#Helps when you are far away from your cult and stay the fuck away from them communicating by telegrams

[guritahitam]

Anyway, another AU where Doflamingo is adopted with Rocinante by Sengoku.

Except it wasn't an happy adoption but Doflamingo was kidnapped by Sengoku (after a few months Sengoku found Rocinante) and nobody is happy about the situation. Sengoku doesn't want to keep him and he's enough desperate to ask Garp and Tsuru to re-home get rid the little devil, but they say "lmao, you brought him here, now he's your problem."

Jokes on them.

Three old idiots with two traumatized kids, while Doflamingo plays a 3D chess game trying to take his brother away from the marines, passing as one, keeping his baby evil empire afloat on the other side of the world (he still has this dictatorship dream), meanwhile meeting Dragon by mistake deciding to be a sugar daddy (at 13yo) for the Revolutionaries, because he has a big bone to pick with the World Government and surprising being in the marine headquarters worsened his hate.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Shitty little unrelated AU doodles <3

Rambles under cut!

MORE FIDDS LORE BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE THIS MAN.

He's known in town as "That Nice Old Man" that lives with his son in the cabin near the lake.

What a regular guy, that man. Yup. Old Man Mcgucket. Totally normal, regular old man, haha. Yeah. Him? A cult leader? Ridiculous!

In my perfect world where this AU is an actual fully animated show, the episode when the mystery twins first officially meet Fidds would be called "Out of Sight, Out of Mind" because fuck yeah baby. It sounds cool as FUCK.

When the twins meet Fidds, they somehow found someone with EVEN STRONGER cultist vibes than their grunkle.

"Come closer, kids! I don't bite."

"Tell me, children: How are you feeling? Anything... bad, happen lately? Anything you would like to forget? No? Well, don't hesitate to tell me if there's anything you would like out of your head, anything at all. I would hate for youngens like you to be forced to deal with such... unsavorable memories. Better to have them gone and out of your head. You know what they say: Out of sight, out of mind." *boop*

I'm making him a manipulative conniving little rat with good intentions but utterly ABYSMAL execution (babygirl, you can't just go around deleting people's memories)

Since Fidds is actually the leader of the Society of The Blind Eye, the cult is a lot more organized and covert, and actually do their job pretty well.

Tate knows. He knows his father is hiding something from him, something dangerous, but he can't remember what. He tries to get the twins to stay as far away from his father as possible because, while he's certain his father won't actually hurt them, there is no telling what the kids might be getting involved with.

During the cult fight "episode", Mcgucket would be chasing the kids, Ford, and Bill around, but mostly just for the latter two rather than the children. He would never actually hurt the twins.

"Please, I'm trying to help you, kids! Don't you understand? KNOWING is what cost me my eyes; KNOWING might be what costs you yours, or worse, your life! You can't remember any of this. And I cannot in good conscience let that- that demon stay inside your Great Uncle's head to rot him from inside out like- like some kind of PARASITE."

And then bada bing, baba boom, the twins defeat Fiddleford and his weird cult and they survive with their memory instact and their Grunkles not dead, yipeee!!

Fidds disbands the cult and chucks himself into jail willingly, and casually just becomes the boss of all the other inmates there with his natural old man charms. He gets the Gideon treatment for his ending <3

It's okay, tho because Mabel and the others visit him sometimes just to chat and keep him company.

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:28」 — k.soonyoung

» seventeen menu | hoshi menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ weretiger!Soonyoung × fem!Reader wc: 3.3k summary: Normally during his heat, Soonyoung stays as far away from his girlfriend as he can for fear of scaring her away but he can’t help himself when she comes by to drop some soup off seeing as he told her he’s sick. genres/themes/au: smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: food consumption, cat anatomy; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: sorry for skipping two days in a row. I will be tacking those on at the end of Kinktober just like the others I missed so don’t worry. Jisung’s I just lost track of time and Christian’s fell on game day and I didn’t even realize it. I’ll get them done and added to the end of Kinktober, I promise lol anyway, here is our resident cult leader, Soonie and his tiger agenda. Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), heat cycles, rough sex, unprotected sex (just don’t do this. Use protection lol), non-human genitalia (like yunho, Soon’s got a barbed d!ck because cat. Don’t like it, don’t read it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idc), scent marking (f receiving), biting (f receiving), use of pet names (hers: baby, kitten, beautiful, etc.; his: babe, Soonie, baby, etc.), I think i got all of them but let me know if I missed any! kinks: heat cycles + rough sex dialogue prompt: ❛❛ You heard me. Take. It. Off. Now. ❜❜

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“Kwon Soonyoung, I know you're home! Let me in, damn it!”

Soonyoung raised his head as he sat with his back against the door. He'd lost track of how long he'd been sitting there while you stood outside his apartment door, knocking, ringing the bell, demanding to be let in. He'd lost track of how many times he'd almost given.

Almost.

It's not that he didn't want to see you, he did. He wanted to see you more than anything, but he knew if he let you into his apartment, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from jumping you. Especially now that he could smell you.

It was always a rough time for him when he went into heat. Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't just female animals that went into heat, males also went into heat too and as a weretiger, Soonyoung was no exception. He'd spent most of his formative years dealing with it on his own and for a long time, he avoided being intimate with anyone because of the weird physiological changes to his body.

Unlike many werecreatures, Soonyoung's curse was a generational one and he was not bitten or scratched. His was passed from father to son and inherited by blood. The changes lay dormant until a boy started to go through puberty. By the time he was 18, Soonyoung had gone through just under two hundred and thirty full moon transformations.

And now, at twenty eight years of age, he'd been through over three hundred and fifty transformations. His heat always came the week leading up to the full moon. He was always consumed with an insatiable need to fuck something and he was very good at holding himself back.

Until you came along.

The sweet, caring, and unsuspecting girl who lived across the courtyard from him in the same apartment as him but on the other side of the complex. From his balcony, Soonyoung could see your balcony and the windows that looked into your apartment. 

You kept an assortment of potted plants on your balcony and had installed some sort of netting or mesh to sort of close in the area which made sense because as soon as it went up, he saw an orange tabby cat lounging at the top of a cat tree.

Know you liked cats gave Soonyoung the drive to talk to you the next time he saw you in the courtyard with what he thought was little success but his poorly executed joke still managed to make you laugh and get him your number.

From then on, he was hooked and the moment you invited him over for dinner, he was a goner. One date turned into two and then three and soon, he had the privilege of calling you his girlfriend.

You both maintained separate spaces in the building and he found it kind of cute, his girlfriend living across the courtyard from him. Your cats, which he learned there were actually two, were the sweetest creatures on earth and absolutely adored him. The girl, a white one with orange markings and long fur, was named Pad Thai and the boy, the short hair orange tabby, was named Cheezit. 

Soonyoung had taken to calling them his children and joked with his friends that you had full custody and he got visitations. It was a joke you took in stride and accepted fully, sending silly videos of the cats pretending to use your phone and making silly voices for them, speaking to their dad. It often made his day all that much brighter when he couldn’t come visit you.

Soonyoung had yet to tell you about his condition, only mentioning that he wasn’t like most guys, urging that he wasn’t just saying that and that it was a thousand percent true. He just hadn’t found the right time to tell you exactly how different he was. How does one even go about telling their partner that they’re a weretiger?

It was a conversation Soonyoung knew needed to happen but it just hadn’t yet. Which is why he was stuck in this situation now with you pounding on the door to be let in.

Soonyoung had started telling you that his once a month disappearance was just him coming down with something. He started with the usual excuses, the flu, the cold, stomach flu, even covid but he was starting to run out of excuses. He also hated using illness as an excuse because your immediate response was to offer to bring him medicine and food, usually in the form of soup, stew, or broth. He always gave the same excuse for not opening the door.

He didn’t want to get you sick.

At first, you took it as your boyfriend being cautious and caring but soon, you started to get suspicious and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up the charade much longer. He was going to have to come clean and tell you the truth much sooner rather than later.

A conversation he had been dreading ever since asking you to be his girlfriend.

The wood behind him shook as another series of loud knocks rang out, no doubt you beating your fist against the door. “Kwon Soonyoung!” you shouted. He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut, as if it might make you leave faster. He felt awful. He hated ignoring you but in his mind, it was for the best when he was in heat. He couldn’t risk scaring you off and losing you.

Another series of knocks shook the door, which was surprising given your somewhat smaller stature. For one so little, you sure were strong. And loud. “Kwon Soonyoung! If you do not open this door right now, we are done!” 

Soonyoung’s eyes opened quickly and he turned his head to look back at the door. ‘She wouldn’t…’ he thought to himself. “I mean it, Soonyoung! If you don’t open this door, consider us through!” Something in your tone made him scramble up to his feet, hastily pulling at the locks separating you from him. He could tell you weren’t kidding.

He kept the chain on, opening the door only a few inches as he looked out into the hall at you. He held his breath as he took in your frame. You’d showered recently, he could smell the scent of your shampoo and body wash, mixing with your natural scent and making his cock twitch in his pants.

On your face was a furious expression and his heart sank immediately. If he had cat ears, this is where they would flatten back against his head in fear. You were terrifying when you were mad. He’d never been on the receiving end of your anger before nor had he really seen it in action.

“H-hey,” he stammered. His eyes dipped down to see the thermos in your hand that no doubt held a homemade soup, stew, or broth of some kind but he couldn’t be sure with how tightly the lid was screwed on nor with how overpowering your scent was.

“Don’t you hey me,” you said, your eyes narrowing at him. “Open the door and let me in.” Soonyoung grimaced. He wanted more than anything to let you in but he knew if he did, there was no telling how he’d react to having you so close when he was aching, burning, to be touched. It wasn’t a good idea on many levels.

“I don’t wanna get you sick,” he murmured, keeping his voice low. You scoffed, placing a hand on your hip and looking every bit the sassy girlfriend he knew and loved. “Don’t try that bullshit with me,” you snapped. “I know you aren’t sick,” you added. Soonyoung’s eyes widened as he looked up from the thermos in your hand to meet your hardened gaze. “Wh-what?” he breathed. 

“I spoke to Jihoon,” you started to explain. “He told me the truth.” Soonyoung’s stomach sank as the realization that his best friend had outed him to you. ‘Well fuck,’ he thought. It looked like he was going to have to have a talk with Jihoon.

“So let me in. We need to talk.” Soonyoung sighed and closed the door, undoing the chain before pulling the door open for you to enter his apartment. He shut the door behind you and prepared for the storm.

You didn’t unload on him immediately, instead sliding your shoes off and walking towards the kitchen where you set the thermos down. He followed, hands tucked in his pockets as he watched you move around his kitchen, pulling out a bowl and a spoon from their resting places.

You placed the bowl down next to the thermos and unscrewed the lid silently, pouring out a very hearty looking stew. It smelled amazing, the scent of meat, herbs, and potatoes invading his senses. “Jihoon said you aren’t exactly sick. Just that during this time, you don’t feel well,” you said as you finished pouring the hot stew into the bowl, setting the thermos down and pushing the bowl towards your boyfriend, holding out the spoon.

Soonyoung glanced at the spoon and the bowl before looking at you. “Here’s what’s going to happen.” you said leaning over the counter. Soonyoung’s eyes dipped down to your chest, the curve of your breast visible down your shirt from where he stood. “You’re going to take the damn spoon and eat while I talk. Sound good?” 

Soonyoung nodded, moving to sit at the kitchen island and grabbing the spoon from your hand. The moment your skin met, electricity and heat spread throughout his body, the urge to pounce on you from across the counter trying to take the reins but he managed to push it down and simply started eating.

You watched him take a few bites before speaking.

“I know you’re a weretiger,” you said softly, drawing his attention as he looked up at you, his mouth full of bits of beef and potatoes. “Jihoon told me everything. I will admit I’m a little shocked you didn’t tell me all of this but I can’t imagine it’s an easy subject to bring up so I’ll give you a pass there,” you explained. “That being said, I wish you would have just told me the truth. Did you think I would judge you? Did you think I would leave or break up with you?” 

Soonyoung swallowed the food in his mouth before speaking. “I didn’t know what to expect, actually,” he answered truthfully. “I was less scared about you finding out about me being a weretiger and more scared that I—” he hesitated, looking down at his bowl of food. You followed his gaze. “Finish eating,” you told him. “I have more to say anyway.

By the time Soonyoung had finished his bowl of stew and ate another at your insistence, you were sitting on the couch, Soonyoung resting over your legs as he hugged around your waist, his face buried in your stomach, a deep rumbling emanating from his chest as he purred happily. You stroked his hair, massaging his scalp with your finger tips.

“This is nice,” you said softly as you combed your fingers through his hair. “Mhm,” Soonyoung hummed. Silence fell over the two of you for a few minutes before you couldn’t stop yourself from asking a question that was at the forefront of your mind.

“Soonie,” you said softly, gently tugging at his hair. “Hmm?” he asked, not lifting his head or opening his eyes. “Can I ask you what you meant earlier about being scared?” You felt him stiffen under your touch before he finally lifted his head, looking up at you. “Wh-what about it?” he asked.

You brushed his hair back from his forehead, cupping his cheek at the same time. “What are you scared of, babe?” Soonyoung took a deep breath before pulling himself up to sit. “I’m scared of frightening you,” he finally answered, glancing at your hand before reaching over to take it in his.

“Of frightening me? How would you frighten me?” you asked, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. Soonyoung looked down at your joined hands before speaking. “You know how when we’re intimate?” he asked softly, not looking up as you nodded. “Yes,” you replied, a small smile on your lips. “Well, when the week of the full moon approaches, I start to… change,” he continued.

“My body starts to change.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as your smile spread. “Is this about your heat?” you asked nonchalantly. Soonyoung’s eyes widened as his gaze snapped up to meet yours. “Y-you know about that?” he asked incredulously. You nodded, your smile only growing. “You think I’m going to learn that my boyfriend is a weretiger and not look up what all of that entails? I know everything, baby. Your heat, your transformation cycle, all of it. I also know your curse is familial and not transferred by bites or scratches. Jihoon told me that part though,” you said, reaching up to brush his hair back again.

“And I already know what happens to your cock, so there’s no need to explain that to me.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widened comically. “I learned that on my own by reading. Jihoon did not inform me of that part,” you added, reaching up to bop the end of his nose with the tip of your finger. “I know all about the sexual changes, the heat cycle, the penile spines, copulation, all of it. I know everything.”

Soonyoung wasn’t sure whether he should be impressed, alarmed, or relieved. He felt a mixture of all three as he sat there on his couch with you. “Do you also know about the insatiable urge I have to be buried inside you whenever you’re around?” he asked, noticing how your eyes widened slightly. “No,” you answered softly before a smirk started to form.

“But now I do.”

Soonyoung could feel heat creeping up his neck towards his face at the same time heat settled in the pit of his stomach. A new smell invaded his nostrils. The smell of arousal but it wasn’t his own. He glanced down quickly before looking back up. “Can you smell me?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, the smirk still present on your face. He nodded slowly, holding your gaze.

You leaned back against the arm of the couch, spreading your legs slightly. Soonyoung’s eyes fluttered shut as the scent hit him stronger. He could feel his cock painfully hard in his pants. “Baby,” Soonyoung said softly as a shiver ran up his spine, that insatiable need to bury his cock inside your warm cunt starting to take over. “If you don’t stop me,” he continued, opening his eyes to meet your gaze.

“I won’t be able to stop myself. I’ll…” he trailed off as your hands moved, sliding down your body. “I don’t know what I’ll do,” he said, swallowing thickly as his eyes followed your hands. “Maybe that’s what I want,” you said softly. “Maybe I want you to pounce on me.”

Soonyoung turned his head, averting his gaze as he tried to steady his erratic breathing. He felt the couch move and then your hand under his chin, turning his head to face you. “Don’t look away from me,” you said in a low voice. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Soonyoung whispered, reaching up to cup your cheek. “I promise you won’t,” you replied, leaning into his touch.

“I want you to let it take control. You need this,” you continued, taking one of his hands and guiding it between your thighs, pressing his fingers against your cloth covered crotch. “Pin me down, Soonie. Fuck me like I know you want to.”

Soonyoung let out a sound between a moan and a growl as he closed the distance,  the hand on your cheek sliding to the back of your neck to pull you into a bruising kiss, his tongue immediately sliding into your mouth. You moaned as he pushed you back onto the couch, pinning you down with his weight alone. 

You could feel his erection in his pants press against you, rutting slightly. “I don’t think I can wait,” he murmured against your lips, hands moving to pull at your shorts. “Then don’t,” you urged as he pulled back, fingers working to undo the tie of your shorts. He made quick work of them, pulling them and your panties off. “Shirt off,” he grumbled as he pulled his own off.

You watched him instead as he undid his pants. He glanced up at you. “What’re you doing?” he asked, his hands stilling. “I’m watching you,” you replied. “He glanced down at your shirt. “Shirt. Off,” he repeated. “What?” you asked, feigning ignorance. “You heard me,” Soonyoung growled as he stared you down. “Take. It. Off. Now.” 

You let out a giggle before complying, pulling your shirt off as he resumed undoing his pants and pushing them down, kicking them off before leaning over you, lips kissing a path up your chest to your neck. “Turn over,” he whispered in your ear.

You did as he asked, rolling over onto your stomach as he leaned over your back. You felt him rub his cheek against your shoulder. “What are you doing?” you asked with a chuckle. “Marking you,” he replied simply. “Don’t worry about it,” he added as he grabbed one of the pillows and guided you to lift your hips, placing the pillow under you.

With your hips raised, he guided the head of his cock to your slit, gathering your arousal on the tip before starting to push into you with a guttural moan. You gasped as he stretched you, the spines on his cock creating a rough but not entirely unpleasant texture as he bottomed out.

“Oh shit,” you gasped as he pulled back, the spikes raking your walls slightly. He thrusted into you harshly and you cried out. Soonyoung leaned over your back, covering your mouth with his hand. “The neighbors will complain, kitten,” he whispered in your ear. “You have to be quiet.”

He gave you another harsh thrust, slamming into you roughly as he set a brutal and unrelenting pace. “Is it too much?” he asked breathlessly. You shook your head, biting into your bottom lip to keep from screaming out in pleasure. You couldn’t hold back when you felt his teeth sink into your shoulder. “Fuck, sorry baby,” he panted as he pounded into you.

“S’okay,” you gasped, walls spasming around him as he send you hurtling towards your orgasm which hit you, the strength making your legs shake as he continued to fuck you through it. “Are you okay?” he groaned as your cunt continued to flutter around his cock. You nodded in response. “Y-yes,” you gasped. “I’m – ah! – M’fine — oh god, Soonyoung!”

A second orgasm washed over you and still he kept thrusting, not showing any signs of slowing down. You knew by the end of it you were going to be a bruised, panting, sticky mess but you couldn’t be bothered to care now that he wasn’t holding back and showing you a new side to him you’d never experienced. As he sent you toppling over the edge of your third orgasm, he finally came without warning as he sank his teeth into your shoulder again as his load exploded inside you, painting your walls in his sticky white essence.

“Fuck!” he growled as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “Sorry,” he murmured, pressing wet kissing against your skin. “Didn’t mean to yell in your ear.” You merely chuckled as you shook your head. “It’s fine, babe,” you replied. “Was I too rough?” he asked suddenly and again you answered with a shake of your head. “No,” you answered. “That was great. In fact,” you said as you lifted your head.

“I’m coming over more often to help with your heat if it means you’ll fuck me like that.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: the evil fungi did it

We all know of The Last of Us, but that franchise isn't the only example of fungal invasions. We've got zombies and apocalypses, we've got gothic horror, we've got fantasy, we've got romance, we've got space - no genre is safe from having their characters become the home of fungal organisms.

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

If you want more book recs, check out my masterpost of rec lists!

The Girl with all the Gifts (The Girl with All the Gifts series) by M.R. Carey

Want another fungal zombie apocalypse? Then I come bearing great news! The Girl with All the Gifts is a post apocalyptic novel following a group of characters fleeing across an infested wasteland, trying to stay alive and hoping to find a cure. One of the characters is Melanie, a young girl who carries the contagion inside of her and hungers for flesh, but like many children of the apocalypse has kept her humanity. Is she and children like her the answer to the cure we are looking for? Or are they the start of something entirely new? This book has also been adapted as a movie!

Cold Storage by David Koepp*

Years ago, a quickly growing fungal organism capable of wiping out humanity came dangerously close to spreading. It was contained and kept in cold storage underneath a military repository. Since then, a larger storage facility has been built on top, the dangers on the lower floor being largely forgotten. That is, until it makes a new attempt at escape. Now, two unsuspecting security guards might be all that stands in the way of complete extermination. This book is both funny and genuine in its characters, and genuinely creepy in its portrayal of body horror.

Salvaged by Madeline Roux

Rosalyn Devar is on the run from her famous family, and has run so far she ended up in space. Now she works as a "space janitor", being sent off to clean up the remains of failed research expeditions. But in trying to cope with her problems, she has fucked up on her job multiple times, and is now close to losing her position. Her last chance is the Brigantine: a research vessel gone silent, all crew presumed dead. But when she arrives to salvage it, Rosalyn discovers the crew isn't as dead as presumed. But are they still human - and will Rosalyn be able to keep her own humanity?

The Annual Migration of Clouds by Premee Mohamed

Novella. Reid is a young woman living in a small community after a climate collapse. Resources are scarce, but Reid's biggest problem is Cad, a mind-altering fungal parasite that lives inside her body. When she is offered a rare chance at attending a far-away university in a secluded dome community, Reid must decide whether to leave or stay to help support her community.

Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia*

Noemí Taboada is a glamorous and well-off young woman, but when she receives a frantic letter from her newly-wed cousin, Noemí must leave her glamorous life and travel to find out what is wrong. As she arrives at High Place, a mansion on the Mexican countryside, Noemí is met with mysteries and her cousin's new English family. As she tries to find out the truth behind High Place and its inhabitants, Noemí's only ally is the youngest son of the family. But will she be able to find out what so scared her cousin before it's too late for all of them?

Sorrowland by Rivers Solomon

A young pregnant woman flees a cult that left her body strange and changing in terrifying ways. Hiding from both a world wanting to oppress her and the cult seeking to force her back, she does her best to raise her children while trying to find out the truth of the cult and being pursued by a hunter in a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Bleak and scary, Sorrowland is a book that will creep under your skin with horrors both fantastical and very, very real.

What Moves the Dead (Sworn Soldier duology) by T. Kingfisher

Novella. Alex Easton, retired soldier, travels to visit their childhood friends, siblings Madeline and Roderick Usher, after finding out that Madeline is dying. In the siblings' rural, ancestral home, Madeline walks in her sleep and looks to be fading away, while around it wildlife seems to be possessed by a strange force. With the help of a mycologist and an American doctor, Alex attempts to save Madeline and reveal the truth of her illness.

Wanderers (Wanderers duology) by Chuck Wendig

A strange illness has struck the United States: with no warning, random people with seemingly no connection simply get up and start walking. They do not eat, do not sleep, do not communicate, and they do not stop - and if you try to force them, they literally explode from the inside. Teenaged Shana isn't one of these sleepwalkers, but her little sister is. Unwilling to leave her sister on her own, Shana accompanies the growing flock of walkers, protecting them as one of many "shepherds". And this protection proves necessary, as the sleepwalkers is only the first step toward what might very well be the extinction of the human race. An 800 page epic, Wanderers is a slowburn apocalypse story with a multitude pov characters and plot threads, from fungal pandemics and all-knowing AI to the all too real portrayal of radicalization and bigotry.

