#and I never have to be a little kid again. cause I have a knife and I have a hell of a right hook and anybody hits

[moteldogs]

god I love that I can git drunk and fall in love at some bar and it’s like. allowed. and nobody gets to hurt me without me hurtin them back. I get to throw punches whenever I want

[cameronspecial]

how about we go a lil angsty? the reader hadn’t yet told him about her being pregnant bcs she remembers Drew once said he doesnt know if he wants to be a dad and so she tried to bring the topic up with hypothetical questions and his answers not exactly the thing she wanted to hear so she went all silent and pulled herself away and stuff.

I dont wanna give it away, so please you decide the ending..either they communicate and Dad!Rafe rise or…

I Want This

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Abortions and Miscommunication

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

Well… She doesn’t know what she expected the results to be, but this is definitely an answer. Y/N doesn’t even think she can focus on the opinion she has of this situation because all she can think about is Drew’s.

———

“Awww, Babe, look at this pic of Lils that Mac sent me,” he gushed, holding his phone up to his fiancée. She looked up from her laptop, “So cute. Ugh, I miss them so much. I mean look at those little baby rolls. I just want to cuddle the cutie.” He smiled and brought her head under the crook of his neck. “I know. We have to visit them soon. I’m so glad I have a niece. It means I can be the fun uncle forever and never have to be a dad,” he mindlessly thought out loud, going back to scrolling on his phone. This caused her to freeze; they never talked about having kids, but he was so good with them that she assumed he would want them. She should’ve asked him about it because she wanted them. She didn’t though. Kids were important to her and so was Drew. She wasn’t ready to cause a rift in their relationship because of something small. 

———

Staring at the positive pregnancy test, she has to figure out a way to gauge how he would feel about it before actually telling him the truth. Once she knows how he feels, it will help her decide how she wants to feel about it seeing that if they are on the opposite page, then she would have to make a difficult decision. She shoves the positive tests into the box and hides them in her makeup drawer. He never goes looking there. She exits the bathroom, lets out a deep breath, and heads to the kitchen to start getting lunch ready. Drew is coming home from filming in Morocco later today. The music blasting through the speakers makes her unaware of the new presence in the house. He smiles at the dancing silhouette cutting potatoes. His hand drops over her eyes and she sets the knife down with a grin. Her arms wrap around her neck to bring him down towards her. This allows her to pepper his face with kisses. “Hey, you weren’t supposed to be back until tonight,” she notices, turning the music off. His hand rests on her hip, “I was, but I was offered an early flight and I couldn’t say no to seeing my girl early. I missed you and I love you.” She sinks into his hold. “I missed and love you too.”

The couple spend the next half an hour cooking together before settling themselves at the dining room table. Since they talked to each other throughout cooking, silence falls over them. A chime comes from his phone and he checks it to see a text from his sister. “Mac is planning on coming down with Lils and my mom soon. They can stay in the guest room, right?” Drew confirms, reading over the text again. She nods, “Yeah, I’ll get it ready over the weekend and buy one of those travelling crib things for Lils. It is going to be fun to have a baby around the house. The guest room would make a nice baby room in the future. It has nice big windows and the closet is the perfect size.” The chuckle that comes out of his mouth drops her stomach into a furnace. 

“What’s so funny?” she questions. He shrugs, “Not the babysitting part. They could both use a break and I will never say no to spending time with my niece. It’s just the thought of having to turn the guest room into a baby room is funny.” 

“Oh, why?”

“I don’t know. It’s a guest room. I mean where would our family stay when they come over?” 

“Yeah, where would they stay?”

She should probably ask if he meant he can’t imagine the room as a baby room right now or if it was a forever thought; however, she is scared of the answer she is going to get so she shuts down the conversation. They sit in a new tension-filled silence that he pretends he can’t feel. 

———

After lunch, Y/N retreats to the backyard to swing in the hammock. This tells him that she needs some space and he knows she is upset when she is still outside at eleven p.m. The friction of the patio door sliding against each other makes her turn to him. She doesn’t acknowledge his presence, waiting for him to say something. He places the plate of pasta he made for dinner onto the side table beside the hammock. “I found the pregnancy tests,” he states, bringing one of the patio chairs close to her. She freezes and sits up. Her legs swing over the fabric to face him, “How?” “Maddie helped me pick out clay pot Moroccan lipstick for you and I wanted to surprise you with it. I was going to hide it in your drawer…” he explains, eyes falling to his fingers and trailing off at the end. Her head moves up and down. Her thoughts are moving around her head a thousand miles a second. He is going to break up with her. He is going to make her have an abortion. Or worse. He is going to make her choose between the baby or him on the spot. 

He grows nervous when she doesn’t say anything and his suspicions are confirmed. He understands why she is unsure about talking to him about this. The way he has spoken about having a baby in the past could’ve given her the wrong idea. He hesitantly reaches to place a hand on hers and does it when she doesn’t shy away. “I want you to know that the decision about what we do with the baby is up to you and I will be at your side during the whole process,” he assures. Her confusion causes tears to crop up in her eyes, “You don’t want the baby though. I know that, so if you are going to break up with me because I do, then just do it. But making me have to choose is kinda cruel.” His heart squeezes, hating that his words aren’t coming out as he means them to be. His head shakes like crazy and he sits beside her. He brings her head against his chest, “Babe, I don’t want to break up with you. I want to have this baby with you too.”

“You want the baby? Then how come you don’t think the guest room would be a good baby room?”

“Because my office would be a better one. The windows aren’t too big so it won’t wake the baby up in the morning and the closet there is even bigger, so when they get older they can have as many clothes as their heart desires.”

“Okay, you are right… What about when you said you want to be an uncle forever and never be a dad?”

“Honestly, I never really thought I would want to be a dad. I was content with being an uncle, but, Babe, when I found that pregnancy test, all I could think about was how happy I was to be bringing a child into the world with the most amazing woman in the world and I couldn’t wait to raise them with you.”

She leans back and rests a warm palm on his cheeks, trying to hold back her tears. “So you want to have this baby?” she verifies. He kisses the tears away, “I want this, Babe. I promise. We are going to do this. Together.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

[trashmouth-richie]

eddie x reader ; a very light hint of steve x reader

a follow up to this which is a follow up of this

tw 18+ content, tied up, temperature play, steve is baby girl himbo in this very s3 coded, eddie is jealous + mean.

“that tickles, wow, cold— ow, very very cold— shit, shit!”

You slap a hand over his mouth, wide eyes staring into yours as if he is scared beyond belief.

“Shhhhh..” you press a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw. 

Your body was pressed in his, an ice cube held limply in your fingers as you traced it along his veiny shaft. Leaving goosebumps on his summer tanned skin. 

“Eddie is home, do you want him to know that we’re fooling around? Cause I prefer to keep my bedroom adventures private.”

“No, no! You’re right, it’s just— really cold, when you said you wanted to get freaky I thought maybe you had a friend or something to go up my ass? I don’t know!” 

You stare at him, waiting for him to say he was kidding but it never came. You sit up, the ice melting on your fingers dripping onto his sack, little whimpers from his mouth. 

“Alright… King Steve is curious about assplay, noted. We can unpack that another time— for now, it’s either the ice or nothing, you choose.” 

You kiss his chest, waiting for him to decide. He’s mumbling to himself, and you work your fingers in between the tufts of hair, eyes on him, your nipples skimming over his hot skin. 

“…okay! Okay fine! Can I kiss you maybe?” 

Steve was stretched like a voodoo doll across your bed, large hands tied to each bed post, unable to reach you, his lip in a pout as he attempted to wiggle his wrists free. 

“Keep trying to get out of your restraints and you won’t be kissing me anywhere.”

He huffed, a strand of caramel hair tousling into his forehead, “I mean they’re tight— like really tight, you sure this is normal?”

You rolled your eyes and sat up again to examine the human ken doll that was played by Steve Harrington for the evening. 

His wrists were red, fingers pale… fuck. 

You tug at the knots, trying to wedge your fingers beneath them, and after five minutes of you trying you could see Steve’s hands looking worse.

