#we're in the temple on our knees

[bebemoon]

look for the name CASSANDRA (requested by anonymous) | imitation of christ grecian drape front open-sided gown in a stone gray color (s/s 2oo1), { hair } gel-stiffened curled tresses @ yohji yamamoto s/s 2o24, joanne burke handmade hoop earrings, kindred black "rapture in shadow" perfume oil, macabe gadgets "twin moon" crown in gold plate w/ black velour ribbon ties

[hussyknee]

I AM WHEEZING.

I know some dickheads have now decided that Judaism is the "bad, violent, terrorist religion" and Islam is the "good, peaceful" one, which is only to be expected of white people, but how much of an issue is it currently? Like I've seen some USAmericans sharing how the Islamic faith shapes Gazans values and perseverance (good) except with that distinct white hippie "I'm about to imprint on this like the world's most racist duck" vibe (bad), but I didn't think they're already turning on Judaism in numbers.

Do they realize that Christianity is also the same kind of comfort to Christian minorities in Asia and Africa? That it was Buddhists that genocided the Rohingyas in Myanmar and Tamils in Sri Lanka? That Hindu fundamentalists are even now trying to ethnically cleanse Muslims in India? How Hindus and Christians are terrorized and persecuted in Pakistan? That Muslims have had a long history of persecuting and ethnically cleansing Jews too?

Really tired of asking y'all to be normal about people's religions man. There's no religion that's inherently violent or exceptionally peaceful. It's just like any other ideology that becomes a weapon in the hands of ethnic power. Interrogate power, not religion, and respect people's belief systems insofar as they aren't in your business.

[1-ker0sene-1]

Your blog is like a buffet, thank you 🥺 I would like to maybe put in a wee little request of poly 141 with a reader that has arthritis with pain flare ups maybe, I'm kinda going through it rn with a bad flare

{Thank you for your lovely words and great request! I'm sorry about your flare, I hope it goes down soon!♥️ Take care of yourself pookie♥️ paraffin wax has helped some friends of mine :)}

John notices your flare first. The way you try to breathe through your pain and continue your tasks, eyes close and shudder for a second. His eyes soften and a frown etches on his face. Oh sweet thing, you've done enough. He just wants you to rest. He'll move closer to your side, a hand sliding warmly up your back before holding the nape of your neck. Authoritative, yet in a gentle manner.

"Darlin'?.. you doin' alright?"

He asks, he knows you're not. But whether you tell him you are or not gives him an inside to exactly how much pain you're in.

However no matter how you answer, he's sending you to go rest. Kissing your temple.

"Hm? How about you watch a movie with our boys? I'll take care of dinner.."

His arms wind around your waist, pulling your back into his chest. Kissing on your shoulder. He didn't want you to feel bad for needing a break. Besides the boys waiting on the couch would be more than willing to look after you.

"John you really don't have to worry about it-"

You can hear the creak in his knees as he bends to lift you up. An arm under your knees, and another behind your back. Kissing your cheek, his beard tickling your soft skin.

"We're home now. We can take care of you."

He mumbles. Glancing over as Kyle walks into the kitchen. Tilting his head at the scene.

"Something happen?"

He asks in a bit of alarm, raising his brows. John shakes his head coming over to stand in front of the younger man, holding you up between them. Mindlessly you reach up, skimming your fingers over Kyle's jaw. Who takes your hand gently and kisses your fingertips.

"I'm alright really-"

John sighs at your dismissal. Leaning to kiss Kyle's head just above the brow, explaining to him.

"Flare up.. darlin' will be up in no time. Just needs some rest and care is all."

Kyle hums in acknowledgement, taking you into his own arms. You groan at their dramatics, dolling you around like you can't move at all. But smile as Kyle peppers your cheek in kisses.

"Let's get you to the couch lovie.. I'm sure Johnny will be all too eager to give ya a massage while I get you an ice pack yeah?"

You sigh softly, leaning into his chest as he carries you into the living room. Despite your groaning earlier, it was nice to simply rest. Get the weight off your aching and stiff joints.

"Thank you sweetheart.."

You mumble into him, a smile spreading on his lips.

"Just loving you sweets, nothing any of us wouldn't wanna do."

Coming into the living room around to the couch, Simon sits up stiffly seeing you carried like that. Nearly throwing Johnny off on accident, earning a yelp from the scottsman. Seeing that look of pain threw the blonde man off.

"She alright?"

The question Simon asks makes Johnny blink and sit up as well. Kyle waves them off, slotting you carefully between the two men.

"Flare up."

Is the only words he needs to say. Before both Johnny and Simon envelop you in their arms.

"They're being dramatic- I'm not dying y'know-"

You giggle. Simon chuckles, an arm around Johnny's hips as you lay between them on his chest. Johnny laying almost on you, quite the effective soldier sandwich. Johnny kisses your collarbone. Leaning into the dramatics to cheer you up.

"Our wee lass. How are we ever gettin' by without you?"

He practically purrs. His hands warmly brush over you, serious for a couple seconds.

"Where does it hurt bonnie..?"

As you tell him, he caresses, massages, and feels over each area that you mention to him. Watching you with loving bright eyes. Occasionally leaning down to notch your lips together, swallowing up your groans of comfort. Simon licks his lips watching the both of you, gripping Johnny's mowhawk to pull him back a bit. Kissing him first, sloppy and rough.

You watch the two of them. Pressing a kiss to Johnny's throat from below him, your fingertips skim over Simons arm. When Si disconnects the kiss he leans down to kiss you next, gentle and soft. Moving slow and sweet with you. Now Johnny is watching with a lovestruck grin. Hands still kneading and massaging your aching joints.

Doesn't take long before Kyle walks back in with a couple of ice packs, kissing Simons cheek- which has the blonde pulling back. Just so Kyle can get the next kiss, cheekily pressing his tongue in to run over your mouth. You laugh and pull back when he's had his fun.

"Got your ice baby."

He hums, Simon takes the packs, resting them where Johnny is done massaging.

"Twenty minutes on and off!"

You can all hear John say sternly from the kitchen. Kyle smirks and nudges your shoulder.

"I'll go help the old man with dinner."

He says. You reach out before he can leave, bringing him into some drowning kisses from all three of you on the couch. Kyle finally slips away after a couple minutes of chasing eachothers mouths. Wiping his lips with a dazed smile as he heads back to the kitchen.

Johnny's cheek is on your chest now, cradling the back of his head close to you. Simon is kneading at your hips. Whispering into your hair.

".. We'll get you in a hot bath.. yeah doll? Warm you up.."

His Manchester accent purring in your ear.

"You won't have to move an inch. You take care of everything while we're deployed. Gotta do the same for our girl.."

[evilminji]

Hey Minji! A thought for your Star Wars things!

Who ever said the SI-OC was the only one to get dumped in SW? Just. A Creche that has several Reincarnations/Transmigrants.

Oh? My god? Just... the FIRST thing that popped into my head? Was the image of one of those "we are so Unbelievably Overworked We No Longer Fear You Nor Death" Sort of office workers/team of workers(nonspecific)?

Just... fuckin EVERYBODY knows Star Wars. Not everybody focused on the same PART of it, but the DO know it. So OBVIOUSLY? The Force decided it should bring in an A Team.

It Did Not ASK the A Team.

They are... like? 4. And sitting in a soft foam, brightly colored Creche, in their lil Jedi rompers, all sitting in a circle, looking at each other like... ( -_-) (-_- ) you too, huh?

Yeeeeeep. (God does Jerry want a cigarette. Jerry gave them up in his 20s. But he's KINDA GOING THROUGH IT, okay?!) (Sarah is hyperventilating in the corner. Her KIDS! Oh GOD. Her KIDS! She was on the way to pick them up from SOCCOR PRACTICE!!!)

Just? This whole ass team of "yeah, we know the LORE, but buddy, pal, we had LIVES! What the FUCK. Star Wars was a HOBBY!" Type adults? No one is happy and everyone wants to choke the metaphysical concept of The Force with their itty, bitty lil baby hands.

They may RIOT.

And like? Do to sheer NUMBERS? They make up ALMOST a full Creche?

Almost.

There is like... one? Maybe two? Actual Jedi Babies™ in their group? It's A Team... plus our collective children. Whom we parent. The MOST baby of babies. Also the spokesperson when they want to fool anyone into thinking they're "normal".

I want Jerry to have a fake cigarette. He's looked up death sticks and like FUCK is he putting that shit in his body, but dear LORD are the oral fixation and mental effects of a past addiction still both real, and a pain in the ASS.

If you try and TAKE his fake ass, hand made, bespoke not-a-cigarette from his itty bitty lil baby hands? He will take your KNEES. These FUCKERS won't even let him have COFFEE. Let him HAVE THIS. *hisses from the walls*

I want them to be ☆~Nightmare Children~☆

They have the power of The Force, various past life skills, an uninterrupted access to the galaxy's BIGGEST LIBRARY, close proximity to FAR too many senator AND their living spaces, and? An actual negative number of fucks to give. They can take shifts. Tag team. Be creepy, horrible, terrible, God awful nightmare creatures climbing out from your WALLS.

Somehow they keep escaping.

Down through the lower temple as they examine the hidden tunnels and escape routes. Through the vents. Forcing other jedi to become VERY familiar with where those pathways are. Sure hope THAT won't someday save your lives! Ya ungrateful, "you're grounded, stop sneaking out younglings" BASTARDS! So rude!!

The camp out in the Corrie Gaurd office. Bring the babies.

Here, you seem stressed, random gaurd. Hold a Jedi Baby. They radiate sunshine and good vibes. Are literally the Anti-Old-Man-Sith. We brought caffeine and food from the temple. Are willing to follow you around like "adorable ducklings" on patrol under the excuse that we're "training" for when we get our own soilders.

Sure is INCONVENIENT for all these asshole senators to has a witness, huh?

You gaurd my back, I'll gaurd yours. And if a certain long neck trips near the stairs? You didn't see SHIT. I'm BABY. How could I POSSIBLY have the control to do that? Now excuse me... we need to practice our "we Jedi Children can stare into your SOOOOOULS, we See All Your Sins." Wide Eyed Unblinking Predator Stare.

(O.O) (O.O) (O.O)

[alwaysmoncheri]

𝐥𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

summary: in which best friends, y/n henderson and steve harrington get caught up in their feelings while paranormal activities occur in the small town of hawkins, indiana

cw: fem!reader, I wrote this a long time ago(I apologize for everything cringe), shit writing, first person pov, mentions of death, guns/knifes/weapons in general, mentions of blood/gore, hurt, comfort, angst, 4.1k

<3

The lights start to flicker, as El searches for our missing friends. We all look around the gymnasium in confusion and worry.

"Barbra?" Eleven whispers, as her breathing begins to pick up, faster and faster.

Nancy and I glance at each other worriedly and lean forward over the pool, at the mention of our friend's name.

Eleven gasps before the lights shut off completely.

"What's going on?" Nancy asks, looking up at the lights confused.

"I don't know," Mike responds quietly beside his sister.

"Is Barb okay?" Nancy leans forward even more, trying to ask the girl, "Is she okay?"

"Gone! Gone! Gone!" El cries repeatedly as her body starts to squirm uncontrollably.

Nancy places her hand over her mouth, tears now flooding her eyes as Jonathan pulls her close in comfort. I grab her hand gently, squeezing lightly before letting go, my eyes too, filling with tears.

Barb is dead.

"It's okay, it's okay." Joyce whispers to the girl, "It's okay."

"Gone! Gone!" Eleven continues to cry before Joyce gently grabs her arm comfortingly.

"It's okay, it's okay," She repeats.

"Gone!"

I reach out, gently wrapping my arm around the girl's head, bringing it up to my chest. "Hey. It's okay," I whisper in El's ear, "It's okay, we're right here."

I glance at Joyce.

"We're right here, honey." She says to the panicked girl.

"It's okay, I got you." I repeat as Eleven continues to gasp, "Don't be afraid, I'm right here with you."

The intensity of Eleven's breathing seems to decrease slightly, and I release her, moving back to my spot next to Nancy. She and Jonathan look at me with concerned eyes, I send a reassuring smile back.

"It's okay, it's okay," Joyce repeats after I let go, "It's okay, you're safe. You're okay, honey."

Eleven's breathing finally evens out as she calms down from Joyce's comforting words in the pool before she speaks again.

"Castle Byers."

Joyce whips her head around to Jonathan who looks back with the same look in his eyes. The rest of us glance at each other too.

"Will?" Eleven whispers.

Joyce gasps.

"You tell him... tell him I'm coming." Joyce says desperately, "Mom is coming."

"Hurry." Will whispers weakly from the other end of the walkie-talkie.

We all turn our heads to stare at the radio with shocked expressions. Then switching our faces to a concerned look, we glance back at Joyce and Eleven in front of her as she desperately clings onto the girl.

"Okay. Listen, you tell him... to stay where he is," Joyce stutters panicked, "We're coming. We're coming. We're coming, honey." She adds.

"Will? Will!" We hear El cry through the radio, "Will!"

Joyce and Hopper grip Eleven's trembling hands firmly, trying to provide comfort to the gasping girl. Suddenly, she sits up in the bath, with a sharp breath, yanking off her goggles. All of us are taken aback by the sudden movement as we stare at her in shock.

"Oh! Oh, okay, okay." Joyce holds onto El's body as she breaths heavily, "I've got you."

Eleven starts crying in Joyce's loving arms.

"It's okay. I got you. I got you." Joyce repeats, "I got you, honey. You did so good." She adds reassuringly before kissing El's temple as she continues cry in her arms.

I make eye contact with El as she curls up into a ball. I gently reach out, grabbing her hand and rub reassuringly, telling her that it's going to be alright.

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

Nancy and I sit together with our backs pressed against the cold, hard wall. I bring my knees up to my chest, while Nancy simply stares at the wall, lost in thought. A solemn look rests on both of our faces as we mourn the loss of one of our best friends.

Barb didn't deserve to die.

Jonathan eventually joins us, sitting himself down on the other side of Nancy. We all sit there in silence until Nancy speaks up.

"We have to go back to the station." She says simply, making Jonathan and I turn towards her.

"What?" Jonathan asks.

"Your mom and Hopper are just walking in there like bait." Nancy stammers slightly, "That thing is still in there. And we can't just sit here and let it get them, too."

"We can't." She finishes.

Jonathan and I glance at each other before he sighs, "You still wanna try it out?" He asks.

"I wanna finish what we started." Nancy confirms, finally looking at the two of us, "I want to kill it."

Jonathan and I nod before I stand, grabbing both of their hands and pulling them up off the ground. I smirk slightly before speaking.

"Then, lets kill this son of a bitch."

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

Nancy, Jonathan, and I successfully make it back to the Byer's house after going to the police station and collecting our supplies.

With our boxes and bags in hand, we make our way into the house. We set them down and immediately notice the lights that have been hung up on every square inch of the house. Nancy, Jonathan and I glance at each other before getting to work.

After screwing in all the singular light bulbs, I turn my attention to setting up the bear trap, making a mental note not to trigger it in the process. After spreading around the lighter fluid and leading it directly towards the trap, I grab my crowbar taking a few swings to make sure I'm ready to kill that bitch.

I make my way back over to Nancy and Jonathan, who grabs three knives from the kitchen drawer before walking back over to us and handing one to both Nancy and I.

"Remember." Jonathan says.

"Straight into Will's room. And—" Nancy repeats our plan.

"Don't step on the trap." I finish with my knife hovering over my hand.

"Wait for the yo-yo to move." Nancy continues.

"Then..." Jonathan flips his lighter on showing us the flame before putting it back in his pocket, "Alright. You guys ready?" He asks.

"Ready." Nancy and I nod at the same time.

"On three." Jonathan says as we bring our knifes up to our hands, "One... two..." Jonathan sees Nancy's distressed look before continuing.

"You guys don't have to do this—"

"Jonathan, stop talking." Nancy shakes her head at the boy.

"I'm just saying, you don't have to—"

"Three." I cut him off before slicing my hand while the other two teens follow quickly behind. I wince and shake my hand slightly at the pain of the cut, blood dripping from the gash. Clenching my fist to contain the flow of the blood, I stare at the cut on my hand. "Son of a bitch." I hiss before Jonathan gets some bandages to wrap our hands in.

We all sit on the couch, our hands wrapped in bandages, nursing our injuries. With a look of concern, Nancy gently wraps Jonathan's hand. The look on her face belies her love for him, and Jonathan smiles back with an equally caring look. I stare at the two hoping their bond only gets stronger.

Suddenly, there's a noise from outside, causing all of us to jump slightly.

"Did you hear that?" Nancy asks, looking at the front door and then glancing back at the two of us.

"It's just the wind." Jonathan replies, eyes locked on the door before he looks back at Nancy, "Don't worry. My mom, she said the lights speak when it comes."

"Speak?" I ask, unsure how lights can possibly speak.

"Blink." Jonathan replies turning towards me, "Think of them as alarms."

There's a moment of silence as Nancy continues to do Jonathan's bandage.

"Is that too tight?" She asks finally.

"No, it's fine." Jonathan stammers slightly, "Thanks." He adds, staring at the girl.

"Nancy." Jonathan whispers.

"Yeah?" She replies and they stare at each other for a few more moments.

Suddenly, we all jump up at the loud sounds of banging on the door. We gasp and our heads instantly swivel towards the front door, our senses heightened as we wonder who has just arrived.

"Jonathan!?" I hear someone yell from the other side of the door. "Are you there, man? It's... it's Steve!"

