veins from being close.

“I’ve ruined you my darling. No other man would look even once at you knowing who your husband is and what a used out whore you are. So desperate to be loved you jumped in bed with the first man who gave you attention.” His words struck a nerve. Your mind swam in every direction trying to understand when love and harmony turned into the never ending abuse and destruction of any emotional connection you shared.

Thomas owned you in every way. He was your first love, first and only husband, first fuck, and your final downfall.

His breathing picked up, and you felt him pulsate, filling you deep with his seed once more, the warmth sending you crumbling beneath him, your muffled moans sounding like music to his ears.

He layed there for a moment, his fingers combing through your hair gently.

“You have one role. How difficult is that to understand love? Serve me and care for the children. That’s all I ever asked.” He undid the tie and you stayed silent, crying into the mattress when you felt him pull out and his seed puddled out of you, soaking the sheets.

“Clean this up, and we’ll go to bed.” The bedroom was silent that night as it was every other night, reminding you that this marriage would never be the same. The man that was supposed to love and care for you was now the enemy, his arm holding you in your place against his chest as he slept effortlessly while you were terrified to sleep in the place you once thought was your home.

[communistchilchuck]

Tawfik reached out to me to help spread his fundraiser. He is a Palestinian engineering student urgently raising money to evacuate he and his family from Gaza. He has only raised $3,409 out of his $40,000 goal so far! Please donate and share, and if you can't donate, please still share!

From Tawfik's GFM:

Urgent appeal: Escaping devastation in Gaza - saving a family's hope

Dear merciful souls,

I am Tawfik satoom an engineer, I live in Gaza. I was completing my studies, but unfortunately the unimaginable happened. The war came and took everything from me and my family. I extend my hand to you from the depths of despair that we feel while we are in Gaza in the midst of war. Memories of a life that was once peaceful, full of love and security have been stripped away by the merciless horrors of war. Not only are my possessions lying in ruins, but the pain, agony and humiliation inflicted upon us are beyond the reach of mere words.

Our journey has become a haunting odyssey, and the burden of rebuilding our lives and escaping the darkness prevailing in this war-torn land is insurmountable. As ordinary civilians not affiliated with the conflict, my family and I yearn to...

To be free from this nightmare.

The war destroyed our house, turning it into rubble, and now we find ourselves living in a tent. Life has restricted us greatly, and our only hope is to seek help in escaping this nightmare and making a path towards a decent life.

Now! We only had a tent left.

The harsh truth is that the cost of escaping is staggering - $9,000 per person. For those of us desperately seeking refuge, this amount represents an overwhelming barrier, threatening to imprison us in this suffering.

In our quest for safety and a semblance of normalcy, I turn to you, my fellow humans, for help. Every contribution, whether big or small, is a lifeline that can pull us out of the abyss. Join us in breaking the chains that bind us to this torment.

Be a beacon of hope for Tawfik Satoom and his family. Your support is not just a financial contribution. It is a lifeline to freedom, security and a future free from the horrors of war.

We will use this money to take additional measures to enter Egypt and escape the war.

With the weight of necessity in my heart,

We deserve to live. Tawfik Satoom

[mphountitled]

𝐀 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

Aegon Targaryen x Fem!reader

Summary: You were the only one who truly saw the tortured king. Not his mother, not his brother, and certainly not his wife.

Warning: Language, Infidelity, Humiliation, Toxicity, King Complex, Slight Angst, Smut (+18) Minors DNI, Canon typical Incest, Grinding, Forced orgasm, King Kink?, Dom/Sub Themes, Controlled Orgasm, Ownership Kink, Dub/Con, Groping, Humping, Pussy rubbing, Exhibition Kink

This isn't very good, I admit. I just needed to get it out of my head.

Despite your eye following the pathway of High Valyrian ink splashed on the weathered pages of your book, your brain takes forever to process the words.. It is a story you had enjoyed since the days of your wetnurse but now you are focused on the utter injustices occurring by the dinner table before you. You always found your nose nestled in a book throughout dinner, all save for this one.

The Queen mother is bent over her plate, forgetting her table manners in the vehemence of her passions, while Aemond assumes a hostile glare from his perch at the head of the table. Aegon sits slumped in between you and Helena, with his half lidded eyes so painfully tedious as he prods at his food, while these fake gods scold him from above.