“Alright— don’t panic!” you announced, sliding from the bed and pushing your arms through the red silk robe hanging from your closet, “and don’t move…. I’ll be…” scissors! “yeah, I’ll be right back!”

“What!? You can’t just leave me like th—!” he hollers your name and you try to muffle his calls of distress by shutting your door quickly.

Eddie was in his room, you could hear him playing his guitar— and he prayed he didn’t hear the muffled pleas from Steve. 

Rifling through the kitchen junk drawer you find everything but the scissors. Chopsticks from too many late night orders of chinese takeout, ketchup packets, pens, a pack of markers, Eddie’s fake ID he had in high school, Wayne’s expired ID he tried to use at the gas station when you were sixteen and more rope. 

The pair of you didn’t own a knife set, never having cooked anything that required culinary skills— you were at a loss— the only option left was to ask Eddie for his pocket knife. Goddamnit.

The walk to his room felt like miles long, and honestly you would have preferred if you never got there. His door was open, the low times of his acoustic guitar filled the air along with a haze of smoke. 

A quick rap on his door and Eddie was looking up at you, cigarette limp from his lips, as he motions to the other side of his room with a nod of his head. 

“…ham & pineapple no pepperonis, cash on the dresser.” 

“What? Oh yeah, sure— forgot it’s Friday. Hey, ummm. I need a favor.” 

Eddie smirks and shakes his head, “I’m not loaning you anymore bud, you already owe you twenty.” 

“No— I’m not here for free weed, I need your knife.” 

His eyebrows quirk and he waits for you to ask his silent “why?”

“It’s an emergency.” 

“Your boss sucks sweetheart, 100%— but you can’t kill him.” 

“Eddie shut up,” you whine, stomping your foot, “I just need to borrow it—I'll give it right back!”

He rolls his eyes, leaning over to grab his knife from his back pocket, “tell me what you need it for.” 

You stare at him, mouth open, “I…can’t.” 

“Okay? and why not?”

Your name is heard in a wail from your room and your cheeks heat with embarrassment. 

“is someone in there?”

Scrubbing your hands down your face you finally admit it, “Yes! Jesus fuck! Now will you please either help me or give me the knife, he’s stuck!”

It takes everything in Eddie to try not to laugh, but he simple hides his lips and nods, thinking to himself what kid. of shit you’d gotten into now, and with who?

He follows you into your room, watching your form move beneath the silk robe, trying to keep his eyes from staring too long or imagining what lie beneath the thin fabric. 

Your eyes are covered when you open the door so you miss the shock on Steve’s face to see his best friend walk into your room. His dick is still out, laying against his hairy thigh, and the only thing he can do is an awkward jock head nod followed by a “sup?”

Thankful that he has a good poker face, Eddie nods back, ears crimson in anger, biting his tongue as he flips the blade out with flare. Behind his dark eyes He was fuming. 

Steve? 

STEVE HARRINGTON?

Of all people you could have tied up in here in some makeshift attempt at whatever you thought you were doing— it had to be him.

Heads would fucking roll when this was over and him and Steve were alone. 

Slicing through the ropes like they were nothing, Eddie simply raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, leaving with his mind grinding like gears on how to stop this from happening again. 

—

“Thanks for calling Family Video. Our hours are 10-10 Sunday through Saturday, stop in to rent our latest releases, this is St—”

“Harrington.”

“Hey man, hey— thanks for uh, helping me out the other night. I really o—”

“Yeah, you do,” the cord bounces on the floor as Eddie turns the corner, looking back at you in the living room asleep on the couch— walking to his room,  “that’s why whenever she calls… you are going to make up whatever excuse that big hair of yours can..”

“Wait..?”

Eddie grits your name out through clenched teeth. 

“If she calls to hang out, you will find a reason not to, y’ catch my drift, pal?” 

“Ye-yeah, sure thing… what should I say?”

“I don’t care Harrington, make something up… tell her you have a girlfriend, you have the measles, I really don’t give a fuck what it is, as long as I never have to walk into her room and see your dick again.”

Steve narrows his eyes, blurring the neon lights in the video store, “dude, what the hell?” 

“Sarah is single— I’ll give you her numb—”

“Okay? But so is she, why are you acting like an asshole right now?”

You. He was being a dick because of you. Sick and tired of you not willing to admit you both had feelings for eachother, and he was ready to pull out the big guns in order to make it happen. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

taglist: @likedovesinthewnd @dashingdeb16 @joejoequinnquinn @min-geniusx @ho3forfakeguys @taintedcigs @b-irock @queenimmadolla @serasvictoria @the-unforgivenn @curlyjoequinn @munsonlore @eiightysixbaby @munsonburn3r

[rad-batson]

Damian Wayne Headcanons :) in which I give him actual character growth, suck it dc writers

this is extremely long, I am not sorry

He has literally no footsteps, you cannot hear him walk, even when he stomps around in one of those moods, it’s just barely a little *pat pat pat*

He doodles on everything. With everything. Some Gothamites have found intricate floral designs etched into the roof or random brick walls (most likely with a knife) after seeing Robin patrol.

He has like 20 weighted blankets, all different weights and sizes depending on his mood.

His favorite item in his room is a silver Nintendo DS. (He likes to use the little chat rooms, even if no one else is on the other end. He doodles and writes little messages. It’s like his diary.)

He loves all animals, and that includes the creepy ones. Especially the creepy ones.

Once, Tim started screaming bloody murder over a massive bug with a bajillion legs in his room. Damian now houses it in an enclosure in his bedroom. Her name is Mildred, Millie for short.

When he was in the LoA, he was forbidden from stimming in front of others. It took two years for anyone in the batfamily to ever witness him stimming.

His most common stimming behaviors are shaking out his hands, scratching his palms, and rubbing his hands across different surfaces. When he’s really stressed, he’ll snap his fingers.

He absolutely hates cameras. They’re loud and make him uncomfortable. One reporter almost got scratched when they got too close to him with the flash on. He only barely tolerates the security cameras in the manor. Barely.

He can and will be roped into any dare imaginable. Bruce repeatedly forbids him from taking dares from his siblings for months at a time.

He has a compartment in his utility belt dedicated to treats for any animal he sees on patrol.

When he’s tired, he’ll speak a mixture of Arabic, Mandarin, and English. Only Bruce can make sense of it, and occasionally Jason.

Bruce absolutely refuses to yell at Damian. Even if some of his other kids argue that he’s being too nice, he’ll only use his Batman voice and his Soft But Disappointed Dad Voice, but he will Never yell.

(He doesn’t tell them it’s because of what happened the first and only time he yelled at Damian. Bruce moved his hand a bit, and Damian flinched wildly. Bruce cried for hours over the implications of that.)

Damian only feels comfortable sitting if he can clearly see the main entrance. If not, he’ll sit with his back against a wall or he’ll stand.

He dutifully takes the responsibility of feeding and grooming every Wayne animal. They receive the most nutritious and filling meals on the market (all while receiving lots of head pats.)

He has very strong eyebrows just like his father. They tend to pull the same exasperated expressions too, highlighting their resemblance.

Talia taught Damian at a very young age how to write perfectly with both hands. He no longer remembers if he is naturally left or right-handed.

The one insult he cannot handle is “spoiled brat.” A few months after he arrived, someone in the family called him that as a joke, and he completely shut down emotionally. No anger, no sadness, no resentment. Literally just nothing. For days. No one knows why, but they will never let it happen again.

You know he’s Up to Something TM if he swings his legs back and forth while he sits.

He is obsessed with those cheap TV documentaries about famous plane crashes and shipwrecks. After finishing one, he’ll find the nearest family member and tell them all about it: how it happened, what human error caused it, and his fool-proof plan for if it ever happens again and he is nearby. Usually, it’s Alfred.

For the first few years at the manor, Damian’s favorite spot is the family graveyard. Everyone calls him dramatic. He just likes how it’s so quiet. (And he’s dramatic.)

When Jason waxes poetics about dying over dinner, Damian just groans and says, “So have I. You’re not special.” That’s how the family learns he was repeatedly revived in the Lazarus Pit due to the fatal nature of his training and abuse.