The Dawnhounds (The Endsong series) by Sascha Stronach

The Dawnhounds is a book where you just kind of have to let the story and the world wash over you. It skirts the line of scifi and fantasy, with a futuristic world of environmentally friendly mushroom houses and deadly fungi bio weapons next to literally god-given superpowers and near-immortality. It’s really cool and unlike anything else I’ve ever read, but also a bit confusing. Bonus: it’s also sapphic!

Agents of Dreamland (Tinfoil Dossier trilogy) by Caitlín R. Kiernan

Novella. A government agent known only as the Signalman; a cult preying on the young and vulnerable, promising to usher in a new age; a woman who exists outside of time, searching for a way to save humanity. Agents of Dreamland is short, but includes many spooky elements, among them an alien and possibly world-ending fungi. The narrative is non-linear and a bit strange, but also fascinating.

The Genius Plague by David Walton

Soon after landing his dream job at the NSA, things get weird for Neil Johns. His brother Paul, a mycologist, returns from a trip to the Amazon, carrying a nearly lethal fungal infection and a strangely sharpened mind. At work, Neil starts picking up mysterious messages originating out of South America, where cases similar to that of Paul starts occurring. And strangest of all: all the infected seem to be working towards the same goal. Recommended with the caveat that, while the fungal stuff is really cool, The Genius Plague is also happy to idolize American intelligent agencies and demonize environmentalism and anti-imperialism.

Little Mushroom: Judgement Day (Little Mushroom duology) by Shisi

An Zhe isn’t human. He’s a mushroom who absorbed the DNA of a dying man, allowing him to take on human guise and leave the wilderness. Entering one of the last human bases, a place struggling to keep out the mutated and dangerous creatures of the wilds, An Zhe must keep his identity secret as he searches for something which was taken from him. While not my cup of tea (frankly, I need more female characters), Little Mushroom is an undeniably unique m/m romance novel.

Bonus AKA these don't technically involve any fungi but have similar vibes of parasites and nature corrupting the human

Parasite (Parasitology trilogy) by Mira Grant*

In the near future, a great leap in medical science has improved human health by leaps and bounds: a genetically engineered tape worm. Within a few years, almost every human has their own personal parasite implanted. But now, something is happening to the parasites - they want more, whether their hosts want to share or not.

Annihilation (Southern Reach trilogy) by Jeff Vandermeer

For decades, Area X has been completely cut off from humanity. The only ones to enter are small organized expeditions, many of which never return, or return... wrong. We follow the latest expedition, its participants known only as the anthropologist, the psychologist, the surveyor, and our narrator, the biologist. As they enter into Area X to try to find out its secrets, only one thing is for sure: they will never be the same again.

Wilder Girls by Rory Power

Young adult. Over a year ago, the Raxter School for Girls was hit by the Tox, a strange disease that killed off many and left the survivors' bodies slowly changing in terrifying ways. The island the school is on has been in quarantine since then, and the girls dare not leave the school grounds lest they become victims of wild animals changed by the Tox. But as they wait for the promised cure, one of the girls goes missing, and her friends are willing to do anything to find her. Unsettling, spooky, and sapphic, this is a unique read featuring body horror and messy, dangerous girls.

(Second) Bonus AKA I haven't read these yet but they seem really cool

City of Saints and Madmen (Ambergris trilogy) by Jeff Vandermeer

Ambergris, a city created by a mushroom-like people, is now the home of humans, but the original inhabitants are still there, residing beneath the city.

Creatures of Want and Ruin (Diabolist's Library series) by Molly Tanzer

It’s the prohibition era, and while Ellie does fishing during the day, at night she bootlegs moonshine in Long Island. But unbeknownst to Ellie, some of the booze she smuggles has a strange source: distilled from mushrooms by a cult, it causes those who drink it to see terrible things, such as the the destruction of Long Island.

Bloom by Wil McCarthy

The inner solar system has been overtaken by fast-reproducing, fast-mutating technogenic life. Humanity has fled to the outer solar system, hiding beneath the ice of Jupiter's moon, but even here they aren't safe from possible incursion of mycospores, which lead to deadly blooms. Now a group of astronauts venture back to an infected Earth.

[berryunho]

THE ANSWER: XXVII

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 8,561

You take in San’s words, blinking aggressively. You pull your face away from his, your questions clear from your expression.

San squeezes his eyes shut, unable to look at you for too long. “I can’t explain it now. Or, well, I’ll explain it all soon, but we need to leave.”

“Leave? Like, the farm?” You question, your words coming faster than you can control them. “What? San? Did something happen?” 

He opens his eyes, then, staring into yours. The pain is evident in his face, his internal struggle still battling. 

“After today, I can’t predict what Hongjoong will do to get you to break.” San admits, tears welling in his eyes. “He’s going to hurt you, and if he can’t, he’ll kill you.” 

“What happened to you, San?” You ask, more concerned by his disheveled appearance than by the revelation of the thoughts that you’ve had hundreds of times. 

He shakes his head. “It’s not important, I promise. I’m fine.” He pauses, sucking in a breath. “How do you feel?” 

“I’m fine, San, just shaken up, I guess. Do you know how Hongjoong did that?” 

His hands squeeze your forearms tighter, gripping you like he’s going to lose you. “I have no idea. But if he’s willing to go this far, I… fuck, I can’t believe it. I have to get you away from this.” 

You can only gape at him. You can’t believe that San is saying these things to you. San had always been so loyal to Hongjoong, even leading up to the very moments before the ceremony. What could possibly have made him flip his entire script so quickly? 

It’s almost touching to realize how much San must care for you. If he’s willing to abandon this for you… Fuck. 

“San, when can we go?” You try to not sound so eager, but the prospect of getting away is so sweet. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead before replying. “I have to think on it, but I swear that it will be soon. I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to figure it out.” 

You want to ask what it is that he’s figured out or what made him realize, but that sits in the backseat compared to the thought that suddenly rises to the forefront of your mind. “What about Haseul? And Mingi?” 

San freezes, still searching your face. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, but no words come out. 

“San?” 

“I,” he pauses, biting his lip, “I’ll have to think about it more. We might have to come back for them.” 

You don’t like that idea, but you had thought it yourself a few times before. It would be a lot easier to get yourself out and come back with people that could actually stand a chance against this group rather than try and sneak out with someone else, risking all of your lives in the process. 

“Just trust me, yeah?” He smiles, letting go of your arms to readjust his shirt. 

You nod, throwing the blanket off of your legs. This is as good of a time as any to get out of the infirmary. Whatever had been going on with San, they must not care too much if you’re back with him considering the fact that he’s here now. 

Once San is reassembled, he offers you his hand again, helping you stand as you swing your legs off the bed. The two of you leave the room, passing by Nayeon as you walk down the hallway. She waves, smiling while you go. 

San drops your hand once you’re outside, but keeps one on the small of your back. He could reasonably pass that off as just helping you stay upright. 

By now, it’s mid-morning, almost 11. The sun is high and the fields— 

For the first time since you had arrived at the farm, you saw the farm equipment actually being put to use. A huge combine harvester moves through the field, still relatively close to the barn. You’re awestruck to actually see work being done, amazed that the time has passed so quickly. 

You halt in your tracks, lifting a hand up to shield your eyes from the sun so that you can watch the machine move. It doesn’t move particularly fast, but, by God, is it freaky looking. You wouldn’t want that thing coming to run you down, that’s for sure.

Which only reminds you of the time that you had tried to escape. And then resorted to hiding in the corn. 

When all of the corn is harvested, how will this place look? Barren. Cold. You don’t want to picture it; all that land with nowhere to hide. Will you even have to see it? Maybe you’ll be gone by then. 

A waving figure catches your eye off in the distance. You’re easily able to identify Yeosang once you look fully at him, and you raise your hand back in greeting, having to squint your eyes against the sun. 

San doesn’t wave back, instead ushering you to turn back toward the compound and keep moving. 

“Are we in a rush?” You ask, allowing him to steer you toward the door. 

San glances around, “I wouldn’t say that. But I’d feel better if we were alone in our apartment.” 

Well, okay, you guess. You would think that it would be a bit suspicious if you both suddenly started acting differently, but it’ll probably be okay for right now. At least until you can talk to San about everything. 

You head inside, trying to walk to the stairs. But you’re stopped before either of you can make the first step, a voice calling your name behind you.

It’s Wooyoung, you realize, before you even turn around to face him. 

“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” 

You glare across the foyer at him, wondering what kind of nerve this kid must have to be talking to you like you’re best friends again. 

He has a point, though. You turn your attention to your stomach, but you’re not surprised that the general sense of nausea and unease still lingers there; nothing like hunger. “I’m not hungry.” 

You know better than to directly accuse him of drugging you again. You really don’t know if he did… it’s possible that he didn’t. But, really, looking back on it… Ugh, you’ll just ask San later. He had already told you what he thought, but… you don’t know. Just, whatever. 

Wooyoung squints, a flat expression on his face. “Are you feeling alright after everything? Not just anyone can say they stood down a Guardian.” 

That’s really rich, coming from Wooyoung, you have to admit. The guy that basically told you that you need to accept your role in this place because he isn’t happy with his, either. Maybe he’s trying to sympathize with you, as a fellow skeptic. You won’t take the “compliment” at face value, but you still don’t appreciate the remark. 

“I’m perfectly fine,” you shrug, hoping to end the conversation there. 

He doesn’t look convinced. “I’ll have someone run some food up for you guys.” 

San thanks him for you, clearly ending the conversation there. He ushers the both of you up the stairs and to your apartment, swiftly locking the door behind you once you’re inside. 

You look around your apartment, almost expecting something to have changed, but nothing has. Everything is just how you left it this morning, not a single thing out of order. 

“Are we talking about this now, then?” You question, looking to San as he paces in front of the couch. He doesn’t stop pacing, but he does gesture for you to sit down, “you’re really worrying me, San.” 

He halts in place then, frowning, but not sitting next to you. “I’m sorry, it’s just…” he lets his sentence hang in the air, “I can’t believe… I can’t believe it.” 

“What happened to you while I was out?” You want to reach out and grab his hand, but you can’t, he’s moving too much. 

San starts pacing again, “well, first of all, sorry for disappearing on your right before the ceremony.” You nod, encouraging him to continue. “Seonghwa appeared out of nowhere and pulled me aside to talk about literally nothing and then, by the time I realized what was happening, the ceremony had started and I couldn’t have helped you.” 

He freezes, as if recalling the memory, “and then the ceremony happened. And, and that thing appeared. I hope to God that Hongjoong or Seonghwa or someone was able to explain that to you, because I can’t. I don’t know what that was, I’ve never seen anything like it or heard of Hongjoong—” he stops abruptly. “I mean that I don’t know how that happened. And I saw it grab you and I seriously, I thought that it was now, that, that Hongjoong had enough of you and— I thought you were going to die.” 

It’s only now that his voice falters, breaking with his last sentence. You’re no stranger to San’s emotions, but his tears always have an effect on you. To his credit, he does a good job of keeping it mostly together as he keeps speaking. 

“But then it was over, and you were on the ground, and I tried to stand up to go to you, but Seonghwa held me down, and I couldn’t do anything. I felt so helpless watching Hongjoong pick you up, watching Mingi run to his side to take you off of his hands and carry you out. I tried to get up again, but Seonghwa wouldn’t let me go. I almost fucking hit him.” He shakes at the memory, his voice thick with both anger and his tears. “We stayed there for a long time. We just waited until Hongjoong came back, and he sure fucking came back. He was incensed. Didn’t even say why. Even Seonghwa looked nervous as he screamed and bitched and threw shit around.” 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

“You will not take her from me!” Hongjoong screams, at neither man in particular. “I don’t care which one of you it is; I forbade it for a reason and I will be fucking respected!” 

Seonghwa doesn’t move an inch at San’s side. San doesn’t say anything, either.

Hongjoong’s rage permeates the chapel. “Why isn’t she scared? Why isn’t she terrified, whimpering and begging for her life at my feet?” He starts pacing up and down the aisle, kicking copies of The Answer that he had thrown to the ground. “Doesn’t she realize that I am the only thing standing between her and a cold grave?” He whirls to face the other two men. “Answer me!”

“I think she is scared of you,” San mutters, “but she’s good at hiding it in front of you.” 

Hongjoong’s face contorts into a smile, and San knows that he’s fucked up. “Is that it? How do you know, San? Do you hold her at night while she cries in your arms at my cruelty?” 

San only blinks, unable to respond in a way that would please his leader. 

“She doesn’t know about Haseul yet. What is she going to think when she finds out that her boyfriend let her die?” 

“Hongjoong—,” Seonghwa cuts in, “She can’t know about Haseul, even if you want to scare her. It’s invaluable for us to be able to hold this ove—”

“You will not tell me what I can and cannot do, Park Seonghwa!” Hongjoong yells, “I am in charge here! I am! If I want her to know about Haseul, she will know about Haseul.” 

“Of course you are, Hongjoong, you don’t need to be so angry.” Seonghwa tries to console Hongjoong, to absolutely no avail. 

Hongjoong puts his palms together, resting his index fingers on his forehead as he thinks. “I cannot take this disrespect much longer.” 

The chapel remains in tense silence, neither San nor Seonghwa wanting to be the first to say something.

Apparently that’s not what Hongjoong wanted, either. “Seonghwa,” he gets the man’s attention, “hold San steady for me, would you?”

San knows what’s coming. Hongjoong’s had it out for him for ages, and this is finally it. He’s outlived his purpose, his presence is only backfiring, it’s time for him to go. He knew that it was coming, he should’ve known that it would be now. His death would utterly destroy (Y/n), there would be nothing for her to do except accept her fate. 

Seonghwa does as Hongjoong instructs, standing behind him to hold his arms in place. San doesn’t struggle. He has to be strong. Go bravely. That’s what he wants. 

But Hongjoong surprises him. He takes a step toward him, smoothing his own ceremonial shirt before grabbing the hem of San’s and pulling it out of his pants. 

Oh… San really hadn’t been expecting tha—

But then Hongjoong hits him. Just once. 

“We’ll see how she feels when you’re not so pretty.” Hongjoong spits, literally, onto the floor of the chapel. 

San can hardly hear him through the pain rippling over his jaw, but the message is clear enough. He doesn’t need a mirror to taste the blood, or feel it pouring down his chin. Seonghwa lets go of his arms and it takes everything in him to not double over. Instead, he looks up at Hongjoong, unintimidated. 

Hongjoong stretches his hand. “She asked for you, Seonghwa. Better go comfort her.” He glares up at him. “But not too well.” 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Of course, unbeknownst to you, San leaves the… sensitive details out as he recounts Hongjoong’s tantrum for you. Not a single word of Haseul is spoken to you, but the rest is mostly accurate. 

You sit in horror as San recounts these details to you, unsure how to even react. You’ve always known that Hongjoong is capable of violence, and Seonghwa, too, but to hear of them acting such violence onto San, of all people… it’s almost unthinkable. At some point in the not too distant past, Hongjoong had trusted San to watch over you at all times of the day, and now? His own paranoia has driven him to violence? 

Your thoughts wander to Seonghwa against your own better judgment. Seonghwa is his own person, he’s taking care of himself. He doesn’t want you meddling in his relationships, and he has made this more than abundantly clear. 

But how does Hongjoong treat him? It can’t be kind. You’ve seen the slights between them, seen Hongjoong deny Seonghwa of even the simplest pleasure. Behind closed doors, what do they talk about? How does Hongjoong act around him? 

Though you’re loath to admit it, you have to worry for him. If Hongjoong is violent with you, the person he considers to be one of the most important figures in his religion… that doesn’t bode well for Seonghwa. 

“San,” you bring your thoughts back to the present moment, “I’m so sorry that you went through that for me.” 

He doesn’t stop pacing, almost ignoring your sentiment all together. “Hongjoong is crazy.” 

“I’ve known that for a while now.” 

San smiles. Smiles. “I don’t think you understand the extent of it.”

You find that hard to believe, but there probably are things that San knows about Hongjoong that you don’t.

“But that’s not important for right now. I just need you to keep your distance from him as much as possible; I’ll ask Seonghwa for his help—”

“Seonghwa?” You’re astounded. “You’re going to ask Seonghwa to help us escape?” 

San shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut, not looking at you. “No, but he’ll keep you away from Hongjoong. That’s basically his number one priority, anyways.” 

It makes sense. If Hongjoong is as volatile as he was with Seonghwa and San earlier, he’s a danger to be around. Even more so than usual. But getting Seonghwa’s help… “Won’t it be obvious what we’re trying to do?”

“You already avoid Hongjoong,” San says. “I don’t think it will be a drastic enough change to draw attention, as long as you’re not refusing to see Seonghwa.” 

The way with which San says this last sentence… is different. He’s not stuttering anymore, you realize. He hasn’t been for a while, now. When San is upset, his stutter is more pronounced than anything else, its absence is suddenly so jarring that you have to wonder why you didn’t realize when it stopped. 

There’s no emotion in his voice anymore. No personality, no San. 

You stare up at him, watching him walk back and forth in front of you. He’s not upset, not anymore, at least. What is this? 

“San.” You try to get his attention. “Are you alright?” 

He finally stops walking, if just for a second, to give you a good look at his face. “I’m fine,” he states. His eyes aren’t red, his breathing is perfectly even, his expression flat. “Why do you ask?” 

“You’re scaring me,” you say. “What’s going on?”

San resumes his pacing. “You should be scared, I should be scared, I should’ve been this whole time; But I’ve been so stupid and now isn’t the time for me to be some sniveling boy.”

You can’t respond to that. 

“I think I know when we can try to get out. I’m not going to fail you this time, (Y/n), I swear.”  

“San, wait, hold on,” you start, shaking your head, “what about your laptop? The phones? Can’t you just call the cops?” 

San smiles tightly, “I considered it, but there would be issues. Hongjoong has a plan, and things would not end well if law enforcement got involved and Hongjoong had more than five seconds to think before he was arrested or killed.” 

“So you’re seriously proposing that we run away, leaving everyone else here… forever… including the children?” 

“Would you rather be alive and here or dead and buried?” San blinks. “That’s what this comes down to for the rest of the group. We can find a way to get Mingi and Haseul, but it’s not feasible to save everyone knowing that Hongjoong has a plan for this exact situation.” 

Your stomach rolls over itself as he explains this. How can you just leave? How could you leave everyone behind and forget about them? How could San even suggest something so horrible?

The thought of freedom is enticing, but the weight that would remain on your conscience… It makes you sick just thinking about it now. 

Whatever. Fuck San. You’ll remedy the situation yourself once you’re out. There’s not a chance in hell you’d leave all of these innocent people to rot on this farm. 

San’s apathy is so jarring. Maybe that’s what waking up after years of brainwashing does to a person.

You don’t want to judge him when he’s so clearly doing this for you. To protect you. You can hardly complain that he’s resolved in this situation. 

… Yeah, no, it still rubs you the wrong way.

But you’ll shrug it off for now. “When can we go?” 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

San explains the general idea to you, which he’ll refine in the coming weeks. 

With the beginning of the harvest starting, that puts the farm about one month out from the conclusion. Apparently, they don’t actually own that much acreage, just enough to surround the commune itself, so harvest doesn’t take very long. Throughout the month, there are various ceremonies that all culminate into one, final, grand ceremony at the end of the harvest. After this ceremony, there’s a party. 

It was about here when you realized where this was going.

The party is huge, apparently. Like, all-out, rager huge. Everyone gets drunk (apparently this is part of the ceremony) and everything gets a bit wild and confusing. San’s proposal is that the two of you make a break for it when everyone is (a) extremely inebriated and (b) distracted by the celebrations. 

It’s kind of cliche, but you have to imagine that it’ll work, especially if this party is as crazy as San explained. 

If it doesn’t work… the thought puts a bitter taste in your mouth. You’re not going to start pondering what you’ll do if you get caught for a second time. 

Really, this plan should work. San has access to the vehicles. With a car, you can be fifty miles away before anyone even realizes that you’re gone, so long as Hongjoong lets you out of his sight for even just a few minutes. 

With all of the noise and distractions, no one will hear the car starting. No one will hear you guys peeling out, the terrible crunch of the gravel under the wheels that you had heard what felt like so long ago. 

You think back to the night in the corn field. What a shitshow. You had to give it to yourself, you were very brave. And you got quite far for the amount of preparation that you had done. But that night… 

Remains one that you want to forget. But you’ll never forget the fear coursing through your veins, the feeling of your heart in your chest, your ears twitching with every sound that you heard. When Seonghwa was chasing you, when Hongjoong reduced you to a puddle at his feet. 

It was like being hunted for sport. 

You have to hold out hope that the car will make all of the difference here, which you’re sure that it can. Where you’re going to go… you aren’t sure. 

Surely, you know that you have to get law enforcement involved, but what San said is weighing on your mind… Maybe, if you fully explained the situation, you could get some sort of covert mission operating… But that would probably have its pitfalls, too. It’s hard to know what’s right, but you trust that you’ll figure it out once you’ve saved yourself. 

There’s also the option that the police will entirely write you off and think you’re just some crazy lady. Especially if San… 

No, wait, pause. San would tell the truth, right? Like, he would be your witness? He wouldn’t actually just let this keep happening once he’s out… 

God, the fact that you even have to weigh this option is exhausting. Why can’t you just trust him? You’ve had no problem with it before, so why should it be an issue now? Has San ever done anything to betray your trust? Minus him being a high-ranking cult official, but, like, that’s just part of the deal. You have to trust him, especially now.  If you can’t trust San, who can you trust? 

Your mind wanders to your apartment, your old college dorm room, your childhood bedroom. How dreamy would it be to be anywhere but here? You miss your big bed and your pantry full of snacks you actually like and your bookshelves stacked with your books. You miss sleeping alone, but hearing your neighbors through your thin walls; when you didn’t have a sanctioned bed time that everyone obeyed. 

On your nightstand at home, you have a framed picture of your friends. You try to picture their faces, all of them. Changbin, Mingi, Soojin, Haseul, Juyeon, and Jungeun. And, of course, your own face. When’s the last time you looked in the mirror? You think of your features, your hair, the color of your eyes and your smile. 

Horrifyingly, you can only picture Hongjoong’s smile. 

You stop trying to picture yourself.

Mingi comes to the forefront of your mind. Mingi. Do all roads lead back to Mingi? It feels like it. San had said that Mingi had run to you when you fainted, that he’d taken you from Hongjoong and carried you to the infirmary. You try to picture it, the feeling of Mingi’s arms wrapped around you again. Had he held you close, like a friend, or sterile, far away from his own body, the act of an EMT? Had he let your head hang upside down, over his arm, or did he support your neck like you would a baby? 

You don’t know what feels right. You only know that Mingi had held you and Mingi had cared. 

Maybe he threw you over his shoulder like he used to do when you refused to follow him somewhere. Probably unlikely. But you smile as you think about it, anyways, how he always used his height to his advantage and how he would sling you around like you weighed nothing. 

How many times did he have to carry you to the library? How many times did he carry you out of the library? What does carrying someone mean? When is it an act of love and when is it an act of control?

Haseul had been carried. Where is she, now? In a little room? Is Wooyoung talking to her, keeping her company? Has Mingi been a good companion to her? Is she being subjugated to Hongjoong and Seonghwa, yet? Are you going to have to attend her own Choosing ceremony, soon? 

Hongjoong wouldn’t trust you to just silently watch her ceremony, you know that well enough. It’ll probably just happen and you’ll be told after the fact. When its too late to warn her. The next time you see her, she’ll probably be in the infirmary, recovering from a fucking stab wound. 