"And to make matters impossibly worse, you failed to display even a shred of sympathy towards his condition-" Despite the nature of his mother's tone, it does not stop Aegon from rebutting where necessary, with a quick, sharpness on his tongue.

"This 'condition' you speak of, being the imprisonment of a wealthy merchant's stupid son." Aegon releases a short, winded chuckle, one that you share behind the concealment of your book. "Perhaps he shouldn't have gotten himself captured."

"He is apart of your battalion, Aegon- fighting your war-"

"I am not at war. As I sit here, I am not harbouring any ill feelings towards any party-"

Aemond interrupts, "All you think about is fucking and drinking-"

"Precisely brother!" Aegon proceeds to turn to his mother, with his hands splayed outwards he reiterates, "All I think about is fucking and drinking,"

A loud, unladylike snort escapes the confines of your throat which you attempt to sheath with a cough as you study the words in your book. Aemond rolls his eyes while Aegon throws a blatant smirk beside you- "See Mother! Now our dear cousin has fallen ill as a result of the animosity stirred by your incessant scolding!” Aegon’s voice is doused in sarcasm as he rubs his hand into your shoulder, “All because of your nagging, mother," Alicent’s eyes darken as her voice descends into caution "Aegon. Tomorrow you are to formally apologise to that Knight. He is a seasoned member of your Kingsguard-" The politics was becoming far too much on him. His grip has yet to leave your shoulder.

"Why the complete and utter fuck should I be pandering to my subjects?"

Aemond is the first to inject "Have you not a shred of Diplomacy, you fucking imbecile?" You eye Aemond from above your book, and you cannot begin to imagine the younger brother would ever inject himself into Aegon's business, no reason except perhaps, jealousy?

Aegon promptly ignores Aegon, and, with his eyes on Alicent, he leans over the table and whispers:

"If Rhaenyra wishes to have the crown, she may gladly take it-"

"AEGON!" The queen's thunderous voice settles over the table like a tempest, injecting all those present with a sharp, instinctive flinch, all except Aegon, who remains lax and unaffected by her outburst, only fueling the Queen's anger to first born tenfold.

"I cannot rely on you for anything, Aegon, NOTHING! For a mother to be so utterly embarrassed by her son- her eldest son," there is venom in her incredulity, one that has your brows curving as you send a sympathetic gaze at the Usurper. You lower your novel and lean slightly closer to the battlefield that has befallen the dinner table. Aegon’s hand drops from your shoulder, landing in your lap. You clasp his trembling hand in both of yours.

How a simple visit to see your cousins in King's Landing had turned into a public execution of Aegon's dignity, is utterly beyond you. You decide that you simply will not allow it, you cannot allow it, and solidarity is all you hope Aegon feels radiating from your clasped hands under the table.. You look up at him, thinking you might look up to find anguish in Aegon's eyes, but all you find there is a sly, almost secretive smirk dancing along his visage.

"You govern this country like a child-" Aemond begins but you're quick to snip back,

"Perhaps we should be mindful, cousin of the fact that Aegon still is a child. He is but 20 years in age!" You exclaim, with your own incredulity coating your laughter, "Aegon's destiny was pre-written when you were barely able to wipe your own shit, Cousin." Aegon fails to conceal his crass bought of laughter.

"I've no time for this," Alicent says, pushing herself out of her chair before rising in silent anger, "Helena, come," she commands before leading a slightly aloof Helena out the dining hall without another word. Helena mumbles something about broken unions in iron castings before disappearing.

The silence is deafening as Aemond's one eye studies the two of you - he is not able to see your hand underneath the table, you don’t think…

"Before you think about fucking our cousin, at least think about fucking your wife." Aemond announces, to an amused Aegon who keeps his amused gaze lowered to the table. It is then that Aegon squeezes your hand, still seated on your lap. His fingers encircle yours in what you initially deduce is acknowledgement of your solidarity, but what you quickly realise is something much more sinister.

"I cannot say I will heed your counsel, brother," It is then that Aegon grabs ahold of your hand, guiding you until your palm is cupping his hardened cock. "But you can trust that your council is solemnly heard."

Aemond watches you from above the rim of his chalice as he empties the final traces of his wine before placing his chalice back on the table. His exit is a slow one, one that has your anticipation expanding and Aegon's patience waning. In all honesty, hearing your valiant defence to preserve his dignity raised an intense feeling of desire in Aegon. Even though Aegon's only feeling ever, always seemed to be desire.