The three of us glance at each other confused.

Why the hell is Steve here?

"Listen, I just wanna talk!" Steve continues banging on the door.

I immediately leap up from my spot next to Nancy and Jonathan and quickly head to the front door, unlocking it slowly and only opening it a little crack. As I do so, I'm met with Steve in front of me, his face still bloodied and bruised. He looks at me with desperate eyes, and I freeze in shock for a second before speaking again.

"Steve, listen to me." I say sternly.

"Hey, (Y/n), what—" Steve starts with a confused look on his face.

"You need to leave." I demand and the boy shakes his head slightly.

"I'm not trying to start anything, okay?" Steve replies sadly looking into my eyes.

"I don't care about that." I say quickly, even though I still care, very much, "You need to leave." I place my bandaged hand on his chest ushering him to go.

"No, no, no." Steve says desperately, grabbing my hand and placing it in his, "Listen, I-I-I messed up, okay?" He stammers slightly, "I messed up. I messed up. Okay?"

"Really. Please." I search his eyes for sincerity that I find clear as day, "I just want to make things right." He admits with a sigh.

"Okay? Please. Please..." He continues and my eyes soften as he begs me to let him in.

That's when he finally notices my hand in his.

"Hey, what happened to your hand? Is that blood?" Steve asks softly, stroking my hand in his own.

"Nothing. It was an accident." I yank my hand out of his, placing it back to my side.

"Yeah, what's going on?" Steve asks sincerely concerned for my well-being.

"Nothing." I answer a little too quickly.

Rage fills Steve's eyes and he glances behind me. "Wait a sec. Did he do this to you?" He says referring the Jonathan as he attempts to push his way into the house.

"No." I reply, putting my hand on his chest again.

"(Y/n), let me in." Steve says pushing against me.

"No! No! No, Steve!"  I can't hold him back and he stumbles into the house before freezing.

All three of us stare at him as he looks around the trap-filled home.

"What is... What the..." Steve finally spots Nancy standing next to Jonathan, "Nancy?"

"You need to get out of here." She says to him before Jonathan runs up to Steve attempting to push him back out the door.

"Whoa, what is all—"

"Listen to me. I'm not asking you, I'm telling you, get out of here," Jonathan continues pushing Steve who just pushes back.

"What is that smell?" Steve says frantically, "Is that... is that gasoline?"

"Steve, get out." Nancy says firmly, pointing the gun straight at Steve's head.

"Wait. What?! What is going on?!" Steve yells, glancing at all three of us.

"You have five seconds to get out of here." Nancy says, cocking the gun.

"Okay, is this a joke?" Steve says glancing at me, holding my gaze, "(Y/n)..." He whispers towards me and I give in.

"Nance, put the gun down." I say gently, putting my hand on her shoulder.

"I'm doing this for you." Nancy replies ignoring my request.

"Hold on, hold on." Steve repeats, before the lights above our heads start to flicker uncontrollably.

"Nancy." Jonathan and I whisper, glancing at one another.

"Wait. Is this a... What is this?" Steve continues to question as I grab my crowbar bringing it up to attack position.

"Whoa, (Y/n), what are you doing with that?" Steve asks as I stand next to his defenseless self.

"Protecting your sorry ass," I reply shortly.

"Nancy." Jonathan repeats trying to grab the girl's attention.

"Three. Two." Nancy begins to count down.

"No, no, no! No, no!" Steve yells putting his hands up.

"Nancy!" Jonathan yells again, finally able to grab the girl's attention, "Nancy! The lights."

"It's here." I say quietly as we all stare at the lights.

"Wait, what's here?" Steve asks.

"Where is it?" I ask spinning around with my crowbar in hand.

"Where is what?" Steve asks before having to duck under my crowbar, "Whoa, easy with that!"

Nancy, Jonathan, and I stand back to back as we slowly spin around in a circle, searching for the demogorgon.

"Where is it?" Nancy asks frantically.

"I don't know." Jonathan replies with the same tone.

"I don't see it." I say, glancing at Steve again.

"Where is what?!" Steve asks again, continuing to freak out, "Hello? Will someone please explain to me what the hell is going on—"

Before Steve can finish his sentence the monster starts breaking through the ceiling, causing debris to fall on us.

Nancy raises her gun and begins shooting at the creature as it falls through the ceiling.

"No!" Jonathan yells grabbing Nancy and pulling her towards Will's room, "Go! Go! Run! Go!"

"Get out of here!" Jonathan yells towards Steve.

I stupidly stand my ground.

With my crowbar raised and ready to swing, I see the Demogorgon advancing towards me, and before I can react and defend myself, Steve grabs my waist and pulls me back against his chest with unexpected force. He quickly reaches into my back jean pocket and pulls me into towards Will's room.

"Jump!" Jonathan yells back toward us.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" Steve repeats placing me in front of him so that I'm further away from the creature.

He keeps his hands securely planted on my hips as we jump over the bear trap and yo-yo string before rushing into Will's room, slamming the door behind us. We all stand breathily heavily, our hearts beating rapidly as our adrenaline pumps through our veins.

"Jesus! Jesus! What the hell was that?!" Steve yells again, frantically whipping his head around to each of us, "What the hell was that?!"

"Steve." I grab his face, making him look at me. "Shut up!" He shuts his mouth immediately, glancing at my lips. I scoff and push is face away from mine, still angry at him.

With my crowbar firmly in hand, I turn towards Nancy and Jonathan, standing behind them. We stay there, in Will's room, with our weapons raised and ready to strike. We wait, nervously, for our plan to work, but nothing seems to be happening. The silence is deafening and we're left to wonder if our plan has failed.

"Do you hear anything?" Nancy asks us as the lights flicker one last time.

"No." Jonathan and I reply as I lower my crowbar and Jonathan closes his lighter.

We are all careful and cautious as we slowly exit Will's room, before Steve takes my hand and gently walks out with me, staying by my side.

As we make our way through the hallway towards the living room, there's nothing but silence. We walk around confused, with our weapons raised. I feel Steve let go of my hand and I turn to see him running a hand through his hair.

"This is crazy..." Steve mutters to himself behind me, "This is actually crazy."

"This is crazy! This is crazy!" He continues, "This is crazy!" Steve rushes towards the phone on the wall, attempting to call the proper authorities. Nancy walks over to Steve and yanks the phone off the wall.

"What are you do—" Steve is cut off by Nancy smashing the phone, preventing the boy from using it, "What are you doing? Are you insane?"

"It's going to come back! So you need to leave!" Nancy yells in Steve's face, "Right now." She demands.

Steve turns towards me and I give him a little nod, confirming that he needs to get out of here. He rummages through his jean pockets for his car keys as be rushes out the front door.

As soon as Steve leaves the lights start flicking again, and I raise my crowbar once more.

"Where is it?" Nancy asks as we continue to spin around while the lights flash causing my vision to go hazy.

"Come on." Jonathan whispers, "You see it?" He asks us.

"No." Nancy replies whimpering slightly.

"Where are you... Come on you son of a bitch." I whisper before the lights shut off completely.

I hear a low growl approaching from behind Jonathan and turn to the origin of the sound, only to come face-to-face with the monster. It's standing there, creeping towards Jonathan while he remains unaware of its presence.

"Jonathan!" Nancy yells, warning the boy before the monster launches at him.

"Holy shit! Jonathan!" I yell as Jonathan drops his weapon, leaving him struggling as the creature crawls on top of him.

Nancy cocks her gun before desperately trying to shoot the creature who's laying on top of Jonathan. It's drool dripping down the boy's face.

"Go to hell you son of a bitch!!" I shout before using all my strength to swing my crowbar at the creature. My crowbar somehow gets stuck in the monster's slimy body, which causes me to stumble backwards in surprise. Leaving me defenseless, I watch in horror as the Demogorgon slowly and deliberately approaches, my eyes locked on its every move as it draws closer to me.

Suddenly, Steve appears out of nowhere, with the bat that Jonathan previously made. It's shiny nails catching the flickering light as he swings towards the monster who's stalking towards me. With a loud thwack and a grunt from Steve, the bat connects with the monster's face, leaving it slightly stunned.

He came back.

"Steve!" I shout worriedly attempting to reach towards him as he continues whacking the creature.

Steve effortlessly spins the bat around his hand a few times before brutally hitting the monster again, sending it stumbling back into the bear trap.

"He's in the trap!" Steve yells, noticing the yo-yo string release, "He's stuck!"

"Jonathan, now!" I yell at the boy with the lighter.

We stand together at the end of the hallway, watching as Jonathan flicks his lighter open, sending the monster up in flames. Its body writhing in pain, the creature's shrieks getting louder and louder while the flames consume it. I feel Steve grab my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as his bruised fingers lace with mine.

I glance at Steve and catch his eye, feeling a flutter in my stomach and warmth in my heart. I notice Nancy send me a pointed look with causes my cheeks to flush.

He's so infatuated by you and you don't even notice.

I quickly let go of Steve's hand, turning back to the monster with guilt and confusion in my heart. Steve's eyebrows are slightly furrowed, his own expression now filled with confusion as he comprehends my actions and glances back to the creature. I try to ignore the awkwardness of the moment and to focus on the screeching Demogorgon in front of us.

"Get back!" Jonathan yells to us as he grabs the fire extinguisher and puts the fire out in front of us. Not wanting to burn his whole house down.

We all cough as the dust fills the space, our eyes watering before the hallway begins to clear. We start to make our way slowly and carefully down the hallway, our senses heightened as we search for any sign of the monster. However, to our surprise, the creature is gone.

"Where did it go?" I ask, my breathing heavy as I turn towards each of my friends.

"No. It has to be dead." Jonathan pants, "It has to be."

But there's nothing there.

Out of nowhere, the lights above our heads seem to flicker on. Leading us somewhere.

We hesitatingly follow them through the house before Jonathan speaks.

"Mom." He whispers, "Is that you?"

"Mom?"

We follow the flickering lights outside, the street light being our next stop. I stand on the porch between Jonathan and Steve, who is still carrying around the nailed bat for protection.

"Where is it going?" Nancy asks softly.

"I don't think that's the monster." I say just as softly as the three of them glance at me. Jonathan then speaks.

"That's my mom."

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

We all make it back to the school, where police cars are waiting. Apparently a whole thing with the kids and Eleven went down while we were gone.

When I see Dustin I immediately rush over to him, engulfing him in a giant hug. I stroke his curly hair as I silently cry.

"Hey, I'm okay." Dustin says, trying to comfort me.

After I let go of my brother, he trails behind me, as I search for the others. As I notice everyone being held and comforted by their families, I start to feel like something, someone is missing. The sudden realization hits me like a ton of bricks and I turn to my brother, with panic and grief washing over me.

"Dust, where's El?" I ask, my voice shaking and I already know what might have happened.

"She's... She's gone." My brother whispers, sitting down on the back of the ambulance before grabbing my hand and giving it a tight squeeze.

I instantly let out a broken sob, the tears flowing down my cheeks like a river of grief. My hand shakily reach for them, trying to wipe the tears away, but the relentless stream seems unstoppable. I can't bring myself to sit down, and my knees go weak in agony as I try to process.

Eleven is gone.

Steve approaches me silently with his hands shoved in his pockets, his loving eyes filled with sympathy as they watch me cry. Without a word, he softly reaches out his arms, offering me a hug. Without a second thought, I give in, letting my previous anger fade away as I cling tightly to his back, seeking his comfort and protection. My brother watches with sadness, but all of my attention is focused on Steve as I bury my face in his chest and cry. His strong arms comfort me, holding me closely as I continue to sob, his touch soothing my trembling body.

I slowly pull away from his embrace, silently watching as his gaze rests upon me with sadness. Steve gently brings his hand up towards my cheek, hesitating caressing it with care. I find myself leaning towards his touch, a small smile playing on my lips as our eyes lock. Steve eventually brings his hand back down to his side, leaving my cheek feeling cold without his warmth.

"Do you guys need a ride?" Steve finally speaks, glancing between Dustin and I.

I just nod my head.

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

The car ride home is silent except for the tapping of Steve's fingers on the steering wheel. I stare out the passenger side window, watching the street lights as we drive by.

Steve pulls into my driveway, putting the car in park, before turning his gaze towards me. Immediately, Dustin hops out of the car, disappearing inside the house. I watch from outside as the lights come on and the silhouettes of my mother and brother come into view, locked in a sweet embrace. I heart fills with a mixture of hope, sadness, and pain as I watch.

"Hey (Y/n), you okay?" Steve asks, grabbing my hand from across the center console.

"Yeah, Steve. I think so." I say glancing at the boy, smiling slightly, and this time I actually mean it.

Steve gently releases my hand, his eyes locked with mine as he gives me a small, loving smile and a nod. I exit his car, looking back at him one last time, sending him a little wave before entering my house, closing the door behind me.

I enter only to be greeted with my sweet mother, who embraces me tightly in a warm and compassionate hug, while apologizing profusely for not being at the school to pick us up. Despite her guilt and sorrow, I reassure her that I'm fine, trying my best to put her at ease and hold myself together. Once I make my escape to my room, I sit down on my bed, trying to process everything that had happened in these past few days. The terror, the hurt, the sadness, the confusion that has been so overwhelming. I finally come to three conclusions.

We found Will.

We lost Eleven.

It’s all over.

<3

next chapter . masterlist . steve harrington masterlist . taglist

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[sosa2imagines]

Broken Hearts. Part 11

Warnings- Slight captive situation, threats, manipulation, touching without consent, revelations.

MJ and Peter pressed their ears closely to the door, straining to catch any sounds from outside the office.

“Can you hear anything?” MJ whispered anxiously, her eyes flickering towards Peter.

Peter remained focused, his ear pressed firmly against the door. “Trying to...” he murmured back, concentrating on any faint sounds that might filter through.

Lloyd and Nick As Lloyd navigated through dense traffic, anger and impatience were written all over his face. Nick's voice filled the car, his words tinged with annoyance and the remnants of a hangover.

“I know we're in a hurry, and you can keep driving like a madman, without blaring the horn every five seconds!” Nick grumbled, massaging his temples.

Lloyd gripped the steering wheel tighter, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “This traffic sucks. Move it, you shit heads!” he muttered under his breath, his frustration mounting.

Meanwhile at the café-

You sat uncomfortably squished between Bucky and Steve, your body tensed and on guard.

Bucky attempted to touch you, but you promptly slapped his arm away. Steve smirked, thinking he could do the same, but your glare shut him down immediately.

“DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH ME!” you yelled firmly, your words echoing through the room and filling Peter and MJ with worry.

Bucky and Steve only smirked in response. Steve grabbed your hand, his grip tight, while Bucky's hand moved to your knee, pinning you in place.

You struggled against their grip, your voice filled with anger and defiance. “Let me go!” you shouted, tugging against their hold.

Steve responded in a condescending tone, a smug smile on his face. “No can do, baby doll.”

You snapped back, your voice filled with a bitter edge. “Steve, we are divorced. Go to your Peggy. Leave me alone. Isn't this what you wanted?”

“And James…aaaahh” Bucky's grin widened as he squeezed your knee with a tight grip, his hand sending a jolt of discomfort through you when you called him by his first name with gritted teeth.

“Bucky why are you even here?” Bucky responded with a smile, his tone nonchalant. “To bring you back home doll.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief at their audacity. “Home? I'm not going anywhere with you two!” you hissed, trying to free yourself from their grasps.

Bucky's hand remained firmly on your knee, his grip possessive. “See, as soon as you left, Steve called me,” he began, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. “I had to make things right. It was part of our agreement.”

You looked at Bucky in confusion, your anger momentarily replaced by curiosity. “Agreement?”

Bucky's grip on your knee tightened, causing you to wince slightly. His gaze held a mix of determination and possessiveness.

“Yes, you see, I knew Steve loves you...” Bucky continued. “I love you too.”

You shook your head vehemently, your anger flaring at his audacity. “You mean loved. It’s past tense!” you spat, your voice laced with hurt and frustration.

Bucky locked eyes with you, his gaze intense. “No, doll. You're still my girl and Steve’s wife.” he stated firmly.

You turned your gaze towards Steve, your expression hardening. “No, we are not,” you repeated emphatically. “Steve and I are divorced, and you broke up with me!”

Steve remained silent, his expression unreadable as he observed the exchange between you and Bucky.

Bucky's tone was casual as he continued to hold you captive, his words cutting deep into your heart.

“No, doll,” he said, his grip firmly on your knee. “You see, I knew I had to leave for London. I had eventually planned on sharing you with Steve since his heart was broken by Peggy. But this punk started to like you even more.”

Humiliation washed over you, your eyes blinking rapidly as you fought back tears. You refused to give Bucky the satisfaction of seeing how much his words had wounded you.

Bucky's smirk widened as he watched your reaction, clearly enjoying the power he held over you.

Your heart ached at the realization that you had been treated like a possession, passed between two men who thought they had the right to control your life.

Bucky's smirk grew even wider as his eyes roamed over your body, lingering on certain parts. “You are so good in bed, doll...” he murmured, his tone filled with a lecherous intent. “The best I ever had. Even with Dot, I used to think about you.”

Your face flushed with anger and embarrassment, your fists clenching tight. Yet, Bucky's words struck a chord deep within you, reminding you of the past.

He continued, his voice thick with desire. “I had told Steve to take it slow, as soon as I leave. And come on, you have to agree. He was good, that's why you married him.”