Your own scar tingles. Would Hongjoong just kill her? He had made it clear that he decides who lives and who dies. He could just lethally aim the knife. And wouldn’t that be the ultimate punishment? Not knowing she’s dead until being told after the fact? Not being able to see her one last time? 

San wouldn’t let that happen. He would warn you, he would try to help her again, you’re sure of it. 

So you just have to focus on yourself, for now. Keep your head down, wait it out, and trust San. That’s really all that you can do. You can’t help Haseul while you’re stuck here, just like you can’t help Mingi, either. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

You had half expected Hongjoong to give you a break for a few days, considering your encounter with… whatever that thing was, but that illusion is quickly destroyed when Seonghwa comes knocking on your door at the usual time the next day. 

San answers, quickly lowering his voice in what sounds like an attempt to plead with Seonghwa to leave you alone for the day. You sneak up behind San, making eye contact with Seonghwa as your appearance calls his attention. 

“What do you think, princess?” He sounds as pissed as he looks. You can imagine that he wants to be here just as much as you want him here.

Resting a hand on San’s shoulder, you tell him that you’re fine to go. Afterall, how else are you supposed to keep up appearances? And you need to learn more about what this month has in store for you.

San steps aside as Seonghwa offers you his hand, which you take. Strange, though, that he doesn’t take your arm as he usually would. Is this his way of…

Your last conversation echoes in your head. Seonghwa seemed genuinely concerned. And quite rattled. And he was honest with you, as much as you could expect him to be. Maybe he’s feeling bad. Or sentimental. Or protective. 

… Pft, who are you kidding? He probably didn’t even think twice about taking your hand instead of your arm.

Hand-in-hand, you walk silently to Hongjoong’s apartment.

Fuck. You can only hope that he’s not there. You could probably play off your curiosity about the month as your worry about what’s going to happen to you, but something tells you that Hongjoong is going to be looking for reasons to be cruel. Or you’re going to be in for some intense attempts at gaslighting you into believing… 

You have to resist a shudder at the memory. With enough effort, you probably could believe that that shit was real. Didn’t you have to beg Seonghwa to tell you that it wasn’t? You still don’t understand what the hell that even was or how it could’ve been faked, but you really can’t bring yourself to think of it. 

Seonghwa drops your hand to open the door, holding it open behind him to allow you to enter as well. 

Hesitantly, you glance around the apartment. 

“He’s not here,” Seonghwa says. “But he wants you here when he comes back.” 

The door shuts, and you sit at your usual spot on the couch. Seonghwa flops into his chair, facing you. 

“When will he be back?” 

He just shrugs, folding his arms across his chest. The image takes you back to a certain other night the two of you have been alone, and you have to clench your jaw to drive away the thoughts, looking anywhere else but at his body. 

“I suppose you have more questions.” Seonghwa doesn't ask you this, but tells you. 

Yeah, you have a lot of questions. The primary ones you either can't ask Seonghwa or you've asked him already, to no avail. 

You look at your nail beds, trying to be nonchalant. “Are you still jealous of San?” 

Why that's the question you decide to ask, you have no idea. 

Seonghwa scoffs. “Really?” He asks. “That's where we're going?” 

Shrugging, you try your best to resist looking at him. “I just thought it was strange that Hongjoong didn't want me to see him yesterday. I can't help but imagine that you must still be feeding him lies,” you say. “He also told me that it was you that had to physically hold him back when I fell.” Not to mention the other holding he did. 

Though you don't look at him, you can imagine his displeasure spreading across his expression. “I don't know why you insist that there's nothing between you. It's nothing to be ashamed of, minus the fact that your misadventures could only cause harm to San.” 

“Exactly,” your eyes flit up to his face, “I'd never put him in danger.” 

“Your loyalty to a man you hardly know is admirable,” Seonghwa says through a sneer. 

“I know San better than I know you.” 

You could swear his eye twitches. “Sure you do.” 

“Is there something you want to tell me?” You blink. “I have no reason to not trust San, and every reason to not trust you.” 

Seonghwa shakes his head, smiling. “I think you're forgetting your situation, Princess. San is your punishment, and you're his.” He brushes his bangs out of his eyes. “I never said you had to trust me. I think you do, anyways.”

You stay silent, knowing that he's at least partially correct. You probably do trust Seonghwa, at least more than a lot of the people here. 

“Otherwise, you wouldn't have asked for me to calm you yesterday.” 

“I asked for San, first.”

“And what would he have told you?” Seonghwa leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Not what you wanted to hear. He wouldn't have been able to assure you of anything. I did.” 

Again, you know he's right. San hadn't been able to do much to calm your nerves, despite tell you his plan for your escape. 

You lock eyes with him, planning to defend San, but your gaze betrays you. Seonghwa leans back in the chair, knowing he's got you.

“Who was in the costume?” You ask instead. 

Seonghwa deigns to look confused. “I'm not sure what you mean.” 

The frustration of the prior day comes back at full force. Why can't just one other person acknowledge the fucking insanity of this place? Why can't Seonghwa just say what he means? Why is he so insistent on agreeing with Hongjoong, no matter the cost?

“Do you ever get tired of being Hongjoong's lapdog?” 

“Lapdog?” He smiles. “Come here.”

You swallow as he gestures for you to stand in front of him, recognizing the gesture from weeks prior. “No.”

Seonghwa stands instead, stepping around the coffee table to be able to stand before you. Forced into looking up at him, you hate this upper hand he's suddenly gained through your refusal. 

He bends, using a hand to grip the sofa behind your shoulder. Face to face, he mockingly pouts. “That's what you think of me?” 

You keep your mouth shut, hoping your gaze is burning through him.

“You said it yourself,” he leans closer to you, “you hardly know me.” 

With his face so close to your own, you hardly even feel like you can breathe, like it would be encroaching on his space. You glance between his eyes, trying your damnedest to not look anywhere else. If you looked at his lips… his pretty, plump lips… 

Fortunately, or, perhaps unfortunately, the doorknob starts rattling a few feet away from the both of you, and Seonghwa quickly leans out of the compromising position. Slipping a hand in his pocket, he stares down at you once more. “This isn’t over.” 

The door opens, but neither of you turn to greet who you know will be in the doorway. You’d have to imagine it’s quite a sight to see, the both of your staring daggers at each other, unwilling to be the first to look away. 

Hongjoong isn’t pleased by your ignorance. He slams the door behind him as he enters his apartment, and Seonghwa finally relieves you of his look. 

Your eyes only move to Hongjoong when he comes to stand next to Seonghwa, his hand resting on his bicep.

“Well, well, well,” he says, “having a lively conversation? Without me?” 

Hongjoong gently turns Seonghwa so that he’s angled to sit on the couch, pushing him down until he’s sitting right next to you. Your thighs brush. Hongjoong moves back to sit on the chair Seonghwa vacated, settling himself in before speaking again. 

“Have you had time to reflect on what happened yesterday?” Hongjoong inquires, tilting his head. He’s wearing his glasses, the overhead light reflecting off of them, obscuring his irises. “If I seemed frustrated with you, I must apologize. You have to understand that it was a very scary experience, even for myself. And I forgive you for the way that you reacted, as well.”

You squint at Hongjoong. As if you had anything to be sorry for. He’s the one that got himself all mad for no reason. He should be apologizing to San. 

But you can only imagine how this conversation will go if you continue to argue with him about the validity of the… thing. And San requested you to keep a low profile. He probably wouldn’t want you bringing up his mistreatment. So you nod a couple times, hoping that he doesn’t want you to vocalize an apology. 

“You must have been in shock,” Hongjoong continues. “Which would explain your inability to accept what had happened.” 

Nodding again, you try to figure out where he’s going with this. Does he want you to start asking questions? Does he seriously, genuinely believe that you’ve lost it, now? He can’t.

So, what? He just wants you to act like you have? He must know that it would just be a ruse, so why does he want you to go along with it so badly?

Seonghwa certainly knows that you’re not fooled, and you can expect that he told Hongjoong this after you spoke to him yesterday. Who is this act for, exactly? 

“As important as you are, it makes sense that you were targeted. The Guardians, in fact, are responsible for the loss of your predecessor.” 

Okay, so, that’s a lie. Hongjoong told you as much himself. He’s really going to go back on his word, gaslight you into forgetting what he already said? He might be able to get you to forget what he told you about Haneul, but not so soon after you found out about her. 

Haneul’s memory is alive and well in your head, despite the fact that you never met her. You owe it to her to remember the facts of her life, and her death, as best as you can. It awakens a tinge of anger in you to even hear Hongjoong so blatantly disregard her truth. He told you, to your face, that he liked you more than her. So he got rid of her. Not these “guardians” or whatever the fuck he’s trying to blame for her death. 

“The Guardians,” you say, plainly. “Are… what, exactly?” 

Hongjoong leans back in the chair, crossing his arms. “Well, there’s quite an extensive explanation in The Answer, but I suppose it could be beneficial to hear about them from me.

“The Guardians, simply put, are our antagonists. They protect the Sign, keeping it in the hands of those that oppose us. When we’re close to reaching the Sign, or when the barrier is thinner than normal, such as during a ceremony, they can appear. They’re rather frightening, and they can kill or bring Followers back to their dimension.”

… You blink at Hongjoong, remembering to nod periodically through his explanation. What are you supposed to say to that? 

“So, yesterday, then, it was trying to… kill me?” You ask, sensing that Hongjoong wants something to bounce off of. 

He tsks. “I don’t suspect kill, but rather kidnap. If they know that you’ve been Chosen, they’ll continue to target you whenever the barrier is thin. Surely they know that we would go to great lengths to recover you if they were able to steal you away.” 

Hongjoong speaks with such a conviction that you can see how people are led to believe in him. If you had a weaker mindset, his crock of shit might just make sense. Or be just scary enough to make you want to believe that he could protect you. 

“But you scared it away? Yesterday?” 

Hongjoong nods gravely, closing his eyes. “They fear my presence, thankfully. Very rarely can they stand to be in the same room as me.” 

You smile, hopefully not sarcastically. “That’s very lucky for me, then.” 

“It is,” Seonghwa cuts in, surprisingly. “Hongjoong will always be with you, so you’ll always be safe.” Even more surprising than his words, Seonghwa slides his hand into resting on your mid-thigh, assuringly squeezing you. You turn toward him with wide eyes, about to question what the hell he thinks he’s doing, when his expression makes it very clear to you that you should drop the subject. 

Bizarre. Why would Seonghwa be warning you to stop talking about what Hongjoong so clearly wants you to speak about? 

So you turn back toward Hongjoong, who’s agreeing with what Seonghwa said, seemingly oblivious to his little boyfriend’s hand on your thigh. “Is there any way to protect myself, if I am alone?” You ask instead of heeding Seonghwa’s warning. 

He squeezes your thigh harder, but you ignore it. What the hell is he trying to steer you away from? If he doesn’t want you to talk about it, surely it’s something that you’re going to want to know, right? Seonghwa can’t be looking out for you, not when Hongjoong is in the room. He has his priorities in order, and Hongjoong far outweighs yourself. 

“Great question,” Hongjoong smiles approvingly. “So long as you have a Sign of the Answer on your person, you can fend them off yourself. They revere the Sign, they won’t harm someone under its protection.”

If that’s the case… you would’ve been fine, yesterday, then. As always, you had been wearing a Sign pinned to your shirt, somewhere. Though Hongjoong would probably try to argue with you that you must have been missing it, otherwise the Guardian wouldn’t have been able to attack.

But then that also raises the question. Is kidnapping someone the same as harming them? Maybe it wouldn’t have killed you, but could it still have taken you? Assuming that Hongjoong isn’t just some very creative psycho, that is. Purely for thought exercise, you have to wonder what the Sign could really protect someone from. Was yesterday an attack? Or merely an appearance?

You sense that Seonghwa is trying to warn you away from the areas that Hongjoong doesn’t have fleshed out. For all you know, yesterday is the first time that a Guardian has ever appeared in the flesh. Hongjoong might not have prepared for every possible question that you could ask. 

The questions that you’re most curious about are things that you can’t ask him. Who did he have dressed up? How did they make that stature, that outfit, that… aura? Where was the face? Were you drugged? Was everyone drugged? Did everyone see the same thing that you did, or is everyone collectively lying to you to help their leader? Seriously, where the fuck was that thing’s face? How did they do that? If it wasn’t for that gaping maw of nothingness, you’d have a much easier time writing the entire experience off as the complete joke that you logically know it must have been. You push the thought away for now. 

“I’ll be sure to always wear my pins, then.” You motion to where you have one pinned to your collar. “I have questions about the ceremonies in general, though, Hongjoong. Can I ask a few things?” 

He motions for you to proceed, and Seonghwa’s hand doesn’t tighten its hold on you, so you do. “Will there be more sacrifices?” 

Hongjoong nods. “There’s a sacrifice for each ceremony.”

“What is the sacrifice for? To what deity?” 

A hint of exasperation crosses his face as Seonghwa slides his hand a little higher. “I’ve explained this. Sacrifices are sent to different universes as aid for our clones. There’s no God in particular the sacrifice is for, except for me.” 

“So they can even use animals, in the other universes? The situation is so dire?” 

Seonghwa pinches you instead of squeezing. Hongjoong’s exasperation melts into wry acceptance. “Yes, it is. Have you ever gone months without eating meat?” 

… Yeah, probably. But you’re not going to press him harder on the subject. “I was just curious, I didn’t mean to question you. How many more ceremonies will there be this month?”

Seonghwa’s hand doesn’t move, and it’s right about now that you’re starting to feel a little bit insane because of it. Why would he put his hand on your thigh, of all places? Why does it keep migrating upward? Why don’t you just say something to stop him? Or use your own hand to move his away? Why is the warmth of his palm seeping through your jeans so quickly? Why hasn’t Hongjoong said something yet?

“There will be one ceremony each weekend.” He says, calmer, now. “But you won’t have to participate in all of them. The most important ceremonies, the first and the last, are different and thus require the Bearer’s presence.” 

Well, that takes a bit of the pressure off, at least. Knowing that you don’t have to personally participate in every ceremony, though, no doubt, you’ll have to be present at each of them, makes you feel just a tad bit better. You have to imagine that Haseul’s Choosing ceremony will be soon… 

“Hongjoong, did I do good yesterday?” You ask, trying to feign your most innocent look. “Can I see Haseul, soon?” 

He gives you a small smile, but his answer doesn’t match it at all. “No. You made me quite mad, yesterday.”

The response is actually slightly shocking. You knew you had made him upset, but for him to vocalize it to you? To deny you seeing Haseul because of some bullshit that he orchestrated himself? 

“But—”

“No buts about it,” Hongjoong says. “You’ll be able to see Haseul once you’re behaving on a consistent basis.” 

“Won’t she have a Choosing ceremony?” You blurt, hoping that you weren’t the one to put the idea in his head. Maybe he had been planning on just keeping her locked up and not actually indoctrinating her. Had you even considered that? 

Hongjoong sighs. “I haven’t decided. Is she worthy of one?” 

What the hell does he mean ‘worthy?’ He’s seriously not going to jump at the chance to bring her in? If he wanted to, he could just kill her then and there; wouldn’t that be his dream? To end her life in front of you? Wouldn’t that just tickle his fancy? You don’t understand. 

Unless he’s taking a certain pity on her, which you highly doubt.

He must see your confusion painted plainly on your face, dismissing the thought with a wave of his hand. “It’s no matter. You’ll see her when you deserve to. Seonghwa,” —he abruptly changes the topic and his tone— “where exactly is your hand going?” 

Seonghwa’s hand flies off of you, landing promptly back into his own lap.

“That’s what I thought.” Hongjoong tuts. “Do we need to discuss the lines that must not be crossed, again?” 

You shake your head. You do not need the sex talk again from Hongjoong. God. And it's not like you were feeling him up. 

“Seonghwa, you look particularly guilty. Do you need to tell me something?”

You suspect that, if Seonghwa looks or feels guilty of something, it's not the hand on your thigh. It's the warning you to stray away from topics that could upset Hongjoong. 

But, glancing over at him, you’re surprised to see how red his face has gotten. Do you really get him going so easily? You could almost laugh, if not for the circumstances. Surely he's not so embarrassed just to have been seen with a hand on your leg. Its not like Hongjoong walked in on his hand down your pants or anything. And hadn’t he been all up in your face before Hongjoong arrived? Where’d that confident asshole go? 

Hongjoong’s presence makes all the difference, you suppose. Hopefully he's able to play off this little episode as embarrassment about touching you. If Hongjoong realizes what he was doing, he'd probably get in trouble. 

Which is still perplexing. Why had Seonghwa done that? Since when does he want to protect you? The way he's been acting, yesterday and today, just doesn't… align with the picture you have in your head. 

Seonghwa looks literally anywhere else than at you or Hongjoong, shaking his head as well. 

Slowly, he uses his hands to slide himself farther down the couch from you. Hongjoong chuckles from your opposite side, bringing you back into the reality that you temporarily abandoned. 

“That’s pathetic, Seonghwa, really.” 

Seonghwa simply looks back toward the coffee table, his face pink. Hongjoong is so harsh.

“Anyways,” Hongjoong calls your attention back towards him, “anything you want to tell me, (Y/n)? How’s San?”

This obsession with your relationship with San is infinitely annoying. What makes them think that you’re ever going to admit to what they suspect of you? 

“San is perfectly fine.” 

Hongjoong’s eyebrow twitches. “Oh? I only ask because he was rather… upset, yesterday, is all.”

“Wasn’t everyone a little upset?”

“Not so personally.” 

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know how many different ways I can tell you that you made us live together, so it’s only natural that we care about each other.” 

“Well,” is Hongjoong’s entire response. 

The room falls into a rather uncomfortable silence. 

You look back at Seonghwa, but he’s just looking at his hands, folded in his lap, now. 

Hongjoong looks at his nail beds. 

“Are we done, then?” You ask. 

“You don’t have any more questions?” Hongjoong responds with a question, not looking up at you. 

You rack your mind for anything else. Sure, there are plenty of questions, just not ones that he would be happy to answer.

“I guess not.” 

Hongjoong looks up, flicking his eyes between you and Seonghwa. “Shall I escort you back to your apartment?” 

You look back at Seonghwa, who’s now looking between you and Hongjoong. 

“I don’t have a preference,” you say, even though you definitely do. 

“I can take her,” Seonghwa springs up, offering you his hand. 

Taking it, you also stand. “I actually have one more question, Hongjoong.”

He has to look up at you for once. He simply waits for your question while you gaze down at him.

“Is the sacrifice always an animal?”

He smiles. “More or less.”

Great. Wonderful. Perfect. You absolutely hate that response. More or less? Thats the most non-answer answer that he could've given you. And it definitely means that its not always an animal. Which makes you wonder when… and who… 

Stunned into silence, you say nothing. Neither does Seonghwa.

“Hurry back.” Hongjoong requests, dismissing the two of you without another word. 

Once you’re outside of Hongjoong’s apartment, you debate teasing Seonghwa, but decide against it. Though it would be quite fun, the poor guy is probably going to get it from Hongjoong already, no need to add to his torment. Plus, he was just trying to help you. 

He walks you in silence, again, hand-in-hand, back to your apartment. 

No sooner than you’re saying goodbye and shutting the door behind you does San appear in the entryway, grabbing for you. 

“Are you alright? Are you hurt? What happened?” He frantically asks, looking you up and down and all around, his hands flying around your limbs to check for injuries.

Stunned, you stay still. “I’m fine?” 

San sighs in relief, guiding you back toward the couch, sitting and pulling you onto his lap. “I was so worried they’d somehow found out. That you’d be hurt.” 

You shuffle around so that your back can rest against the armrest of the sofa, your legs still resting over his.

“They absolutely cannot find out, no matter what,” San says. “Can you tell me what you talked about?” 

So you explain the conversations for him, using a free hand to card through his hair as you do. He seems to relax after you’ve elaborated, though you leave out the part about Seonghwa and his hand. 

Part of you wonders if you should feel guilty about messing with Seonghwa. Not for his sake, but for San’s. What even is going on between the two of you? You probably shouldn’t be flirting with the enemy anyways, but San probably wouldn’t be overjoyed to hear about the things that have happened between yourself and Seonghwa. The fact that you leave it out when recounting the meeting must prove that you know that it’s wrong. 

“Come here,” you open your arms to him. 

He slips out from under you, realigning himself so that he can rest his head on your chest. “We’ll get out of here, together.” He wraps his arms around your waist.

You do the same, continuing to run your fingers through his hair. There’s nothing you can do but agree with him. The two of you will escape together, and soon. After that, you can forget all about this place. 

… Yeah, in your dreams. The real horror might start after you’re gone. You have to believe that San is telling the truth about Hongjoong. Revealing the cult to the authorities will only end in horror if you’re not careful. 

And you find it hard to believe that you’ll be okay once you’re gone. You’ve considered it before, the way that this sort of trauma affects someone. How long will you have to recover? Will you be able to go back to your old life? 

Will San be part of it? 

You squeeze him tighter and he reciprocates. 

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[babygorewhore]

Crossed Lines. Kai Anderson Smut.

Holy shit y’all. Here it is. My longest fic so far. Over 3,000 words lol. So this is something I came up with in my deranged head after watching YOU on Netflix. I hope you enjoy, my little princesses. WARNINGS! Slapping. Spanking. Attempted assault. (not by Kai) Toxic relationship. Brutal violence. Fingering. Oral! Male recieving! PnV! Unprotected sex. Injury.

You had it.

Kai was downstairs screaming nonsense at his members. You started packing your bag. You both had gotten into a terrible fight because you refused to participate in killing someone.

“It’s time you prove to me your loyalty.” Kai had said to you.

“Prove my loyalty? For gods sake Kai. I’m not going to kill someone!” You responded back sharply.

“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. I’m not giving you a choice.” He said coldly. You balled up your fists.

“I said. No.”

He slapped you in response. After the shock, You slapped him back. You both stood there in silence before you marched away. Never would you allow someone to put their hands on you. You couldn’t go lower than you already had by being with him. He had taken your virginity two weeks ago, left you in a sweaty, aching pool in bed. He hadn’t even pleasured you. Just took it and left you laying there. You teared up at the memory as you continued packing and finished shoving in your last shirt.

You were wearing a black sweatshirt and jeans, your sneakers hit the floor as you slammed the bedroom door behind you and you walked down the hallway. Passing his dead parents room, you heard rushing behind you and you turned, ready to scream at Kai for chasing you down but instead you found winter starting at you in horror.

“What are you doing?” She questioned you and you pointed to your backpack.

“What does it look like?” You snapped at her and she looked around nervously.

“You can’t leave. Kai won’t let you. If you try, he’ll hunt you down and bring you back here. I don’t want him to hurt you.”

You chuckled humorously. “He already has.” You started to move away but she grabbed your arm.

“I’m begging you. Don’t leave. I promise I can try to help you here. But just stay. He won’t rest until he finds you.” You jerked out of her hold and left the house without another word.

You stayed at a friends house, your childhood best friend who you hadn’t seen in several weeks after getting together with Kai. Who called your phone over 100 times when you left that night. You had to get a new phone with some of your stolen cash you took from the house. You imagined the horrible text messages he no doubt sent you, threatening you and telling you how pathetic it was that you left.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out with us tonight?” Your friend asked with sad eyes. “I don’t want to leave you here by yourself.” She told you.

“No, it’s okay, y/f/n. I’ll be fine. He won’t find me here.”

She left blowing you a kiss and you quickly put on your only pair of sneakers and you left the house in the opposite direction. There was a book store open late and you were dying to get your hands on a book, to distract you from what you’d done.