His first ever crush was on the cute male tech at Alfred the Cat’s vet. Damian was 12. Jason, who accompanied him, proceeded to give him both The Talk (“It’s okay to like boys”) and The Talk (“Your body is ✨changing✨”) on the drive home.

He will not text back unless it is absolutely necessary. He will leave people on read. He does not hate you. (…Probably.)

Titus is a registered therapy dog, trained in helping Damian through panic attacks and sensory overload. If you ever see Damian asleep on the floor, eyes cried out with Titus resting on top of him, you know why.

When he was 13, he tried to fake his own death after he failed a test at school and “dishonored the family name.” Bruce and Dick had to sit him down and explain that grades aren’t everything, and they still love him unconditionally.

He talks to animals like they’re human. He has a habit of venting his frustrations to Batcow in particular. And his fish while he feeds them.

His love language to others is a mixture of gifts and quality time, usually without words.

One day, Damian was snooping around the house and found that one of the electrical closets leads to a tiny space—barely two feet wide—in between the sheetrock and the foundation wall with nothing but a single hanging lightbulb. It took years before anyone else found it, but by then, Damian had painted an 8x10 ft mural on the wall and created a small bed of blankets and pillows for when he needs a quiet place to escape unwanted stimuli.

When he sleeps, his cheeks puff out like a little chipmunk. It’s adorable.

During the Winter Olympics one year, Damian falls in love with figure skating and decides he wants to try it out, but he never asks to take up lessons in fear that he will be horrible at it.

Duke figures this out and now takes him ice skating just enough to avoid suspicion. It’s become their bonding activity.

Once, Jason and Tim made him try a Sour Patch Kids-flavored energy drink. He immediately spit it out and said, “What the fuck?! That’s even worse than drinking from the Lazarus Pit.” And that’s how the family learns that Ra’s made Damian drink from the Lazarus Pit a few times.

One day, Steph told Damian about the wonders of concealed self defense products. Now, about 80% of the mundane items Damian owns is secretly a knife. He will purchase any item that is secretly a knife. Including several fake lipstick tubes.

He has rigorous self-control when it comes to sleep. Sure, his schedule is a bit fucked up for someone his age, but he is in bed and asleep exactly when he tells himself. (His siblings could never.)

His entire wardrobe is soft items he “found” stole from the laundry room. If it’s comfortable, it’s his now. (No one complains. In fact, having Damian steal your clothes is considered a privilege.)

He hates whenever Alfred tries to recreate dishes from his childhood. It’s just not the same. Alfred understands.

When he’s really stressed—like the “I am one stubbed toe away from a complete meltdown” stressed—he will finger paint. He likes the feeling of it on his skin.

Due to his time in the LoA, Damian has a habit of never telling anyone if he’s injured. Instead, he’ll pretend nothing’s wrong until he passes out or literally can’t move right and someone calls him out. He’s working on it, though.

There’s a massive system of fish tanks in his room complete with handmade decor and multiple venomous species. No one even realizes until Alfred mentions it during dinner.

He has hyper fixated at least once on every single artistic medium you can imagine. His top three are oil paintings, mosaics, and pottery, but he mostly sticks to drawing in his free time.

He has taste tested all of his pets’ treats at one point for “research purposes.”

Giving friends their own nickname is one of the most intimate things Damian does to express his relationship with someone.

Once, he was having an argument with a sibling, and they said, “Oh yeah? Well at least Bruce wanted me!” Damian didn’t leave his room for exactly six days. He even stapled blackout curtains to his windows and the vents. Bruce chewed the shit out of whoever said it and spent hours every day talking to Damian through the door to convince him that, yes, Bruce wants him and couldn’t ever think of a family without him. Damian didn’t come out, however, until he heard Bruce crying while begging him to eat. Damian slept in Bruce’s bed that night and the following week.

When he turns 15, he gets really obsessed with Måneskin.

He’s exactly the kind of Art Hoe that is completely loyal to his favorite brand of art supplies and wouldn’t touch other brands with a 10ft pole.

He has weirdly thin fingers. Like creepily thin, especially as he grows older. Someone commented on them once, and Damian proceeded to wear gloves nonstop for a week.

There are exactly four (4) people who are allowed to touch him without permission first. Dick, Jon, Bruce, and Talia in that order.

His eyes are actually naturally blue. The reason they are green is because of the Lazarus Pit. It’s always the Lazarus Pit. (They barely glow in the dark too, but you need to really pay attention to notice.)

He can wiggle his ears. The only people to ever witness it are Cass and Duke. They’ve been sworn to secrecy.

Whenever one of his many pets sleeps in his bed, he tries to stay as still as possible without touching them so they don’t get annoyed and leave, but they always worm their way into his arms.

As he grows, his family is surprised to learn that he isn’t building the same muscle as his dad. Instead, he’s lean like his mother due to an extremely fast metabolism. He eats a lot to maintain proper health. (His cheeks are still puffy when he sleeps, though. And when he smiles.)

Dick is his emergency contact for school, partially because Dick isn’t as busy, partially due to that time Bruce “died,” but mostly because Damian is terrified of disappointing Bruce if he ever gets in trouble. Thankfully, Dick is convincing Damian otherwise.

His favorite ever birthday gift comes from Tim. It’s a pottery studio he spent months building on their property in secret with several pottery wheels and a kiln.

His hands have always had a sort of surgical accuracy to them due to his stealth training, but it never came to the forefront of everyone’s mind until one particular mission when Tim got shot, and they needed to get the bullet out as quickly as possible. Despite being bigger than most of his family members by now, and Tim refusing to stay still the whole time, Damian was the only one capable of taking the bullet out. While riding in the Batmobile. Going 80 mph. Completely painlessly. Damian is immediately given the de facto role of Combat Medic.

Jon likes to send Good morning texts to Damian. At first, he didn’t know about the “only responds if it’s an emergency” thing, though, so he decided to stop after a few weeks of Damian never replying. Within an hour of not getting the usual text, Damian was at Jon’s house in full Robin gear to make sure he was okay.

He and Steph like to paint each other’s nails when one of them is stressed. After Damian comes out as pansexual, Steph paints little pride flags on his fingers.

He only plays Minecraft on creative mode. He likes building farms and wildlife preserves.

At 16, he gets asked out by a pretty girl in school that Damian had a crush on last year, but he thinks it’s a joke because he can’t fathom anyone liking him so he turns her down.

As he grows, his looks become more androgynous, again eerily resembling his mother, but his voice drops low enough that it doesn’t cause much misgendering.

Then he starts thinking of his gender a bit more and wonders if he’s also a They.

He likes to paint all over the soles of his shoes whenever he gets a new pair. No one will ever really see it, of course, and it eventually wears off the more he walks, but he knows it’s there.

It’s a nice day in the park. He’s doing homework on a picnic table while Titus and Ace run around, and he can’t stop thinking about his future.

Yesterday, there was a school assembly about choosing a career path. Alfred slid him an SAT prep book during breakfast. And his class was assigned one of those “Which career path is best for you?” quizzes.

He gets Veterinarian.

It takes a full five minutes as Damian stares at the results, thinking about the crazy, out-of-this-world idea of not being a vigilante or assassin his entire life, what it would be like if he just turned his back on the future which was so carefully laid out in front of him since birth, before it clicks into place.

Damian doesn’t want to be Batman.

He doesn’t want to lead the LoA either.

Two years later, Damian enrolls in Gotham University and majors in Wildlife Biology on the Pre-Vet track with a minor in Studio Arts. He gets a dorm room, works in the pottery studio, and volunteers at the local animal shelter.

He is content.

Does some of this stray from canon? Yes. However, I do not give a rat’s ass. Thank you, and goodnight.