"Come here," He says once Aemond footsteps have echoed away, "I need your mouth," Despite his command, Aegon is already leaning in with his hand cupping the back of your skull. Soon, all you can smell is him. All you can feel is him. All you can taste is the drunken and sunken taste of him.

His tongue forces its way into your mouth, ripping a fresh groan from inside you as he twirls you into his lap. He has you arrested on him, his front to your back, with your arse pressed on his crotch. His hand on your face cranes your neck backwards and forces his mouth on yours, promising that even if you wanted to free yourself, you may never be able to.

"I love how you see me," He whispers, never breaking away too far, in fear of you disappearing, "How utterly pleased I am with the version of myself I see living in your eyes," His words spill out of him and slip inside your mouth bridged by your shared saliva.

"He is not useless. He is not pitiful," Aegon breaks away from the kiss, to lay a palm on your cheek.

As one hand lovingly strokes the side of your face, Aegon’s other hand is ravenous, as it palms your sensitive breasts through the bodice of your dress.

"Thank you for not judging me," He all but whimpers as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He breathes you in until his hips attempt to grind into you like a touch starved adolescent boy, while he ventures under your soft skirts.

"You don't have to thank me, Aegon." Your hands reach backwards to cradle his head into the crook of neck just as Aegon's fingers reach around to hook into the seat of your underwear. You aren't nearly as aroused as him, but somehow that fact has Aegon spiralling even further into arousal. His eyes are squeezed shut as he leans into you, smelling you, while his fingers drift over your pussy, searching desperately for a reaction.

"It is very rare that I find myself wanting to give any woman pleasure," Aegon's admits, with a low, dense drawl. His actions steal the breath from your very lungs as you feel the first sign of wetness begin to coat your underwear. He is in utter awe when he feels it. Quickly descending into a level of pleasure that he was not even sure existed, "I fucking love your cunt," He murmurs in his desperate drunken haze, "I wish to play with it and taste it and fuck it until you’re barely able to speak-"

"God's, Aegon!" Your voice is hoarse and your cries reach the highest rafter of the dining hall. Despite your degenerate wails, Aegon does little to stop them, in fact he encourages them, as his fingers push your underwear aside.

"When did you get so fucking wet?" The warmth of his breath fans against your cheeks, as he presses his front against your behind, "Did I get you this wet?" He asks, before getting the strongest surge of arousal as he whispers, "Did your King get you this wet?"

All you are able to accomplish is a nod as your mind explodes with vibrant visions of your near release. Soon, you're moving your hips in tandem with Aegon's fingers squeezing sloppily at your clit before rubbing with vicious surety.

"Please-"

"Call me by my title," He whispers, completely stripped from his sensibilities. "Tell your King to make you come," Aegon's brain is filled with what he suspects is determination. He is determined to see the most lecherous parts of you crack, and have it done by his design. He rubs your cunt with furious passion while he pushes up from underneath you, utterly destroyed by the idea of having a monopolised control over the workings of your body.

"Fuck- please my King!" The ache between your legs is as warm and erratic as Aegon's hands. "Please let me cum-"

"Tis only I, who can get My Lady this wet and needy," He murmurs, quite literally to himself, as he pushes his hips against your arse.

"Only you, My King." You decide to humour him, seeking the quickest way to your release, "Only you can make me cum," Throughout his tirade, Aegon's other, unoccupied hand has reached around and clasped itself against your throat. He is violent in his actions, squeezing deliriously until your throat is vacuumed of all its air. It's an utterly depraved situation you have both found yourselves in.

Anyone could decide to walk in at any moment and Aegon affirms as much. "You're such a pretty little whore, making a mess on my fingers like this. Fuck, The servants could decide to walk through at any moment," His grip on your throat relaxes, allowing you gasp hungrily for air while the first spots of your organs threaten to surge through you.

"P-Please, My King-"

"What would they think if they find you humping my hand like such a needy, little whore?" He is rubbing rough circles against your cunt until finally, you're unable to resist teetering on the edge much longer. As your orgasm washes over you, and your body shudders above him, Aegon's own orgasm is triggered as he forces your hips further onto the seat of his pants.

"My Lord," your voice is shallow but a restless tremor settles on your limbs, "Have you no shame," you're partially jesting, as you try to come back from your previous delirium.

"I've already been branded a devil," He says, "There is no Grace left to fall from."

<3

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