As you walked down the street, that’s when you paused in fear.

Someone, a man, stood yards away from you, wearing a clown mask. You knew it wasn’t Kai, his mask was different but you knew in your gut it was part of his cult. You gasped and ran back to the apartment, slamming and locking the door behind you.

But Winter was standing there in the living room. Her expression down as she came to you. Holding a knife. You backed away from her, holding your hands up. You were bigger than her, you knew you could force her away from you but she had a weapon. If Kai demanded her, she would do whatever he asked.

“If you just come back calmly, we won’t have to hurt you.” She said, desperate for you to listen. “Please, Y/n, come back peacefully. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Really? Is that why you stand by Kai and his insanity? You’re all fucking crazy!” You yelled at her.

“Just calm down. Please. He’s been even worse without you. He sent us to come get you and bring you back. He’s not going to hurt you anymore.” She pleaded, coming closer.

“He never should have hurt me in the first place.” You replied to her.

The door burst open and the other clown came in. He was Holding a pair of handcuffs. He lunged at you. You ran to the other side of the kitchen, grabbing the kitchen scissors. Winter neared you as well. You swung them wildly at both of them. “Get the fuck away from me.” You said to both of them, hating yourself for almost crying. “I’ll call the cops and tell them everything.”

“Shut your mouth.” The male said, growling at you as he pulled out another knife.

“Fuck you. And fuck Kai.” You screamed. “How did he know where I was?”

“He always knew where you were, he just waited for the right time.” Winter said.

You took off in a run, the bedroom had a large window you could escape from. You darted inside the room, yanking open the window but before you could climb out, a large hand clapped over your mouth and yanked you back. You moved rapidly, kicking and then you bit down on the hand.

“Fucking bitch.” The male said and threw you on the bed.

He tore off his mask. He was a new member you hadn’t met before. “Enough of this shit. Kai doesn’t get to have all the fun.” He lustfully looked at your body and you shrank back in fear.

He sliced off your pants with the knife, cutting your skin as he ripped them off. “Help!” You screamed but he hit you hard across the face.

“Stop it! Kai will kill you!” Winter screamed at him as she tried to stab him with the knife but he was stronger than both of you.

He yanked your legs apart and started to grind down his erection on you. You clawed at his face, scratching and you hit him as hard as you could. He winced and gave you the opportunity to try and run. But as you made to run, he grabbed your ankle and dragged you back. He flipped you on your back, aiming the knife above your face. You covered your face with your arms.

“No!” A new voice came and you all stopped fighting each other. You looked up, still pinned to the floor.

Kai stood at the door. Wearing all black, just like you and his eyes were burning with rage as he saw the mystery man holding onto you. Your pants sliced off and blood dripping down your legs.

You blacked out from fear, everything going dark.

You came too, unsure of how much time had passed and you knew where you were. You were in Kai’s basement on the couch. Your bare legs were scratched and a hand print circled your ankle. You were alone.

You burst into tears. You never wanted to see inside this basement again.

“No need for tears, y/n.” Kai’s voice interrupted you and you whipped around to see him standing in a dark corner. He came out, wearing a button down shirt and black sweatpants. He was holding a first aid kit.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You said to him, hating how your voice was breaking from crying. He came over to you, ignoring how you tried to disappear as he sat next to you.

He took you leg but you yanked it back. “Don’t touch me.” You shrieked at him and he paused.

“You’re hurt. These need to be addressed.” He said matter of fact.

“Then I’ll do it myself.” You said sharply at him. Holding out your hand for the kit. Blood dripped from the lacerations on your thighs and Kai shook his head, disappointed.

“No. Let me do it. And then we’ll talk.” He pulled your leg back, more forceful and both your legs were across his lap. You stayed silence as he gently padded your wounds with saline, it only stung a little.

His fingers expertly wrapped you in bandages, and he secured them with tape. He had never been this gentle with you before. You stilled as he leaned down and pressed kisses along the white bandages, you weren’t able to move as he moved over to you. His hands gliding over your arms and shoulders. “I thought he was going to kill you.” He whispered, his lips finding your cheeks. And nose. He continued kissing your face, as they grew sloppier.

You hated yourself for not moving away from him quicker, hating yourself for loving the new affection he was giving you. Kai’s lips moved towards yours and you finally moved away, getting up, standing and limping a few feet away.

“I can’t stay here, Kai.” You stood your ground, forcing yourself to be strong.

Kai’s mouth pressed into a line and you could see his patience was wearing thin. “you already left me, Y/n. You tried to hide from me and look what happened. You got hurt. What would have happened if I hadn’t stepped in?” He reminded you.

“You’ve hurt me, Kai! You hit me! You give me no attention. You never hug me. Kiss me. Or anything. You just used me one time for sex and you just left me laying there like I was just something to fuck! You hurt me more than he did!” You screamed at him. “Of course I left. I couldn’t take it anymore.” It felt so good to let it all out.

“Is that what this is about?” His tone was short. “Just because I don’t hug you enough?”

“You didn’t listen to a word I fucking said.” You almost ripped your hair out at the root. “Let me go. I don’t want to be apart of this insanity.”

Kai stood up quickly and met you, you tried to cower back but his grip firmly locked on your jaw. “You can’t leave, little lamb. You mean too much to me.” He whispered.

“Bullshit.” You tried to move away but his hold was too tight, nearly bruising.

“Losing you only made me realize how much I want you. You deserve to be treated like a queen, lamb. You know that? Let me prove it to you.”

“How?” You said, exhausted from fighting.

Kai whistled. Several seconds later and all his members came flooding down, dragging the man who attacked you by his elbows. You jerked away from the man, and Kai lightly held you by the arm.

“Gentlemen, bring this traitor before me.” He commanded and they at once brought the tied man to his knees before Kai. His mouth was gagged and his arms and legs were tied with thick rope.

He shook violently as he tried to get out. Kai chuckled and you gasped as he pulled out a long blade from Speedwagon.

Kai knelt down, meeting the man eye to eye. “You really fucked up, didn’t you? Trying to touch what’s mine? Hurting her? I had to bandage her delicate flesh. You spilled her blood. Now, I get to spill yours.” Your heart hammered as the man screamed behind his gag.

Kai lunged forward, stabbing him multiple times, you wanted to cover your eyes but you couldn’t as Kai grabbed him by the head and slit the blade across his throat. Blood gushed from his neck as he fell over, dead within seconds.

Kai turned towards you with a sick smirk on his face. He dropped the blade. “Leave us. Reflect on what happens if anyone of you dare come close to touching what belongs to me.”

Everyone left, taking the body with them. You trembled. Kai had just murdered for you. Was this all part of his manipulation? His previous gentle touch. Was that all part of his act he was so good at?

“Was that supposed to make me stay? Just because you murdered him?” Kai clicked his tongue and his thumb wiped away a free falling tear on your cheek.

“Stop talking about leaving. You belong to me, y/n. We will always be together.” You shook your head and Kai’s jaw tightened.

“Stop doing that. Stop fucking denying me.” He was getting louder. You flinched back before you could help it.

“Stop it, Kai. You can’t just get what you want this way.” you half expected him to scream at you more but instead, Kai dropped to his knees beneath you.

His hands rubbed up and down your bare thighs, grazing the band of your underwear. Your stomach dropped as his head rested on your stomach.

“No. I’m not going to lose you.” He said quietly, you felt his mouth on your bare skin as he lifted your shirt. “You’re right…I should have treated you better.” His hot mouth peppered kisses along your hips and you couldn’t pull away as he gripped the back of your thighs.

“What are you doing?” You half moaned at the end as he started sucking your skin.

“Don’t you see? There’s not a line, in the world, that I wouldn’t cross for you.” Kai pleaded, looking up at you with dark eyes.

You wanted to give in, despite how wrong it was. Your hands settled on his shoulders and kai took the opportunity to lift you, forcing your legs around his waist as he carried you to the couch. He set you down, your legs straddling his waist as he sat down. You atop of him.

Kai leaned forward as you settled on his lap. His lips finding your pulse point as he kissed your neck, his tongue finding your sensitive spots as you shuddered. His hands pulled your sweatshirt up, exposing your torso and bra. His mouth found the valley of your breasts as he started tearing your bra off, yanking the sweatshirt over your head.

Kai moved with urgency as he wrapped his lips around your perked nipple, sucking gently and your head fell back. This felt so good. This was what you wanted secretly. His lips on you. His teeth pulled at the bud, and you moaned as he rolled his clothed dick into you.

“See, how much I want you, princess?” He whispered. His mouth found yours in a feverish kiss. He opened his mouth, forcing you to the same and he shoved his tongue in your mouth. He had never kissed you like this, never with such brutal passion. His left hand wrapped around the back of your head as he deepens the kiss by sucking your lower lip.

Your hands went into his hair as he continued kissing you, sloppily as your center grew wetter and wetter as he thrusted his hips up. “Kai.” You whimpered.

Kai shoved you face forward on the couch, you gasped as he slapped your ass. You heard his belt undo and you heard him fumble with his pants as he yanked them down. His hands found your neck as he pressed the tip inside you as you were on all fours.

Your body jolted with wetness as he started slamming into you, deep enough that your walls clenched around him. You felt full as pleasure grew in your belly. His other hand found your hair as he shoved his fingers inside your mouth. “Get them nice and wet for me.” He said, you obeyed. Licking his fingers and he pulled them out and started playing with your clit.

Your breath constricted. He hadn’t touched you like this before. His fingers circled your clit rapidly, as he slammed his hips against your ass. Both your bodies moved against each other. “Kai, I’m close.” You groaned.

“Cum for me. Show me.” He slapped your ass again and you nearly screamed as your orgasm overwhelmed you. Your body halted as you felt him empty inside you, you didn’t worry as you were still on birth control.

Seconds passed and he turned you around, his swollen cock in your face. “Open that pretty little mouth.” You leaned forward and licked the tip to the baseline of his dick. “I want you to taste how good we are together.” His head lolled to the side as you started sucking gently.

Your teeth very lightly grazed the tip and he moaned deep within his chest as you bobbed your head up and down, the tip brushing your gag reflex.

“That’s it, choke on daddy’s cock, little lamb.” He encouraged and pulled your hair back, too hard but you didn’t mind the pressure.

He moved into your mouth and you gagged, your jaw tightening as he filled your mouth. “Fuck. Fucking shit.” He muttered as you licked him again.

He pulled back. “Your turn.” You didn’t have time to think as he pushed you back, pushing your legs open. He knelt on the floor. Grabbing the back of your ass as he pulled your pussy to his face. He wrapped his lips around your clit, you let out little gasps as he laid his tongue flat against you, your folds convulsing as he lapped at your pussy, diving inside you and then dragging his tongue back to your clit.

You rode his face as he licked you, “You taste so fucking good,” he praised you. “You’re such a pathetic little slut, you know that? So wet for me.”

Your pleasure grew as it was about to burst.

Kai didn’t let you come, stopping right before you exploded. You let out a whine as he crawled over you, shoving his cock inside you, filling you up to the brim. “Come on, you can moan better than that.” He said, thrusting deep inside you.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin but he couldn’t care less. Your head pressed against his shoulder as he moved, his cock touching the deepest parts of you.

Your release came in a wildfire, you let out a loud scream, panting as he came to his finish. Spilling into you, both of your orgasm merging together as he let out a loud moan. He shook as he emptied inside you. You both tried to catch your breath as he stayed inside you for several seconds. He finally pulled out.

He cleaned himself up with a rag, he dragged the cloth over you as you mewled at the feeling.

He slid his boxers on and you put your underwear back on. You expected him to leave but he laid next to you on the couch, pulling your body near his as he pressed your head against his chest. You were quiet as his fingers lightly traced your bare skin of your back.

Soon, your eyes drifted shut, and you felt a uncharacteristic light kiss on your forehead. You looked at him through your lashes and he met your gaze. He stayed silent as you reached up, pressing a kiss to his lips and he finally let you, letting his guard down.

Tagging. @spill-the-t

[romana-after-dark]

Room's on Fire: Black Wedding

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Everyone is together, everything is complete.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

WARNINGS HAVE BEEN UPDATED!!!

Extra warnings for chapter: FEET (sorry Fen!), complete worship, mind control, the incubus. Tummy bluge since apparently this is contensious now???

3.2k words

A/N: Some pov shifts.

Support writers! Reblog and leave comments!

"Priest are you there? Can you hear my voice? Do you hear my prayers? Are you out there? Forgive me priest For I have sinned (I know not what I do)" ~Black Wedding, In this Moment.

Sweating, tossing, turning. 

The demon, the manifestation of your inadequacy tormented you so often you’d come to be complacent in it, the ravaging of your body nearly a nightly part of your bedtime routine. You just wanted to feel safe in your own bed again. You wanted your husbands to stay the night, to protect you from the terrors, but how could you confess what was happening? 

When you wake up in a cold sweat, fear shivers down your spine as you dry heave and gasp for air, red daylight seeping in your curtains and bathing your clothed body in the image of blood, you are determined to change something. You can’t go on like this. You had Francisco now, you just needed to win back Pope. You were ovulating, now was your chance, all you needed was to have all their hearts.

*

Ben was a lot of fun. You and him did the most activities.

Before he became angry with you, Pope and you mostly spent time outside of sex in your studio. He liked to watch you paint, sipping wine with his eyes over the glass observing the strokes. It was quiet, peaceful, and calming.

Francisco, since your trip to the field was taking you more and more. He liked to take you out to the meadow, fucking on the blankets and putting flowers in each others hair. He let you put a flower crown on him, looking so pretty you had to reward him.

Will treated you like a princess. Will promised that first day that he’d help work out those pains in your back, and he was. He liked to massage you with his healing oils, making your body feel good and comfortable before he filled you up, stating that your comfort and health was important for conceiving.

But Ben, Ben was fun. Ben’s time was filled with laughter, adventure, and lots of sex. Today he took you out on a horse ride, much like Frankie, but there wasn’t a picnic. That wasn’t Ben’s style. What was Ben’s style was making the horse go ‘really fuck’n fast’. 

You felt like a princess, your handsome prince whisking you away to some far off land. Benny made you giddy, he made you feel wanted. When Pope and Francisco both wanted nothing to do with you, it was Ben and Will who made you feel seen, feel beautiful, feel desired for.

You watched Ben climb a tree, begging him to be careful but he swore up and down he was going to find you the best peach there was. Ben loved food.

“Please just watch your step!!” You shout after him, but then turn your attention to the open field. From the top of the hill, you could see the fields of gold you used to labour at. Watching the others work, all but tiny dots on the horizon, sometimes you felt bad, like you weren’t contributing to Delta… Will had reminded you that you were called to a higher purpose, for something more. The DNA of gods was constantly inside you, and you wondered if it was changing you in more ways than just the hopeful pregnancy. Maybe you were more than a saint. Maybe their seed was creating a goddess, a new mother- nonononononono that was heresy! You shove the idea out of your head like an intrusive thought, determined to keep your thoughts clear.

THIS was why the incubus was tormenting you! Your thoughts were impure, vile, evil, and so were you. Tears began to burn behind your eyes.

“Here!” Ben drops upside down, hanging by his knees on the tree branch, making you gasp. He’s holding a peach, which you happily take.

“Thank you.” You smile. He always knew how to make you smile. Ben himself was shining as bright as the sun today, a reflection of his good mood. He said he’d make sure there’d be perfect weather for your outing, and he delivered, not a cloud in the deep blue sky. Will made you put on a straw sunhat to protect your skin from its reys. He treated you so well. 

Ben makes a kissy face, and you oblige, rewarding him for finding you your snack. His mouth tasted sweet, only then do you realize he took a bite already and you can’t help but laugh adoringly. You take a bite of the peach as Ben still hung from the tree, swinging as he gripped the branch, and come to him again, sliding the bite into his mouth for him to eat. You can feel him smile, chewing the peach and you pepper his face with kisses. 

It wasn’t long before he was pulling you up onto the tree, helping you climb up and up. Everything was so beautiful where you sat. Ben kisses you deeper here.

“Fish ain’t the only one that can be romantic as shit.” He mutters against your mouth and you get the feeling he was jealous. Francisco must have told him what you did the last couple days with him, making love in the meadow and yes, it was romantic, but you didn’t expect Ben to be Francisco. All of them loved you in their own ways, with their own expressions.

“He certainly isn’t, my handsome husband.” You kiss back, sighing as he touches your thigh. There was no way to fuck up here, but Ben still brought you to orgasm with his fingers. He had told you not to wear panties.

He picks another peach, pulling his hard cock out as you kick your legs, smiling, your dress rustling in a breeze. You’d noticed the breeze picked up as Ben got turned on. You watch in aw as he fingers the peach open, eyes intently on you. He’s obscene, groaning as if he’s pleasuring himself until he creates a hole, and then…

“Eyes on my cock, peach.”

And god, are your eyes on his cock. Benny has the prettiest dick in your humble opinion. It was long and thick like they all were. Ben was cut, his manhood always throbbing and the prettiest golden color and a vein on the underside. You loved looking at it. Ben fucked himself with the peach, up and down on the shaft with the most levacious squelches coming out only to the harmonized by Ben’s moans and whimpers. His eyes closed, lost in pleasure and he jerked off.

“F-fuck…” Ben mumble, chest heaving as he rests against the trunk. “Fuck man, feels so fucking good.” His hip bucked, makin the branch you were on shake and you had to grab one above for stability but fuck, you couldn’t stop watching him. He was incredible, sculped body creating a divine figure in your midst and you were so blessed to be filled by him. His blue eyes flashed open only to roll back into his head, spurting cum all over his hand and the peach. You nearly came again from the sight and sound alone. You loved how he looked in orgasmic bliss, it didn’t matter who caused it, you, Francisco or Pope, you just wanted to see him when it happened.

You ate the cum stained peach directly from his hand.

*

You got the idea from Iris, really. Sitting on the counter of the kitchen, you were busy with some cross stitching you wanted to give to Francisco. It was a simple scene, nothing complex as your dormitory focused of useful skills like fieldwork, cooking, animal care. Still, you knew how to sew and although you’d asked, sometimes even begged Iris to let you help with housework, she didn’t trust you with much outside of cooking, which you were good at. You wished she didn’t treat you like a child. Still, you happily worked on the nature scenary for you husband, god of nature. How lucky you were. You noticed how much he liked smoking marijuana.

Reyansh was inside for a refreshment while working outside. He was creating a flower bed for you at Francisco’s request, and his neck was hurting so Iris rubbed his neck. Reynash sighed contently, his soft face smiling at the touch of who very clearly, you see now, was his lover.

 Iris was gentle for no one. She brushed off every attempt Jonah made to talk about anything none work related, and it hadn’t endeared her to you much. You didn’t think that bothered her, it didn’t seem she was too fond of you either. It wasn’t a rivalry and you didn’t have a problem with her. In fact, you liked her. She was beautiful, she made good food and she had been there when it was necessary, like having a panic attack. Even in the small things, she fed you well and had your safety in mind. Today, for example, she told you to put on sunscreen before you went outside to sunbathe while Rey built the flowerbed and doubled with babysitting you. That’s what you called it. Still, she didn’t talk to you, and didn’t seem like she wanted to be your friend.

You liked Reyansh a lot, he was kind, gentle, and thoughtful. Iris took care of Reyansh, and that made you happy. You liked seeing Reyansh smile, he had a nice smile. Iris never smiled unless it was at Reyansh and even then it seemed subdued. Jonah smirked at best, and that was usually mixed with an eye roll.

Pope had bad knees. He called it his stigmata, the physical manifestation of the sufering he bared for the people of Delta. He took the brunt of your sins and wasn’t that so good of him? You wondered if you could alleviate some of that pain, seeing as much of it was probably caused by the sins of your father.

“Rey?” You ask from your chair, watching him plant seeds for marigolds. You loved marigolds; they reminded you of Ben, all sunshine and gold.

He turns around over his should, a bright smile on his face. He seemed happier with plant or animals. “What’s up?”

“Do you know where Will keeps his healing oils?”

Reyansh laughs and its brighter than the midday sun. He turns around, sitting his ass on the dirt and props himself up on his hands. “What are you planning?”

*

“SHHHHHHH” Reyansh shushes you, but he’s giggling himself.

You and him were breaking into Will’s room while he was out. Well, not so much breaking as Rey got the master key but still, naughty. You loved Will’s room, you wanted to stay here all the time. It was simple, but not uncomfortable. You both had to be careful, not digging too much into his things as to not get in trouble… but then you found them.

You took lavender, rose, peppermint and oregano. You knew a little about healing oils, but Will’s were special having been blessed by his hands. This had to help Pope’s aches… now, you must get an audience with Pope, and he was not pleased with you.

*

“I’m busy.” Pope called from his office, ignoring your plea’s to spend time with you. You missed him so, so much. You missed his intensity, the warmth in the gaze, the fire and passion in his eyes. You feel his love for you, his husbands, his community. Who else was to bare the pain he did for his people? He was good, so good.

“Pope, please?” Your voice cracks, leaning against the wood of his door. “Please just ten minutes?”

“I’ll be with you tonight with Francisco.” To breed you, but you didn’t just want to be fucked by him, you wanted to be loved.

“I want to spend time with you, please? I have a surprise. I just… I miss you.”

Silence… then the door unlocking. He stood in front of you, brown eyes ablaze with irritation but also curiosity.

Once securing his attention, you were able to get Pope to follow you to the room you had set up. In it, a chair and a bucket of steaming, sudsy water.

“Sit! Sit!” You beckon him to the chair, and although hesitant he sits down. You take your place where you belong, at the feet of your God.

Knelt before him and gazing up into his eyes, you untie his shoes and slide off his socks, pleasantly surprised by the lack of smell. He’d been inside all day. After rolling up his pants, you take his feet, one by one and lower them into the steaming water and watch in delight ashe closes his eyes, moaning and hanging his head back. He looked relaxed, actually, something you only see in post orgasmic bliss.

You don’t take your eyes off him, massaging into the arch of his foot and enjoying the look of pleasure on his face. You’d doused the water preemptively with lavender and rose oils and you were happy to see it working in calming him.

“Mmmmm” Pope moans, a hardening bulge between his spread legs and you smile at the effect you have on him, the evidence of the love he still held for you. You hoped this act of washing his feet and massaging the joints would prove your subservience to him, your devotion.

Leaning in, you kiss the ball of his foot first as he opens his eyes, firey and alight with lust and love for you, his Madonna, his wife, his goddess. Pope’s mouth pops open, slightly agape as his chest begins to heave, eroticism  clouding his face. Pope angls his foot, pressing his toes to your lips and you don’t hesitate to open, completely and fully in his control. You would debase yourself however he asked, just for him. He was your first kiss, your first love, your first everything. You’d adored him your whole life, worshiping him in prayer halls for as long as you could remember. He’d been the light of your life, your God, and although you were 11 when Divine Mother announced Pope was not the savior, it didn’t matter to you. He was your savior, he was your everything, and oh, how blessed you were to be here.

You make your jaw slack, allowing him access of as much of your mouth as possible, laving your tongue out against the calloused skin. Reaching to the side, you grab the peppermint-oregano mix of healing oils and poured some on his leg. As you gagged on him, sucking on his toes, you rubbed down his legs. Pope groans in pleasure, taking out his erection to stroke himself to the wet sounds of  your mouth. Swirling your tongue around him, so desperate try to please him, to regain his favor so you can be impregnated by his seed, the seeds of his brothers. You wanted so desperately to be his Madonna again, his holy mother, his little flower, it didn’t matter what it took.

He could cut open your chest and carve your heart out if it meant he held the dying pulse in his hands.