[arminsumi]

Breakfast fluff

G. Satoru — さとる

NOTE : pls ignore errors i have neither slept nor proofread this 👍 i'm just craving breakfast so bad rn which is funny considering i hate cooking breakfast lol

SUMMARY — waking up to Gojo making breakfast and fussing over the kids on a typical Sunday

CONTENT — domestic fluff, just a wholesome morning with hubby Gojo

🍒 — J ⋅ reblogs and comments help a lot ! enjoy reading :)

It's a very early morning. The sunlight through the sheer curtains is soft. You take your time getting out of bed, soaking up the enjoyable softness of the blankets and pillows. Though you're quick to miss the warmth that you usually wake up to. Blinking awake and going into the bathroom, Satoru hears the soft thumping of your footsteps down the hallway and smiles to himself.

Satoru's not usually an early riser, in fact he usually stays in bed with you and locks an arm around your waist when you try to leave. But it's a Sunday morning, and Sunday mornings were special. Because it became a tradition to go down to the bustling market, clutching the week's savings in his hand, and buy thick bacon and eggs. The freshest kind.

You and Satoru were living in a bare bones apartment with sparse money, as two young "parents" with three tots under your wings. Somehow, you two made it work, even though there were struggles you smiled through them and never strayed from each other's sides. He'd often work the night shift, and come home at ungodly hours so tired that he melted into your body like a sick child, aching for your affectionate touch.

While you lazily carry out your morning routine in the other room, the kids crowd around Satoru as he stands in the kitchen — trying desperately to balance the chaos of entertaining Yuji, Nobara and Megumi while simultaneously cooking up breakfast.

And he cooks breakfast with such meticulousness. He considers it an art form. There's a remarkable swiftness in the way that he wields a kitchen knife to cut the bacon block into strips, and a talent in the way he cracks open eggs with one hand.

" Nobara, Yuji, what are you yelling about ? "

A little voice whined, " Nobara bit me ! "

" Nobara, don't bite Yuji. " Satoru lectured softly, eyes focused on the food cooking in the pan.

" I only did it because he tried to take your sweeties out of the pantry, dad ! " she reasoned.

" Don't eat my sweeties Yuji, you can have some later today — smell this ? Daddy's cooking up yummy breakfast so don't spoil your appetite, okay. You're gonna love it. "

The bacon and eggs crackle and pop in the oiled pan, sometimes so loudly that it makes Megumi jump in fright.

" Gumi, don't stand too close to the skillet. " Satoru warns, placing a hand on his head of messy bed hair and ruffling it, causing it to look even more unruly.

A steamy breakfast aroma wafts down the hallway and satisfyingly fills your lungs. You can hear the four of them chattering and Satoru's interspersed mini-lectures.

You look at them from the doorframe, Yuji and Nobara run out the other way into the interleading sitting room.

" Who's that peering 'round the corner ? " Satoru playfully teases, his voice bringing you warmth.

" Maaa. " Megumi groans and trots over to you, giving you as big of a hug as his little body could manage.

You comb your fingers through his hair, fixing up the mess that Satoru's previous ruffling caused — as usual.

And he flashes a look behind him at you, winking like a cheeky flirt. His smile is so big because of how purely happy the sight of you makes him; especially with that bleary-eyed morning face. You look so cozy, it makes his heart lurch to see you wearing his oversized t-shirt.

" Hey ! You didn't give me a morning hug ! " Satoru pouts and complains to his son.

Megumi groans. With a small encouragement from you, he quickly dives in for a rushed and almost shy hug. His arms wrap around Satoru's legs. And like the menace your husband is, he ruffles Megumi's hair to ruin again — making the boy groan annoyedly and break the hug.

" Ugh, daaad stop. Mom just fixed my hair. " Megumi grimaced, promptly running away when Satoru smiled down at him evilly — because that smile was the one he made before going in for tickles. And tickles from Satoru? They were devastating, truly.

So little footsteps thump out of the kitchen and the two loud voices that have been sounding from the sitting room become three loud voices. You notice how Megumi's accent takes after Satoru's rather than yours, and it warms your heart.

You approach the stressed, apron-clad chef and immediately he turns around to engulf you in an energetic kiss and embrace.

" You're burning the bacon, dad. " you giggle, face squishing into his torso.

" NOOO — shitshitshit. " he mutters under his breath, lips tingling from that tasty kiss he just snatched off your lips.

" Language, 'Toru. " you murmur at him, arms wrapping around his slim waist. You give him butterflies and then he loses all composure, causing a burnt disaster in the pan. The eggs are crusted brown, the bacon is glitterring as it sizzles a deep color.

Automatically, you go around the kitchen collecting and preparing plates and cutlery for the meal. The clang and clash of plastic reminds you that today is a big deal; you and Satoru were going to go out and use the rest of your weekly savings on new kitchenware.

Stopping for a moment to amire the attractive view of your husband's physique from behind, while he rather chaotically shovels the cooked contents of the pan out onto the serving plate that you slide next to him.

" Ah the bacon is saved. . . " he breathes in relief.

The sizzling food finds its home on plates. Satoru steals a quick kiss.

And then another. And another and another until the two of you zone out for a moment and feel like you're just two teenagers again, stealing lovey dovey kisses on your way to morning classes, of course his lips always caused you to be you late to everything back then.

But before you and Satoru can completely intertwine like lovers, there's the common interrruption of Yuji's wailing coming from the sitting room. You and your husband exchange those parental sighs and smiles, before you head into the other room to fix the little commotion. Poor Yuji complains to you through teary eyes that Nobara bit him "for being annoying" and Megumi is just wandering back into the kitchen to help his dad serve up breakfast without him even needing to be asked. He was just a sweet boy like that.

And it's a good meal. One that hits all the spots. You wish you could have more, even though Satoru did put from his plate onto yours throughout the meal. It's a caring habit of his that you never realize until after you've devoured everything. You pay him thanks with a tasty kiss, and he smiles into it like he always does.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[blackopals-world]

Therapist!Yuu: Remember to behave while I'm away. Or you know what will happen.

The triplets: We disappear t Uncle Earl?

Therapist!Yuu: Very funny. BEHAVE. Divus and I are going out on the town so don't cause trouble.

Vet!Yuu:(whispering) The next Uncle Earl.

-In the car-

Crewel: Did something actually happen to your ex-husband?

Therapist!Yuu: I just use it to scare them.

-Years ago-

The triplets: age 2

Therapist!Yuu: Earl watch the kids while I finish dinner.

Earl:(Watching tv) Yeah, whatever.

Lil'Nurse!Yuu: (pulling on Yuu's skirt) Nana!

Therapist!Yuu: Come on kitten, I have to finish cooking. Stay behind the gate.

-Five minutes later-

Earl: Cut that out you little rat!

Lil'Marine Biologist!Yuu: WHAAAA!

(SMACK)

Lil'Vet!Yuu: No!

Earl: Did you just bit me you little-

Therapist!Yuu: (Holding a knife) What's going on?

Earl: (standing over three crying kids about to hit Vet!Yuu and Marine Biologist!Yuu has a red mark on their cheek) You need to control these brats. They shouldn't be touching my stuff.

Lil'Nurse!Yuu: *points to the remote while crying*

Therapist!Yuu:(gathering the triplets) Kittens, why don't we go to the car and get dinner? Let's go.(places them in there car seats outside)

Lil'Marine Biologist!Yuu: (sobbing) It hurt, Nana.

Therapist!Yuu: I know baby. I'll make sure you feel better. We can go get ice cream too. (fake gasps) Oh no, Auntie forgot her purse. I'll be back in a bit.

(They go back inside and there is a lot of banging and yelling)

Therapist!Yuu: ( Returning wearing a different dress and cleaning up a red stain on their arm) Don't worry kittens, he will never lay a hand on you again.

(What really happened? Who knows.)

[charlottecutepie]

₊˚⊹ᰔ Deal (Mathew Lillard!William Afton x fem!reader)

tags: public sex, m receiving, praise, riding, unprotected sex, threatening??

my notes: not really sure about this one, I might delete it later, idk yet :,) also eng isn’t my first language

“Hello? Mr. "I can't work nights?” Steve's hoarse voice asks, a beaming smile on his face as he talks to his potential victim.

It's always that fucking phone with wires. He'll never get off it. Most, if not all, questions are resolved through this damn phone.