Your eyes widened in shock as Bucky revealed their twisted plans. Turning to Steve, your voice trembling with hurt, you asked, “Did... did you even love me or was it fake?”

Steve's expression softened, genuine emotion in his voice as he replied, “Of course I loved you. Hell, I still love you. You’re mine, baby doll.”

Bucky cleared his throat, his possessiveness evident making Steve roll his eyes in annoyance. “I mean, ours,” he corrected.

Your heart sank at Bucky's interjection, the truth of their arrangement hitting you like a punch to the gut. Steve may have loved you, but his love was tainted by their agreement.

“So, I was just a toy shared between you two?” You asked, your voice laced with hurt and anger. “A prize to be won?”

“You were more than that, baby doll.” Steve replied, his tone almost convincing. “We both cared about you. It was just a unique situation.” Your anger flared at Steve's nonchalant response, your hands clenching into fists.

You confronted Steve, anger and hurt evident in your voice. “If you love me, why did you cheat on me?”

Steve responded with a defensive tone, his arrogance showing through. “I did not cheat on you on purpose. It was revenge, okay?” he whined, annoyance clear in his voice. “Peggy hurt my feelings. She always played with my feelings. I'm just teaching her a lesson.”

You shot back, your voice filled with frustration. “How? By letting her warm your bed? How is it a punishment? It's not like she isn't enjoying it.”

Steve spoke with a hint of malice in his voice, his arrogance evident. “I know she's with me because of my money and status. I was going to prove to her husband what a slut she is, and when he leaves her, she'll crawl back to me. Then, I'll give her the boot. She'll get what she sows, enough to teach her a lifelong lesson.”

You interrupted his tirade with a question, your expression filled with disbelief. “And how are you going to prove it?”

Steve simply stared at you in awe, his face saying it all. “Oh god, you have tapes…” you realized, your voice thick with disgust.

Steve smiled knowingly, his gaze fixed on you as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. You flinched at his unexpected gesture, your heart filled with a mixture of anger and betrayal.

“That's your answer for everything, huh?” you accused. “Tapes to teach lessons and threaten others.”

Steve's smile remained fixed on his face, refusing to answer your question. You shook your head in frustration, turning your attention to Bucky instead.

“Why did you record us without my consent?” you demanded.

Bucky's nonchalant response only fueled your anger. “Doll, that was just for fun, and it was also a gift for punk.” he replied matter-of-factly. “You see, he lost some confidence with the whole Peggy thing, so I gave him a gift.”

Steve chimed in, his excitement evident. “Baby doll, you were amazing in that. I jerked for days just imagining you.”

Steve's enthusiasm got the better of him as he continued, “Bucky absolutely loved watching us together.”

Your eyes widened as you processed Steve's words. “Wh...what do you mean?” you stammered, your heart racing. “Did...did you record us too?” Steve sheepishly smiled, shaking his head no. “No, baby doll,” he assured you.

You recalled Ari's words about Steve frequently video calling Bucky, and your eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why did you video call Bucky a lot?” you demanded, confronting Steve.

Steve's smile widened as he revealed the reason, he had been so eager to speak with Bucky. “Oh, you know,” he began, his voice dripping with insinuation. “Just to... get a glimpse of you. To see your beautiful face.”

Your eyes widened in shock, struggling to form words as Steve's revelation sunk in. “W…wh...what do you mean, Steve?” you managed to sputter out, your voice trembling, hoping you misunderstood him.

Bucky chimes in, complaining irritably. “You just had to open your big mouth, huh? Could have lessened the details...” Steve just chuckled, unapologetic. “Oops,” he replied, not seeming to grasp the gravity of what he had just confessed.

You looked at Steve, pleading expression on your face. “Steve, please...” He shrugged, nonchalant. “Bucky was missing us, so I video called him,” he explained, as if it were perfectly normal.

You couldn't contain your anger at his audacity. “During our intimate moment, what the hell is wrong with you?” you shouted, your voice filled with disbelief and disgust.

Steve grabbed your chin hard, his expression hardening as he reprimanded you. “Watch your tone with me, Y/n,” he warned. “And stop being ungrateful. He is your boyfriend.”

You shot back, your voice laced with anger. “Ex-boyfriend.” you spat out, making it clear you no longer considered him as such.

Bucky interjected, his tone firm. “No, doll. We never broke up. I only said I was moving to London.”

You wrenched your chin free from Steve's grip and turned to look at Bucky, your anger and sadness evident. “You left the country!” you exclaimed. “That means breaking up. How the hell were we still in a relationship?”

Bucky responded matter-of-factly, his tone unwavering. “Video calls, doll. Whenever Steve got a chance, he would video call me. God, it felt so real, be it in the showers or any part of the house.”

Steve blushed, clearly taken aback by Bucky's compliment. Meanwhile, a few tear drops trickled down your face, your heart growing heavier with each passing moment.

Bucky watched you with a smirk, his tone smug yet playful. “Aww, don't cry, doll,” he said. “You were amazing. In fact, I called your name when I came inside Dot. That bitch got hurt and left, but I don't care. I have my girl back with me.” Bucky smiled bashfully, as if his words held no weight or meaning.

You looked at Bucky, your expression filled with a mixture of hurt and anger. “How come I'm your girl, when you were with someone else?” you demanded.

Bucky chuckled, clearly amused by your question. “Doll, don't be like that,” he responded. “You and Steve were there together. What about my needs? Come on, doll. You can understand. And now that I'm back, you'll have my undivided attention all the time.”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek, his lips lingering on your skin.

You were exhausted, drained of all energy to continue arguing or discussing further. You silently prayed for Lloyd, hoping he would appear and rescue you from this strange and uncomfortable situation.

The explanations and confessions from Bucky and Steve were overwhelming, and you longed for the stability and peace that Lloyd provided in your life.

Steve suddenly took his phone out and handed it to Bucky with a firm instruction. “Buck, click our picture and send it to her lawyer,” he said. “Tell him to forward it to Lloyd, let them know we are back together.”

You protested, adamantly refusing to be part of their twisted plan. “No, we are not back together!” you insisted.

Steve and Bucky shared a satisfied look between them, their plans seemingly falling into place. “Wonderful idea, Stevie,” Bucky chimed in, his voice filled with excitement. “You kiss on one side, and I'll kiss on the other.”

They both leaned in and planted kisses on either side of your face, their lips lingering for a moment and captured the picture.

“Smile for the camera, doll.” Bucky urged, ignoring your protests. They sent the picture to Andy, instructing him to forward it to Lloyd.

You tried to warn them with a shaky voice, “Lloyd will kill you both.” Bucky chuckled mocking your words “Lloyd will kill you both.”

Bucky's hand slowly crept up your thigh, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You clutched his hand, desperately trying to halt his movement, but he just smirked and stopped mid-thigh, continuing to caress your skin with his thumb, and began kissing your neck, his lips trailing along your skin.

“God, I have missed you so much, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You pleaded with him to stop, your voice quivering with vulnerability. “Please... please stop,” you whispered, but it fell on deaf ears.

Lloyd and Nick

Nick's phone rang, and he picked up, sounding somewhat distracted. “Barber, what's up? I'm kinda busy.” he said into the phone.

Andy's voice came through the line. “Is Lloyd with you?” he asked. “Yes.” Nick replied.

“Tell him to check his phone, Y/n is with Rogers and Barnes.” Andy instructed.

Nick paused, processing the information before responding, “We know. We're on our way.” “Just check his phone, it is urgent.” Andy tells him.

“Okay, we'll check it now.” Nick then hung up the phone and turned to Lloyd, asking him for his phone.

Lloyd was driving, but he slowed down when Nick shared the message Andy had passed on from Steve.

“What did he want?” Lloyd asked, his expression growing concerned. “He said Steve sent him something, telling him to forward it to you,” Nick explained.

Lloyd's eyes widened in shock as Nick showed him the photo on his phone. “What the hell!?” he exclaimed, stopping the car abruptly in the middle of the road.

“He has the audacity to say they're back together!” Nick added, anger seeping into his voice.

Lloyd clenched his jaw, his expression dark and determined. “I'm going to chop them in pieces.” he growled, anger seething beneath his calm exterior.

“Just few minutes, Sugar. I'm coming.” he added, the promise in his voice unwavering.

Part 10- Part 12

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan @emerald-writes

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@whore-for-chris-evans @caplanreblogsfics

@pono-pura-vida @renegadesgirl1991 @iwudbutnah

[senawashere]

We're on this together...(Chapter IV)

Bradley Bradshaw x Fem!Wife!Reader

Summary: Is it over now? Or is it starting now?

A/n: A MAJOR change is on the way!!

Warnings: Infertility,mentions of miscarrige,mentions of hospital,mentions of getting pregnant,mentiones of ivf.Use of alcohol,arguing,use of bad languange. Mostly angst.

20 APRIL 2022.

You nodded.

That's why you're currently in one of the most well known clinics in San Diego because Bradley didn't want to "risk it" and your leg shakes with anger at the thought, causing Bradley to rest his hand on your knee.

Car ride was complately silence. And after around one and half an hour you both finally parked your car to the parking lot and walked into the big hospital.

The sterile smell of the hospital immediately caught your nose. This scent wasn't helping you feel more stressed than you already were. But Bradley's tight grip on your hand seemed to comfort you at least a little.

He's nervous too, damn, he feels like he's going to throw up, but he has to stay strong for you and he relaxes a little when his lover rests her head on his shoulder and kisses her temple, which works because he's a little less nervous now.

"It'll be alright." You whisper and your husband smiles to hear you thinking positively.

"Exactly." He answers, his heart pounding with pride when he hears you optimistic for the first time in a long time.

You both are distracted by looking at socials on his phone for a few more minutes until a woman in white emerges from the office and looks up, reading a spreadsheet to say. "Bradshaw?"

You both stand up, You instantly reach out for Bradley to hold your hand tightly, and after greeting the woman, you both enter where the doctor is waiting for you behind her desk.

“Bradley, Y/N, this is a pleasure.” She shakes both of your hands.

"Thank you. Pleasure is ours." Bradley responds with the hand now holding on your lower back and gently pulling the chair forward for you to sit down on.

"Okay, I understand you're here because you're having trouble getting pregnant, right?" The old woman asks, looking under her round glasses.

"Yes." You hum, swallowing dryly.

Bradley takes your hand but continues to stare at the doctor, knowing his wife hates public attention, something he's learned the hard way over the last dozen years.

"We'll be running some tests on you both next week, don't worry, just to make sure everything is as it should be."

You both nodded, and both felt small in the hospital chairs, holding hands, afraid, feeling that time had not passed, and feeling that you were still sixteen years olds and had no idea what life was really like.

Talking about a future that would never come, wishing they could be like them again forever, they gathered in the treehouse as You stroked Bradley's uncontrollable hair, as he clumsily talked about his dreams, thinking that maybe one day he would love to be become a fighter pilot. Like his dad.

They both are individually subjected to multiple tests and studies, and after about three hours both of your works finish, returning home exhausted and not even eating dinner, you both quickly crawl under the covers and seek each other's warmth.

While Bradley plays with the ring on his ring finger, his head lies on his lover's chest. "Are you scared?" he asks and your hands stop in his hair.

"Maybe a baby isn't for us."

You look up and look at him in shock, feeling your throat close at the raw and harsh words and you heart starts pounding when you see his face.

"Darling, don't say that."

You look away, staring at the ceiling, feeling the tears gathering in your eyes until they fall down the sides onto your pillow.

You are not even sobbing, not screaming, nothing, just...crying. Silently.

"Oh, my love.” He grabs your arms to pull you closer, switching positions so you are on top of him, dipping his bare chest in the salty drops.

"We're going to have them, fuck, we're going to have the baby or maybe babies. We just have to wait for the results. I know we are going to."

He wants to cry too, but he can't cry in front of you when you need him more than ever. He will find a moment of solitude where he can lighten his own burden, but not now.

"I just want to make you happy." You cry and he frowns.

"You think I need a baby to be happy?"

Bradley questions, holding your waist and carresing with his thumb.

"Darling, as long as you're with me, anything can go to hell, I'll be the happiest man on earth. I don't need a baby, I don't need anything but you, my soul."

You hug him tighter, digging your nails into his shoulders and closing your eyes, breathing in the scent of home your husband gives off. Now you understand and blindly believe in it.

As long as they are together, they don't need anything else.

I know this is sad but it might be the last sad chapter hehehe!!!

I'm tagging people who might be interested:@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @callsign-fox @greenorangevioletgrass @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @floydsglasses @lyn-js @its-dee-lovely @its-the-pilot @friedchips94 @hardballoonlove @topguncortez @bradshawsbaddie @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @themusingofagothicsoul @promisingyounglady @the-romanian-is-bae @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @iefitzgerald-blog @charcole-grey @waterriseslew @desert-fern @eternalsams @callsigns-haze @promisingyounglady @els-marvelvsp @cevansbaby-dove you are not comfortable please tell me!!

[peachyloveswriting]

hiiiiii can u do a kyle x f!reader smut? literally anything i just need some good smut 😣

MOVIE NIGHT --- (Kyle Brovloski)

SUMMARY: Kyle gets extremely horny during movie night with the boys.

WARNING: Smut, all stories aged up unless stated otherwise, degradation, praise, mirror kink or whatever, penis in vagina sex. I am in no way good at writing smut so fair warning.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

In the living room, I can hear the low chatter of the boys getting settled in for movie night while they wait on me. Tonight we're all supposed to watch a movie marathon and pass out halfway through and technically, I'm not supposed to be here. Boys night's only, but Kyle insisted I come with. So I agreed. Walking out of the bathroom in one of Kyle's oversized shirts and a pair of comfy shorts, I make my way over to the couch. A whistle flies through the air, heads snap in my direction.

"looking sexy beautiful!" Kenny cheers.

Heat raises to my cheeks, smiling sheepishly I lift my hand and wave him off. The others chuckle. "It should be nice having a mediator here tonight." Stan sighs. He's laying on the floor in front of the table, behind him on the couch is Kyle and Butters, and right in front of the couch in Eric. Hands grab my waist, pulling me onto the couch. I find Kyle's chest against my back, he's pulled me onto his lap.

"No! Just as always, Kyle has ruined boys night!" Eric fusses. He gathers his feet beneath himself and stands, stretching up for the light string on the fan. Tugging it with a click, the room falls dark apart from the lit TV screen. He nestles back down onto the floor.

"Shut up Fatass I haven't ruined anything!" Kyle hisses behind me. His grip on my hips tighten. Reaching beside me to the blanket on the couch, I pull it over both of our laps and comfortably lean back against him, the back of my head rests on his shoulder. He sighs before pressing a chaste kiss to my temple. Smiling sweetly, I press a soft kiss to his cheek before looking back at the screen.

"Just try not to commit murder, okay?"

That was that and afterwards, silence fills the room and a movie softly begins to play. Everyone, including me, is enthralled by the movie. No one's said anything yet, we're all too intrigued. It's some romance Sci-fi about aliens invading. However, beneath me and in-between Kyle's legs I can feel his dick harden. At first I hadn't taken notice of it, as it wasn't as bad but I kept shifting to get comfortable. His discomfort is noted when I hear a low groan of pleasure in my ear, it's deep and muted. His hips are lifting for further contact. Involuntarily, my clit throbs with the beat of my heart and I push back against his rising hips. Thankfully everyone's too sucked into the movie to realize what's about to happen right beside them, and the darkness covers us.

Kyle's hot breath fans over my ear. "I'm losing it babe." He growls. I shudder in response and spread my legs just comfortably enough that his knee slips between them.

"Just wait a little longer." I urge.

The leg I'm sitting on starts to bounce, it's quick and unrelenting in its pressure against my already throbbing clit. It warms my gut, pushing my crotch harshly into his knee. I bite my lip softly and grip the blanket covering our laps. Like a fire lighting slowly, it begins to burn bright. Against my ear I hear Kyle. "You just look so damn good in my shirt." He whispers. It's just low enough that no one in the room even bats an eye, except me. Squirming and pressing myself against him I reach my hand back, grasping at the shirt on his shoulder.

"Kyle." I warn. I keep my voice low and try not to drag any attention to myself. Leaning my head back I turn to hide my face in his neck. Abruptly he stopped bouncing his knee, the hands on my hips are slowly sliding to my legs. Again I shift under the blanket, pressing my ass against his hardening erection. He releases a stressed breath, the hot air puffing out onto my shoulder. His rough hands are sliding between my thighs, lightly tugging at the plump skin to pull them apart more.

"That's it, open your legs for me like a good girl." He coos right as I Let him pry my legs open. Letting go of his shirt and dropping my hand back, I grasp his hand and lift my head to turn and glance back at him. "Are you sure about this?" Getting caught is way too much of a risk but I can't help the anticipation that's in my stomach when I think about it. He grins devilishly at me, half lidded eyes look back at me. "Yes, I'm sure angel."

His hand frees itself from my grasp and works its way down between my legs where it presses against my clothed cunt. For a while he stays doing that, his fingers rubbing me through my shorts. I find myself lost in the moment, my lips pressed tightly in anticipation for what he does next. Gently his hand pulls away and slides up just above the waistband of the shorts. He doesn't wait for my confirmation before he slips his hand under into my shorts and bottoms. Softly, Kyle's fingertips brush against my entrance before pressing down and sliding to the sensitive bud. I suck in a sharp breath and brace myself against him.