“Get over here” He grunts, pulling his feet out of you mouth with a pop. You chase after him, worried you’d done something wrong, but Pope grabs your dress, yanking you  forward harshly and into a crash of a kiss. The action knocks over the warm bucket of water, but he didn’t care. Pushing you down and into the spilt water, Pope turns you over and climbs on top of you, rucking your wet skirt over your ass. He didn’t bother taking off your underwear simply pulling it aside in order to thrust directly into you.

You were wet, you were always so, so wet with him. Being in his presence had always left you soaked and needy when he didn’t give you what you wanted. Sometimes you found yourself going to Will for his mouth to give you what Pope wouldn’t. 

“My beautiful, sweet Madonna” He mutters, his bearded cheek scratching against yours. “Always so ready for me, such a good fucking girl.” His thrusts are harsh, your face sliding against the floor with the spilt water, your dripping hair splattered all about the tile. The smell was overwhelming and you realize Will’s oils were spilled, mixing into the water and stirred with the movement of your connected bodies.

Everything was so, so much from the smells of the oils to the stretch of his cock, the pounding, pounding, pounding in your womb.

It was the same pounding you felt that night when, for the first time in a long time, you were fucked and pleasured and devoured and worshipped by all four of your husbands.

You were raw, aching, sweating and throbbing; 3 men’s cum had flooded your womb and Will’s was soon to follow. It was good, so, so good. Your body, despite the exhaustion was floating on your soft bed. The group sex had happened in your room, which was a rarity but something that in this moment made you feel like home. This was special, this was different. Will’s grunts were loud, powerful, his strong and naked body forbaring before you where he knelt. Muscles flexing and shifting and moving, his sweaty form and dripping hair complimenting his presence, the size reflected in the bulge of your stomach in every inward thrust. He had to be this stunning if he were to distract you from the scene beside you.

Ben, Francisco and Santiago and spent and drained, were entangled next to you in a sweat and lust-fill affair of their own. Francisco was the center focus, his body worshiped and adored by Pope and Ben. It seemed like a tug of war, like Francisco was the rope in a tug of war. It was clear that Francisco was precious to both of them, but there was another air about it all. The fight for Francisco’s sweet kisses was just the battle ground. Francisco himself had gotten hard all over again, Ben’s hands jerking him of from where he lay, their two body’s and coloring a contrast of dark and light, hard and soft, and electric energy so, so close to Pope’s explosives. 

Pope would not be out done by the younger man. This was his community, he was the leader, he was son of the Divine Mother and he would not relinquish his most favored lover to a boy 8 years his junior. Ben had ambition, he had wants and visions of a future that Santiago would not acquiesce to and although Benjamin’s loyalty was strong, so was his jealousy.

Two could play at jealousy, and Francisco was his. Playing with Frankie’s balls, heavy but starting to tighten as his perfect body writhed to the sounds of the Madonna’s pleasure, Santiago gripped Ben’s locks and yanked him down. He took control of Frankie’s mouth, lips still swollen from their previous encounter evidence of who his lips belonged too. He sucked on him until the healing lip cracked open again. If Francisco bled, his blood was Pope’s. 

He hears you cry out in the way you only do when you’re coming, and Ben latches onto Francisco’s nipple, determined to make him cum again. Pope loved his brothers, loved them all, they were the center of his world, his everything, his rocks. He’d had all of them in every way imaginable, fucked into every hole at every angle but god, nothing compared to Frankie. Ben must’ve felt that too, the way he took care of him. Together, as a team, they gave Francisco his second orgasm.

Something was different today. Something changed.

They all slept in her bed that night.

WHAT DO WE THINK For The Wrong Way readers, did you catch the reference? it was small.

also last chapter i asked whose the worst and someone said jonah i just wanna talk LMFAOOOO but i laughed bc its OVERWHELMINGLY santi. like 80%

Poll of the day

who knocks up madonna? not who you WANT that'll be a new poll, but who you think does it. listing all potential options.

WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS and whyyyyy

If you are into c.ai, check out the Jonah ai on the masterlist

Also, hope you check out the playlist! if you like old music like me especially. lots of 60's-80's

apoligies to everyone whose been tagging me in tag games. i appiciate the tags a lot, im just like....... ahhhhhhh you know? life. i love yall for including me though! If you have discourd and wantto join a server for my works, dm me! as long as you are an active particpant in the fics you're welcome!

IF YOU LIKE CULT FICS READ THIS ONE BY @noxturnalpascal with cult leader joel!!!!! I havnt had the chance to read a full chapter by i read most of the first chapter and its soooo good.

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LOVE YOU ALL!

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[domain-expand-me]

Just got my T shots the other day so I'm feeling extra feral, so.

Imagine

Banging and dominating Kenjaku until he forgets all about his plans

gn amab reader

Tw: dub-con? (Kenny is into it, cuz he's a freak). gross body horror stuff. Straight up skull fucking/brain fucking, like, appendages in kenjaku type of stuff. Read at your own risk.

Imagine being a curse user, with some ability that lets you hide even from the user of the six eyes. Maybe even an ability that has let you reincarnate every second generation or so. You've never been too involved with everything going on, enjoying your privacy and relaxing much more than running around causing problems. But you are aware enough to know about Sukuna and Kenjaku.

You are lazy, there's no way to go around that. You are powering, sure. But that doesn't mean you like punching on people for dominance. You have always just enjoyed laying back on expensive pillows and sheets and sleeping, you're cursed ability doing all the work for you. Even in death you are lazy, unable to be summoned forth by others unless you actively want too.

This was why you were annoyed about Kenjaku's plans to release Sukuna and force the evolution of every human. If more people gained the ability to use cursed energy, then more problems would crop up and get in the way of your relaxed lazy lifestyle. That's why you knew you had to do something about it, and it seemed easiest to just change Kenjaku's mind.

Much to your annoyance you had to drag yourself out of bed, your beloved Alaskan king-sized bed, with the most comfortable sheets and pillows. You didn't look like much in your baggy clothes, but there was no reason to dress up for this. Sweatpants, flipflops and an old hoodie would have to do.

It wasn't hard to find Kenjaku, not when you knew exactly what to look for. His cult being as loud as they were, to you at least, didn't help his case.

Imagine how easy it must be to sneak into wherever his cult was staying, your cursed abilities easily letting you stay hidden and silent. The scoff that left you was soundless as you watched this group of idiots, didn't they know the guy that followed was only using them? But when you saw his newest vessel you could kinda get it. He was quite pretty, with long black hair, earrings and a fox-like smile. He still seemed like a prick to you though, but maybe that was experience speaking.

You couldn't help but take a short nap as this cult meeting went on, cursed abilities primed to wake you up or snap out at whatever threat might appear. But of course nothing happens, instead you find yourself woken up to the sheep followers leaving, looking both energized and manipulated by whatever Kenjaku had told them.

Deciding to keep shadowing him, you follow at a lazy pace, until you two get somewhere far enough away from people that sorcerers wouldn't be notified of your shared presence. It was always so easy to attack people who didn't even know to expect you, to hit people who didn't even know you existed until it was too late. You couldn't find it in yourself to outright kill him, killing Kenjaku would just cause more issues, but pinning him down was easy.

He seemed shocked and fear struck when he couldn't use the cursed ability of the body he inhabited, another plus of your own. "Kenny~ always causing problems for me" you sigh, tilting your head, eyes droopy and lazy as he sneered and snapped up at you.

His eyes were wide as he visibly tried to search his memory for who you were, only to end up coming up blank. You weren't the greatest at hiding for nothing, he'd only see you if you allowed it. But now that you were, you weren't just gonna let him leave and run his mouth.

"who the hell are you" he snarled, the body's pretty face scrunched up in anger and murderous intent. His cursed energy flared in anger, but it seemed to go limp the moment he tried to flex and use it. The body was tense, but instead of looking at its eyes, you kept your attention on the deep scar on its forehead, aware that that was there your target truly rested.

"this little plan of yours, it's... Annoying me" you sigh out, body loose limbed and relaxed as you sat back on his body's hips, only for something to catch your attention. Was he? Oh, he was. A lazy cat-like grin stretched across your face. He was hard. But was that Kenjaku, or was it simply the body he was occupying reacting to instinct? What kind of person was this, that they got excited being pinned down by a cocky lazy powerful idiot like you?

Kenjaku's sneer depended, even as the cheeks of his body flushed, his legs kicking and arms pulling against your iron tight grip where you kept them above his head. "You know... I was just gonna lobotomize you with my fingers. Rip that skull open and dig some new pathways in you, but, if you really wanna" you purr, voice still so lazy, like you haven't slept right in months.

Panic and something else seems to flash through Kenjaku's eyes, his eyes going so wide you almost had to laugh. He looked so stupid, like he had never thought anybody would be able to hold him down and leave him so vulnerable. At least, not an unknown being like you.

Using your cursed energy you kept him pinned, even as you sat up and started knee-shuffling up his torso. There was obvious fear and disgust in his eyes, but there was something else, something hungry and shameful that left the body's lips quivering as you settled your knees on either side of his head.

"w-wait" his voice sounded, so meek and shaky compared to his usual tone, as your hands settled on either side of his skull. You dismissively shushed him, like one would a troublemaker they couldn't bother listening to anymore. You debated on just cracking open this body's skull, he could always find a new one, but it was also pretty, and must have some skill for him to keep it, right? So you decided to be nice.

Instead you let your cursed energy gather at the tips of your thumbs, sticking them into the deep scar that went all the way around this body's head, using the cursed energy to slice it open like you are opening up an avocado. You felt your body heat up at the whimpered gasped noises Kenjaku made, his hands squeezing and tightening above his head, like he wasn't sure what to do with this situation.

They were starting to get in the way, and looking down you could see the glassy but hot look on the body's face. Deciding to see what he would do, you released the hold your cursed energy had on his wrists. Instead of pushing you away, Kenjaku's hands immediately grabbed onto your thighs, one of them shakily climbing up to pull at the top of your sweatpants.

"so cute~" you hum, finally letting the top of his head, the scalp, fall to the side, exposing the brain shaped curse inside. His teeth were grinding, what looked like a tongue but was probably more brain mass rubbing against the inner side of them. Fluids spluttered out from the open skull, splashing into the grass as Kenjaku gasped, from both the body's mouth, but also his own, the brain's teeth parting, as your thumbs rubbed against the slick wet surface.

The sound of two different voices whimpering and panting at once was fascinating, but it wasn't the strangest thing you had ever seen. Seeing how the body seemed to arch up, mouth opening as the tongue stuck out, trying to lap at the bulge in your sweats. Who'd have thought that the mighty Kenjaku would buckle so easily under somebody, but maybe he was simply one of those individuals that wanted to be dominated.

"come on, pull me out" you egged him on, that teasing grin on your lips as the body's hands twitched and jolted awkwardly, like Kenjaku was struggling to control it in this situation. Finally, he caught onto the waistband of your swears and boxers, roughly tugging them both down until your cock bounced free, half hard and slowly filling with blood, lazy like the rest of your body.

"nobody's ever done this, huh?" You tease, digging your thumbs into the wet slick ridges of Kenjaku's surface, letting your fingers pet against his soft vulnerable surface. Your pupils were blown wide as you watched the mouth on the brain pant open, wet from brain fluid instead of the usual spit you were used too.

You tsk, reached for your shaft with one of your wet hands, and brought it closer to Kenjaku, lowering your hips to start rubbing it through his ridges and folds. It wasn't hard to sense that he wanted more, from how the body jolted and twitched like an insect under you, hands shaking and squeezing at random intervals, slurred shapeless words spilling out of its mouth.

Your precum leaked into Kenjaku's surface, the brain seeming to shiver under your fingers at the new substance. "Come on Kenny, open up~" you sing-songed, running your tip down to the teeth that worked as the curses mouth. He seemed to growl and resist for a moment, but it was all for show, as the teeth parted, the tongue-like appendage sticking out.

A shiver ran through your entire body as you sank your length into his mass, a puff of air rushing out from between your lips as the wet slimey surface hugged onto your cock. The body gurgled wetly, eyes rolling back, a lewd smile on its face, matching what Kenjaku was feeling. It must have been a strange sight if anybody were to discover you here in the woods, your hips slowly working as you pushed and dragged your length in and out of Kenjaku's mouth, and through his mushy insides, splattering more brain fluid all over the both of you and the grass under you.

"you see Kenjaku... Your plans, they get in the way of my rest, you know? It's really annoying" you huff, sounding bored and mildly bothered as the body he inhabited gave a violent jolt and arch as your tip jabbed into the back of Kenjaku's mouth, or maybe rather, the back of what pocket made up his mouth and into the brain mass behind it.

You couldn't really see the face of the body he possessed, but the noises it made were wet and sloppy, and you could feel all the drool leaking into the fabric of your sweats. With a smirked huff you started working your hips faster, the slick noise of your cursed coupling ringing louder as Kenjaku moaned from both mouths, his hands digging harder into your hips. "Wouldn't it be nice to just... Come relax with me?" You hum, making sure to rub your fingers into the rest of kenjakus surface even as your hips beat against his front.

He couldn't answer, too busy holding onto you with his body, and trying to keep the sensitive soft mass that made up his body together against your cock. Normally you would just have kept going, but your hips slowed down, before you withdrew completely. It was lewd to see how shiny your shaft was as it twitched and throbbed, Kenjaku's mouth hanging open as his insides pulsed.

"Hm?" Was all you said, patting the face of the body to get an answer from him. The body's eyes were almost crossed, the tongue hanging out of its mouth as drool and tears ran down his cheeks and chin. It was truly a hot sight, one you hadn't seen before. "Y...yessshh" Kenjaku slurred after a few more pats, slurring from both mouths once more, in a morbidly hot symphony.

A soft lazy chuckle left you as you pushed your cock into Kenjaku's mass once more, releasing the energy you so rarely touched as you started rowing your hips back and forth with more speed and power than before. His body keened and arched almost right off the ground, shaking in what was a clear orgasm as he panted and sobbed wetly in what could only be pleasure.

The brain seemed to only grow wetter under your thrusts, like some pleasure triggered organ, but it wouldn't surprise you if Kenjaku possessed that ability. "Good boy, so good. Are you ready?" You huffed out, feeling that familiar tingling heat in your body. Kenjakus hands grasped tighter at your hips, a slurred noise leaving the body's lips, one you could only take as an affirmation. So with a deep huff, you buried yourself completely inside his mass, unleashing your load into the cavity you had carved.

Kenjaku and his body shuddered under your touch once more, a second orgasm crashing through the body as Kenjaku himself seemed to experience what was the closest to an orgasm that he could feel. White spurted out through different folds and crevices, joining the large puddle of fluid that had been left from your actions, but Kenjaku's noises and panting made it clear he had enjoyed it probably more than you had.

It was a bit of a struggle to pull out, mainly because his grip on your hips was so tight. Of course, you could have easily just ripped them off you, but his shuddering and whimpering was so cute you couldn't find it on yourself to do so. Instead you slowly withdrew out of Kenjaku, using your cursed energy to fix the worst of the damage you caused and to attach the top of his scalp again, sealing your spend inside not just Kenjaku but also the body he possessed.

Tucking yourself away, you could still see that he was in the throes of what was most likely his first ever true orgasm, that he himself experienced. So with a laugh you got to your feet and picked him up, letting the shivering body rest against your chest as you made your way back to your lair. You wondered if he ate, and if he did, did he like your favourite dessert? You guessed you'd have to see, what he came down from this new mind-blowing experience he was feeling.

[questionableratatouille00]

𝓜𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓞𝓷 7

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: When her friend doesn’t show up to an outing, Y/n is prompted to make a house call. But when the past comes to get back at them, she has to wonder: is she really capable of moving on?

IMPORTANT: Instead of having the huge warning paragraph here, for this chapter I want to put a little note in. This chapter of Moving On is a lot heavier and quite graphic. Mind the warnings. I will link a summary of the chapter above the series Masterlist link. It will not be an alternate chapter, but rather a summary of what happened in this chapter, without the details. Stay safe and mind your triggers.

Warnings: heavily implied potential suicide, breaking and entering, graphic depictions of gore, guilt, depression, background stucky, violence, crying, scars, yelling, discussions of: phantom limb pain, NON-GRAPHIC past sexual abuse (including assault), cults, suicidal ideation, car crashes, hospitals, funerals, death, past abuse (physical, emotional, it’s HYDRA, y’know?), and there's a slight part where it's implied that the reader is a lesbian but it's easy to ignore.

[ALT/Summary]

🌻 Series Masterlist 🌻

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𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

“Hey guys!” You smile as you find your newfound friend group standing together outside the cafe.

They all greet you joyfully as you go to stand beside Wanda.

“The only person we’re waiting on is Bucky.” Thor notes.

“He doesn’t live that far away. He should be here by now.” Sam frowns.

“Call him?” You suggest. Sam pulls out his phone, holding it up to his ear.

“Nothing.” He murmurs.

Thor tries. Bucky doesn’t pick up.

Wanda calls, and Bucky doesn’t answer.

You try, and he doesn’t answer your call either.

Clint tries, and Bucky picks up on the second ring.

Sam rolls his eyes, and you and Wanda look at each other, smiling slightly.

“Hey, where are you, man?” Clint asks. You can’t hear what Bucky’s saying. “Okay, well..take care, then.” Clint lowers the phone from his ear, frowning slightly.

“Where is he?” Wanda questions.

“He’s at home. He didn’t really elaborate. I think he’s having a bit of a rough day.” Clint explains.

“And Steve’s out of town,” Wanda murmurs.

Sam nods at her. “Exactly.” He thinks for a moment.

Clint seemingly comes up with a plan. “Does anybody have their address? They live together, right?”

“Yeah. I have it. I don’t think he’d really wanna talk to any of us—besides, I know that I personally am not experienced in how to get through that kind of thing in a healthy way.” Sam replied.

“Me neither. I’m not the best with comforting others, so..” Clint shrugged.

“I doubt he’d feel comfortable with myself. I think it’d be best if one of you helped him.” Thor explained.

Wanda looked at you. And then everyone else looked at you, too.

“Okay,” you breathed. “Send me his address.”

The apartment wasn’t too far away, and you were able to ride the elevator to the sixth floor.

It wasn’t hard finding Bucky and Steve’s apartment, considering Sam had given you his apartment number.

You knocked on the door. Once. Then twice. And then again a third time.

“Bucky?” You said, at a normal volume. You didn’t want to bother any of his neighbors. You called his name again, slightly louder this time. And then you began to worry. How could you guarantee that he was okay? He could’ve fell in the shower or something. Choked on food while he was home alone. Fuck, he could’ve hurt himself.

That thought sent you into a real panic, and you knocked rapidly on the door. Once more, he didn’t answer.

You placed your hand on the door handle. You weren’t usually the type to commit breaking and entering, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Though, how suspicious would it look to break the lock on his door? You’d never been to his apartment, anyone who looked in the hall wouldn’t recognize you.

But now was not the time to think about all that. You expected to have to force the door open, to sacrifice your shoulder to bust down the door. It would make an obnoxiously loud sound and would probably send the neighbors running out into the hallway to see what the hell was going on. And when you opened the door…

…it opened without any problems. You swung the door open, managing to stop it before it hit the wall. Looking into the apartment, you took in the decor. A comfy couch in the living room area, a nice kitchen, a few picture frames hung on the walls here and there. All Steve’s work, you were sure of it.

“Bucky?” You close the door softly behind you. Creeping through the apartment, you find there is no Bucky in sight.

You approached a closed door, which you assumed was a bedroom door. You knocked. “Bucky? If you’re okay just say something. Literally anything, please.”

Your eyes watered when you received no answer. When you open the door, what are you going to find? You weren’t going to be ready to find a corpse. That’s what you were sure of. But what if he was just asleep? That was a possibility.

You opened the door.

You immediately saw him. Or, the outline of him. He was curled up in a blanket, still in bed. You could see him breathing, his torso moving slightly with every breath.

“Bucky?” You whispered.

“Mm.” He answered back.

“It’s 1:54 in the afternoon. We were gonna meet up for lunch, what happened?”

He shrugs in response.

“Clint let you know I was coming, yeah?”

He nods, his back facing you. He doesn't turn to face you, and you shift awkwardly.

"He said you were having a bit of a rough day. Are you sick? Or is more of an..inside thing?"

He says nothing, and you frown. You look towards the curtains, a soft and gentle blue. Steve's favorite color, you remembered.

You hear a soft sniffle come from the bed.

"Are you..crying?"

"No," he disagreed, but you could hear the sadness in his voice.

"It's okay if you are," you stated. "You don't have to hide it."

"This fucking sucks," he laughed, and you could imagine a few more tears spilling down his face. "I mean, I feel like shit. I haven't left my apartment in days, my arm fucking hurts, and I can't even get out of fucking bed." He begins to laugh at the end, as if he's fed up.

You didn't really know what to say. What would Sharon do? Probably send a motivational instagram video, you thought. It made you smile slightly, but you pushed the thought away. Now's not the time.

"Where's Steve?" You asked softly.

"Lehigh, New Jersey. It's a small town, he's visiting a friend, Peggy."

"Have you thought about calling him? He's your roommate and your best friend, right?" You assumed that Steve normally helped Bucky get through his bad days.

"Boyfriend, actually." He sniffled.

"Wait, what? Since when?"

"Since three days ago," he chuckled.

"That's awesome, man." You smiled, stepping a few inches closer.

He nods, rolling over to face you. His face is puffy, his eyes a bit red from crying. The blanket slides down a bit, revealing his scarred chest. You notice the absence of his left arm and the scarring around his shoulder, but you don't dwell on it. Bringing your eyes quickly back to his face, his small expression reveals that he's grateful for this.

"When's Steve coming home?"

"Tomorrow. Around suppertime. He left three days ago, so." He said quietly.

"You should come stay with me. Just for tonight. It'll get you out of the house, and it might make you feel a little better."

"I don't wanna be a bother. You know, more than I'm already being."

"You're not a burden. You're having a rough time, and that's okay, it's human. C'mon, I've got a guest room. You're never too old for a sleepover."

"What, are we gonna paint each other's toenails?"

You gave him a goofy grin. "Damn right. And we'll talk all about boys or something." You laugh, and he does too.

“Hey. C’mon, I’m serious.” You say earnestly after a moment, shoving your hands in your pockets. “S’not just for you. I get lonely.” You make it sound like a joke, but deep down both of you know it’s true.

He nods after a second.

“I’ll be in the living room, yeah? So you can pack up and get ready or whatever you wanna do.” You began to make your way towards the door, and he nodded again, a silent ‘thank you’.

You sat on the couch, which was a light tan color. It was a pretty nice couch.

Bucky came out twenty minutes later, his hair wet and pulled back into a half-up half-down hair style. He wore a black hoodie and some black jeans, a backpack slung over his shoulder.

You smiled warmly, wolf-whistling for dramatic effect. “Lookin’ good Barnes.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He shook his head, but he couldn’t hide his smile.

When you got to your place, the two of you grabbed a beer, plopping down in front of the couch.

“Do..you wanna talk about it?”

“I mean, it was just memories coming up, paired with phantom limb pain.” He explained.

“Drink. You know, if you want. It just seems like a ‘drink-and-talk’ kind of night.”

He took a sip of his beer, and you took a sip of your own.

“I was in the military until, well, you know.” He gestured to his prosthetic. “And then I accidentally joined a cult.”

You blinked, waiting for him to explain further.

“I guess they manipulated me or whatever, but I still fell for it. They were…weird. Always talking about ‘Insight’ and other propaganda. It was just..dumb. I just..needed something to belong to, I guess. They ended up giving me the first prosthetic I ever had. Not this one—this one’s much less…invasive.”