Every time you enter this office, you see Raglan chatting sweetly on the phone, talking about jobs, vacancies, answering customer questions. And then his dark eyes rest on you, briefly studying your face before settling on your body. It's unpleasant feeling, as if you're exposed in front of him like meat on a plate when he already has a fork and a knife in his hands. There Steve lets out a laugh, takes the phone away from his ear and whispers softly to you: "you know what to do, honey." Embarrassment merges with arousal, which you can’t calm down in any way.

It always happens, it has already become a little tradition that at first you hated and denied. You were sick of yourself. But what happened? What made you like it? You started asking for more, you started coming to this damn office yourself, staring at the floor, obediently waiting for the cherished words.

"Yes, it absolutely is. Why? Have you had a change of heart?" Raglan asks with undisguised interest, clarifying Mike's intentions. He didn't even expect him to call back. This is just pure luck, Mike himself fell into his hands, so it's even better.

Every day, the same office, the same time, the same desk, the same Steve Raglan.

You're praying that sloppy sounds of you taking Steve's cock in your mouth don't reach Mike on the other end of the line, you're already ashamed enough. You try to be careful not to get his pants and floor dirty, but Steve doesn't care. His hand rests on your hair, stroking you like a little pet, an obedient pet.

Of course, you'll be obedient. You have made a deal after all.

"Let me give you a little backstory." he lowers his gaze to take a good look at you and spreads his legs wider. His cock penetrates deeper, he presses on your head, which causes an unpleasant feeling of tickling in your throat. You look at him, fluttering your eyelashes quickly as a sign that you're short of air. Fingers dig into his pants, crumpling the fabric. Steve raises his eyebrows, faking surprise, oh, what a pity. He's too rude, and you're too gentle, how cute. "Breathe through your nose or you forgotten you have one?" Steve lowered his voice.

"Can you repeat it again? I didn't hear you." Schmidt clarifies on the phone. You stop moving your head, afraid that Mike will hear something.

Steve sighs and adjusts his glasses, looking away from you. He starts explaining something again and you almost calm down, but he jerks his hips, allowing his dick to fully penetrate your throat, which makes you moan softly.

"This place was huge in the 80s with the kids." he smirks. Fortunately, Mike cannot see the face of his career counselor right now, because it’s definitely distorted by sarcasm and mockery. "This place been shut down for years. The only reason they haven’t given it the old wrecking ball treatment is the owners a bit of a… well, he’s kind of a sentimental guy, I guess. Just can’t bring himself to let it go yet." he chuckles. "Yeah…"

Steve's cock throbs in your mouth as you try to inhale through your nose. It's too much, you're slowly suffocating as now the whole situation is controlled by Raglan's hand, which is holding you by the hair. It hurts so bad, but then why you feel the warmth between your legs?

"Had some trouble with break-ins over the years. Drunks and vagrants, mostly. Not ideal…" it's surprising the way he do it, so calmly talking to someone on the phone while roughly fucking your throat. Although at times his tone is interrupted by quiet sighs. "Security systems dated, but fully functional. Floodlights on the outside, cameras inside and outside. Fair warning: the electricity is a bit… iffy." he’s all shining with joy while telling Mike about the pizzeria.

When you pull on his pants, tears come to your eyes and your throat hurts unbearably, Steve removes his hand from your hair. You release his shaft from your mouth with a popping sound that sounds very loud in such silence. Raglan smiles, looking at you contentedly, your chin is covered with saliva, cum on your lips, youre so beautiful, sweet. You’re lucky he's in a good mood today.

"Anything happens, there is a breaker in the main office, just flip it." he continues, but now looking at you, which makes it feel like he’s having a conversation with you. You exhale, wrapping your hand around his cock, moving up and down, he slowly pumps into your fist. His hand caresses your cheek, finger runs over your lips, smearing his cum, and it makes you smile a little. There's nothing to smile about, though. But you can't hold back the slight feeling of euphoria from such a gentle Steve, feeling yourself… Special? His touch is tender and his gaze has softened, he smiles while you continue to work with your hand. "Uhm, I guess that’s about it. You know, the rest is pretty easy. Just keep your eyes on the monitors and keep people out. Piece of cake." you lean closer, tucking your hair behind ear and running your tongue over his leaking tip. "Fuck, baby." he exhales, slightly squeezing the receiver of the old phone.

"Mr. Raglan?" Mike's puzzled voice. Your heart skipped a beat, like Schmidt's, but not Steve’s. Mike frowned, holding the phone closer to his ear. Did he hear correctly or….? From the very beginning of the conversation, he suspected something was wrong. Yeah, Steve's really weird.

Your innocent lick on his cock brought man to an instant orgasm. He was already on the verge from face fucking you, but the feeling of your tongue on his sensitive tip brought him to the limit. Putting the phone away a little further, he covered his cock with his hand until the spurts of cum laid on your face. He let out a barely heard groan, his glasses fogged up.

"I said it’s a piece of cake." Steve repeats, clearly not interested in continuing dialogue with Mike. "So, I'll catch you on the flip side… hopefully." not waiting for an answer, he hangs up.

What a good day, what an easy prey, how fortunate.

He’s in such a wonderful mood, light idea of rewarding you appears in his head. Why not?

"Come here, baby," he points to his knees with his finger, and you get up like a zombie, immediately pressing your legs together because of the uncomfortable feeling of soaked panties. Of course you're wet, this isn't the first time you are. But this will be the first time your problem will be taken care of. "you've been such a good girl, why don't I return the favor?"

Steve spreads your legs and sits you on his knee, hands holding you in place when you try move. It's not that you don't like it, you're actually losing your mind, but you feel too awkward knowing that you're in a public place. And the fact that he can feel your throbbing pussy against his knee doesn’t make situation better.

"What would you like, honey? My tongue or fingers?" he looks up at you, moving you so that your wet underwear rubs against the fabric of his pants. Your clit is stimulated, but in the most painful and torturous way, causing shallow sighs. You put both hands on his shoulders and squeeze his shirt as you throw head back.

"Please…" you're almost crying. "please, your… oh…" one more move and you'll cum. "cock, your cock, Steve, please!"

"Hush," he squeezes your thigh. "you know our little rule, don't you? Or should i remind you?"

"William," you're correcting your mistake. "William." He grunts with satisfaction.

"That's it." Afton's hands wander over your body, caressing you in right places. "Tell me honestly, you’re going to scream?" at first you don't even understand what he's asking.

He kisses your neck, continuing to slowly bounce you up and down on his knee. Thanks to you, a dark wet spot already appeared on his pants. His beard tickles your skin and his tongue leaves a wet trail on it.

"Yeah," you come to your senses, finally understanding what he meant.

William breaks into a smile. Of course, you'll scream, not just scream, but break your voice and cry, he knows that. His cock is hardening again. Afton loosens his tie, leaving it hanging around his neck. He'll definitely find a good use for it, already did. He makes you get off his lap and you look down, blushing. God, you couldn't be that wet?.. It's humiliating, so embarrassing.

William pulls your panties down to your ankles, and you step over them, remaining only in a skirt and shirt. You don't know what to do. This is the first time something as it happens, you've never gone far than just a blowjob. He pulls off your skirt as well, causing it to fall along with your underwear. He pushes the clothes aside with his foot, then sits you on top of him again. William’s eyes don’t leave yours, his hand reaches down, you feel a finger at your wet entrance.

Your lips part to let out a loud moan and William steals it with a kiss. You can't make any noise. He pushes his hips up, pressing the head of his cock against your pussy. He mumbles something into your mouth, holds you tightly in one position, you’re unable to move. His tongue roughly explores your mouth. William feels your breath on him and smiles. Then his hands grope your butt and he pushes you down, slowly lowering you onto his cock.

He moans in unison with you, but quietly, working hours aren’t over yet. However, you can't hold back the loud whimpering, feeling full. It doesn't seem very pleasant at first. Afton closes his eyes, thrusting fully.

"Be quiet." another warning. "You're taking my cock so well," he praises. "don't try to pull away," his hands go up to your back. "you have no right to do that, you know that." a careful but extremely unnecessary reminder. At least, definitely not at the moment when you're having sex with him, you don't want to think about a deal. About consequences if you’ll break it.