"You're so wet." He breathlessly laughs in my ear. "Does this turn you on? When I play with you like this in front of my friends?" Kyle taunts. Pleasure is radiating from his finger encircling my clit, I buck my hips and grind back against him biting my lip trying to keep quiet. "Yeah, you like that don't you baby? Feels good... My fingers are toying with you, inside of you, all while my friends are clueless." At that his hand slips down to my entrance and presses in without a moment's hesitation. I gasp in surprise, my back arches into his touch. Frantic, I look over at the others. Stan glances at me but looks away to go back to watching the movie.

Feeling me look away, Kyle curls his finger inside of me, I jolt at the sudden press of pleasure and reach back grabbing the back of his neck. My head is thrown back against his shoulder, mouth open with a silent moan before turning and biting my lip.

"That's it." He purrs. "Don't pay attention to them. Let them watch if they want."

A whimper slips past my lips but it's drowned out by the sounds of the movie. His teeth sink into the crook of my neck, biting and sucking before he raises his head again. "Shh, don't make a noise." He curls his finger again, the pleasure jolts my hips forward before I lower them back against him. Ever so slowly his finger thrusts into me, the pace is so slow but I just can't seem to breathe in deep enough. Suddenly a second finger slips inside of me adding onto the first. Just to keep the gasp from escaping again I bite my lip even harder. I know I have to be close to drawing blood but it feels so good. If I open my mouth I'm bound to make a noise everyone will hear.

The pace stays the same but the pleasure never leaves. It builds and builds, creating a tight knot in my stomach. My breaths come more shallow, my legs shaking, and back arches against him. The pleasure comes in waves, my hips gyrating against his hand. I blink, pressing the back of my head further against my shoulder. I can feel my climax coming and coming fast. Abruptly, it's torn from me. His fingers slip from inside me just for him to bring them up to his mouth. He smirks down at me, his tongue winding around the slink on his fingers. Harshly, I rut against his leg searching for any friction.

"Please." I whine.

After he finishes licking my juices from his fingers, he leans down into my ear. "Please what? Use your words baby. Tell me what you want."

Reaching down I lift my hips up to slide my hands under me. Frantically, I grab the button of his jeans and undo it. Kyle doesn't stop me, instead he looks me in my eyes as I undo the zipper. Just as I reach down to my shorts he pushes me back into his lap. "Use your words. Speak to me." He presses.

"God... Kyle. Fuck me, please." I whisper.

Without second thought he pulls the blanket off of us and pushes me to stand. "Using the bathroom, be right back." No one even bats an eye at us as he takes my hand and pulls me back towards the bathroom. Reaching the door he pushes it open and tugs me inside with him. Closing it behind him he locks it and turns back to face me. We wasted no time finding our bodies pressed into one another. His hands pull my hips close while I grasp his curly hair, only deepening the kiss. His tongue explores my mouth while he tugs my shorts and bottoms off of me. Hastily I pull my lips away and lean down to pull them off the rest of the way. As I do he slips his own pants off as well, leaving his cock to present itself to me when I stand back up.

"Fuck me Kyle." I plead again. Wrapping my hand around his cock and rubbing it softly I look back up at him and step closer. The breath in his throat hitches before he pulls me back into a heated kiss. Roughly, his hand slipped up my shirt groping my breasts and pinching my nipples. Gasping into the kiss, a soft moan escapes me. I can feel his cock bobbing against my stomach, the temptation to have him take me right now is irresistible. He seems to read my mind as he takes me and turns me around. I brace against the counter, his hips lining up against mine while my eyes meet his in the mirror.

"Watch me fuck you slut." He growls. Without warning he slips inside of me. Loudly gasping I reach back to find purchase on anything onto to hand my hand pushed against my back and held there roughly. Snapping his hips into my pussy harshly, he grunts with each thrust. He's fast and unrelenting, pulling soft moans from me with every move. The pleasure melts into my gut and spreads all throughout my body. I can't find the courage to look at myself in the mirror and instead close my eyes.

"look at yourself." Kyle orders behind me. I don't listen, instead opting to look at the floor instead. The rocking of my body stops abruptly when he lays an open palm on my behind. Whining, I bite my lip and lift my head looking at him in the mirror. His eyes meet mine again and immediately the slapping of skin returns to the air. "That's right, slut. Don't stop watching me while I fuck you."

The pleasure rocking through me makes it hard to keep my eyes on him, watching the way he's pounding into me at speeds I hadn't thought possible. Growing tighter in my gut is the knot, it's building even more than before, the rise of pleasure giving way to a shocking end. I clench around him, pulling a long groan from him. He doesn't stop the snapping of his hips while I grasp at the counter so hard my knuckles turn white. A wave of extraordinary pleasure washes over me. Eyes rolling back and walls fluttering around him I reach my end. The pleasure is so burning hot, the heat in my lower abdomen feels like summer. I can feel myself spill around his cock, his name falls from my lips. A stutter rises in his thrusts and he pulls out, his cum coating my ass.

Panting, I stand to turn and face him. Without pausing his lips find mine again in a slow and soft kiss. Without my list coated mind I can feel the softness of his lips on mind and the way his hands carefully caress my sides. He pulls away, breathless from the exertion.

"I love you so much."

I smile, my chest squeezing tightly. "I love you too."

He helps me clean up the aftermath, his touches soft and loving while he wipes me clean. Tossing the rag to the floor he picks up my bottoms and shorts to slide them back on my legs. "You don't have to do that Kyle." I reach down to swat him away and grab my clothes. He pulls them away from me and scowls. "Let me."

With a heavy sigh I lift my foot and step into the bottom and the shorts one by one. Standing he slips them up and smiles sweetly at me. Pressing a chaste kiss to my lips he walks over to his own clothes and begins to pull them up. At this time we both hear a knock on the door.

"Are you done yet dude? I have to shit." Stan says from the outside.

With wide eyes Kyle looks back at me, softly, I shake my head. "Yeah. Be out in a minute." He called back before readjusting his belt buckle. He smiles back at me and motions for me to follow. Happily I do so allowing him to lead me from the bathroom while Stan watches in shock.

"Dude! They fucked!"

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.65)

(Sneak peek) (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The truth always comes out one way or another, and with Jimin temporarily whisked away for surgery- it's up to you and yoongi to answer Namjoon's questions.

Tags: angst, blood, guns, murder, discussions of morality, descriptions of dead bodies, discussion of past spousal abuse, confessions, hurt/comfort, sickfic, hospitals, reconciliation, vmin focus, Trans! tae, discussions of transness, everybody lives nobody dies,

W/c: 12.0k

A/N: this chapter is a bit heavy on the dialogue but! sorry that this chapter came out when it did, we're finally here! sorry for the break in chapters- I got some not great news about a family members health and wanted to spend some extra time with them over the holidays.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Chapter 65 Sneak Peek: Lucky Gods

You drop a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder without a word. After some beckoning Namjoon follows you into the room. Legs shaking and sluggish at first. The pack is quiet even as the door closes.

But once Namjoon's moving it’s hard to stop, careening like a comet or a bullet in your direction.

To say that Namjoon is angry is an understatement; rage rolls off of him in quiet unending ripples carrying with it the strength to change the pack for good if he’s not careful.

He watches you startle and turn, eyes widening. You do not make to move out of his path.

Namjoon has never made you feel afraid before, but the pulse of it, the threat of it is there as he backs you against the wall until your body lies against it. Looming over your head, so much taller and larger than you.

An alpha. An alpha hunting. You tremble but do not move to avoid him.

He has a tiny bit of blood on his face, and a hairline splatter, almost like a constellation of stars across his temple. His fingers are harsh and shaking when they dig into your cheeks, pinching them until your lips open. Your knees tremble and you press your palm flat against the wall.

His scent thunders so thick and consuming that you can't physically stop yourself from trying to bear your throat. Namjoon stops you, holding you in place.

His eyes are dark and heavy-lidded as he looks down at you, He pinches your cheeks harder, shakinging you just a little. His voice is steady when he speaks, a low snarl.

“Never make me hurt one of our packmates again.” You swallow, although it’s hard. And he pinches again, harder before you get a chance to speak, to try and defend why you brandished that knife at Jimin hours ago. “I mean it. Never.”

He holds you there for a second longer before he lets you go, gasping. His hand slides down your throat to your neck, around the back near your scruff and gives it a small reassuring squeeze that only makes you feel like you're about to fall over. You would fall over if it wasn't for his touch keeping you up.

“I’m sorry.” You choke out, a few stingy tears making themselves known at the corner of your eyes. Namjoon rests his forhead against yours and closes his eyes. his spiky silver hair hitting your skin.

After a second he opens them again, nodding, and his scent looses its bitter edge. He steps closer, guiding you to rest against his chest. You take big gasps of his scent now that he's giving you permission. your instincts thunder through you so viciously that you can't physically stop yourself from tilting your neck and bearing your throat.

Namjoon just drags a finger down it, humming. He holds you up, arms around your shoulders, an anchor and a cage.

“It’s not okay.” I’m not okay, “but I forgive you.” Your knees do give out when Namjoon’s hand brushes the back of your neck, fingers digging in tenderly. Because even if he wants to be angry, anger won’t accomplish anything.

He walks you two strides, to put you into a chair next to Yoongi. Your mate takes you from him. the plastic chair makes a loud scraping noise against the linoleum floor. Jin’s on your other side looking just as tired as the rest of you. You'll get no rest tonight, sleeping in Jimin's hospital room when he gets out of surgery, every fitful dream interrupted by the oxygen monitor on his arm.

Secret, killer, and agent. All there in a pretty little row. Namjoon glares down at the three of you and crosses his arms.

“Explain.” Namjoon can’t wait another minute, another second. “Explain to me everything going on in my pack that I don't know about right now or I swear I’ll-“

Yoongi scoffs, "That you'll what? That you'll tear us apart Namjoon? that you'll leave? Look around you- we're already falling to pieces."

Coming Saturday January 6th at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments below)

[meaningofaeons]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ unbearable

⊹ character(s) - sampo koski ⊹ word count - 1.7k ⊹ notes - gn!reader, angsty, hurt/comfort?? possibly slightly ooc sampo sorry </3, unedited

ugh I rlly couldn't help myself making my first work on this account sampo (tho I really did consider svarog LMAO he's grown on me a lot) but I hope you all like!! this is like. my redebut onto tumblr writing hehe ^w^

Surely, there couldn't be a more unbearable man on this planet — no, maybe in the entire universe — than Sampo Koski.

Perhaps he had his good sides, though, you would find yourself musing every once in a while.

Sure, he was a filthy conman, always tunnel-visioned on his next profit. Not much consideration for strangers aside from their pockets, not to mention that terrible habit of his to spam anyone whose contact he could get his hands on with scam ads and malware links he was paid a pretty sum to spread. Even his own 'friends' wouldn't be spared from his constant phishing attempts.

Maybe he did get a bit too reckless if the job was especially large, especially profitable, and maybe he did sometimes ditch just before the bill at a restaurant would arrive, and maybe he did piss off a group of automatons, causing them to chase you two to the edge of town until —

You sighed irritably, pinching your temple as you tried to refocus your thoughts.

In spite of all that, Sampo did have his benefits, you surmised.

He had ended up dropping in at just the right time during that automaton chase, even though you'd assumed mere moments earlier that his disappearance from your side meant he had run for the hills and left you behind. You avoided a lot worse injuries thanks to him that day.

And yeah, he did stop that miner from scamming you out of a good chunk of your paycheck that one time — albeit at the cost of another group of naïve victims who he led the man directly to. 'The only one who can swindle you out of all your pocket money is me!' he had claimed, and promptly received a beating over the head.

But once you opened your eyes again, beholding the sight of Sampo Koski sat on his knees before you in shame, twiddling his thumbs as he glanced to the side with a guilty smile...

You weren't quite sure his positive aspects could completely abate your wrath.

On this very day, the man before you had asked you to come with him to Rivet Town to assist with a 'very important business discussion'. You, foolishly, decided to trust him again.

'Give him the benefit of the doubt,' you'd thought. 'Maybe this time it's actually something honest. Maybe this'll really help him.'

Rather than a discussion, though, the foxlike man had instead led you right to a large group of automatons.

'It'll be fine,' he'd said, shrugging. 'Just need some scrap metal for a client! It's technically still a business discussion, we're just discussing with our weapons rather than our mouths!'

So he'd left you to dismantle the automaton pile, until another group of very much active robots had spotted you two and barreled towards you for vengeance.

The man hadn't even noticed in your collective fleeing that one of the bots had managed a sizable gash on your leg, hindering your escape until the two of you finally stumbled back into town.

Of course, the filthy scammer escaped unscathed himself.

Just recalling the incident sent you into further distress as the pain ached in your leg — you hadn't bothered to get it treated by Natasha yet, too focused on giving your 'business partner' a piece of your mind as soon as possible.

Sampo didn't dare speak a word himself. Your stormy expression was enough for him to keep his trap shut tight, too afraid of your mood to risk worsening it.

He had really done it with his latest stunt — a little 'prank gone wrong', as he put it, until he saw just how upset you were — and he knew it, too.

"I just..." Green eyes immediately shot over towards you as you began to speak, but your words only cut off into a heavy sigh, leading you to slump into a chair in the corner of your dingy apartment. Seeing you kneading your forehead with a look of exhaustion more so than anything else, the sly man took his chances with a conversation.

"L-Like I said, Y/N, it was all in good fun!" he laughed anxiously, feeling his palms begin to sweat. "I wasn't actually going to leave you to get all the parts by yourself, or ditch you when the bots came running, or anything —"

"Quiet."

Your voice shut him up once again.

Sampo was exceedingly nervous today. Usually, you'd just get angry with him, expression twisting into that cute, flushed pout that he'd gotten so fond of.

You'd hit him over the head, scold him loudly, drag him by the ear... but you were never silently angry. Not like this.

"Does it really make you happy?" your voice echoed through the room at last, your face still hidden beneath your exasperated hands. "Is it really that fun? Are you getting a good laugh at my expense?"

Sampo's smile, though nervous, fell.

"You know, Sampo Koski," His spine straightened at his full name being used, rare shame filling his cheeks. He felt like he was being scolded like a toddler. "You always pull something or other over me. Usually, it's bearable. But it's gotten to be too much."

"Y-Y/N —"

"I choose to offer you my trust in so many ways, and you just...!" Your hands clutched onto your hair in complete vexation. "You always take advantage of it! Always! Even when I try to help you, or give you the benefit of the doubt, try to convince myself you're being honest for once!"

You peered through your fingers at him with one eye.

"I can count on two hands the amount of times you've shockingly come through for me, and yet, I don't even have enough hairs on my head to equal the amount of times you've swindled or betrayed me! This is the last straw, Sampo Koski!"

"Y/N, l-listen —"

"I'm going to Nat's."

His mouth fell agape as you just got up and began walking towards the door as you'd said.

"Wait!"

"What?" you sneered as the man half-rose to his feet, frozen by your glare. "Worried that I'll tattle to her and you'll get another earful to ignore? Don't worry. She knows that every injury I get is your doing, so she's going to find out one way or another."

"...Injury?" Sampo asked, dumbfounded. You raised a brow, thoroughly ticked as you turned and walked away again.

It was then that he noticed the blood soaking your pants, the torn material of your clothes sticking uncomfortably to the gnashed skin. Your limp was more pronounced than he'd like to admit, considering he clearly hadn't noticed it prior to now.

The door slamming brought the man back to his senses, and he immediately pursued you, grabbing onto your wrist before you could make it ten steps away from your home.

"Let go, Sampo! While I'm still being nice!"

"I'm sorry!"

"I don't want to hear it! I —" Upon processing his words, you turned, a look of mild horror washing over your features as you raised a brow again. "...Eh?"

Sure enough, the Sampo Koski had just said the words 'I'm sorry' in a tone that sounded more genuine than anything he'd ever pushed past his lips — that is, if his souring expression was anything to go by.

He'd never said that to you before, not in the several incidents before this, so you certainly hadn't expected it now.

He looked gutted.

"I should've — I shouldn't've — Urgh..." Sampo scratched the back of his neck. You narrowed your eyes.

"Don't tell me this is just you being too afraid of Nat to let me get treated by her."

"No, no, listen," he waved his hands around wildly. "I'm... sure, I'm afraid of Miss Natasha, plenty afraid, in fact! But... being real honest, I'm way more afraid of you walking out on me for good."

His head bowed, and he looked completely downtrodden at this point.

"Y-You've been better to me than most, and I guess... I don't know. I just thought you'd always be there, sorta... Which was wrong of me to assume!" Sampo's speech was jumping all over the place as he hastily attempted to keep your attention, worried a single wrong word would send you walking away again. "Very wrong! I took advantage of ya a lot, and... Well, I'm sorry."

You stood there in silence for a good, long while.

It was plenty of time to make even Sampo nervous. You couldn't deny reveling in the way his fingers twitched anxiously, his eyes darting to you and back to the floor as he awaited your response — or lack of one — to his apology.

Finally, you sighed again. A very long, drawn-out, wrongdoing-emphasizing sigh.

"Well, I assume you can't promise that this will never happen again."

"Heheh... Well, if we're being really, really honest..." he simpered, not meeting your eye. "I can at least promise that I'll never let you get hurt on my watch again, though! Not ever! Koski's honor!"

The comical way he put a fist to his chest, as though mimicking a Silvermane Guard, put a reluctant smile on your face. Finally, you snorted out a laugh, bringing his infamous smile back again as well. This time, however, it was more relieved than mischievous.

"I really hate you sometimes," you murmured, pulling him into a hug as you buried your face in his shoulder. "But I'll let it slide. Last time, Sampo Koski. Don't you mess up again."