You nod, not sure if there was anything else you could say.

“They had their version of the electric chair. If you didn’t…do what they wanted you to do, they’d uh, punish you. Public whippings, the goddamn chair, more…graphic things. I was the newest member, shit always landed on me. One of the uh, higher ups, had a sex drive bigger than my will to live. Never a fun day for me.” Bucky said, shrugging as if trying to hide how it affected him.

“Then Steve reached out. Kept reaching out, that stubborn son of a bitch." Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. "Got me out of that situation. And then, well, here I am." He looked down at his hand, rubbing his pointer finger against his thumb. “My uh..sister and parents passed away while I was gone. Car crashes suck ass.”

You huffed a laugh. “Tell me about it.”

He glanced to the photo hanging on the wall. “Is…is that..?”

“Oh—yeah. Uh—it’s—well, y’know, it’s—uhm—yeah. It’s—yeah.” You sputtered.

Deciding that it was awkward if you didn’t say something else, you spoke up. "So...you and Steve, huh?"

Bucky rolled his eyes, grinning. "Yeah-huh."

"How'd you know? That..that you liked him?" You asked, and you were sure that you both knew there was more to this question besides your curiosity about Bucky's love life.

"I guess I didn't. I mean, we've known each other since we were real young, y'know. So I guess it was jus' always kinda that way."

"And..how'd you know he liked you back?" A certain woman popped into your mind, with her large doe-like green eyes and soft red hair.

"Cause he looked at me like there was somethin' worth lookin' at." Bucky drawled, making eye-contact with you. You were positive he was being earnest, based on his tone and overall demeanor.

Did Wanda look at you like that? Did you look at her like that?

“Huh,” you mumbled, nodding. You hoped he couldn’t tell what you were thinking. Somehow, deep inside you, you knew he could.

“So,” he took a sip of beer. “You and Wanda, eh?”

“Shut up,” you laughed.

“But seriously! You gotta tell me. Queer to queer, c’mon.” He nudged you with his elbow.

“Okay.” You sigh. “We went to a sunflower field together and ate sunflower-themed baked goods. At the end we called it a date, but I don’t know if that was meant to be romantic or not.”

“Oh. That’s…ambiguous.”

“Tell me about it.” You let out a breath, leaning your head back against the couch.

“But it was totally meant to be romantic. Very homo.”

“What?” You looked at him, but he seemed dead serious.

“Have you seen the way she looks at you? She looks so goddamn happy. And sure, she looks pleasant all the time, but not in the same way. It’s different.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. You looked at him. “I just…I don’t know. I’m not even sure if I like her. I mean, I think I do. But I can’t tell if I like her or if I like how she reminds me a little of Nat.”

He stayed silent, waiting for you to continue.

"I'm not..trying to find another Natasha--that's...weird. I mean, they're super different. Natasha was older than me, just by two years. And Wanda's a year younger. She's more..bubbly. Like, the best way I can describe it is that Natasha's a deep red, and Wanda's a light pink. Just in like, vibes." You tried to explain. "Sorry, I probably sound crazy."

"No, it makes sense. Wait..what color are my vibes?" He chuckled, but you could tell he wasn't making fun of you.

"Mm...silver. And red. With hints of a greenish-yellow, like old-timey lighting."

"Huh." He nodded.

After a few more minutes, you both departed to your separate rooms. Bucky to the guest room, and you to your bedroom, as per usual. You fell asleep quicker than usual, but whether that was due to the alcohol or due to the comfort of having someone else in the apartment, you weren't sure.

You awoke to the sound of glass shattering. Immediately, you were confused. Had Bucky gotten up to get a drink and dropped a glass? Had something fell?

Though you were tired, you wanted to make sure nothing important was damaged. That included Bucky being hurt.

You pulled yourself out of bed, slowly creeping out of your bedroom. The layout of your apartment was simple. No hallways, minus the tiny one that lead to the bathroom. You surveyed the dark living room, immediately finding the source of the noise.

Your window had been smashed. And in your living room, a few feet from the couch you’d just been sitting against, was a figure. Not Bucky, you were positive. From what you could see, the figure was wearing all black, and sported the unmistakable curves of a woman.

Your blood ran cold, your legs locking up, keeping you in place. Your mouth went dry, and you could hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears. You screamed, hoping that doing so would potentially let someone know that you needed help. And, worse case scenario, that you were murdered. That you didn’t do it yourself. That you wanted to live.

The figure rushed toward you, shoving you to the ground before pinning you there. She slammed a hand over your mouth as you writhed under her. You let out muffled screams and mangled growls, not wanting to go without a fight.

“What the hell?” Bucky walked out into the living room, wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing before, minus the fact that he’d changed from a hoodie to a t-shirt. The absence of his left arm was much more noticeable now.

He quickly peered over the couch, his eyes widening in fear as he found you. “Fuck!” He exclaimed, immediately racing for you. You’d forgotten about his military days; the ones that had clearly set him up with a faster speed and a stronger body.

He ripped the woman off of you, and she let out an animalistic shriek in protest. They wrestled for a moment, before she slammed her boot against his face. He groaned, backing up. She ignored him, beginning to stumble toward you. You got a clear look at her this time. She was wearing a black mask, one built similar to one you’d see a surgeon wear.

She dashed at you again, but this time you were more prepared. You grabbed anywhere you could—her hair, her neck, her ears—and the two of you tussled for a few moments. You grabbed her mask, ripping it off her face and shoving her backward as you stumbled in the opposite direction.

Bucky was clutching at his bloody nose, and you resisted the urge to gag at the red stain that covered the front of his shirt, going from just under the neckline to his chest. You’d seen blood before; you were a woman, and it’d be a real inconvenience to be scared of blood. But the scenario only made your uneasiness worse.

You stared at your attacker’s revealed face, before it dawned on you.

“Yelena?”

She glared at you, chest heaving as she was out of breath. You were sure that you didn’t look any better.

“Why the hell are you here?” You stressed, brows furrowing.

“You know what you did. And now I’m going to kill you for it.” She brandished a knife from her pocket, twisting it around in her fingers.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Yelena, I haven’t seen you since—since—“

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Ms. L/n? I'm calling from Westview Hospital."

“—since you left me to find my sister dead? Since you left my parents to find their oldest daughter with her face half melted off? Since then, Y/n? What, did you think we just wouldn’t find out?” Her voice steadily rose in volume.

"She was in a car accident, ma'am." Dr. Christine Palmer told you. "We had her in surgery--Dr. Strange and I operated on her ourselves. She's unstable, but there's a chance she'll pull through. We just have to hope for the best."

Natasha, your beloved Natasha, was sitting in a hospital bed. She was unconscious, and you wondered if that was for the best. The skin on her face was burned, stitched up but still seemingly melting.

Dr. Palmer left the room, leaving you alone with her. You sobbed for what felt like decades, before you realized that her family hadn't been alerted. That was up to you. And that only broke you more.

“You don’t understand! I couldn’t—I just—“

You'd ran. It was true, you had run. You'd scribbled Yelena's phone number on the tiny notepad in Nat's hospital room before you raced out. You didn't know what else to do.

“No, you don’t understand! You’re a fucking coward, you sick son of a bitch! You couldn’t even face us after what you did! You didn’t even show up to her funeral!” She shrieked, and then everything went quiet.

You hadn't gone. That was also true. You couldn't bear to show your face after the whole hospital incident. And that wasn't to say that you'd never been to her grave, or that you hadn't left flowers and other small trinkets, because you'd done those things. But you hadn't been there to grieve with the rest of her family. Sometimes you regretted it, other times you pushed the thought away before you could dwell on it.

Bucky had gone; you had no real defense against her anymore. He’d most likely went off to the bathroom to avoid bleeding on the kitchen floor.

“…You don’t get it.” You muttered.

“I bet you don’t even care! You’ve already got some random fucking guy you’re sleeping with!” She shouted at you. “You never loved her! Say it!” Her eyes watered, and you could hear her sadness seep through her voice.

"I did love her! I loved her with everything I had!" You felt your own eyes water as your throat burned.

"Then why did you run away?"

You didn't have an answer to that. Not really. She let out a quiet sob, turning her head to look away from you.

"Because I was scared, Yelena. I didn't know what else to do--I wanted to call you. I wanted to be there, I wanted to reach out, but I was scared. And I've regretted it every day." You pant, tears streaming down your face. “Yelena, I was going to marry her. I’d already bought the ring.”

“You’re pathetic.” She gasped, crying softly. “You’re so pathetic.”

You gave her a nod. “I know.”

“She would’ve never said yes.” She wept bitterly. You both know that that’s not true.

“She already had,” you admitted.

“Ask me later, you goof. You know what I’ll say. But I want you to ask.” Natasha smiled one Sunday morning in the middle of summer. “I love you, you know that?”

“I do.” You grinned. “What kind of ring are you thinking?” You watched her clean the dishes.

“Whatever you’ve already got. You’re not very sneaky, Y/n.” She chuckled. You wrapped your arms around her waist, your chin resting on her shoulder. “But I’d let you propose to me with a ring pop. Not many people get that chance, y’know.”

“I am proud to be blessed with that honor. Now, you want blue raspberry or berry blast?” You teased.

“Why would she spend her life with you? Why do you deserve it?” She sniffled.

“I don’t.” You let the tears pour from your eyes.

“She died because you let her.” Yelena blamed you.

“I fought for her to quit that stupid fucking job. She hated it.” You remembered how much she’d assure you of that fact. But she had friends at her job. She couldn’t just leave them behind. “I fought for that. But she was better at arguing than me. She was better.” You nodded to yourself, resisting the urge to sob hysterically.

“You should’ve fought harder.” Yelena growled.

Without thinking, you let out a whistle just as it seemed she was about to rush and stab you.

“…She…she told you about that?” Yelena stopped.

“Me and Yelena would do it when we were kids. We used to pretend we were spies, and that was our ‘signal’. Then it just kinda became a hello-goodbye thing.” Natasha played with your hair as you laid on her chest. With her other hand, she fiddled with the sheets. “She told me that when she moved away to college, the only thing she could think about was leaving you. She loved you, Yelena. That never changed. She loved you.”

Yelena sobbed. She lowered herself to the ground, too overwhelmed with grief to keep standing. “You got to spend so much time with her.”

“I know.” You nodded, crying yourself. You stepped closer to her, kneeling beside her before wrapping your arms around her.

“It shouldn’t have happened this way,” she lets out a shaky breath. “If I had been there, I could’ve changed it—I could’ve fixed it, I could’ve—“

“Nobody could’ve stopped her. She’d go to work in eight feet of snow with nothing but roller blades to get her there. You know Natasha.” You cut her off.

"I loved her. I loved her so much." She cries.

"I know. We all did." You rubbed her back soothingly. She sobs in your arms. You hold her tightly.

“Goodbye, Y/n L/n.” She whispered after a moment, standing and retreating towards the door.

“Goodbye, Yelena.”

Goodbye, Natasha.

“Fuck, my window’s still broken.”

A/n: bit of a long chapter, eh? Also, just in case you haven’t seen it yet: I’ve got the moving on playlist (Spotify) and the moving on Pinterest board!

[the-hinky-panda]

Yellowstone: Boss Mare Series Part III

Boss Mare: Part III

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Jamie Dutton x Fem!Reader

Summary: Like most people who end up on the Yellowstone, you're running from something. You need to convince them to let you stay and hope that what you're running from, doesn't find you. But things are rarely that easy.

Warnings: Violence, language, sexual situations, mentions of religion, cults, and abuse

Walker can’t believe his eyes. He frequently comes to sit by the small stream that runs to the west of the bunkhouse. It’s quiet, solitary, far away enough for him to practice without anyone hearing him. Tonight, his spot by the stream is occupied by a new, but oddly familiar, face. You’re sitting on a rock, your jeans rolled up to your knees, and your feet are in the cold, mountain water. 

“Well, look who didn’t listen to me and showed up anyway.” 

You’re on your feet immediately, wobbling to find your balance in the middle of the stream. He sets his guitar down against a tree and reaches out to offer you a steadying hand. His intention wasn’t to startle you into a complete submersion in the stream. You grab his elbow and allow him to help you further up on the bank where you collapse on the ground. 

“Sorry, my feet went numb.” 

“Yeah, that happens when you soak them in barely above freezing water.” He looks down at your narrow, almost blue colored feet and realizes why you had them in the water. There’s blisters all over them. “Looks like you did a lot of walking in new boots.” 

“I did.” 

He waits for you to elaborate but when you don’t, it gives him time to put together the pieces as he sits down next to you. “Tell me you didn’t walk from Bozeman to here?” It was over two hundred miles from Bozeman.  

You pull your knees up under your chin. “Maybe not all the way.” 

“Fucking hell, woman.” He shakes his head. “I’d hate to come across whatever it is you’re running from. Shit.” 

“Well, something brought you here. What are you running from?” 

“Bad decisions and even worse luck.” He picks up a stone and skips it across the narrow stream to the other side of the bank. “I’ll tell you again, you should leave this place. It’s evil.” 

You pluck a small blue flower from a small mound next to you and twirl it in between your slender fingers. “I know all about evil places.” You hand him the small flower. “This isn’t one of them.” 

Walker’s written a lot of songs about loneliness, wasted lives, the unfairness of life. He’s never written a love song though. He didn’t believe in soulmates, true love, or even a long-lasting love. All he’s ever known of life has been its sharp edge, the sting of injustice. As he takes that small flower, watches the slow smile creep across your face, he feels a shift that starts in the middle of his chest. He wonders if this meeting awakens a new part in his heart and mind because he feels as if he could write nothing but love songs for the rest of his life.

[lotties-ashwagandha]

may i request a part 2 to “pretty when you cry”? It was so good and i have to know what happens next if your willing to write it!!

PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY (part 2)

pairing: tai x van x reader

word count: 2833

notes and warnings: aaaaahhhhh. hope this lives up to yalls expectations lmao i had no inspo while writing but hey we see all the girls in this part so <3 only tw is cult mommy matthews tries to sacrifice us to the wilderness . not proofread.

summary: maybe you should read part 1 and then you’d know smh smh

You ran through the forest, tripping over branches and running into trees, but not stopping, never stopping. You could feel her behind you, her presence almost tangible, and though you got as far away from her as you could it never felt like enough.

Finally you reached the end of the forest and you were back at the edge of the compound. Spinning around to check that she wasn’t near, you took a moment to breathe and collect yourself. It had been a while since you’d run that far, let alone that fast, and it felt like your lungs had gone up into flames.

There was no sign of Taissa anywhere. It was as if she was never there in the first place.

Taking the opportunity of her absence as permission to stop running, you walked the rest of the way through the field of the compound, eventually reaching what you’d heard Lottie call the Sharing Shack. You tried the door, and seeing as it wasn’t locked you went inside, flipping the lock behind you.

You jumped when you turned and were faced with the other four women who had come to the wellness center. They were sitting in a circle around a small table, staring at you, taking in your disheveled appearance and labored breathing.

Lottie, who you hadn’t noticed was sitting in the corner, stood and came to meet you where you still stood at the door. Van was close behind, and in a moment you were trapped between the two of them and the door.

“Are you okay?” Van asked in a hushed voice, taking your hand. “Where’s Tai?”

You didn’t answer, not entirely sure what to say, how to describe what you had witnessed.

“It happened again, didn’t it?” Lottie asked. “She changed.”

You nodded. “She said I wasn’t supposed to know.”

“Know about what?”

Again, you weren’t sure what to say. You didn’t want a similar situation with the rest of them as you had just had with Taissa, but the only way you gained protection was by explanation, and you had no other choice. “What you did to Jackie,” you said, and both of them were silent. “And Javi… what happened to Travis and Lara Lee. I’m not supposed to know that it chooses.”

“It only ever wanted one of us,” Lottie said. “You’re an outsider. It feels threatened.”

You shook your head, shoving your way through the two of them and approaching the back exit of the shack. You hardly acknowledged the rest of the women sitting there, listening to the exchange. “You’re all fucking insane,” you accused. “I’m going home, I can’t stay here with all of this.”

“No, wait-” Van started, but you cut her off.

“I’m not going to listen to another one of your tangents about how Taissa isn’t in control of it, or how you think it’s some fucking forest god causing all of this,” you said, your voice calm but cold. “I listened to everything you told me, and I was fine with it. I agreed to let Taissa stay with us for a few nights even though she’s fucking crazy. I came with the two of you to join a damn cult! But I’m not going to get chased through the woods by someone you think is possessed who clearly needs serious help, Van.”

Van came toward you, watched you with a sense of defeat that you would have done anything to undo under different circumstances. “Just stay the night, please. Let us find Tai and make sure everything’s okay, and then in the morning if you’re still upset we can go back home.”

You shook your head, in disbelief. “We can go home? I thought you made it pretty fucking clear that it’s over for us, didn’t you? If not today, in a few months. Let’s make it easier on ourselves.”

You paused, turning to Lottie. “And you,” you accused, “if you even think of pulling something on me like you did with Natalie, I will call the cops. You can’t just kidnap people, that’s fucking deranged.”

You turned to leave, and you had just walked through the threshold and out into the rest of the wellness center when something sharp collided with the back of your head, and in a daze you were sent to the floor, consciousness flickering away until all you saw was darkness.

–

“Misty, you can’t do shit like that!”

“I was just trying to help!”

“Does it look like you fucking helped?”

A short pause. “Well, yes, actually. She looks a lot more peaceful like that.”

“Oh my god.”

“Save it, I’ve already heard it from the others.”

The first person sighed, and as you slowly gained consciousness you began to process the conversation, the voices. You forced your eyes open, and you were faced with the wood ceiling of a cabin. Someone was sitting at your bedside, and as the world began to come more into focus, you recognized who it was.

You jolted back, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. You pulled your legs to your chest, trying to get as far away from her as you could, everything she had done the night before flashing through your mind. How she had pulled a knife after accusing you of being an outsider. How she had attempted to kill you multiple times, only to sit at your bedside like nothing had happened the next morning.

“See, Tai? She’s fine, she’s awake,” Misty said, and you noticed her standing a few feet away. “I'll leave you two to talk.”

“No,” you said, a bit too loudly and a bit too quickly. You couldn’t risk being alone with Taissa after what had happened last time. “Misty, stay. Where’s Van?”

“With Bruce and Shauna in the barn.”

“Bruce?”

“The goat,” she said, as if it were obvious.

“Did you knock me out, Misty?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, no one else was going to.”

You sighed, shaking your head, turning back to Taissa. “Didn’t end up offing yourself in the woods?” you said sharply, and she sighed. “Eat any dirt? Climb any trees?”

“Stop.”

“No, you don’t get to say that after what you did last night.”

“I don’t know what I did,” she said, pleading, and you could see her desperation. You knew she wasn’t aware of what she did. But it had been so terrible to be stuck with the other her, to be so randomly assaulted, that still you couldn’t stop blaming her for it, couldn’t see past the night.

For a moment you softened. You weren’t sure if you believed in possessions, but you had always played along with it for Van’s sake, for Taissa’s. But even if it wasn’t a possession, if it was just Taissa, she couldn’t be blamed for things she had no control over, and it made you never want to tell her what she had done. You couldn’t make her life with the guilt of it.

But then again, she needed to know the extent of what had happened.

“You tried to kill me,” you said quietly, and she froze. “You took out a knife, and you tried to kill me.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said breathlessly, moving closer to you, but stopping when she saw you tense. “I don’t remember any of it, it wasn’t me, it was-”

“I know,” you said. “I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

“You’re going to have to,” Misty said, and both of you turned to her. “If you’re going to convince Lottie, I mean.”

“Convince her?”

“Convince her not to kill one of us.”

“We have to give it what it wants,” Lottie said from the doorway.

You weren’t sure how long she’d been there. None of you had noticed her presence, certainly not Misty, who gave you an unsure glance before quickly leaving the cabin.

“I thought it felt threatened by you,” Lottie continued, speaking of the forest spirit. “Like I said, you’re an outsider, you’re not supposed to know what happened in the wilderness. But I think it’s more than that. I think it wants you.”

You sat back down on the bed, hardly breathing, panic beginning to overcome you. You thought of the stories Van had told you of what they had done to Jackie, what they had done to Javi, and it was almost enough to have you passing out again.

Noticing your panic, Taissa moved to sit beside you. You let what had happened the night before fade away as she pulled you into her arms — more than you needed retribution you needed her touch, the comfort of her embrace, and you were willing to give everything to have it.

“There’s no way to be sure, of course,” Lottie said, “unless we do it how we did before.”

“The cards?” You breathed, and she nodded. You felt Taissa’s arms tighten around you ever so slightly.

“Lottie, we can’t do this,” Taissa said, desperation evident.

“Are you volunteering? Because you know what happens if you resist the draw.”

She was silent.

“It will happen tomorrow,” Lottie decided. “All of my people will be gone, and we will do it in the woods.”

With that she left, and it wasn’t until a few minutes after that you realized you had been left alone with Taissa. Panic burned in your chest, and you took a quick survey of the room, trying to locate anything you could use as a weapon in case she turned again.

“You know I’m not going to hurt you, right?” Taissa said, noticing your anxious expression. “In the woods, I wasn’t… it wasn't intentional. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

But you did, you wanted to say, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. “We should leave,” you said quietly, taking her hands in yours. “We should get Van and leave. We can be gone before anyone notices and by tomorrow we can be across the country, we can start somewhere new and never have to think about this shit again. We can get Van a specialist, and you can see someone-”

“You know we can’t do that,” she interrupted. “Even if we get out of this, it doesn’t go away.”

“You don’t believe doing this ritual will fix anything, do you?”

She was silent, only shrugging, and you scoffed. It was ridiculous, all of it, and you weren’t about to go performing a human sacrifice to calm the anxiety of your girlfriend and her cult-inclined friends.

Taissa could see your apprehension. She put her arm around your shoulders, and you leaned into her embrace. “We do this, and I promise we can leave. We can go home, and we can get Van a specialist, and everything will be how it should be.”

“What if we get picked?” you asked quietly. “What if one of us draws the queen?”

You felt her tense, but that was the only tell of her building dread. For your sake she didn’t let it show.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” she said, “I promise.”

And it was the last time you could bring yourselves to talk about the ritual.

—

The seven of you stood in a circle, a bonfire burning brightly before you, smoke and the pressure of anxiety flooding your lungs as the entire world burned.

You clutched Van’s hand, grounded yourself with her touch. Your anger with her had subsided, if not out of forgiveness out of desperation, but both of you were willing to take what you could get. Taissa stood at your other side, eyes trained on the fire as if none of it were happening.

You watched as Lottie came forward with the deck of cards. All but one of the four queens had been removed. After sparing a quick glance at each of you in confirmation, Lottie began to shuffle the cards. She seemed impatient, almost excited for the ritual to take place, and it made you wonder how quickly she would turn on you if you picked the card — you already knew. You spied the masks and knives sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree a few feet away.

“I’ll go first,” Van said suddenly, and it was all you could do to keep your heartbeat steady, for you to keep breathing.

Lottie handed her the cards, and without hesitation Van pulled the top one, glancing at it before signing in relief and throwing the card into the fire.

Taking her nonchalance as bravery for yourself, you quickly pulled the second card. You almost fainted seeing that it wasn’t the queen, so overcome with relief.

Hesitating for a moment, you handed the deck to Taissa. Vaguely you registered in the haze overcoming your brain that this could be the last time she would be safe, that if she pulled the queen there would be nothing you could do to help her.

She pulled a card, threw it into the fire.

Safe.