Every touch gives you a pleasant tingling sensation and you start to enjoy it more with every second. You move on top of him, trying to find the right angle, pressing your chest against his. You don't want to look at his face, into his eyes, because even through the glasses you can see that he's devouring you with his eyes. It's embarrassing. But it gets worse when he runs his tongue over your nipple through your shirt, leaving a wet spot on your clothes. William lightly bites the sensitive skin, while squeezing your other nipple with his fingers, a hiss leaves your lips. It hurts, but it turns you on even more. His chest heaves, he tries to restrain himself from jerking his hips up and ruin your cunt the way you deserve. Your warm walls squeeze his cock too tightly as you tremble from too much attention to your nipples.

"Now move up and down," William points out. "and don't forget about hips."

He knows you've never tried this pose. Of course, he knows everything about you. He likes to be closer to his prey.

Your fingers on his shoulders tighten, you begin to move according to his words. You don't forget about your hips, as he demanded. And then something pleasant begins to spread through the body. An enveloping feeling that radiates to every nerve. His cock feels much different than it did a few minutes ago. Everything inside is burning and throbbing, your body needs more. You want to move faster, you can barely contain your moans. William puts his shoulder up, which is what you're using to shut yourself. You mumble, unable to make a sound, whine, but you continue to bounce on him.

"Good girl," his words break you. "such a tight pussy." your teeth are digging into him painfully, soaking the man's shirt with saliva.

Afton starts moving with you, now holding you tightly. It's like you're nothing more than a rag doll in his hands. Your body becomes so weak and sluggish, eyes roll back in bliss. His cock goes in and out of your pussy with an incredibly perverted sound that echoes throughout the office. Drops of sweat run down his forehead and down your back, but it feels like lava that burns to the bone.

"I-… I feel so good…" your speaking so slurred, because it's hard to talk with his clothes in your mouth, but you're so pleased that you can't control yourself. "William!"

You can't help but moan in surprise when he gets up from his chair, holding your ass, his cock still inside. It even hurts. William lays you on his desk, takes off his glasses and puts them next to a sign with his fake name on it. You dare to look at his face. He's just as horny as you are. Without glasses, he looks a little different, grey strands stuck to his sweaty forehead, hair slightly messy.

William puts his tie in your mouth, you almost choke. Afton leans down, brushes his lips against your collarbone, so sensually. In response, you wiggle your hips, trying to get him to move. William is grinning at you, at your pleading eyes. He begins to hammer in your pussy. You cry out as loud as you can, but fortunately, the tie shuts you up, leaving only indistinct "please." His hands squeeze your ass until it bruise as he thrusts into you.

William stretches you out just fine, thrusting into your cunt fast, which makes it seem like desk under you is about to break. You're afraid of accidentally hitting his glasses, you don't want unnecessary sounds. William is so damn tensed up, you realize that in all this time he has never broken eye contact with you. His cock reaches deeper when you just thought it was impossible and tears flow from your eyes. William smears two fingers with his saliva and lays them to your clit, your pussy clench around him. His fingers move sweetly and slowly, pressing on your bundle of nerves that it drives you crazy. Your legs are wobbly, blood is boiling.

"Do you want me to cum inside you, baby?" the question isnt scary at all, because your brain doesn't work. Your red, tear-stained face responds him. You just nod frantically, trying to say yes, but tie doesn't let. William smiles, runs the pad of his thumb over your clit. "Your cunt clenching around me like that, begging me to fill you up. Damn perfect."

He leans closer to your face. Poor thing, he wants to end your sweet torments, to give you what you crave. Clenching your tie between your teeth, you arch and cry, unconsciously moving your pelvis towards him. William's legs bend slightly as his thrusts become more chaotic. He keeps fucking into you, groaning softly. William wants to say so much dirty things to you, but he can't. He can't be loud, he can't be heard, no need to ruin his reputation. Let others continue to think that he's a good father, an amazing career counselor, an ideal person who helps others. And you… and you're just his little assistant, who brings coffee to his office. Let everyone think so.

Warm liquid filling you, and at first you don't even realize what it is as you cum. His fingers caress your clit with gentle circle movements while you try to bring your legs together, but eventually wrap them around him, only driving him deeper into yourself. William is unable to hold back heavy sighs, still continuing to thrust, until he sees that his cum is already flowing out of you down to the floor. Your tired eyes and his tie in your mouth, all covered with your saliva, cause him an evil smile. This day couldn't be better, today everything is going too well.

"You did so well, Y/n," he breathes with relief, running his fingers over your face and taking the tie out of your mouth. "you extended your little sister's life by one more day. By the way, tell her hi from mr. Raglan."

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 5,818

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Reader pronouns: she/her

Era: the Whisperers

Warnings: language (lots of swearing always haha), typical TWD violence

Summary: Daryl finds himself in a tight spot in the woods when walkers are suddenly behaving in ways they shouldn't.

A/N: This is the first part of a news series! Thanks for joining me on another new adventure.

“How was it?” Carol asked, catching sight of Daryl as he came in.

The archer shrugged. “Got somethin’. Deer. Ain’t much. Was pretty scrawny, but better than nothin’. Dropped it off at the pantry,” he drawled. He hesitated and she saw it immediately.

“What is it?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

Daryl shook his head and shrugged again. “I dunno. S’weird. I felt like somethin’ was watchin’ me out there some of the time.”

She leaned heavily on the counter, a tight frown growing on her face. “Something?”

“Or someone maybe,” Daryl said with a shrug.

The worry lines on her forehead deepened. “Well, did you see any sign of anybody out there? How close were you to here, to Hilltop?”

Daryl hauled his crossbow off his shoulder and shrugged. “I didn’t see shit. And I was a ways off but not far enough. Close enough that if somebody is out there, they’d probably stumble their way here eventually. Made sure nobody could follow me back but—” He chewed on his bottom lip anxiously. “I dunno.”

Carol looked worried and her eyes drifted to Henry where he stood with Alden and Earl, already starting his blacksmith training.

Daryl reflexively reached for his knife in its sheath, meaning to check the sharpness of the blade. He swore when his hand grasped at air. “Fuck!” he growled.

“What is it?” Carol asked.

Daryl sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, annoyed. “I must have left my knife out there… Prob’ly set it down after I gutted the damn deer. There were walkers comin’ and I was in a hurry.” He sighed heavily again. “Shit. I’ll go back for it tomorrow. See what else I can see out there. I can’t shake the damn feeling somethin’ was out there.”

Carol nodded, her brow still furrowed.

“Ya heard anything from Michonne? How’re the kids?” Daryl asked.

Carol’s expression dropped. “Haven’t heard. We’re still… not talking. She’s keeping Alexandria closed off.”

“Mmm,” Daryl hums, swinging his crossbow back up on his shoulder. He was about to go on, but Tara, Jesus, and Aaron come running up. They exchange greetings and hugs before Daryl excuses himself to find some place to crash with Dog for the night.

Carol puts her arm around Henry’s shoulder as they watch him wander toward the barn. “I guess he’s not so bad,” Henry comments. “Henry!” Carol scolds him, but she can’t help laughing a little herself.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next morning Daryl woke early like usual, plagued by the same old restlessness that never seemed to have a cause or a cure. He wanted his damn knife back, and that nagging feeling was still bothering him, like a tickle at the back of his brain, some itch he couldn’t reach to scratch. That feeling he had been watched the day before. He assembled his gear, grabbed a spare knife, and set off beyond the walls of Hilltop and back into the woods, retracing his route from the day before.

It was easy to retrace his steps. Even if he hadn’t known the woods like the back of his hand by then after his six years of wandering, the circle of vultures and noisy cawing of ravens squabbling over the gut scraps of the carcass drew him. He prepared himself in case there were walkers feeding too. He found the gut pile easily and started to search the ground nearby for his knife. He felt through the leaf litter and kicked over sticks and through nearby bramble but his search was initially fruitless. Did the damn thing sprout legs? What the hell… It wasn’t until he stood up in frustration and really scanned his surroundings that the glint of something silver caught his eye.