"I won't!" he shouted, perhaps a bit too eager. Still-shaky hands found your figure as he gently returned your embrace, something a bit more tender in his eyes when you pulled away. "I won't."

"Fine."

"Now, then, why don't we mosey back on into your house and get that leg patched up, eh?"

"Sorry, Mr. Koski," you teased, folding your hands behind your back as you continued your trek towards Natasha's clinic. "As much as we just shared a heartfelt moment of emotional growth, I don't trust your shoddy patchwork first-aid, not for something that hurts this bad. You'll just have to deal."

Sampo trailed after you like a puppy, rubbing his hands together like the shady businessman he was, familiar swindling smirk back already — though it grew more anxious by the minute as you neared Natasha's.

"Ah, come on! Can't we work out a deal? A bargain?! I said I won't let you get hurt again! We're both reasonable people, right...?"

"Y/N...? Y/N, come on!"

[afro-hispwriter]

The Last Door(Comic!Wanda)

Comic!Wanda Maximoff x f!mutant!reader

Summary- You come through "The Last Door" in search of help but find the one woman you wouldn’t think you would see 

Warnings- Mentions of m day, mentions of imprisonment and harassment, bi!reader,  you slept with Magneto 🤷🏾‍♀️, lesbian!wanda, slightly jealous wanda

*Reader is a powerful telepath and telekinetic* I'm a slut for those powers

-

It had been a slow day in the Emporium. A customer here and there came in, but nobody has come through the door in the past week since Viv(Vision's daughter). It made Wanda nervous. Did something happen with the door and she hadn't been alerted? Is something stopping people from coming in? Too deep in her thoughts, the curly brown-headed woman didn't hear said door burst open. 

"Uh, Wanda." Darcy tapped the witch's shoulder and pointed towards the door. Wanda spun around and trained her green eyes on the open door.

"Is someone there?" She asked but received no response. "We're not going to hurt you, you come for help. You will receive it." Still nothing. Now nobody who was a threat has come through. Yet. But that can change. Wanda swirled her hand and she was changed into the Scarlet Witch. "Darcy, stay back." She looked back at her friend and the girl could only nod. 

Wanda took a few steps towards the door and that's when she heard staggered breathing.

"Hello-." She was cut off by a woman falling face-first into the ground in front of her feet. "Oh dear." Wanda crouched down and pushed the hair out of the girl's face. And just by a little glimpse, Wanda gasped. "Y/n!?"

-

Wanda sat by her former friend's bedside. Her body was beaten up after most likely being in a fight. 

But her mind was another issue. It was as if it had been fried and now it's working overtime to heal.

"You find out what happened yet?" Darcy peeked around the corner. Wanda sighed and shook her head. 

"No, but Y/n has always had one of the best telepathic blockers I've encountered, even in her weakened state." Wanda squeezes the towel of water and wipes away the dirt and blood. 

"How do you guys know each other?" 

"She was in the Brotherhood briefly, more a plaything for my father." 

"Your friend slept with your dad? What a bitch." Wanda's face twisted and her fans clenched the rag. 

"It was my fault. She confessed her feelings for me but I was falling for Vision." She dumbed the rag into the bowl and set it to the side.

"Well, now you're a super cool lesbian because men suck, even the robots." Darcy giggled at her own words and Wanda just shook her head. "What do you think happened to her?"

"I'm not sure, I just hope she wakes up soon."

-

She didn't wake up for 3 days straight. During that time Pietro was informed his friend was with his sister.

"How long has it been since you spoke to her Pietro," Wanda asks her brother as they share a tea.

"Not for a while. You?” Pietro asks.

"My death." Pietro hummed in acknowledgment.

"What did you think happened to her?" 

"I think she got into a fight with Orchis, it seems like they almost succeeded in killing her." Pietro shook his head and stood up. 

“I'm going after them.”

"No, we may not be mutants but that doesn’t mean it's safe ." Wanna tried to reason with her brother but he wouldn't listen. 

"Pietro?” A tired soft voice alerted both twins. Their green eyes searched for the source just to see their friend leaning against the stair railing, eyes shut and face twisted.

"Y/n!" Pietro zoomed towards you and had you in his arms immediately, he brought you to the couch and laid you down. 

"You shouldn't be up my friend.” Pietro gets down on one knee.  

"My favorite speedster, my hero." You smiled tiredly.

“What happened?” 

“Orchis, they are becoming stronger. They know our weaknesses.” A blaring headache made you press your fingers into your temple. “This device, t-they managed to put it on my forehead and it's like nothing worked. They fried me, I ran away and then I was here.” You opened your eyes and looked around. 

“Where am I?” 

“My shop.”

You had forgotten how delicate her voice was. You looked over to the woman in her purple dress. It brought out her and her honey skin was shining and the curls in her brown were more defined than the last time you saw her.

“Wanda. Hello darling.” She simply waved. “It's great to see you.” You winced and started to sit up. 

“You as well.” Pietro looked between the two women and stood up. 

“I'm going to get you some water and good Y/n.” You nodded and he sped off leaving you and Wanda alone.

“So this is what you’ve been doing?” 

“I'm sorry.” She says and looks down at her feet.

“Why?”

“I wasn’t there to help everyone during the fall.” You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t be silly Wanda, that was not your responsibility. You have done enough for us.” 

“But I could have done more, now so many mutants are dead.” You shakily put your hand out for her to grab. Wanda took it and allowed you to pull her to sit next to you. 

“You already have so much blame, don’t let this put you down.” She smiled but her eyes glossed.

“Why are you so nice to me now? Not that I'm complaining.” You sighed and started trying to lean back against the pillows

“I will never forget what you did that day, you ruined me. Ruined almost all the mutants. The things we went through.” Wanda bit her lip and her heart started racing. “But I'm forgiving you.” She let out a small breath of relief. “Your death hit me hard, even after you explained why. It hurt that thought I wouldn’t be able to mend things with you. After you were back, I just left it be.”

“Why?” She grabbed your hands.

“It’s selfish really.” 

“Don’t make me get in your head.” She giggled.

“As if you could.” You smirked but it dropped. “Well since you and Vison were having issues, I just thought that it was finally my chance.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Wanda's stomach fluttered suddenly and she squeezed your hands.

“Well, we divorced you know.”

“Yes?” You quirked an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, I even realized some things about myself. And maybe if I had realized it sooner, me and you could’ve been together when you confessed.” You seemed to have caught on to what she meant.

“I'm glad you found yourself, Wanda.” 

“I appreciate that.” You nodded, and then another swoosh came and Pietro stood there with food and a drink carrier.

“I got the good stuff.” 

“Thank you, Pietro, you are too kind.” You say.

“I'm the best.” He winked and you giggled. Wanda rolled her eyes and frowned. 

“Thank you, brother, can you please leave it there? Me and Y/n are still talking.” Pietro frowned but shrugged took his drink and plate and dashed away. 

“Hmm was there something else you wanted to say?” Your drink was floating in front of you and you grabbed a straw and took it out of the paper. Already indicting your strength returning. 

“Oh yes. I-I just.” She started and watched you take a sip. “After you are healed, would you like to go for a tea or coffee?” She was nervous, her eyes darted around and she tapped her fingers against her thighs.

“Of course.”

-

A/n- I honestly want to keep writing for Comic Wanda 🙂lmk what you think

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Technoblade knew the gods were expecting his arrival from how the path opened up to welcome him. 

Trees bent away, vines with thorns burrowed into the soft ground at his approach. Techno hauled the bag with offerings up on his shoulder and carefully stepped forward.

He could feel the divinity that lingered in the air here like a physical thing, alive. It wound itself around him, before settling on his shoulders with unexpected weight. But whatever it found there must not be a bad thing. Because the path remained open and Techno found no resistance as he made his way up to the temple.

He was very aware of the fact that he was treading ground that had not seen human feet in centuries. After the gods retired, they were left alone. Nobody was dumb enough to bother a bunch of deities that had let it be known in no uncertain terms they were done quarreling in mortal affairs. Nobody, except the rulers of Techno's country. 

They had come up with the grand idea to send the reclusive gods some gifts. And that - hopefully - would soften them up enough to lend an ear to their desperate plea for more power against their enemies. A plea that Techno was chosen to deliver, picked from among the regiment of royal guards for this important task.

His boots made soft, ringing noises against the marble steps. As he walked the long anteway that led into the heart of the temple, it seemed deserted. Yet Techno swore he could hear the echoes of laughter and the light music of a guitar. He could feel the gaze of curious eyes on him. The youngest of these gods, the sons of the chosen. One with a domain of mischief and fire, the other ruling over music and transformation. 

Yeah, Techno was not an idiot. He had done his research.

At long last the hallway came upon the throne room. The ceiling was high enough that Techno could barely see it, only the tapestries of black silk and woven stars that gleamed from above him. The Goddess of Death looked down at him with a tepid smile. On her left, there was a chair for her husband, her angel. He lounged upon it much like a mortal would: with crossed legs and relaxed posture.

Both of them seemed pretty chill at first glance, but Techno knew how deceiving that could be. He would need to follow all codes of polite conduct if he didn't want to risk the wrath of a god who felt slighted.

So he took to one knee, the bag sliding off his shoulder onto the ground with a light thud from all the gold and precious gemstones inside. Treasures worth more than Techno could earn in a lifetime.

"Our Lady," he said, addressing the divine with the highest power. "I have come from the lands of Hypixel to humbly request you accept their gift."

A heavy silence hung over the room, Techno kept his eyes on the polished floor throughout it. 

"A gift?" Her voice was clear as crystal glass, sweet as spun sugar. "Well, don't be shy then. Come closer, dear."

Techno stood and felt himself move before conscious thought was put to the action. As if it was not fully by choice. He swallowed, glancing at the bag of trinkets forgotten behind him as he stepped closer to the throne before kneeling again.

The Goddess of Death inclined her chin, looking down at him. Her eyes were deep purple. Techno felt he could get lost in them.

Then she waved her hand and before Techno could blink, the angel stood before him. His large black wings were spread behind him, though the feathers only ruffled softly when fingers settled on his chin. His face was tilted up.

"What is your name?" The angel asked.

Techno wanted to tell them it was irrelevant. He was only an envoy, here to deliver a cargo and leave. His lips were moving before that thought could properly form.

"Technnoblade, sir."

The angel's smile spread into a wicked grin. "Oh no, none of those formalities, mate. Not if we're keeping you." He looked over his shoulder. "Love, you're seeing what I'm seeing, right?"

"I do believe so," Lady Death said. Then she sighed, amused. "My, how hypocritical of us. We did tell them we wanted nothing to do with them anymore."

"They fucking knew. But they tried anyway." A thumb pressed into Techno's cheek. He knew he should be scared, in the presence of such overwhelming power. Something in his brain refused to connect. Those purple eyes watched him, read him. They saw him.

"Well, we can't fault them when the gift they send us is this perfect." When the Goddess spoke, it was with such fondness in her voice.

Techno blinked, confused. The bag of offerings was not even a blip on their radar anymore.

"Indeed," her angel agreed. He finally let go, only to pull Techno up by the elbow instead. His fingers stayed there, curled around tightly. "I will let the mortals know that we accept their gift. And that we'll take very good care of him."

---

AKA: Dark SBI AU where Techno is an envoy sent to deliver a gift to the gods. Except the gods mistake him for the gift and decide they're quite happy to keep him.

[chickenbyday]

11 and 13 for andreil...(@stabbyfoxandrew)

this uh.. drabble. got away from me. and is also most definitely not what you intended.

Prompts are "I thought you were dead" and "We're going to get arrested for this". Enjoy!

The chain link fence gives under Andrew's boot in a way that sends his stomach swooping towards the cold hard ground below, but he manages to keep his balance long enough to prevent the ten-foot free fall. Aaron huffs from the ground, although whether it's from amusement or annoyance at Andrew's plight is up in the air, and Andrew refuses to look down and check. When he swings his leg over, his jean snags on the top where the shitty wire isn't folded over, and Andrew swears under his breath. He's going to kill the man when they finally get to him, and this is going onto the list of reasons, right after the fake death and the ghosting. 

Andrew finally spares Aaron a look. "Sometime before the sun comes up, if you don't mind," he whisper-yells, and Aaron drags his hands over his face roughly before dragging his feet over to the fence and following Andrew's lead. 

"We're going to get arrested for this," Aaron mutters, and Andrew rolls his eyes, although he knows Aaron can't see him. It's more likely to be the FBI considering the man Andrew is trying sneak up on, and apparently, they've been handled. 

"I know the guy," Andrew says instead when he gets two feet on the ground, and Aaron jumps from the top like the asshole he is, landing next to him, snow crunching under his heels. 

"Then why the fuck are we breaking and entering?" Aaron asks, trailing Andrew to the fire escape stairs. The bottom level ladder isn't completely lowered, and Andrew turns to look at Aaron head on. Before he opens his mouth, Aaron shakes his head. "No. Absolutely not."

"You owe me," Andrew says, which technically is true, and the only reason he got Aaron to come. Not that he told him about this part, because, well--

"I don't owe you this much," Aaron says, eyeing the drop-down ladder. Also, arguably, technically true. "I'm not going to jail for this."

"What, don't think Nicky would post our bail?" Andrew asks snidely, and Aaron glares. He's rubbing at his temples again, which means that he already knows that Andrew isn't budging and is trying to decide whether or not it's worth that argument in the middle of the night after they've already broken into the place. 

"I'm not going to be the one to do it," Aaron says instead of arguing again, and Andrew shrugs. He can salvage this. 

"You think you can give me the boost?" Andrew asks, because he really, really doesn't want to do this part. 

"It's not like you're tall," Aaron says, rolling his shoulders and gauging the distance between the ground and the ladder. 

Andrew huffs at him but doesn't have a rebuttal to that. It's not like he is tall. Andrew shakes most of the slush off his boots, because as much as he wants to be a dick about this, if Aaron loses feeling in his fingers, Andrew will be the one to pay for it. 

He'll find a way to get him back eventually. Probably when Aaron cashes in on what Andrew will owe him for.

Aaron moves to stand under the ladder and drops to one knee. Andrew comes up behind him and clambers onto his shoulders, and Aaron slowly stands up, tipping Andrew in the process. 

Andrew yanks his hair when he regains his balance. Asshole. Andrew would have done this part smoothly. "Fuck all the way off," Aaron says, swaying in a way that makes Andrew's stomach twist and turn. 

When Aaron finally finds his footing and braces for it, Andrew does the shamble of an amateur gymnast that it takes to get to something that resembles standing, Aaron gripping his ankles hard enough to make the leather of his boots creak. 

"Why are you wearing these shoes to do this?" Aaron complains, and Andrew ignores him in favor of reaching up to grab the- 

The ladder is still too tall. 

This is why he didn't want to be the one to do it. 

Andrew pauses, and Aaron looks up to see what the holdup is and groans. 

Andrew knocks his knee against the side of his head. "Let go of me," he demands, and Aaron to his credit does, and Andrew says, "Watch your shoulders," before jumping to the bottom rung. The ladder slides down half a foot in a jolt, Andrew's intestines falling to the floor, but when it settles again, Andrew is still dangling in the air. 

He pulls himself up enough to grab the next rung and manages to get to landing without crashing back to the ground. When he gets there, he undoes the latches holding the ladder in place and sends it down for Aaron to follow. 

They climb up the rest of the steps, and they get to the fourth floor before Aaron finally asks, "So who's apartment are we breaking into?" Only took him three hours. That's two and a half hours later than Andrew was expecting, but small mercies he guesses. 

Granted, Andrew did show up at his apartment at ten o'clock at night and told him he was cashing in and nothing more. 

"This guy's," Andrew says in answer, and Aaron kicks the back of his heel. "We were... friends," Andrew continues, because Aaron still wears steel toed, apparently, and Andrew doesn't want a repeat. He grumbles something about not knowing Andrew had friends, but Andrew ignores him. "He disappeared off the face of the earth a year ago and turned up here two months ago with a different name. He deserves a kick in the teeth."

None of that was quite the truth, but it was as close enough as it could get with the distraction of the task at hand. 

"What makes you think it's the same guy and not a look-alike?" Aaron asks, which if it was anyone else, might be a reasonable question. Andrew shrugs at him the best he can over his shoulder, and Aaron rolls his eyes at him with a huff. 

When they get to the fifteenth floor, Andrew pauses, startling when Aaron runs into his back. "Are we there yet?" Aaron asks, not quite out of breath, but in the vicinity of it. 

"Door one or door two?" Andrew asks, gesturing at the two windows on the landing, and Aaron whips around to look at him. 

"How do you not know which one?" He asks, voice reaching an octave that Andrew would be alarmed about if he didn't know that Aaron was a dramatic little bitch.

"Renee works in mysterious ways," Andrew says cryptically, because the real answer is that he does know, probably, if he was paying attention, but the answer is lost somewhere in his memory and Andrew has no idea how to pull it out. 

"Why does Renee know where your secret friend is?" Aaron asks, because, well. Her line of work has never exactly been one that you want to get mixed up in, never mind that these days, she works to break up the gangs like the ones she was running with as a teen. 

She had to pull a lot of strings to figure out where the FBI dumped him when they were through getting his testimony, and she told Andrew that she wouldn't be able to find him again if he fucks it up and gets him relocated. He told her not to worry. Andrew wasn't losing him again. 