Around and around the deck went, passing you by and by, and it must have been three or four rounds before finally the deck came into Van’s hands again, and she was about to pick the top card when you saw it slip a bit, and saw what was on the other side.

You almost had to wrestle her for the deck — but eventually you ripped it from her hands, taking the top card and throwing the rest of the deck into the fire.

There was no escape. Better you than her, and now there was no way out.

You flipped the queen card to show the rest of them. Everyone was silent, until Lottie let out what was a mix of a giggle and a sob before rushing to get a knife. The rest of the girls followed, all except Van and Taissa, who stood at your sides protectively. Van had her arm on your bicep, Taissa’s hand in the small of your back. Constant contact, ensuring that you were there, you were real and unharmed.

“You can run,” Lottie said giddily, approaching you, “like we used to out there. Or you can submit.”

“Lottie, this is fucking insane,” Van shouted, but the woman was unphased.

“This is what it wants… it wants her.”

Taissa grabbed your hand, beginning to step away and leading you and Van with her.

“Is that your choice, then?” Lottie asked, sincere. “Do you choose to run?”

Unable to speak, hardly able to move, you nodded, and a moment later you bolted, the three of you running deeper into the woods. You could hear the others following, and you knew it was only a matter of time before they caught up and all of it was over.

You tripped over a tree root, plummeting to the ground. Your ankle made a sharp popping sound, and all at once pain like a thousand nails drilling into you overcame your ankle. You couldn’t walk — at the very least it was sprained, if not broken, and even in the adrenaline rush you were close to tears.

“I’ve got you, baby, come on,” Van murmured frantically, hoisting you up and leaning your weight onto her. Taissa took your other side and the three of you continued through the woods, slightly slowed down but still ahead.

The sound of a gunshot halted you, and everything stopped.

You looked back and you could see the rest of the women lingering about a yard away. In front of you stood Shauna’s daughter, wielding a gun that she held with shaking hands. It was aimed at Lottie, and upon looking closer you saw the blood pouring from the gunshot wound in Lottie’s arm.

“Callie,” you said quickly, breathless, “give me the gun.”

The girl didn’t move, spared only a glance in your direction.

“Callie,” Shauna urged, taking off her mask and moving toward you. “Give it to her. It’s okay.”

Slowly Callie moved toward you, handing you the gun. Balancing on your good foot and leaning your weight into Taissa, you stood as straight as you could, pointing the gun in the general direction of the group of women lurking in the trees.

“It’s not going to be me,” you said, keeping the gun steady. “I’m not going to die here. And neither are Tai or Van. So if it has to be someone, who’s it going to be?”

No one moved, no one said a word.

Out of the guard of the trees approached another figure. Lisa came forward with a rifle, tears running down her face.

You knew. It was the only way, and no one else was worth sacrificing.

Aiming the gun at Lisa, you pulled the trigger.

“There,” you breathed, watching as everyone panicked, as Lottie sank to her knees, as Nat began screaming at you. “We gave it what it wanted.”

And you waited. Until the next time it wanted someone, until it wanted you.

Until, again, you had to give it what it needed to survive.

[lostonehero]

Well I've woken up to quite the reception and I don't know how many of you saw the first bits of the au but here's more

Tma x Malevolent

+demon Oscar

Dennis "The Butcher" Collins has been "assigned" more, so a permanent arrangement to be bound to Oscar

Oscar can command him, but most of the time, he just has him help around their sanctuary.

Dennis will never admit it but he has a soft spot for Martin, and is the one to teach the boy to properly fight and use weapons.

Dennis also helps out when killing is necessary against any creature that tries to attack or on missions to stop cults.

......

Kayne dropping off Arthur only gave him a brief description of what he needed to do in the modern era.

"Stop future apocalypse, find out what these fear entities are, and don't die."

The old ones, the elder gods like KiY or Kayne, aren't aware of supernatural besides their realms because they have no sway over them, so why bother to learn or understand.

Martin looked unassuming, so Kayne just threw Arthur on him and went, "lol good luck"

Arthur, of course, is in rough shape, clothes not from this century, bloody, beaten, and barely lucid to understand what is going on.

John manifests to try to scare off Martin from dragging Arthur to the hospital.

Martin tilts his head staring at the ethereal form of John. "Are you hurting him?"

John sputters clearly out of his depth. "How dare you!"

"No hospitals, but I'm still going to take him to get help." Martin picking up Arthur.

"We don't need more questions!"

"And where I'm taking you, we won't report you to any police." Martin sighs. "You don't need to shout either. I'm taking you to the sanctuary. Well, it's a church, but not really."

"You're being too nice."

"I know what it's like to be hurt. Why would I want to make others suffer as I did?" Martin frowns as the form is silent. "What I mean to say is that everyone deserves another chance to be better."

"You are odd for a human."

"Never said I was human."

......

Tim's already at the sanctuary talking to Oscar about what Martin's up too he's a newly turned werewolf of six months so far, and Martin helped him get connections and help him during the full moons.

Dennis is the one to intercept Martin. "Boyo, what's with the half dead man in your arms?"

John is horrified. "The butcher." He uses his ethereal form to obscure Arthur from being recognized.

Dennis chuckles. "A bit young to know who I am."

"Was." Martin corrects.

Dennis huffs. "I suppose, but you didn't answer me."

"They didn't want hospitals, and obviously, they aren't human." Martin frowns. "Lilith is in, and I know she can help."

"You're too kind for the hatred that raised you." Dennis motions for him to follow. "I heard you're supposed to be following up on a case."

"They were kind of dropped on me on the way." Martin sighs following.

"Well, your friend is already here, the pup." Dennis opens a side door and shouts and a small woman rushes in grabbing Arthur and John despite protests.

........

"Aren't you supposed to be following up on the Vittery case?" Tim crossed his arms, trying his best to mimic Oscar's disappointment, then freezes seeing the blood. "What the fuck man?"

Oscar rushed forward, looking around Martin, and is stopped by Dennis.

"It's not the boys' blood." Dennis grabs Oscar's arm and pulls him away.

"That doesn't make it better!" Oscar frowns.

"Dad, I'm fine. Some guy who floated around dropped an injured guy on my way to investigate, but I wasn't going to leave the guy to bleed out." Martin sighs. "There's two in that body, so I didn't think a normal hospital would be wise."

Tim nods. "Yeah, I wouldn't want to wake up in a vets office after a full moon."

Oscar sighs. "Ok, I'll check on Lilith and how that is going. Martin, stay here. You can pick up the investigation with Dennis later."

Dennis crosses his arms. "He doesn't need a babysitter."

"This proves otherwise" Oscar waves him off.

"To be fair, he does make a good point." Tim shrugs.

"Shut up, pup." Dennis sighs heavily.

Martin smiles softly. "You don't want to help me?"

Dennis narrows his gaze. "Never said that."

.......

Oscar followed the sound of shouting, mostly from Lilith telling both voices to stop arguing. He enters cautiously. "Lilith are they alright?"

"Ah, Oscar, it's lovely to see you." Lilith is standing over a man lying in the bed awake and an ethereal figure connected to the man's shadow. "He's all bandaged up, and I fixed him the best I could considering the circumstances and tried to explain to his friend that his influence is changing the body of his so-called landlord. Ah, the ethereal fella kept calling Collins the Butcher, which, as you know what that means."

Oscar sighs. "Right right, can I speak to them, or do they need more rest?"

"They aren't demonic nor angelic or anything. I'm used to not trying to kill us like mindless drones, so he falls under yours and Noel's category. John's a bit protective over Arthur, so just be cautious."

Oscar smiles. "Thank you, Lilith." He waves as she leaves. "It's nice to meet you both, and I apologize. Lilith can get very controlling, but it's only because she's been a healer for a long time."

John's voice was slightly awed. "Oscar?"

"That I am." Oscar hums. "Could you move so I can see the man you're attached to? I would like to speak to both of you."

"You should be dead." John doesn't move.

"And how would you figure that?" Oscar raised a brow stepping forward. To see the man lying down in bed, who never looked directly at him.

"You should be missing that arm as well." John sinks back into Arthur seeing Oscar's eyes flash a black as he stiffens.

"Who are you?" Oscar relaxes himself, holding his right arm.

"Arthur Lester." Arthur pushed himself up to sit, finally able to move again.

Oscar stared stunned. "Arthur?" He tilts his head and sighs. "So this is where you vanished to? Don't worry, Noel told me about John and what he is. My it has been ages." He pulls up a chair and sits. "I hope it wasn't too awful getting here."

[drea-ms]

BLAME IT ON THE BLACK STAR CHOI SAEYOUNG

리카. you know that what you had with the red headed hacker was complicated, both of you held secrets. He has a secret twin brother who he hasn't seen in forever and you were the god daughter of the "dead girl" who lived in this apartment, with a mission; find a way out of this hell.

warnings. heavy angst. religious trauma (reader). implied that the readers related to v but not talked much. reader is the god daughter of v n rika. death. suicide mentions but not much??? less of an x reader but more of reader hating anything religious. religion talk. talk about gods. kinda spoilers for rikas behind story dlc. reader is black star by radiohead coded. open ending. grammar mistakes. readers a former follower n believer of mint eye. she also has mint eyes like saeran.

Fucked. That's how you've been feeling the entire time. That stupid plan you made may be given up at this point, there was no way out of this one, especially when you fell in love with the red head. Everything was going the way you hadn't planned. You hate when something's don't go your way.

You don't know how long it's been since you left the empire known as Mint Eye and went to her apartment. You knew who was behind this, you knew who lead you here and you still went to the location, knowing what was going on. You heard about him through her, how weak he was, how he was useless to her but useful for her empire, she made him know his place. A nobody but a somebody, the same way she did to you. You were no stranger to the man with white hair and faded pink tips, Saeran Choi was Rika's right hand man of course. Though, he was a stranger to the one pulling the strings behind the scenes, You.

The same person, who made sure people followed her rules, made her put people in their place, mere mortals against their own god, trying to follow her wicked ways of life, that was you. And before leaving, you felt proud about that. Now, you're not sure. You would've said something if it weren't with the fact that that you hated the punishment if you spoke out. you hated your godmother. You wanted to curse her out and hurt her.

But you knew your place, you were a former believer of the religious cult your godmother and her sister made, the cult where she tortured your godfather to the point where he was blind, the same cult where you knew saeyoungs brother was being held. God mother, huh? you hated that word, she wasn't your godmother, nor was she your savior who helped you.

she was a horrible, horrible woman who wanted more power. You gave that to her. That makes you as horrible as her, doesn't it? such a shame, you always thought you were a hero. guess not.

You don't know how long it's been since you were told to go inside her apartment by saeran, you wouldn't blame him though, he didn't even know what you look like, let alone know who you were, rika was adamant on keeping you two apart, she knew that if you two were to partner up, her plan would be screwed over. But you do know that the stupid red head, known as 707, was making you go insane. You knew you liked him in a romantic way, but he made you feel like you had more than a crush on him.

Each second you stay here longer than intended was sickening, the way the RFA believed your godfather about how he was away on business trip was disgusting, because you know where he was, of course you did, you always keep a tab on all the members of Mint Eye, you were their shadow, their secret weapon, at least while you were brainwashed. Now you were a girl stuck in a apartment with a bomb inside it and the guy you liked, no, love, inside with you. Ignoring you since he came in. You wanted to leave this forsaken place more than ever.

If you were more naive, you would've prayed to the the gods above, hell, you would've prayed to your savior about saving you again. but you knew you far from saving, once thinking that those who didn't follow mint eye were a disgrace. Nobodies who had nothing to live for. Yearning for someone to save them from their own hell. Thinking that once they die, the gods would see them as disgraces and send them to the unthinkable.

Now you were a disgrace upon the gods, the gods who didn't want to save you, they wanted you to suffer the same way new members of that cult did. The minty eyes you had were never letting you forget how much of a monster you were at Mint Eye each time you looked at the damn mirror.

"Are you done staring? You've been looking at me like you want to spill your secrets." saeyoung Luciel says to you, snapping you out your hour long daze, his face looking at you with a concerned yet not really caring look. You turn to the window that was closest to you and look outside before speaking, "Sorry, zoned out for a while.....It's just...." you say, stopping your sentence before looking at the man infront of you, the couch never felt more uncomfortable than this moment right now.

"Just what? I'm not a mind reader, tell me what's troubling you." he says, this time he was worried for you, you've been zoning out more often, he knew that this was hard for you too. But in order to keep you safe, he had to stay as far away from you.

You wanted to tell saeyoung 707 about what was clawing your mind, but you know you couldn't, you'll let time do it for you. Let him know about everything.

Even though he'll hate you more than he does right now.

But for now?

"It's nothing. Just finish your work, i need some noise right now, the silence is bothering me a lot" a small smile appears on your face. A genuine one. Not one of those fake ones you used to put on while with Mint eye.

Just for right now at least

You'll blame it on the Black Star at night.

The same black star where Choi Saeyoung was blaming himself to.

val speaks!!!!! i felt like writing angst tonight, also might make a part two dunno yet, it's like 1 am as i'm writing this and i just finished editing what i can. on a serious note, this was mostly inspired by an oc i made like 3 ish years ago abt mm and decided to write about, except as a x reader rather than an oc.. please please please tell if there are any mistakes in this post!!! i'm like so tired to fix the grammar mistakes as of rn

[strawberryscorner]

Forgotten Sins Chapter 11

Tags: Amnesia, Stockholm Syndrome, Drug Use (Bliss), Religious Cults, Fluff and Angst, Car Accidents, Family Member Death, Manipulation, Emotional Manipulation

Series Masterlist

You were biting your nails, staring at the clock while sitting on the couch.

“That’s a bad habit, you really shouldn’t start,” John said, looking at your finger in your mouth. You placed your hands on your lap, squeezing them into fists as the anxiety bubbled in your chest.

It was soon time for you to go meet Adelaide and so far, you’d heard nothing to hint at Nick Rye’s promised distraction. Your leg started to bounce slightly, you hoped he wouldn’t notice. If he did, he’d know something was up and you’d surely be punished. Who knew how long it’d be until you could see Adelaide or anybody else if you were caught?

Just as you were about to grab a pillow to scream in, an explosion went off, followed by gunshots and the static of someone trying to reach John on the radio. You tried to keep the smile from creeping on your face, happy John was now rushing to the window to see what had happened. He was talking to whoever was on the radio before turning to you.

“Stay here,” he said. “Do not go anywhere!”

Then he grabbed a gun and ran out of the door, leaving you in his living room wondering when the best time to leave would be. You didn’t have to think about it for long since almost as soon as John’s car left the driveway, three resistance members burst through the door, all pointing their guns at you. You held your hands up.

“Whoa, hold on, I’m unarmed. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Relax, we’re here to take you to Adelaide.” A man you didn’t recognize said.

The one who spoke stayed in front of you, while the other two went behind you, pushing your back with their guns. Clearly making it look like you had no choice but to go with them in case a Seed brother or Eden’s Gate member happened to see you leave or at least that’s what you told yourself. The guns pushing against your back and the bullet wound to your shoulder made it hard to trust them.

The door fell off its hinges when the one in front of you took to you to where Adelaide was…Hopefully was.

The two guns against your back pushed you into the barn, it was empty apart from Adelaide standing in the middle, looking at you. With the light coming in from the window and the way she took so tall, watching you stumble into the room, you couldn’t help but think she somehow reminded you of Joseph at this moment.

“You wanted to see me?” you asked.

“I did, I couldn’t find anythin’ about your parents or what really happened to them,” she said, you felt your chest tighten. Of course not, seemed you’d just have to trust what you saw. Hurk killed your parents. The Seed family and Eden’s Gate were saving you, giving you another chance at a family.

“Is that why I needed to be brought here by gunpoint?”

She scoffed, smiling. “No, that ain’t why. I got some news, we’re getting help from the outside, police force. To help stop the fuckin’ cult.”

“Police? Really?” She nodded. “When?”

“Don’t know that much, just now it’s comin’.”

“Why are you telling me? Aren’t I just…a fucking Peggie?”

You were worried that’s all she saw you as, a lot had happened since your last conversation, you had fought beside the Eden’s Gate, you had been shot in the shoulder as an Eden’s Gate member by a member of the Resistance but your question caused her to laugh.

“Nah, you ain’t just some fuckin’ Peggie, Dawn.” She shook her head. “You’re a good kid, you’re just caught up in our shit. So, I’m tellin’ you so you know, if you want to come back to us, we welcome you, if you want to just try runnin’ away and putting everything behind you, that’s okay too. But if you stay with them, you may get hurt. I can’t protect you if you still look like you’re with them.”

You didn’t know what you’d do. You knew you couldn’t go back to them, not after what they did to your family. But should you stay with Eden’s Gate or try to run away? That was what you were trying to do, right? You wanted to run away from John’s bed, but did that mean you wanted to leave Eden’s Gate?

“Do you have any news?” Adelaide asked, you figured you were quiet for too long.

“I had a dream, it felt like a memory…maybe.”

You explained your dream, keeping the fact you may be called Y/N to yourself.

“I don’t know what to do,” you said.

“I reckon you tell military man.”

“Military man? Jacob? You want me to tell a Seed, one of the men you hate?”

“The brothers are pretty fun, at least John and Jacob, especially John…Either way, he has the same past. Maybe he can help you make sense of it all, maybe he can teach you a thing or two, see if this really is a memory or nothing more than a dream.”

Some part of that made sense. Just because it felt real doesn’t mean it was real. It could just be a dream. You had to speak to Jacob.

***

You burst through the door, Jacob stopped what he was doing and looked up at you, tossing the file in his hands on the table in front of him.

“What are you doing here?”

“I had a dream,” you said.

“Okay? Good for you.”

“No, not good for me,” you paused. “Maybe good for me, I don’t know!”

“Have you told John?” He asked. You shook your head. “And why not? You’re in his care.”

“Because I think it was a memory, not a dream, and you’re the one that will understand it the best.”

“What does that­­­­­­­­-” He cut himself off and then smirked at me.

“No, nothing pornographic,” you complained causing him to laugh, which surprised you.

“Not what I thought but good to know where your head’s at,” he said, smiling. “You were military?”

“I don’t know…I think so.”

He sat down and gestured to the chair in front of him, you took and it and started telling him about your dream.

“So, you think you’re Y/N?” Jacob asked.

“Maybe, I don’t know, it felt so…real.”

“It would explain how you can shoot so well, not a hunter or some random evil killer but a trained soldier.”

You did prefer that theory to the evil killer one.

“I’m not calling you Y/N,” he said.

“That’s fine.”

He stayed with you for a while, talking about what he went through in the military and explaining the terms and weapons you saw in your dream. Things kept clicking, you remembered faces. You told him about them as you remembered them, a man holding a knife to your throat only for a bullet to destroy half his face before he fell to the ground. A civilian woman crossing the road and you helped her, shooting the enemy as they tried to hurt her, or you.

He had plenty of unpleasant stories, as he told them, it turned out you had plenty of unpleasant stories of your own to tell. Slowly, his stories were helping you remember more and more of your own. The longer you two spoke, the more clear it became to both of you that this was a memory and not an oddly real dream.

Your talk was cut short by static filling the room, Jacob grabbed his radio when John started speaking. He explained how the Resistance attacked near the ranch and when he went home, you were gone but some Eden’s Gate members had seen the Resistance take you.

“She’s here,” Jacob said.

“She’s where?”

“With me, she’s in one piece. I’ll bring her back,” He turned the radio off before John could say anything. “Didn’t tell me they took you.”

“I got away, they took me to an abandoned barn, it was safer to run here than back to the place being attacked.”

He seemed to accept your excuse and gestured for you to walk towards the door. Somehow, Jacob walking behind you felt better than the two Resistance members. Sure, they held a gun against your back and Jacob wasn’t, but he wasn’t unarmed, and he wasn’t harmless – unarmed or not. Yet, you were sure he wouldn’t do anything to you.

***

Once your feet hit the ground, arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you into a hug.

“Thank God,” said John.

“I’m okay, I got away,” you said.

As odd as hugging him was, his arms felt nice… He felt strong and safe. Which were odd thoughts for you to have of John, the Baptist. The man you’d eventually have to confess to, that thought still scared you plenty though.

“What happened? I came back and you were gone, people said they saw you be taken away by gunpoint.”

“Yeah, they took me to a barn. I managed to get away and I ran to the Veterans Centre. I thought be safer to go there.” John nodded; he was also buying your story.

“She had a pretty interesting dream,” Jacob said, leaning against the car with a smirk on his face. “I’m going to head to Joseph, let him know about the attack.”

He got back in the car, you wanted to stop him. To warn him about what Adelaide had said but you kept your mouth shut and let him drive off.

“A dream? Would that be the bad dream the other night?” He asked, following you into the house.

“It wasn’t so much a dream, but a memory.”

“You remembered something?” his voice was softer when he asked that. It sounded nice, making you smile softly. You were glad he was behind you still, so he didn’t see it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know if it was anything yet. When I got to the Veteran’s Centre, I thought if I spoke to Jacob about it, I could figure out what it meant. Was it a dream, was it real?”

“And?”

“It was real, very real.” He gave you a go-on look as you sat on the couch, and you explained your memory for the third time today. You kept it to the memory that came to you in the dream, you decided he didn’t need to hear the gruesome war stories you and Jacob were sharing. But you let him know that more memories of war came back to you when you spoke to Jacob.

“Y/N…” He tilted his head. “Princess suits you better.” He decided.

You still weren’t sure how you felt about getting another name, even if it was your old one, so you didn’t mind him deciding to keep calling you princess.

“There’s something else, not another memory but something else that happened when I was taken…” You weren’t sure why you were telling him; you weren’t sure you had made the decision to stay yet but there was something about his blue eyes staring at you that made you feel the need to confess…Something.

“Yes?”

“I overheard a conversation taking place in the barn…”

[hinatastinygiant]

12 | Surm

Pairing: Uzui x Fem!Reader

The Emptiness You Left

Y/N'S P.O.V.

As you look up at Uzui, you finally realize just how ginormous he is. He's nearly a foot taller than you, and he's a lot broader. His biceps alone are as big as your head which makes you feel so small in comparison.

"The thing is... there's something else that happened on the day Suma found me. I know that she knows but I don't think she told anyone. It's not that we've been doing anything behind your back, but..." you begin to trail off, not quite sure how to finish your sentence. "My brother is still alive."

Uzui looks at you with a confused expression, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Wait, what do you mean your brother is still alive? You said you had a sister. Doma killed her," he questions.

"Yes, but I have a brother too. He's still in that cult house," you tell him, your voice barely audible.

You watch as Uzui's hands ball into tight fists, his eyes darkening as they narrow at you.

"Are you fucking serious, Y/N?" he whisper shouts, slamming one of his hands against the wall right by your head. Your whole body runs cold as he cages you in, his towering figure blocking any exit.

"I'm sorry, Master Uzui," you say, your voice quivering. "I promise you that he isn't part of the cult. He's trying to-"

"Why wouldn't you tell anyone that he's still alive, huh? And you knew this whole time?" he seethes, his lips pursed tightly.

You nod, unsure of what to say in this moment. You doubt anything will calm him down right now.

"You idiot! We could have gone in and saved him by now! Why don't you use your fucking brain for once, Y/N!"

"I didn't know what to do. I-I wanted to be the one to help him," you plead, tears filling your eyes. "If he's brave enough to stay there and he's younger than me then I have to save him. It's my responsibility! I'm his only family!"

"What if we could've gotten him out and then sent him somewhere safe? He wouldn't be trapped anymore. That's what you want, right?"

"I-I guess. But he wasn't ready to go right away," you explain.