Daryl’s eyes narrowed as they landed on the metallic object. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and stood on end. He found himself carefully surveying the entirety of his surroundings again, straining his hearing for any sound of movement, squinting into the shadows cast by the large trees overhead. He cautiously approached the nearby tree trunk, watching where he placed his feet, waiting for someone to pounce like this was a trap and he was the mouse going for the cheese.

His knife was hanging from an arrow shot into the trunk of a huge oak, dangling from a leather strap. Daryl carefully slid it off and inspected it. It looked just as it had the day before, except for the addition of the makeshift loop in order to hang it from the arrow. Oh—and it had been sharpened? The blade was honed to perfection. And the arrow was something else… He grabbed and pulled on the shaft, but the head broke off and remained buried deeply in the tree. He could tell, however, that it had been handmade. The fletching was of stiff, black, glossy feathers with a slightly iridescent sheen. He spun the shaft between his fingers and watched the way the light shone on them, shifting from plum to emerald to shining sapphire blue and then back to deep night. He glanced over his shoulder, frozen, listening.

He didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but he knew one thing for certain now; he wasn’t imagining that feeling of being watched. But who was watching and why would they bother to hang a found knife in case its owner returned? Most people would have considered it a good find and kept it for themselves. He maintained it religiously as a rule. It was in perfect condition. Not that he was complaining… but it seemed fucking peculiar.

As he turned toward home, a raven let out a series of raspy croaks overhead and took flight. The wood was so quiet that Daryl could hear the wind through its wings as it flapped past and wheeled upwards, disappearing into the canopy of the craggy trees.

Daryl began to slowly search the area for any sign of someone, but was surprised and even more perplexed when he couldn’t seem to find a leaf or twig out of place. Not even a damn partial footprint… an impression in the ground. Nothing. The archer scoured the area thoroughly for the next couple hours, knife back in its sheath and the mysterious arrow shaft with its inky black fletching clutched in his right hand. He kept his eyes open for game, but it seemed to be making itself as scarce as clues were. There were seemingly endless game trails, old and new, and he walked them as systematically as he could. It was the easiest way to get around. Step off to either side and the blackberry brambles and vines would tear at your clothes and skin, biting in and drawing blood. That alone should have made it easier to figure out if someone was lurking around, but he found neither track nor trace… With the day wearing on and no sign of anything else out of the ordinary, Daryl conceded and decided to head back to Hilltop. At least he had his knife...

It was nearly dark by the time Daryl could see the walls of Hilltop ahead. Carol happened to be up on the guard platform when he returned, though Henry was absent. “Find anything?” she asked, surveying his expression as he came inside and the walls closed behind him. He was as stoic as always.

His hand went to the handle of his knife, replaced in its sheath. “Yes and no,” he drawled. Furrows appeared in Carol’s forehead. “Found my knife. But it was hangin’ up on this,” he said, holding up the arrow he still had clutched in his hand. “Stuck into a goddamn tree like somebody was waitin’ for me to come back for it.”

“That’s strange,” Carol murmured. She took the shaft and examined it, running a finger along the glossy black feathers at the end. Her eyes met Daryl’s, sharp and wary. Her expression was questioning. Daryl shrugged and shook his head. “I ain’t got a clue. I spent the whole day over there, crisscrossing the trails lookin’ for some sign of who was out there and all I was left with was this damn arrow. Not a boot print, not a broken twig, fuckin’ nothin’. ‘S’like it was left by a damn ghost.”

“Why would someone would pin it up for you to find again? Why wouldn’t they just keep it?” she questioned him, handing the arrow shaft back. Daryl shrugged.

“Dunno…” he murmured, twirling it in his hands. He looked around at the afternoon shadows crawling slowly over Hilltop and sighed. “How’re things? Henry?” he drawled, patting Dog’s head absently.

“He’s… doing okay,” she said, smiling. “I think it’s going to take him a little time to find his place here. But Alden and Earl have gotten him started.”

Daryl nodded. “Can’t be easy tryin’ to figure out bein’ ‘round other kids his age for the first time,” Daryl commented.

“No,” Carol said. “But I’m sure he’ll figure it out,” she added with a tight smile.

Daryl looked up as Jesus, Aaron, and Tara were suddenly making their way down the hill toward him and Carol with grim expressions.

“S’matter?” Daryl drawled, fiddling with his bandana absently as they came to a stop in front of him.

“Early this morning, Aaron and I found Rosita collapsed and exhausted out in the woods. She fired a flare. She and Eugene were working on something when walkers came up on them. Eugene’s hurt. She said she left him in a barn and was trying to get here for help. She’s in the infirmary,” Jesus explained.

“Eugene is still out there,” Aaron said, looking at Daryl. “We could really use your tracking skills. I don’t want to risk him spending another night out there.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. ‘Course.” And the three of them, Daryl, Aaron, and Jesus (and Dog) prepared to head out and search for Eugene.

They headed back toward where Aaron and Jesus had found Rosita and Daryl realized it wasn’t far from where he’d shot the deer and forgotten his knife. He pondered this, but didn’t say anything to Jesus or Aaron. He did, however, continue scrutinizing the ground closely for any sign or Eugene or anyone else.

They came to the edge of a large field and Daryl stopped dead. “What the hell?” he drawled. Aaron and Jesus stopped beside him, squinting at a herd in the field moving in concentric circles.

“Have—have either of you ever seen walkers do that before?” Jesus asked. Both Aaron and Daryl shook their heads.

“Never,” Daryl said, his gaze sharp as he studied the swirling horde. “C’mon. We ain’t got long before dark.” He led the way again with Dog out slightly in front. Moving through the woods as silently as possible, Daryl knew they were now very close to where he’d shot the deer. The hair on the back of his neck prickled again and he stopped as a gust of wind suddenly kicked up at their backs. “Stop,” he said suddenly, throwing up a hand. Jesus and Aaron stood still. “I can hear ‘em,” Daryl drawled. “On the wind.”

Straining their hearing, Jesus and Aaron heard the growls on the wind now too. “They’re following,” Aaron said, glancing back. Through the trees, wandering shapes could barely be seen. “Did they see us?” he asked.

Jesus stared at the incoming herd, suspicious and at a loss. “I don’t know. But we better keep moving.” Night had fallen by the time Daryl was able to trace Rosita’s trail back to the barn. They found Eugene huddled in the cellar. He was nearly incoherent, shaking and sweaty. “C’mon. We gotta go, Eugene,” Daryl insisted.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked concernedly as soon as they had hauled him up from the hidden cellar.

“I took a bad step and dislocated my knee,” Eugene said, still shaking.

“Well, if it’s dislocated we can just pop it back in,” Daryl said, his brow furrowed.

“No. No, listen to me,” he argues, wiping sweat from his brow. “The herd that followed us here is on its way back.”

“I saw their tracks,” Daryl drawled, not understanding his frantic tone and his trembling. “They’re gone…”

“No. It’s not. It’s already been through here twice. It’s lookin’ for me,” he insisted. “Eugene—” Jesus started. “No! We have to get out of here before it comes back! This wasn’t a normal run-of-the-mill bunch of wandering dead,” he says in his Texas twang.

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked, wide-eyed and unsettled by Eugene’s behavior.

He lowered his voice. “When they passed us by, we could hear them—they were whispering to each other.”

Everyone exchanged confused and stunned glances. “You mean they were—talking?” Aaron asked.

Eugene was almost crying he was so frantic. “I know how it sounds! But Rosita heard it too. She’ll corroborate!”

Suddenly, Dog barked. The herd was back and inbound.

Daryl rushed to look out the window. “Shit,” he swore. “They’re gonna cut us off… Look, you two get him outta here. I’ll distract ‘em, lead em away so you can cover some ground. This dun make any damn sense,” Daryl said, pacing the length of the barn.

“They shouldn’t have doubled back like that and they definitely shouldn’t have followed us to the barn,” Jesus agree, shouldering Eugene’s weight with Aaron.

“It ain’t right,” Daryl agreed. “Alrigh’, go. Go! I’ll lead ‘em off. Go! C’mon boy!” Dog rushed after Daryl as the other three made their way slowly in the opposite direction.