Andrew ignores Aaron's question and picks a window to peak into. He finds himself looking into a darkened living room, at a plush couch with tasteful pillows and photos of dogs on the far wall. Definitely not. Andrew remembers the state of the apartment he had a year ago. 

The other window proves more promising, the furniture looking like it's probably been in this building since the old woman who lived here last kicked it, saving the FBI from having to figure out how to get this man a furnished apartment. Or maybe they picked out the most god-awful stuff they could find after having to deal with him as some form of revenge. Andrew can't say that he blames them if the latter was the case. 

Andrew shimmies one of his knives through the crack where the window is latched down, carefully pushing the latch open. When it eventually gives, Andrew slips his knife back into its band and carefully slides the window up, letting in the powdery snow lining the sill. Andrew turns to Aaron, and Aaron shakes his head. 

"What?" Andrew hisses at him through his teeth, and Aaron gestures emphatically to the window. 

"I'm not breaking and entering this guy's apartment!" He hisses back. 

"We haven't broken anything yet. It's still just trespassing," Andrew says, one foot already halfway through the window. Not technically true, because breaking and entering includes if there's intent to commit a crime, and Andrew plans on committing a murder before this night is over. But Aaron doesn't need to know that. 

"That doesn't make this better," Aaron argues, following him through. 

"Actually, according to the law, it does." Andrew turns and stops dead in his tracks. 

The bluest eyes Andrew has ever seen in his life are staring back at him, a deer caught in the head lights, a flash of a knife caught in his fist.

"It's going to be the same call from jail," Aaron says, spinning around and promptly freezing. For a moment, no one moves. 

"Neil," Andrew says, as absolutely flat as he can muster. He's not sure he manages it if the way Neil inhales sharply is anything to go by. 

Neil says nothing, still staring at Andrew like-- 

Andrew turns to Aaron. "You can leave," he says, and Aaron gestures between the three of them wordlessly. 

Andrew points to the window. He does not say please, but Aaron must be less of a jackass than he lets on, because he catches it anyway. "I'll be in the car," he grumbles. Andrew tosses him the keys, and he leaves after shooting Neil a look Andrew isn't quite sure how to parse. 

Andrew watches the window slide shut, and then watches the closed window for good measure, carefully clenching and unclenching his hands into fists. 

"Andrew," Neil finally says, and Andrew flinches, whirling around to face him. 

"What are you doing here?" Andrew spits, his breath burning hot in his lungs and igniting the dark coal in his chest. 

Neil keeps staring at him, like he has any right to be looking at Andrew like that right now, and says, "I could ask you the same." 

Andrew wants to break his face more than it already has been since the last time Andrew has seen him. "I keep my promises." Neil's eyes cut down to the floor when he hears the unspoken, unlike you. 

"There wasn't another option," Neil says instead of answering Andrew's original question. Andrew's nails dig into his palms hard enough draw blood, a sudden burst of warmth he wasn't expecting. 

"Thought you were the optimist between the two of us," Andrew says, glaring at the spot on the carpet where his shoes are melting into the floor, because if he looks at Neil right now, he'll kill him. 

It's starting to hit Andrew that he might not have been a hallucination after all, and he doesn't know what to do with that revelation. 

"I never pretended to be," Neil says, and he sounds as tired as Andrew feels. "I was just... stupid." 

Andrew's eyes snap up to his. "So that's how it is?" Andrew asks, clinging to the apathy settled into his bones. 

"I'm sorry," Neil says, dragging his hands through his hair, "for dragging you into this." 

"I don't care." The forest fire in his chest has gone out in a haze. Andrew wills his eyes not to water in the smokey aftermath of it. 

"I know," Neil says, and there's something wrong with the lilt of his voice. 

"Also irrelevant," Andrew says, instead of addressing it. 

"I didn't have another choice." Neil puts the knife away into the drawer in front of him. 

"Bullshit." 

Neil walks around the countertop that separates the living room and the kitchen and sits on the couch. They would have killed you, if I had fought back." 

Andrew plops down next to him, crossing his arms and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. Neil wrinkles his nose at Andrew's shoes but elects not to say anything. "They would have tried."

Despite himself, Neil huffs a laugh. "Andrew," He says, and Andrew can't believe it's been a year since he's heard that voice, "These people were employees of a man known as The Butcher." 

"'Were'?" Andrew asks, and the mirth on Neil's face vanishes, mouth forming a thin line. It gives Andrew a moment to study the other new lines carved into Neil's face from up close, but Andrew can't think about it too hard, because there madness lies, and he just managed to cool the embers of his rage. 

"Were," Neil responds firmly, and Andrew lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. 

"What happened?" Andrew asks after sitting in silence for a long moment of listening to Neil breath next to him, a sound Andrew didn't even know was possible to miss. 

"They got me on my way out of work. FBI caught up some twelve hours later." Neil picks at the scars dotting his hands, and it's a familiar enough sight that Andrew smacks his hands lightly without thinking. Neil looks up at him and smiles softly, and the back of Andrew's neck tingles in a way it hasn't in a while. Still, this isn't adding up.

"Why didn't you come back?" Andrew asks, and Neil drops his gaze to his hands. 

"They had your address and were going to get you instead if I fought," Neil says, and Andrew rolls his eyes. 

"This martyr shit isn't cute." God. The fact that this didn't occur to Andrew as a possibility months ago is ridiculous. 

"It would have been my fault," Neil says, like that's any kind of defense or justification. "If something happened to you, it would have been my fault."

"I don't care," Andrew repeats, catching his eyes again.

Neil narrows his eyes, an anger that Andrew hasn't seen in a year that he didn't think he'd see again. "Someone needs to care about your life," Neil says, an edge to his voice that hasn't been there. 

"I thought you were dead," Andrew says, matching that edge. 

Neil blinks before shaking his head roughly, ignoring him. "I couldn't lose you," Neil says, like that's a thing he's allowed to admit out loud, like that's a thing he's allowed to feel about Andrew, like that matters at all when it means Andrew has to lose Neil. 

"Then don't," Andrew says, eyes still locked on Neil's, and Neil is still fucking looking at him like-- 

"Yes or no?" Neil asks, and Andrew crashes into him without bothering to answer. 

Andrew isn't losing him again.

[yourlastbraincell-kiwi]

A/N: This was a request on my Wattpad called ‘Bound to One Another’ and forgot to put it on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy it!

Also, it switches from Chase and the reader’s pov, please be aware of that, but it starts off with the reader pov!

Pairing: Chase Davenport x Reader

As far as I know, it’s got typos-

——————🧬——————

"Hey, guys!"

I said, walking over to Adam, Bree, Chase and Leo. They all greeted me with smiles and waves, while Chase pulls my to his side by my waist, and kissed my temple.

"Where we're you I've been looking everywhere for you?" Chase asked setting his chin on my head. "Yeah, he was sweated so much, it looked like it rained inside the school." Bree said, motioned to Chases shirt.

"He extremely worried that you missed the first couple of classes, but honestly, that isn't something he should be worrying about. Mr, H's class is anything, but fun." Leo said, as we all, except Chase made that one face.

"His class is in fact fun, what about the time we studied the human body, and how many different systems the body has and-"

"And that is why you don't have many friends." Adam said while Bree and Leo nodded their heads. I shake my head and look up at Chase, "It's alright, I just over slept and the traffic was so bad today. I'm lucky enough to even have made it to school." I said walked with them to our classes.

"See? Right there. I would've taken advantage of that.." Leo said and fist bumped Adam.

I rolled my eyes as they when to class and Chase pulled me aside. "You sure, you're okay?" I nod, grabbing his shoulders. "Yes, I promise you. I'm a-okay. And if anything were to..." His face gives me that really look, but I continue to talk anyway. "...Were to happen you'd know. Okay?"

He sighs and nods his head. "Alright, I gotta go to class now." I smile at him, giving him a farewell kiss, and went to class.

——————🧬——————

It was around 2:40, when I had left school, I said goodbye to my friends except Bree and told Chase, I'd call him when I got home. I usually take the bus, till I get somewhat close to my house. Then I walk the rest of the way, listening to some music, and chatting with Bree, about girl stuff before bringing the subject back to Chase and I.

"Chase was really worried about you, though. I've only ever seen him worried when, he was taking that big History Exam." She said and we both laughed a bit.

"I know, and I promised him that nothing happened, and that I'll always message, whatever the case may be, so I don't worry him."

"Good, but I better get a text too, cause being left with three boys? I love 'em, but boy can they be annoying." She said, waving as she walked home on her own.

I continue walking to my own house particularly slow today though, just to take in the scenery. That was until I saw a rustle of leaves to my right. I brushed it off as it was quite windy today, and I'd expect leaves to make some sort of movement, in windy weather.

I kept on my walk until I heard a bit of a hushed voice, and started to speed walk a bit. Something wasn't sitting right in my gut and I always listen to my gut feeling. The rustling of leaves picked up and I started to run, only to have my arm gripped tight, as making stuff fall out of my pocket, including my phone, yanking the earbuds out of my ears, with such haste.

I hissed out my clenched teeth and tried loosening my kidnappers grip on my arm, but he wouldn't budge, so I kicked the back of his knee causing his to kneel down, probably scraping his knee, and I yanked my arm and tried to run.

He grabbed my ankle, causing me to fall and hit my face on the pavement. I groan feeling my face get hot, near my eyebrow, and lower lip and some blood dripping from my nose. I turned to see him rushed as me I scrambled to my feet and, run as fast I could.

But he was faster.

I screamed her help, but it was no use, the nearest town was little ways ahead from where I was, all because I was wanted to stop and smell the bloody roses! He grabbed my by my waist and put s hand over my mouth, and I kicked and screamed trying something, ANYTHING, that could get me out of his grasp, but he tossed me in the back of his car and locked it.

I banged on the door, begging and pleaded for someone to here me, but no one was there. I eventually stopped, and slouched against the vans doors, and cried silently, eventually crying myself to sleep.

——————🧬——————

I walked back and forth, ready to rip my own hair out of my own head. "Chase, calm down maybe, she was at a friends house." Bree asked as they watched me stress out, in the middle of the hallway at school. "I already ran that probability in my head, over 12 times today and trust me she's not there."

"She said she'd call, but she hasn't and I..." I slowly turn to face my siblings. "I think somethings wrong."

We all looked at each other uneasily, before I walked quickly out the of the school, with nothing but determination on finding (Y/N). "Chase! Wait up!" "Hey! Slow down." "Where are you going?" They said running after me.

"I'm going to find her. You can either come with me, or stay here your choice." I said turning to leave, but Bree grabbed my arm. "What about class, and we all know how much you love Mr.H' class." Leo nodded and pointed at Bree, as if her statement was correct.

"I do, but finding (Y/N) is way more important then some...some...stupid class!" I walked away leaving them wide eyed with Leo's mouth agape. "Who are you? And what have you done with Chase?" He said, as they ran after me.

——————🧬——————

'Ugh...'

'What happened?'

I slowly lift my head, as my eyes fluttered open. I tried to get a look at my surroundings, but it was little blurry, and my head was throbbing. I tried lifting my hand up to feel my temples, but I realized I was bound to the wall. I tried freeing myself, but that definitely wasn't the way of doing so.

"Move, and my father will hurt you."

I looked straight ahead of me, and groaned with audible annoyance.

"Marcus.." He just smirked at me, swirling the tea in his little teacup, with a coffee stirrer. Then Douglas came up from behind Marcus and came over to me.

"Sorry to cut this...lovely conversation short, but (Y/N) is feel a little sleepy."

"What? What are you talking about-?" I asked before Douglas put me to sleep, smiling at me with mischievous eyes.

I groaned as I lifted my head again, which felt heavier then before, vision still blurred, but this time I saw things moving through my blurred eyes. I blinked more trying to clear my vision.

I had come to realize that it was Bree and Adam, we're fighting Douglas and Marcus. Whilst Leo and Chase tried freeing me, and we managed to escape and rushed to their home.

I was sat on the couch in the living room and felt extremely dizzy all of a sudden. I don't know what it could have been. Neither did anyone else, so Mr. Davenport had me stand up to do a body scan.

He stopped, looking at me with worried eyes, putting the scanner down.

"What is it? Did you figure out why I'm so dizzy?"

"I uh...I did. But you might have to stay with us for while."

"Wait, why?" I said looking at him with fury burning inside my chest. "What did they do to me?"

"Douglas has implanted a chip in your neck. A bionic chip." Big D, said looking at me with nothing but pure, guilt.

"You don’t mean…?" I said, but he nodded already know what I was going to say. I looked around at everyone before my eyes landed on Chase.

——————🧬——————

I had went to my parents house, and told them something other then the fact that I now have bionics, and now have to stay at the Davenports. Cause who's to say that they'll believe me if I told them the truth.

They eventually yet reluctantly, "believed" me and let me go. I packed some things to take with me, who knows how long I'll be there? And who knows how long it'll take me to master this newfound ability or abilities.

I stepped into the car and Mr. Davenport drove us back to his house. After I got there Chase had pulled me aside, away from everyone else.

"You have no idea how worried I was, when you didn't come to school the next day. I didn't know what to do-"

"But you found me, and I'm okay, sorta." I said with a small giggle, causing him to smile.

"I know, and now we're connected by our bionics, so we've got nothing to fret about. But I have to ask you something." I nod, feeling a little nervous in my gut area.

"After we're done with school and all. Would you like to marry me.. one day?" I open my eyes wide and look at him if he's crazy. But I quickly realize he isn't joking and I'm quick to answer him with a 'yes.'

The group cheers, high fives and hugs each other. As Chase and I share a loving kiss.

"They grow up so fast." Tasha said, as Mr. Davenport, wrapped his arm around her waist.

"I know, it's like almost yesterday, he was still wearing pull-ups." Adam said whipping his tears. I laugh as we pulled apart, Chase way too happy to even try and argue with Adam.

[firstprincehornyramblings]

Hello everyone! I'm getting a start early, by queueing this post for tomorrow morning, look at me go. Thank you who much to @tailsbeth-writes for the tag <3 I have ... 3 wips again, because I have no self control, so we're doing all of this under the cut, because it's gonna be long, and maybe a lil nsfw <3 LET'S GOOOOOOOO.

------ George Villier's inner dialogue during an Orgy (that's the working title on this, please bare with)

It wasn’t that George had always been this way, but an ascension into power had nurtured his hedonism prone nature. If he was to be blessed with the gift of beauty, he would take all the power and pleasure that came with it. He’d earned it after all, his bed of lovers, his social standing, influence, and wealth. Each a result of unsavory acts; but that made them so much more deserved, did it not? He could have anything he wanted, like a god among men, and so he should be worshipped the same. Though he was more than content with devotion in the form of flesh; he’d certainly used his own body as currency often enough. Even now, anything that wasn’t handed to him willingly, with a brush of lips, or a clandestine slip to knees, could become his. That in itself was testament to all he’d done, that his willing submission was as effective a bargaining tool as his power.

WATERSPORTS FIRSTPRINCE (aka, Alex is funny and Henry has a weak bladder)

“You… think it’s- what?” Henry choked out, “You think it’s hot that I pissed myself in the middle of our kitchen? Is that your idea of a joke?” “I-” the brunette could feel his own cheeks heating up now, “It’s not a joke, I do, I’m sorry, but I do,” he managed after a moment. “Oh,” the blond’s eyes shot straight down to the shorts Alex had on, falling on the visible hardness there, “Oh,” he repeated, but with much more understanding this time. There were still tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall, but he was visibly less mortified, “Alex, that is so disgusting...” “I know, shit baby, I’m s-” “I can get into it.” “What?” “I said, I can get into it,” Henry repeated, “Well, honestly, I could probably get into anything that makes your cock hard, because- well frankly I reap the benefits of that. Would you like to fuck my throat?”

AND A NEW WIP, Hairstylist Henry and his least (read as favorite) Client Alex

“Alright, tilt your head back,” both of Henry’s hands rested on Alex’s temples, carefully moving the other man’s head into the perfect place, “Do you want me to stop under the jawline?” “Whatever you think looks best, sweetheart.” Normally, Henry would hate that, some businessman using a pet name on him. But usually it felt demeaning, when Alex did it, it felt genuine, perhaps that was why he didn't mind it. He would rather accept that than admit it might have something to do with how hot his cheeks felt or how his stomach flip flopped. Instead, he chose to focus on something else, like the familiar but luxurious scent becoming more evident the closer he was to Alex. “Santal 33?” the blond asked, running the trimmers over the other man’s jawline, making careful precise lines that would accentuate the sharp angles there. “Yeah,” impressively, Alex had answered that without much movement of his face; Henry was astonished. “Makes sense.” “What is that supposed to mean?” this time, the brunette moved, but he did have the mind to wait until Henry was running the trimers along his throat with less chance of Alex’s jolt messing up something. “It means you look like someone who has good taste, don’t move.” “You’re worse than a dentist,” Alex grumbled. “Stop moving, christ you’re an absolute menace, I’m going to slice your throat open.” “With an electric trimmer?” “I’m certain if I make enough effort, I just may be able to pull it off,” Henry snapped.

OKAY, that was a long one, if you stuck around thank u I love u. TAG LINE UP!!!!

@taste-thewaste @eusuntgratie @henrysfox @thighzp

@softboynick @catdadacd @sheepywritesfics @henryspearl

@basil-bird @caressthosecheekbones @henfox @onthewaytosomewhere + literally anyone else I'm sleepy and forgot, or anyone who sees this and wants to tag me, I love reading yall's stuff. <3

[fourthwifematerial]

garden of forking paths | 四 | part ii. body

yandere lord tengen x fourth wife, eiji. word count: 7,086. explicit content. 18+ MDNI

with the worst of their trials behind them, the wives are the latest to impress.