"He's not ready now?" Uzui argues, his tone becoming more and more harsh with every word.

"No. He knows our mom was killed by demons, and he knows about the cult and Doma, but he hasn't seen it for himself yet," you reply, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

"Y/N, are you even thinking right now? As his sister you can't let him stay in a place like that," he shakes his head. "Where is this cult house?"

"I don't know but I'm not going to say," you shake your head. "Please, I don't want you to get involved. This is something I have to do myself."

"Where is it, Y/N?" he demands, glaring down at you.

"Even if I did know, I wouldn't tell you. I ran away without looking back," you say.

"Damn it, Y/N, if I find out you're lying to me I'm gonna be pissed," he growls. "How many followers does that cult have?"

"I don't know," you admit. "At least fifty or sixty, probably. That's all I could count when I was there. There's always people coming and going."

"Going, huh? And you said Doma was the one who killed your sister?" he asks, beginning to relax his tone a bit.

"Yes. He is the leader. Or at least, that's what it seems like," you admit. "You're not really going to go in, are you? They'll kill you."

"So you think a group of humans can take me down?" he smirks.

"I didn't say that," you shake your head as he backs away from you. However, before he can get too far, you reach out and grab onto his arm.

"Let go of me," he commands, glaring down at your hand.

"Please, don't go. Please, Master Uzui, I'm begging you. Just let me take care of it," you plead, looking up into his eyes.

"Y/N-" he begins before you cut him off.

"I can do it," you assure him, your grip on his arm tightening. "I'm strong. Promise me that when people go into that cult house, I can go, too."

"No," he says without giving it a second thought.

"Master Uzui, I can't let you put yourself in danger. You mean too much to so many people," you argue.

"And so do you. I won't allow it," he replies, his tone firm. "That's the end of this discussion. Now, come on, let's go back inside."

"I don't want to. Not after what just happened," you shake your head, your heart sinking.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. It was just a little argument," he shrugs, pulling away from you and making his way to the back door of the building.

Begrudgingly, you follow him and approach the three women already asking him where the two of you disappeared to.

"We just went for a walk. It's okay. No need to worry," he says as you both take your seats.

You can feel Suma's eyes burning into you, waiting for a response, but you swallow down a mouthful of rice on your plate, and begin eating.

"Y/N, I'm sorry if I came across harsh. I didn't mean to get so upset but we just really wanted you to have a good night," Makio apologizes to you.

"It's alright," you nod. "I shouldn't have acted so dramatic anyway."

Uzui shoots you a warning look and you turn your head away, focusing on your food instead.

"Are you sure everything's alright, Y/N? We can go somewhere else if you'd like," Hinatsuru suggests.

"This place is fine," Uzui insists. "But I must apologize for taking my leave so early."

"What?" Suma pouts. "You're leaving?"

"Unfortunately, I have some urgent business to take care of."

"At this time of night?" Hinatsuru questions.

"I'm afraid it cannot wait until morning," he replies, and his voice holds a dangerous edge.

Suma glances over at you again while Makio and Hinatsuru exchange worried looks.

"Okay," Makio says slowly, her tone skeptical. "If you have to."

"I will meet you back at the estate," he nods. "Make sure to keep a close eye on this one," he then adds as he gets up from the table.

"Why? Hinatsuru asks softly. "What's going on?"

"Y/N has a lot of secrets, apparently. She's been holding out on us," Uzui states as his eyes flash to yours.

"What?" Hinatsuru gasps quietly.

"I'm not going to get into it right now," Uzui says, and then he turns his attention back to you. "But you better not let her out of your sight. Not even for a moment tonight."

With that, he spins on his heel and walks out the front doors of the restaurant, leaving the four of you in silence.

"What'd you do now?" Suma grumbles, not wanting to sound mean but still upset.

"Nothing," you whisper, pushing the rest of your food around on your plate.

"What do you mean 'nothing'? Master Uzui was very upset," Hinatsuru says.

"It's a long story," you mutter, still unable to look at any of them.

"Well, it's a good thing we've got all night," Makio replies, crossing her arms over her chest.

"He found out about my brother," you sigh. "And now he wants to go and save him."

"But you don't?" Suma asks.

"I do," you nod, and Hinatsuru lets out a frustrated groan.

"It's complicated..."

The Emptiness You Left

[taz-writes]

object memories

A fic I wrote as part of my D&D druid’s backstory that I’m in the mood to share. Do you ever write something for the sole purpose of splashing around in your own prose like a dog in a kiddie pool?

TLDR: POV character Hush and her father were held prisoner by a cult for 10 years in solitary confinement, before being ritually sacrificed. Unbeknownst to the cult, Hush wasn’t quite dead and woke up later in the mass grave mortally wounded but alive. As a druid, Hush can shapeshift into animals if she’s seen and studied them before. This fic is about how she 'discovered’ her first four wildshapes in the aftermath of her ordeal, while learning to survive alone in the wilderness and fend off the hunger that threatened to consume her.

~4,600 words; CWs: gore, animal death, take ‘em seriously I’m not kidding around. I feel like there’s also something going on here with the hunger stuff, but I truly don’t know what the fuck to even call that CW. If somebody knows, let me know lol.

The rat was the first. 

She doesn’t know exactly when she reached the tipping point, but she grew intimately acquainted with the ways of the rats over the years. She spent an eternity in that dungeon, curled in the corner among her clinking chains, feeling them scurry over her in her sleep. Grew acquainted with how they move, how they think, grew used to fighting them away from what little she had to eat, bartering with them for the space, for help to stay clean, teaching them to bring her things. She watched them for generations, while they nested in the dirty little pallet that she slept on,  until they were closer friends than she’d ever had among humans. 

She knew them, inside and out, long before she knew how to change into anything. When she awoke in the aftermath and the wildshapes came, the rat was like a second skin. She slipped into the shape like a shield, slick with blood, and slithered out with the last of her breath. 

The world outside was big. 

She couldn’t heal. The first word she spoke when she took her given shape again was a rattling, empty gasp that sent sticky gore oozing through the feeble scabs over the gash in her neck. It didn’t matter how desperately she grasped for the language, how well she knew the incantation, how crisp and adamant the gestures were that should have saved her. There was no magic without sound. And her angelic heritage did little to help when whatever the source of her limited innate healing, it simply didn’t respond. 

She spent the first week or so in the glade on the edge of the forest where she collapsed after running out of time as the rat. The summer heat broiled her skin, even through the shield of the canopy, leaving her parched and aching and crisp like a dead leaf. In the haze of exhaustion, she began to treat her wounds. 

The sacrificial shift they’d dressed her in shredded easily. She wound long strips of it carefully around her waist and chest, stomach churning at the horrid sight of the injuries, and tied the rest as tightly as she could across her ragged neck before the pressure made her choke. Every motion left her dizzy and sick. She might have laid there on and off for hours or days or a month, languishing in the softest patch of moss she managed to find and dragging herself back and forth from the clear little stream that burbled a few yards away. As many moments as she could, she hid behind the rat again. The rat wasn’t bleeding. The rat was safe. The rat could forage, devouring whatever it could find, just enough to sustain her. 

She learned the rabbits next. 

Timid creatures, cautious and quick, they watched her with their wide beaded-bright eyes and darted to safety at the sound of her rattling breaths. While she waited to recover her strength between wildshapes, she watched them back, tracking the little families back and forth among the wild grasses. They were solitary, but not alone—never truly alone. 

There was a nest not far from her resting place. She stumbled across the babies on her way to the stream. Their tiny forms huddled together in a depression in the grass and she looked one in the eyes and its little ears trembled, it tucked itself deeper in the shadows, bracing, and a sudden knife twisted in the center left of her stomach. 

It took too long to realize it wasn’t the wound this time. 

Her sunburnt skin ached desperately, throbbing to the rhythm of a heart that wasn’t hers. She fumbled past to the edge of the water and dipped her face below the surface, where the chill could bring her to her senses, but the soft curves of the current brushed their way along her cheeks like the perfect ghosts of her father’s hands. 

Her lungs burned before she came back up for air. 

The next time she changed, the new shape was a rescue. She was a stranger but she smelled like the glade, and the other rabbits allowed her there. In the shadowed night they huddled together, warmed by each other’s skin, and her tiny rabbit’s heart began to calm as it hadn’t before in a very long time. 

She couldn’t remain forever. She was keenly aware, the longer she lingered, that she was far too close to the cult. Any member could stumble across her here, out on a forage or traveling to the compound, and she wouldn’t get another chance at freedom. She couldn’t risk it. When her stomach sealed enough that the insides of her abdomen didn’t spill to the outside after any major movement, she staggered to her feet like a newborn fawn and began the journey. 

She stuck to the woods. Waterdeep was a death trap, anyone could be cult-aligned, anyone could see her and they thought she was dead but she couldn’t know who might know her face. The roads were too much of a risk, populated as they were. Stealth was her only option. The angels guided her when she slept, teaching her how to find north and south in the stars, how to know clean water from stagnant, how to name the leaves and berries around her and tell which ones were safe. She treated her aches with willow bark and bandaged herself with buffers of soft clean leaves. She passed the days in the shelter of her animal forms or huddled in the shade, thinking of anything but the black spots that swarmed intermittent in her vision and the weakness in her limbs. She stayed alive. It was a near thing. 

When the berry season faded, and the leaves began to turn, the hunger snarled in her like a wild beast. 

She stumbled to the nearest town under cover of night, shielding her body with her arms, following the smell of something delicious she couldn’t name that made her gut twist with starving, nauseous desperation. It was too open, the streets too broad, but every building’s door loomed and narrowed and filled her mouth with the suffocating taste of molding earth until her heart pattered the way it did in the rabbit’s body and the outlines of the structures blurred and blackened before her eyes. A too-cold breeze swirled through the streets and she shuddered from head to toe. 

There was a man ahead in dark robes that swirled and her heart moved like rabbit’s feet fleeing in her ribcage. She forced herself to the alley, forced herself back, and bolted into the safety of the sacred darkness. 

It was like that at the next few towns, too. There were kind people, here and there. One gave her a soft dark shirt and soft dark pants when she met him in the night, thrust them at her and skittered off when she tried through rattling gasps to ask if he wanted payment; a few innkeepers let her stay the night and gave her meals in the morning that softened the hunger’s brutal edge. But it couldn’t last, because the figures in the alleyways always came back, and names that she remembered from another life haunted her until she fled back to the safety of the trees. 

The days grew colder. 

The woods were safer further south, deep and dark, filled with birdsong and the golden colors of the waning year, the colors bright as life. She’d taken a sharp rock and cut a stick to hold her weight, easing the pressure on the days when walking was too much. Her breathing was growing easier, and her neck didn’t bleed anymore. But the words that would call magic to her side still couldn’t find their way from her mind out through her lips. 

She was losing strength. The angels taught her traps and snares, but her feeble hands couldn’t tie the knots tight enough, and the few beasts she trapped slipped free when she tried to claim them. The herd of deer that once bolted at the sight of her now didn’t even flinch, the great many-pointed stag that led their numbers watching her passively while his mate and children drank at the riverside and foraged from the dying grasses. There was little to forage and less to live by, and some days the wavering mists of exhaustion hardly left her vision. 

Sometimes, on the nights the angels didn’t come, she dreamed of the stag instead. Of his glinting eyes in the brush, watching her, unafraid. She murmured prayers in the morning to whatever forces listened. 

She met the wolves in the pits of a moonless night, by way of gleaming golden eyes and an uncanny silence sweeping over her resting place, and she knew they’d come for her. She resolved herself to at least go down on her feet. 

When the first wolf lunged, she lashed out with her staff, squeezing her eyes shut against the wave of fatigue that swept through her body from head to toe and sent the blood rushing out of her head, and felt herself make contact. The beast yelped, and she blinked spots from her vision just in time to fend off a second, sending it sprawling across the scrubby ground. Her hands shook.

“Please,” she tried to rasp, though nothing but a helpless wheeze came out. The wolves paced. She shifted back, making space, feeling acid adrenaline spread slow like venom down her arms and into her fingertips, biting back the way every motion tore at the scabby flesh of her still-healing abdomen. 

The wolves kept pacing. In the dark, they moved like dancers, every footstep intentionally measured. Silent, despite their size, dwarfing her with heavy bodies—direwolves, not just wolves, but their largest and most vicious cousins. 

Her stomach growled with a ferocity that nearly sent her to her knees. 

The third wolf lunged. She grasped for the little magic she knew, one of the rare spells that remained without her voice, and scared it back with a shard of ice that burst into bitter steam across the pack. Its yelp was piercing and sharp and left her dizzy. Through the haze as she recovered, she watched the wolf pack flee. 

She dreamed of the stag that night. She dreamed of blood and the careful steps of hunting beasts, tender in the foliage. She dreamed that she staggered to uncertain feet and the stag was there, his muzzle nudging against her arm, strong and stable, as she found her way upright. She wrapped her arms around him. He was warm and smelled of musk and the gentle decay of the forest floor in fall. He didn’t flee. His fur was soft like the velveteen skin of something whose name she’d forgotten, a precious something she’d loved in another life, beyond her memory, behind the veil of the endless dark. She awoke grasping for it, the name on her lips but not close enough to catch it, even if she’d had the voice to speak. 

She dreamed fitfully, in bursts, interrupted by the empty claws of a hollow stomach scratching at the inside of her vessel like nails on slate.

The next day, something whimpered in the bushes when she went to change her bandages at the stream. She braced herself against her staff, and nudged aside the leafy branches, and found the wolf. It was panting,  golden eyes glazed grey with pain, curled up defensively with hackles raised. It growled at her approach, but the sound was weak, and tapered to a whimper. 

Near its feet, the ground was muddied with black-red blood. She traced the line from its paws to the place in its side where the fur was shaved down to muscle and a thin line of bone. The ghost of a spell and an icy projectile flashed across her memory.

Her hands were shaking again. 

She went to the water. This stream ran clear and cold, down from somewhere in the mountains, carrying the mineral taste of glaciers high above. Flakes of mud and blood trailed free from her hands when she dipped them in the current, and she watched them swirl away through the eddies and whorls. 

It was all mechanical, in the end. She pried a piece of moss from the bank, hefted it, ran it through the water and watched the dirt run off the roots towards the valley. Washed it clean, squeezed it under the surface and watched it fill with water. Stood and turned back to the forest. 

The beast didn’t calm, but it didn’t bite when she pressed the pad of moss as gently as she could against the gash. It snapped, and she looked it in the eye, waiting. Its jaws were wide, teeth yellowed and worn from use. It could tear her to ribbons even now, if it had the nerve. She wouldn’t last long. 

She washed the wound, and padded it with clean dry lichen, and flinched when she touched the beast’s side and a warmth filled her fingers that hadn’t answered her since she first returned to consciousness in the grave. She caught it like a soap bubble, soft as a memory. It settled in her chest and the breath that filled her lungs was deeper than she’d had in years. 

She’d forgotten how it felt, when the warding darkness at her center answered. When the healing power in her blood responded to her call. 

She forgot it again when the hunger returned in a wave of dizzying force, chasing all other thoughts from her mind. The wolf, rising from its rest in the hollow, tilted its head with a calculating glint and watched her. Gold eyes met gold. 

It turned to follow the water, limping ever so slightly, and padded off. 

She followed. 

The pack was waiting in a stony cavern where the stream met a sparkling river. She felt their wary gazes long before she saw them, hidden as they were among the warm grey stone. But they recognized their lost member and pounced on him, tumbling together in a massive joyful bundle over the sandy patch of riverside, and before long it was like they hadn’t even seen her. She found a bright place on a rock by the shore, and waited for the sun to warm her bones more than the hunger chilled them. 

Across the river, the bushes rustled. She knew what she’d see there. 

The stag disappeared into the brush, and her vision blackened. 

She awoke to the hot wet stickiness of a tongue on her face, and flinched, recoiling from the threat. In front of her sat the injured direwolf. 

“Hi,” she whispered, bracing herself. “Hi there.” The words stuck in her wound and scraped. 

The wolf cocked its head, stood, and licked her face again. It… did not try to bite her head off. This was not a situation she had anticipated. She particularly did not expect to be licked a third time. The wolf’s breath almost made her faint again. 

Behind the wounded animal, the packmates slunk forward, watching her. Waiting. 

The hunger in their eyes was a mirror of her own, and the shapechange came in its aching wake. 

She followed them, that night, in a wolfish skin that matched their own. It wasn’t long before she had to pause, the time limits of her wildshapes forcing her back to rest while the pack moved on, but the howl carried on. They didn’t like to leave their own behind. She learned their faces—the mother the first to lunge, the father the second, the grown pups that followed them with their own faces and minds and hearts. They walked the trails of the forest, and she learned their gait, their stalking dance, their silent patience. 

She slept between great warm bodies, and dreamed of blood and meat and the beasts that once wore the bite-marked bones on the floor of the den. 

In the days, she jostled with the pups as one of them while she could. When she couldn’t, she rested on the rock by the river, while the echoes gnawing in her stomach dueled the white-hot claws of her bone-deep scars. She scrounged late-season eggs from a duck’s nest and swallowed them raw, on her hands and knees in the riverbank mud, eggshells scraping her gums and spilled yolk staining the ground, and coughed up half what she found when her scarred neck screamed with pain from bending low. It staved off the ache for an hour. She scraped up the spilled remains in her hands and wept. 

On the fifth night, she followed the pack to a valley full of marsh-weed, where they found a limping boar. The pack struck in a whirl of fur and fangs, iron-stink staining the water. They fought her back from the bounty until the leaders took their share, but the scraps she claimed sated something, hot and vicious in the pit of her gut. 

It was enough for a day. 

She dreamed of it after, the blood that dripped from her fangs, the viscera on her tongue, the hot iron taste of it, the texture of muscle rending against her jaw. The heat on her lips and gums, bone crushing and crunching and cracking in her grasp, the relief like a soft warm pelt at the end of a long day’s journey as the soft squishing prey slid down her gullet like a prayer… 

She dreamed of it night after night after night, waking with saliva in her mouth, thinking of it between the angels’ words, the ghost of that sensation dancing through her mouth in all her forms. She sat by the river and echoed it, conjuring up the giving resistance of flesh under her teeth, biting her tongue till it bled to remember the taste. She dreamed of nothing but. She dreamed even in her waking hours, as the first autumn frost laced over the land and the pack sat full and happy from the hunt. 

She dreamed of it until the dream consumed her, empty of everything but teeth. 

She left the den on an ice-bitter evening under ponderous slate skies when the dull weight of the thought hung heavy like an overripe fruit, when she wondered what the wolves would feel like beneath her fangs, if their heavy furs would rip and tear the way that scrap of boar did or if they’d linger in the teeth and scratch and bristle. She slunk up the hill to the north on the pack’s favored trail, filling her muzzle with the scent of heavy musk and petrichor. 

The stag was waiting. 

His antlers glinted in the cold dead moonlight, graceful as a halo, round as the crescent moon. He turned his head. She met his eyes and lunged. 

She tore out the flesh of his neck like pages from a holy book, paper beneath her fangs as his blood ran like wine at a ritual. His stomach opened just as easily, staining the fallen leaves in garish scarlet, and his legs kicked feebly as she tore through the viscera that spilled free, relishing in the iron stench. Mouthful after mouthful, she ate her fill. She tore through muscle and tendon until she finally sank her teeth into his bright-hot heart and swallowed it in shreds. It might have still been beating, or the pulse between her jaws might have been her own, racing and vicious. She felt every piece reach her stomach, filling the void, hot in her chest like a hearthfire, bright as a star, sweet and tangy in the wolf’s senses and prickling in her own. 

She hunted the liver down among the mess and swallowed it next, and the kidneys, and parts she knew no name for that glistened red and pink and sickish yellow in the light. She savored the feeling, the soft wet warm of it, the taste of the life that would fuel her own. She pried out the lowest of his ribs and it crackled in her jaws and she chewed out the marrow until there was nothing left of worth. 

She didn’t know when he stopped moving, only that eventually, he did. It took too long. 

When the wolf’s stomach filled, she lost the shape and scrabbled at the stag with her own weak human-shaped hands, her fingers shaking, nails digging into the slickened meat for purchase and prying up scraps to devour. She shook and shuddered and buried her own face into the stag’s shattered chest, drinking the lifeblood until it dried sticky on the edges of her skin, until she was full, until her aching stomach silenced and stopped and grew bloated with bleeding flesh. 

She raised her head and her gaze caught upon his eyes. They were wide, and glassy, and milky with the haze of death. 

She turned away from the kill and threw up nothing but bile, choking on the taste of steel. 

“Thank you,” she murmured, too hoarse for anyone to hear, shuffling to the side and cradling his head in her lap, the warm blood filling her soft dark pants and seeping through to her skin. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Thank you.” 

She leaned over him, wrapped her arms around his neck, curling her fingers into his short soft fur. Velveteen. Buried her face in his, her eyes hot and stinging, she swore she felt the ghosts of hands in her hair as the blood dried sticky on her face and melted down her cheeks. She clutched him tight enough to strain the scabs down her chest and belly, threatening to once again reopen the wounds. And she stayed there, waiting, until nothing came. Her stomach was quiet. 

As she rose to her feet, she carefully bent and lifted as much of the stag as her body could manage. He was lighter than seemed fair, even to her haggard limbs. 

Her hands didn’t shake. 

There were hunters in these woods. The angels had told her, murmurs in the night, between the endless thoughts of hunger. They could help her. She stumbled through the brush, dragging the stag behind her, listening for someone larger than herself. 

In the hours before the dawn, she found a young man in the valley, carrying a crossbow and a knife. He stiffened at her approach, and stood there wide-eyed, watching. 

The words she spoke to explain herself died in rasping whistles in her throat, but still he watched, rapt, his eyes darting between the stag and her own face. 

“You… you killed that?” the man asked, gesturing. 

She nodded. Her neck twinged. She felt the man’s gaze skirt over her scarred neck, her hands slick with blood, the wrinkled scabby mess of her stomach where it was visible between the hem of her shirt and her makeshift belt. 

“Do you… need to… take it somewhere?” She shook her head. The man swallowed. “That’s a lot of meat for one person. Erm…” He looked around, and she tilted her head. “…Do you know how to treat it? If you’re planning to eat that yourself, you probably want to salt-preserve it, it’ll spoil quickly otherwise. I could… help?” 

She shook her head quickly, forcefully, then nodded, please, and the man flinched.  But he was true to his word. 

He led her to a clearing, his hands fluttering and his soft eyes nervous as she followed like a wraith, and showed her how to lay the stag down and open the rest of its body with a clean sharp knife. How to strip the meat from the bones, careful and keen, and process it into chunks and then lay it in pieces in salt to let it dry. She watched the process with singleminded focus, noting down every last motion, memorizing each flick of the knife. 

He let her borrow his blade, so she could clean the carcass and keep that velveteen skin. With a few weeks’ drying and treatment, it would make a good blanket to last the winter through. She stripped the stag to the bones, and kept those as trophies. That night, the angels taught her to sharpen them into knives. 

When the man had left, knife and bow in hand, retreating into the shadows, she realized that he never once quite looked her in the eyes. 

She kept the skull. Late at night she stared into its face, searching for the glint of the stag’s all-knowing gaze in the depths of his bones, knowing there was nothing on the other side. She stared at him until somewhere deep inside, a part of her became him. Until his eyes became her own. 

She took the form of a deer in the morning, wearing the weight of his antlers like a crown. The herd moved by her in the bushes and watched her like a ghost. 

She went south. The winter was upon her, and it was time again to travel. The herd had enough to haunt them.