[ previous ] [ next ]

please be mindful of the ample warnings as we're all responsible for curating our own fandom experience✌️ this chapter contains cockwarming, nonconsensual somnophilia, force feeding, hierarchical bullying, face & breast slapping, exhibitionism, nonconsensual breast fucking & deepthroating, neuro spice, identity porn, nonconsensual oral, degradation, spanking, & anal

Eiji wakes to a trickling sound. Water in a basin, perhaps. She isn’t eager to open her eyes just yet, content enough to live in the mystery a little while longer.

The torrid events behind them seem to have dulled her senses. Her body has never been so spent.

Every inch of her screams out in a unilateral cry for relief. There’s not a silent muscle or limb on her. He put her through the wringer last night, made damn sure she was worthy of her station. 

She can’t have been asleep for more than a few hours. The sun had barely breached the horizon when he locked her in his arms and bid her sweet dreams.

What a crock… 

Uzui pressed his lips to her temple and crown.

“Get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

limbs akimbo in the sheets. sunrise bleeding on the horizon.

Her eyes were heavy on the window. He traced her face with such a fondness, as if he meant to memorize her every feature to the letter. He’s half hard, still fully sheathed inside her tight warmth.

She heaved a breathy sigh. For as much of a bastard Eiji considered him, Lord Tengen was a generous lover. He was considerate, in his way. If she’d been anyone else, she could see the appeal.

“Is that an order or a suggestion?” She’d hardly been able to recognize her voice as she spoke. It came out deep and used… raspy, even. “You plan on making me if I refuse?”

“It’s whatever you need it to be to see it done.”

“Are you going to…”

He rewards her impertinence with a pinch to her waist.

“Shut your eyes. Shut your mouth. Let me take what I need.”

Deflated from the high she’d just found herself riding, she sinks back into the sheets. Eiji did as she was told, as she’d done her whole life.

she shut her eyes. she shut her mouth. she let him take what he needed.

Face buried in her neck, his fingers lazily danced on her clit. When she began to cry softly, he buried her face in the pillow to silence her. 

“Just go… - fuck - Go to sleep!”

He went from warming his cock on her side to fucking her for the umpteenth time this night. 

The man was relentless. A fiend. 

She took back every kindness she’d ever thought about him.

Her vision began to haze. When he thrust, just so… she saw stars. She stilled beneath him as their juices spill out of her, pooling between them.

She let herself be lulled by the push and the pull, just like that night… His pace was impossible to keep up with, even as the man was nearing his end. 

His labored breath in her ears brought her right back to the roar of the waters. 

It wasn’t long before she found herself on that very beach.

There was nothing for miles, only craggy rocks and shells sharp enough to make her feet bleed.

Step by painful step and this is where it’s led her.

Wrapped in the customary linens, with the zukin preserving her modesty as Sister of faith, she came upon herself in the shallows. She watched the Virgin Eiji fall to her knees.

The waves crashed all around as she raged at the sea. She screamed and screamed until there was nothing left.

Her habit flew off into the wind, just as before.

The waters ran red, too.

But when Sister Eiji turned to face her, she saw herself hauling her own corpse from the bloodied water.

A cold compress lays upon her resting head. Proves her suspicions, at least. Feels nice.  

It’s ages before her mind catches up with her vision—she could’ve sworn an angel was tending to the worst of it… wringing a fresh cloth, presumably for the rest.

When the morning light hits her legs, a horrified gasp hits her ears. 

“What did he do to you…” 

The walls have ears. She knows it’s time to slip away; that razor thin place between herself and her sister. 

“Nothing I haven’t already been paid for.” Words ground with mortar and pestle, it’s a desperate plea on her tongue. “Please don’t linger, sister.”

Slow to start, Emiko’s touch ghosts across the most aching of places. The ones that won’t kill them to think about. 

her neck… her lips. her cheeks. her eyes.

Just before she can tell her sister off, a pained hiss fills the room. Eiji tracks the source under a now bloodied compress, passing a trail of bites over the scars that coil around her leg. Imprinted canines and incisors drag across her skin. 

still tender. still bleeding. 

What did he do to you?

Her question lingers between them… unspoken, unacknowledged. 

The silence looms, composure falling under the dual scrutiny of her marred flesh.

“The customers would never have marked you up like this,” she snaps. 

“Because I had you to keep me safe.”

“I know you’re angry—”

With the roll of her eyes, Eiji snatches the cloth from her forehead and quickly cleans her bruise kissed thighs.

“I’m not angry. I’m tired… I’m sore.”

“You need to eat so you can heal.”

Would that Eiji had want of the marriage, of him… If she were here of her own volition, one might mistake her for pouting.

“Should probably go out there,” she laments. 

“Can I help you dress?”

She pushes herself up off the futon, face falling at the question. “Why would you help me dress?”

Eiji is already across the room before Emiko can think to answer. She opens a cabinet armed to the teeth with yukata and the like… Bringing out a fresh juban, she sets upon dressing herself.

The late spring air hits her wounds, fresh and healed, leaving the slip she went to bed in a mere pile on the floor.

Broken from her daze, Emiko joins her in the fray. Once the yukata was on fully, she wrapped the obiage around Eiji before either sibling could kick up a fuss.

The cotton she wears is mint green. The obi, a blush piece with patterns of liquid smoke, golden brushstrokes with notes of amethyst.

With the belt sufficiently manhandled around her protesting sister, Emiko wipes her brow with a wry smile. She combs the wisping hairs atop her head with her fingers, now curly from more fresh growth Eiji’s permitted herself in years.

“Stay still,” she pants. “I’m nearly finished.” 

Eiji does as she’s told. She worries at her lips, all teeth and tongue. “Sissy—” 

“Hmm.”

“How much did you hear?”

And with no less than five syllables between them, the oppressive silence returns. Emiko can barely stomach looking at her. 

She could only sigh, disgust and remorse pooling in her gut. 

for what she’s done…

…for what she couldn’t do.

She takes her sister by the arm, gently leading her to that very mirror from the night before. The sole voyeur to their utter destruction.

“The sounds he was making…” Emiko smoothes the last of the finger curls with some beeswax she’d pocketed back at the Butterfly Mansion. “He sounded like he was eating you alive.”

No testimony is given to the contrary. They don’t have to say a word between each other.

“We should go before you’re missed.”

A nod from Eiji, who says nothing in return. 

Arm in arm, the twins leave the strange creature comforts of the bedroom for the hall. It’s a long stretch, made all the more so by their mutual reluctance to join the wives for breakfast. Neither sister could have known before leaving the sanctity of the room whether Lord Tengen would be at the head of the table.

too much, too soon.

The bedroom was practically sacred ground with all the noise coming from the others… 

“Suma, she hasn’t even been out yet,” scolds an angry voice. “Show some restraint, why don’t you.”

“I can’t help it,” wails a second. “The newlywed spread is too good to pass up. I’m sure Emiko won’t mind! We’re a part of this marriage, aren’t we? We’ve been here longer anyways, it’s only right we get priority serving!”

“That’s enough… Not to pry in the affairs of a fellow wife, but the poor girl deserves to try whatever food suits her tastes. An option impeded by your avarice, dear heart.” 

The third, Eiji properly recognizes. Collected and cool, level headed even as the sky falls all around her.

It’s a kiss that ends the infighting between them.

Suma, apparently, sighs in surrender. “If one of us ought to practice restraining himself—”

“I’ve never had any complaints,” he cuts her off before she can continue her lascivious train of thought.

So. He is there to join them.

“You kept her up all night,” the first voice notes wryly. “Probably not much in the way of grievances if she’s sleeping right through it. I’d be shocked if she stayed awake for all of that…”

“Quiet,” he demands of them all.

Once they turn the corner, Emiko maintains a featherlight hold on her. She makes quick work of guiding her to the open seat at Lord Tengen’s side before taking her place by the wall. A silent observer. Ornamental. Disregarded and underestimated. Eiji’s fingers twitch in longing. She misses that life desperately, craves it like a drunk to a tokkuri of saké. 

Even after such a short time apart, she still feels naked and far too exposed without a zukin.

Now seated, all eyes bear into her with no one speaking a word. Her cheeks flush under the withering attention.

The level headed bride in purple seems to take pity on her as she is the first to break the silence.

“Emiko, it’s wonderful to meet you properly. My name is Hinatsuru.” With a sweeping hand from her heart to the first and second wife, she smiles softly as introductions are made. 

“These two could wake the dead with all their banter… Suma, Makio. Let’s show our sister wife we can be civil, yes?”

The others grumble their apologies, still eating and half listening.

Eiji bows her head in reverence. “Thank you, Hinatsuru. That’s very kind of you.”

Hinatsuru brightens, taking initiative to fill an empty plate. She turns away from the table, still loading up on fish and rice.

“Sister Eiji, is there anything you can’t tolerate?”

From her place on the wall, Emiko stiffens at the direct address. 

She still isn’t used to it. Not her name. Not her role.

She can’t trust herself with the words just yet. Her eyes flit to the table before they lock on her sister’s, all the while, holding her tongue.

“There’s nothing that makes her sick,” Eiji proper says in reply. “She’s always been the stronger between us. Personally, I can’t handle buckwheat.”

The smallest of the three, with blunt bangs cut straight above her brow, can barely contain herself in the seat parallel to her own. Suma’s cheeks flush from exertion, locked in a silent battle of wills all unto herself; her fists are raised, arms nearly shaking, not unlike a toddler.

“See?” The girl’s voice is shrill as it is smug. She’s already back to seconds on the soba before her, eyes brimming with a shine of righteous indignation. “I told you she’d be fine with it!” 

Before Eiji can think to reply, she’s stunned into silence tracking her sister’s plate; Hinatsuru passes it off to Makio who wordlessly hands the food to her sister. 

Not quite an olive branch. More so how one might tend to a dog. Cursory. Habitual… It lacks the warmth of human interaction, from the goodness of her heart, almost like she’s looking down on her. 

The disdain radiates from her like a child to a chore. There’s a bitter note to it. Hosting not one, but two additional mouths to feed was hardly her call to make, nor was it her place to refute.

 Watching her sister eat appeases her some… but it does little to temper the burn of resentment she holds for the woman.

“You’re not eating,” Lord Tengen comments.

It’s the first he’s spoken to her since the sun rose against them. 

Eiji’s knuckles go white as she wrings her hands. She flexes her hands in a futile reach for composure..

“Well?” he questions, already impatient with her daze. “Starving yourself isn’t going to do you any favors, you know.”

His words do even less to assure her. If anything, her hackles rise like the damn dog they all make her sister out to be.

“No… My eyes are bigger than my stomach, I’m afraid.”

She couldn’t eat if she wanted to. She feels sick. She is sick.

She wants nothing more than to crawl back into bed and sleep for a week. The bruises will still be there, yes. Probably darkened and green. But maybe her nerves will finally stop twisting in her gut.

The answer does little to impress Uzui. He watches her, expectant that she’d change her mind with the narrow of his eyes…

She averts his gaze, looking to her sister. A relieved sigh escapes her at the sight of the half consumed fish.

Good, she thinks. At least she’s eating.

Calloused fingers grab at her jaw, forcing her hand. He watches her, thoroughly unamused.

“I don’t like damage inflicted on what’s mine.”

Before she can even cry out in pain, he’s swiping several pickled radishes from the table before popping them in his mouth. He chews them thoughtfully, eyes unyielding as he keeps her in his sights. Just as she believes he’s due to swallow, he pulls their lips flush together—

Her eyes widen in panic. There’s a weak drag of her arm that preludes the palm pushing his chest, still desperately spent from her unwitting consummation.

The food was fed from his mouth into her own. His tongue lapped at the offering, forcing the sour crawl further down her throat to ensure a proper start to the feeding.

She fights against him, the promise of bile burning the back of her throat as she fights off her mounting gag reflex.

He restrains her with his corded muscles. Locks her in place with an arm snug around her middle, fingers of his free hand coaxing the swallow down her throat.

Uzui barely allows her breath to scream. Keeps her like that until there’s nothing left. He only relents to fill his own mouth. 

again and again and again until he could call her fed.

the fish. the tamago. the rice. the ginger.

He forces her mouth open to drink. It’s only when the warm broth hits her lips and she’s half choking on tofu that she realizes it’s soup.

spittle runs down her chin as the miso spills from her mouth. 

When he’s finally done with her, Uzui takes hold of her scalp. Her finger curls are tainted by his touch.

Garnet. Like the seeds of a pomegranate.

His gaze bears down on her. He’s dragging her by the hair, pulling her in his white knuckle grip.

“Apologize,” he demands.

in for a penny, in for a pound and all that.

The words fall from her lips like the vomit that won’t seem to come, all before she can think better of it. “Drop dead.” 

She hears the strike land before registering the pain blossoming across her cheek… and now she’s on the floor, a spread almost comparable to the breakfast laid out for them all.

The other wives are cavalier in his abuse, eating their fill while he pins her to the ground.

Emiko watches the scene in abject horror. Stuck-still, powerless to intervene. She slides down her place on the wall in shame and defeat.

unable to stop herself…

She can’t look away. 

…unable to stop him.

He nearly tears the obi off her, leaving her yukata hanging exposed. Her nipples pebble under the thin barrier of the juban, and he takes merciless notice.

Off the slip goes, joining the belt beside them.

Nails rake a path over her bust. He pinches the hardened peaks, twisting and kneading them until she’s crying out beneath him.

He gives them a slap. Then another. And a third for good measure.

Uzui lets his mouth water at the skin darkening under his touch. He gets in close to suckle on them. Bite them. Slobber all over them like a damn animal.

No preamble. No notice. Just the cursed sight of him smearing his beading precome over her abused chest.

He gives himself a cursory pump or two before laying his heavy cock between her breasts. Fucking into her, he pushes her tits closer, manhandling her to suit his needy pace.

The wives make idle conversation as he fucks her like this. No one acknowledges the debauchery and no one comes to her aid.

It’s unclear to Eiji if vindication over this indignity is worth Emiko’s poor eyes bearing witness. They both know she heard him fucking her for hours last night. She didn’t have to see to know.

Lord Tengen’s forceful grunts echo through the room. She’s seen enough of him in action to know he’s close.

With as much speed as the realization that dawned on her, he’s off her just as quickly. Drags her hair, forces her on her knees. His thumb ghosts along the soft pout of her lips, eyes blown with fury and lust as he works her mouth open for him.

“You’re not to spill a drop, do you understand me?” he warns, a light tap to her cheek before tracing the neckline of her yukata with his knuckle.

Fist buried in her hair, he rolls his hips in a shallow snap to start. She sputters and gags as he takes himself deeper, her hands beating against his clothed thighs in wordless protest.

Uzui only meets her violence with violence—he takes the offending touch and holds her splayed hands at either side of her head, fucking her mouth with reckless abandon until the only sound remaining was the merciless score of her choking on his shaft.

“Nothing more to say,” he panted, voice strained in weary concentration. “Interesting how that works with a cock down your throat, isn’t it.”

Eiji watches him with so much vitriol in her gaze. He catches her, holds her in that moment… and then he loses the plot.

His hips stutter in pace as he comes. He groans over her, pulling her flush against him.

She milks his cock, swallowing all he gives her with a grimace. When he pulls out, she whines under his further scrutiny—one hand with an iron grip on her chin, the other forcing her back open to see if she’d followed his order to the letter.

She’s rewarded with sweet degradation and a pat on her head. “That’s a good whore,” he praises roughly.

It takes all her will not to flinch from his touch.

“Anything you care to say?” His eyes are pointed in challenge as he asks, “Emiko. Two little words and we can put this to bed.”

Her eyes burn. Her jaw aches.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she chokes out.

He pulls her close, punctuating his pleasure with a kiss to her temple. Rising to his feet, Lord Tengen towers over her with his cock barely tucked back into his hakama.

As if nothing had even happened, he returns to the head of the table. His eyes survey the remains of the spread.

“Well done, you three. I see you’ve dug in with no shortage of gusto. You ladies do me proud.” Flashing a smile, he kisses each wife on the cheek.

“Lord Tengen,” squawks a voice from the window.

In flies Nijimaru, the lord and master’s kasugai crow. His eyes flit towards the crow, having taken his perch on the sill of the window. 

“Lower Moon Five has been defeated! Slain on the Mugen Train by Kyojuro Rengoku! Flame Hashira, Lord Rengoku has defeated Lower Moon Five with no human casualties—neither civilian nor Slayer!”

The wives look amongst themselves, seemingly elated by the news.

“Lord Tengen, Report to Master Ubuyashiki’s Headquarters for further mission instructions.”

The twins lock eyes. With all these names and dynamics floating around, they could only ground themselves in quiet concert. As ever, barricaded inside themselves.

“Understood,” Uzui affirms.

They all watch the kasugai fly back out the window.

He looks at his disheveled wife over his shoulder.

“Sister Eiji,” he calls. “Would you be so kind as to take Emiko to the onsen? It seems she’s made a mess of herself.”

Emiko proper bows, silently ushering Eiji from the room. She wraps an arm around her shoulders to help support her weight.

she’s shaking… 

her arms.

they’re shaking.

The twins are all but wordless as they make for the bath.

Neither allow themselves the further indignity of falling apart, not within earshot.

Eiji clutches her yukata closed, holding it like a lifeline until they’re past the door. 

The sisters break from each other. Emiko walks on before realizing she’s alone on the path to the onsen.

She turns. “Sister…”

Free from the burdens of decorum, of maintaining her role, Eiji falls to her knees and beats at the earth beneath her fingertips.

She presses her forehead against the dew kissed ground. Buries the incident like everything else.

the consummation. renouncing her vows. scars, old and new.

Even as she cries, she forces herself to swallow the rage and shame. Bitter as his come. But she chokes it down all the same.

Time was a construct among the sweet dirt and moss.

knees tucked into her aching breasts. arms outstretched over the greenery.

Eiji startles when a warm hand descends over her back, smooth and splayed. The touch is gentle and patient, she’s quick to settle.

‘hush, hush, baby rabbit… up on the hill…’

The words thrum in her blood as her mother sang them.

‘why are your eyes so red?’

She curls in closer, dirtied fingers twisting in her lap.

‘when i was small… mother are the fruit of the red tree’

🪞

Emiko hadn’t wanted to do it. But she couldn’t just leave her like that.

She returns through the door where she came and makes quick work of tracking down someone… anyone.

Following the voices gathered in the lounge, Suma sits on Lord Tengen’s lap while the other two drink tea.

As soon as she enters the room, a cold hush descends upon the marriage, rendering them all speechless before her.

Uzui looks at her with those piercing eyes of his.

sizing her up. gauging her intent.

The others simply pout at the disruption.

“That was fast for a bath,” he quips. “Where’s your sister? She drown herself already?”

She still doesn’t trust her words.

Raising a hand, she points to the long stretch of hall leading to the back door.

Lord Tengen follows her wordless dictation, tracking with his eyes, already bored with her play of charades. 

“Hinatsuru, my dear.” He waves Sister Eiji off with the swipe of his manicured hands. “See what the little voyeur needs. It’s like drawing pus from a damn wound, I swear.”

His ravenette bride rises from her seat and presses a kiss on her husband’s cheek before following after the good Sister.

By the time they reach her in the yard, she’s on her back with her breasts fully exposed to the elements. One palm  weakly raised to the sky to block out the sun while the other remains twisted in the earth.

They carry either side of her into the onsen. Inside, they place Eiji on the stool so as to give her a thorough cleaning before the bath.

“My husband is not a cruel man… but what he did was callous,” she murmurs, all remorse.

She doesn’t dignify her with a response, instead focusing on the task at hand.

“If this is how you prefer it, we don’t have to talk…”

“Prefer it,” she scoffs.

It’s the first words she’s spoken in her new life. She suddenly feels inspired by her sister’s natural indignation.

“So you can speak.”

She ignores her question, filling the bucket with water and soaping the wetted towel.

“You say your husband isn’t cruel… To you , perhaps. Hasn’t my dear sister been through enough?”

They scour her flesh with a sudsy cloth, scrubbing her raw, watching the dirt and debris fall with little difficulty.

her neck. her arms. each individual finger.

A shudder tears through Eiji as they erase all traces of the meadow.

“Mother—”

“That’s enough now.” Emiko lulls her softly, drying her eyes and holding her close, “I’m not leaving you again.”

Hinatsuru kept a steady pace with the regimen. She took her time with her sister wife’s breasts. Her legs. There wasn’t an inch of her she hadn’t cleansed and polished. 

Every so often she’d graze a bruise. Most fresh, the most faded were from that night. 

It was hardly a wonder why their was no love lost between the nun and their family.

When her face was washed properly along with her hair, Emiko does kakeyu, dousing her sister with water when Hinatsuru prompts her into doing so.

The bucket was hot, flowing over her skin. It would never be enough for her, not to wash away the sin…

Being led to the bath, Eiji fights through the pain. There’s so much she could cry for, if she turned to the well, she’d never be able to stop.

Once she’s in the water, the utter lack of recollection dawns on her.

how long…

…how long…

…how long.

“Oh… I’m in the bath,” she realizes.

Eiji forgets herself having lost everything after breakfast, if one could deign to call that fucking travesty breakfast.

Just thinking of his tongue in her mouth shoveling dish after dish… 

She sinks under the water, if only for a moment. Curls her arms around her knees and screams.

🪞

It’s the first time she can feel herself breathe in this place.

Emiko is left totally alone in the receiving room. She rolls her shoulders, eyes falling shut.

When Hinatsuru returns with tea for them both, she straightens, but gives her sincere appreciation.

“Thank you.”

She takes her cup eagerly, beyond grateful for it. Her body even relaxed a touch.

“You know. Lord Tengen bet everyone you’d slap him before the end of the meal.”

“Did he, now…” Emiko asks softly. “Who won the wager?”

Hinatsuru glances over the porcelain rim of her cup.

“A betting woman never tells.”

“So it was you,” she surmises.

A shrug. “Just because I bet on losing dogs doesn’t mean I know why.”

One sip leads to another. Before long, her cup is nearly empty. She can’t ignore the unspoken question any longer.

“I figure things will go better for her if I don’t act on impulse.”

“Look at who you’re living with,” Hinatsuru holds the rim with her slender fingers. “No one else is holding back.”

“Freedom of choice doesn’t equate to freedom from consequence,” she deadpans.

“Such wise words, Sister.”

She shakes her head. “No need for formalities…” 

“Eiji, then.”

Slow to start, the chilly reception was beginning to thaw. 

“Awfully forward, but so be it.”

She’d find a place here, yet.

The pair finish their tea in due course, slowly making their way back to the onsen. On the other side of the door, they’re greeted by the uncanny sight of her other half.

lying in the water. gaze fixed on the ceiling. breath steady with her countless bruises and scars on full display.

“E…Emiko?” The good Sister corrects herself before she can do something stupid like say her actual name.

“I saw myself in the water. The waves were thrashing against the shore…”

“The shore? From when we were children?”

She doesn’t even nod. “Yes.” Just agrees, voice dull.

No one speaks. Neither sister, nor wife.

“I heard our mother singing to me. Could’ve been you for all I know…”

Emiko scoffs. “In your dreams.”

It’s the first Eiji’s smiled… truly smiled. “Right,” she says softly, her voice tinged with remorse.

Rising from the bath and without any prompting, Emiko turns to gather her towel. She’s quick to shroud her sister and preserve her modesty.

“Let’s get you dried off.”

Watching the scene play out in front of her, Hinatsuru turns with a laugh. Natural moments like this. Intimate and deft… they were a precious thing. Especially in a world so perilous as the one they’d inherited.

They leave the onsen one after the next with Suma and Makio still unaccounted for.

It was a different atmosphere having Hina here in place of their husband. She was softer, kinder. 

more patient. more mindful.

There were half a dozen yukata strewn across the floor, waiting for their judgment. Just three obi belts to choose between.

Swatch after swatch with a voice nearly so soft as her touch, Hinatsuru praises Eiji for matters entirely out of her control.

“I quite like the coral,” she offers, still unsure.

Emiko nods in wordless agreement, quick to dress her sister before she could say no.

It was quiet work between them with Hinatsuru’s fingers grazing her scalp. Layer by layer, careful around any lingering trace of injury.

“You really do have the most lovely hair,” she muses thoughtfully. “It’s so soft, I could lose myself like this.”

Eiji’s cheeks heat. She can’t lie… any longer under this deft touch of hers, she’d lose herself just the same.

It’s the sudden slide of the door that spoils their fun. 

“What’s she doing in here?”

Suma and Makio enter the marriage bed without ceremony or warning, casting disdainful glances toward the nun in question.

“This isn’t where you should be,” Makio scolds her. The wife in red had a hand on her hip, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Do you have any decency? Lord Tengen told us you were up half the night listening to them on the veranda.”

She gives chase with a raised fist. Emiko flees the scene.

The last sight before the door’s shut: Eiji’s eyes locking on her own.

Her whole body tenses with the snap of the door. Emiko’s fingers ghost across her face, twin frowns burning in mind and memory.

She takes her leave for the night and brushes off the rebuff. 

“Nothing to be done for it,” she shrugs.

Emiko returns to the common area for her tea. With no one home to stop her, she pockets an orange from the picked over dining table. Swipes the saké, too.

She takes the orange to the kitchen and runs it under some water. She peels the skin with a knife in one uninterrupted pile of citrus before halving the fruit. She drains it for all it’s worth, setting the juice aside.

It takes her a minute to finagle a lemon, draining the citron in one fell swoop.

Tiny cuts lap at her skin, hands stinging until she can pat her hands down with the damp kitchen cloth.

She gathers up the lemon juice, the orange juice, and her green tea. Along with some honey, they all join the pot. She turns the heat on, preferring her tea hot.

She eyeballs the saké, giving absolutely no fucks.

She stirs the pot until it’s nearly boiling over. Reducing the heat, she relishes in the steam, eyes shut as she breathes it in.

“Hope you made enough for two.” 

Lord Tengen was already inside before she even realized he was back. His silhouette towers over her, even from this far, just standing in the frame of the entrance. 

Should Emiko have been on her guard, she’d have taken note of the state of the door, open as it was. Of the fresh air and mild breeze on the setting sun. Pity that observation was never her strong suit.

she doesn’t turn, nor does she face him.

“I mean, it hardly feels like an inappropriate request… it is my booze you’ve absconded with, right?”

He’s locking her in place, caging her with little mercy from his rippling arms.

her body tenses under his scrutinizing eye and touch.

Time stops between them. One palm rests flush against her chest, he pulls her to him. He draws his massive fingers before her, making for the ladle in the pot.

Uzui tests the toddy. She can’t see his face or else he’d have given the game away.

His hand comes down, firmly on her backside. “Two cups. Sit with me.”

She doesn’t dare refuse him.

drinks are poured, 

garnish laid to perfection.

When she sees him again, it’s past the dining room table. He sits on the floor of the drawing room, still dressed from his assignment.

Placing a cup in front of him, Emiko keeps the other for herself.

He nods in silent thanks before indulging. The beads on his headdress swish gloriously with the motion.

“It’s a damn good drink,” he commends her.

She says nothing to his praise. She just takes her small, measured sips. 

The girls can be heard tittering from the other end of the home. She stiffens at the sound, to which his eyes narrow.

“Tell me true, Sister.” Swirling the drink in his cup, he’s relentless in his teasing. “I bet you want to kill me for defiling your precious Emiko.”

“Lord Uzui… if I took it upon myself to lay to rest every man to spill his seed inside my sister, I’d scarcely have a moment for anything else.”

It’s good. The burn of the saké down her throat. Keeps her grounded. Makes her bold.

He appreciates it all the same, if not more. Slapping his thigh, Tengen lets out a thunderous roar of approval.

“And what would you do? All that time, letting the rest of us live… There must be something you’d rather be doing.”

She downs her drink and his nearly weary eyes lock on the scene before him, incredulous and more than a little turned on.

“Booze and a bed. If you’re telling me to stand down, that she’s safe in your care, I can oblige that… I’ll take up embroidery or something.”

“Do you expect me to trust you around a needle?”

Her gaze narrows, voice nearly so frosty as the cold of her shoulder. “As if I’m meant to trust you at all.”

Lord Uzui swallows the remains of his cup, teeth flashing from the bitterness.

“You’re going to wash me.”

“Oh?”

“Then I’m going to ravage my wives.”

“As you say.”

She almost looks bored by the order. Her voice betrays her true nature. His fingers curl dangerously around her arm… 

He tempers his rage. A breath follows. 

…wordless dare in the air as he ever craves them both.

“You don’t believe me?” He cocks a silver brow, nearly daring her push him one step more. “I’m hurt. I assumed we reached an understanding.”

His touch snakes around her, boxing her in against the table’s sharp edge. He eyes her as though he’s looking for something.

the suspicion and intrigue of men never bodes well.

“You have a smart mouth. What do you say to making better use of it.”

He leans in closer, near stealing her breath. Drags her frozen fist over his hardening cock. A low groan teases his throat as he rocks into her reluctant touch.

“Better hop to, little rabbit. Else I might be tempted to fuck that virgin asshole instead.”

Emiko’s face blanches as the threat washes over her. Weak and shaking, she palms at the corded outline of his massive length. Her eyes glaze over when muscle memory takes over.

Resigned. Devastated. She sinks to the floor on shaky ground while he wastes no time freeing himself.

She laps at the column of his cock, spreading precome over the furious tip weeping in her face.

He throws his head back with a guttural sigh.

“You really picked up a trick or two from that whore sister of yours,” he praises her roughly. “May have to fuck your ass anyways. Show you what you missed last night.”

Her cheeks burn in shame, desperate to ignore the words that cut her so deep.

The price is modest enough considering she sold her sister to this brute. A cock in her mouth for room and board… 

Maybe this was her inevitable penance for selling her own sister, forcing her to wife and bed this beast. 

Hollowing her cheeks, she takes him in her mouth but by bit. He’s thick on her tongue. Heavy. 

She feels his growing impatience as he grunts over her.

“Never send a nun to do a whore’s job,” he laments.

There’s no time to process his words before he’s fisting her habit and forcing himself down her throat.

She beats against his thighs in protest. He ignores her completely, hands locked on either side of her head as he sets a raging pace.

On her knees like this, she can hear herself dying. She can hear him getting off on it. Feels like an age choking on the indignity of her own glucks and spittle. 

There’s no end for her… No end in sight.

Uzui abruptly throws her from him until she’s spilling over the floor. He leaves her clamoring for air as he drags her past the doors. 

She follows after him, no real choice in the matter. Her throat is raw… Her arm, now bruising.

He leads her outside and she shudders under the sun’s sudden assault. Uzui ignores her, ushering her inside the onsen. 

Emiko nearly trips in the dimly lit space, paying no heed to the Hashira already stripping for his bath.

His eyes dance with mirth and derision. “Wash your face. And take care of that look, I don’t want to hear a word. Not when I told you what would happen.”

She wordlessly makes for the bucket. Fills it up and swipes her cupped hands over her face.

still hot. still listless. still breaking.

She manages to steady her breathing. One after the other, slowly returning to herself.

Only when her face is being pushed into the ground does it dawn on her that he never came.

no time to think–

He knocked the wind out of her. The shove came so fast… so strong. She tastes the blood in her mouth, ears nearly bleeding the same with the tinnitus that rages.

When she tries to stand, she’s met with a firm smack on the thigh and a white knuckle grip on her bad leg.

–no room to breathe.

He draws her to her knees and arches her ass in the air. Her eyes widen in panic and it’s all too simple for the Sound Pillar to block and counter the attack when she thrashes in response.

“You’re really making me work for it, Sister.”

Flush against her back, she feels him. Every ridge. Every vein.

“Hold still,” he warns. “Don’t fight me unless you want this to hurt.”

He makes quick work gathering the fabric pooled at her calves, tossing her skirts over her head so cavalier.

Her breaths start coming in short bursts under the oppressive weight of linen slowly suffocating her.

The bastard’s made a cornered meal of her and there’s not a damn thing to be done for it. There’s nothing. No leg to sever and escape the trap. No Eiji to intervene.

He sounded like he was eating you alive.

Tears burn her eyes as her earlier words come for her throat.

She hears his debasement before feeling his cooling pool of drool run down the curvature of her ass. 

“Thinking on that first night we met,” he starts. “Gotta say, you surprised me.”

He spreads her cheeks in appraisal, thumb working his spit in and out of her tight hole.

A less experienced prostitute would relax when Uzui withdrew his fingers. But Emiko was no mere oiran. She knew better. 

He strikes her again…

and again…

and again.

She feels the fresh coat of saliva glide in and out of her, another two to join the first.

“Just look at you now…”

She shuts her eyes, biting her lip just to keep herself under lock and key

If she plays possum, she’s as good as dead. If she’s dead, this is over and done with.

Her heart aches with every strained sigh that bleeds from her lips. The hard floor is hell on her tits, his quickening pace beating her further into the ground.

“…reckon I could fry an egg on that fucking face.”

The rapid thrusts of his hips leave her gasping and shuddering beneath the caul of her skirts. She remains blind to his abuse but can feel every stroke… hear every groan…

It’s all she can do to will her body to brace for the storm and pray he finishes quick enough.

anything to quiet her mind. anything to stay still and small.

She steadies her breath to the best of her abilities. His wandering touch takes a bite of the meat of her ass in a callous bid for purchase, dipping his thick head in and out of her waiting hole.

Uzui doubles down on his efforts where her body sees fit to reject him. It’s several tries before he can so much as thread the needle.

Lurching forward with the force of his thrusts, she takes him… inch by tortuous inch until he’s fully sheathed inside of her. Too much, too soon, until Emiko’s left wailing into the floor.

A perpetual echo sounds inside the hollow onsen with the staccato of his balls beating against her exposed cunt. He props her ass higher, cock pistoning at a vicious rate.

“Where’s your God now?” 

Only when she felt the breath on her face did she realize it was Lord Uzui himself. He offers no respite pulling out, merely walks back to do kakeyu as she trembles in his wake.

She listens to his feet pad across the floor. She can hear the slow of her own heart. Her whimpers, curling in on herself. The fill of his bucket. The splash across his body. The blood in her ears. His groans as he works his fingers over his points of tension.

Emiko’s blood runs cold when the steady flow of water is shut off. The last remaining drops sound off like heavy artillery in the spanse of the bathhouse. Practically holds her breath as he passes without a word.

He dips into the onsen, arms outstretched as he luxuriates in his soak. His eyes fall shut, head falling back. She’s so sure Uzui had no further use for her.

how wrong could one woman be…

“Sister Eiji.”