Daryl and Dog pounded the pavement as fast as they could until they reached a dilapidated trailer house on the side of the road, not too far from the fork where he’d separated from the others. Daryl hurriedly heaved himself up on the top and withdrew some firecrackers from his bag, flicking his lighter, and lighting the fuse. He tossed them out onto the pavement and they soon were popping and banging with a burst of sound that echoed up and down the lonely road. Dog barked at the herd in the distance and Daryl watched as some of the walkers began to turn toward him and away from the direction of Eugene, Aaron, and Jesus. “Keep ‘em comin’ boy,” he called down to Dog, squinting in the fog and darkness.

All was as it should be at first; the walkers were following the sound. And then suddenly, they weren’t. The ones who had veered off were suddenly pulled back the way they had come as if drawn by some magnetic force correcting their course again. Daryl couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He hurriedly hushed Dog and stared, bewildered and desperate as the horde continued in the direction of his friends.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Shit!”

Daryl hurriedly slung himself over the edge, hung from the edge and then dropped down onto the ground. Dog ran up beside him. Huddled in the grass, he wondered frantically what to do. He had to get to the others—they wouldn’t know what was coming until it was too late. But how?

“Fuck it,” Daryl muttered, straightening up and dashing across the road into the brush on the other side. He followed parallel to the walkers, trying to get ahead of them so he could reach the others, but it was hard as they walked on the old highway and he had to scramble through windfalls and brambles, Dog bouncing in front of him. He found the path of least resistance suddenly cutting closer and closer to the road and the horde.

Overhead, lightning flashed and thunder rolled. Daryl ducked low in the shadows, eyeing the progress of the walkers, constantly trying to pass them and stay hidden. Soon the developing fog was closing in around him and he could barely see ten feet. Suddenly, Dog let out a low growl and Daryl froze, sensing some mass behind him. His hand twitched to his knife and he withdrew it. He spun and was face to face with a lunging walker, its hands raised and slashing like claws. He struck with his knife and it dropped. Daryl stumbled backward and swung his bow off his shoulder as his back hit the trunk of a large tree. He fired a bolt as another figure emerged from the fog reaching for him. Dog leapt and attacked as another walker stumbled forward. Daryl readied his knife again. They were closing in. He was hemmed in on all sides, the tree at his back, and as he stood, trying to prepare himself, panic threatening to drown him as he faced the certainty of his own death, he did hear the whispers.

Kill. Kill him. Kill. Tear. Rip him apart. Kill.

“Dog! Here! Get back!” Daryl yelled, waiting for the next of the circle of walkers around him to lunge. He watched with confusion as a huge walking, lumbering toward him, was struck by an arrow, seemingly rained down from above. It fell with weight in front of him, tripping up another. Then Daryl was suddenly struck hard on the head by something which then tumbled down over his shoulder.

Distracted, he looked to see a rough-looking rope ladder with wooden steps cascading beside him from out of the tree. Another walker jolted forward, snarling, and Dog clamped down on its head and didn’t stop biting until it lay still. Daryl kicked another back to keep it off Dog. He craned his neck to look up the ladder, up into the huge old oak tree, but he could see nothing high up in the darkness and haze of the fog. There was a sudden moan and snarl and Daryl found himself holding off a walker at arm’s length, grappling with it to keep its snapping jaws away from his neck. There was a sharp swish and a rush of air and the walker he was fighting went suddenly still, an arrow buried in its face. Daryl had half a moment to note that the fletching was black as midnight before it fell at his feet.

More of the dead pressed in. He stabbed two more and another arrow from above pierced the head of a third. He glanced back up at the tree and the dangling ladder. Did he have a choice? He looked back at the circle of walkers pressing ever more closely in. Another couple began to stagger forward. Dog barked frantically, facing them bravely, trying to protect Daryl. No choice. He had no choice. “Dog! C’mon! Up! Get up!” He seized the bottom of the ladder and pulled it slightly out, using all his weight to hold it taught as Dog let out a nervous bark and then ran up it like a ramp at full speed, scrambling a little against the trunk and more vertical steps near the top but finally disappearing into the darkness under the eaves of the tree. Daryl heaved out a final breath, slung his bow across his back and scrambled up after him. He felt fingertips on his ankle and kicked hard to free himself but the grip was strong. Another rush of air and the sharp sound of a passing arrow and the grip disappeared.

He climbed, heart racing, until he arrived at a surprisingly large wooden platform, built in among the thick branches. He spilled onto it and lay flat on his back, trying to catch his breath. Dog surged forward, anxious paws tapping, and licked his face.

Daryl startled as a dark figure moved beside him and quickly heaved the rope ladder up, rolling it into a neat coil and dropping it onto the platform before retreating again to the other side to lean back against a particularly large offshoot of the tree trunk. Daryl hurriedly rolled over and sat up on his knees, squinting into the darkness. Below, the growls and snarls seemed even louder and he could still hear the faintest rustle and hush of whispers woven in among them.

Dog circled and sat beside Daryl, peering with interest at the dark-clad figure. Daryl waited with bated breath for a long time to see if they would speak. They didn’t.

They were set back in shadow and he couldn’t make out much about them at all until lightning burst overhead again and he could barely see that they had on a sort of dark cloak with a hood and clutched a bow in one hand.

There was an increasing roar of crackling and rustling all around him and Daryl realized that it had started raining, but he felt no drops falling on him. Looking upwards, he saw with the next burst of lightning that there was another platform above him. He glanced back down at the figure. They were still unmoving. He watched as they set their bow aside and then raised their hands and pushed back their hood. Another fork of lightning lit the sky.

He gulped. His heart did a strange lurch in his chest. He was staring at you, and you were staring back at him. He was at a loss for anything to say. Below, the growls and snarls went on and on…

You were studying him carefully, your eyes narrowed, lips parted a little and slightly pursed.

He attempted to clear his throat, but it felt tight all of a sudden. “‘M Daryl,” he said, having to nearly yell over the torrent of rain and continued rolling booms of thunder.

You reached for your bow again, not taking your eyes off him.

“I—I think ya just saved my life. And Dog’s too. Well—I know ya did,” he said lamely, trailing off.

Instead of responding, he watched as you slung your bow on one shoulder and then turned and started to climb up the large vertical branch you’d been standing in front of with an agility and speed that was astonishing.

“Wait—hey!” he called after you.

But the tail of your dark cloak was already licking around the platform above and you were gone. Dog trotted over to where you’d been, sniffing and then looking up the branch. He let out a low whine and wagged his tail.

“What the fuck?” Daryl muttered, climbing to his feet and going to stand where you’d been. He examined the tree trunk, half-expecting to find steps or footholds drilled in that allowed you to climb so swiftly but there was nothing but the rough bark of the tree. He ran his fingers over it. He couldn’t imagine how you’d gotten a hold. Another bright burst of lightning shot through the sky and a loud boom of thunder rolled. Daryl backed away from the edge and sank down in the middle of the platform beside his pack and crossbow. He hauled his bow onto his lap, set another bolt in the flight groove, and drew it back so it was ready to fire in a hurry if needed. There he sat, rigid, staring into the darkness around him, Dog at his side.

His heart sank as he thought of Jesus, Aaron, and Eugene. He hoped they were safe. What a massive fucking misadventure this had been. But as he sat clutching his bow, wondering who the fuck you were, why the fuck you’d helped him, where the fuck you’d gone now (up the tree?), his mind did continually wander back to the whispering... He’d heard it. Exactly as Eugene had said. And the herd had behaved unlike any other he’d ever seen. They’d doubled back. They’d ignored the lights and sounds of the firecrackers. They’d rerouted. They seemed to move with purpose. They didn’t just wander. He didn’t know what it meant, why it occurred, but it was terrifying. _ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl awoke with a start when Dog let out a soft woof and he shot upright, grappling for his bow. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, especially being twenty-five feet in the air, but he had finally succumbed to exhaustion when the storm had passed in the wee hours of the morning. His back was stiff and tight from sleeping on the hard wood and he attempted to stretch to relieve the worst of it but was far too aware of you staring at him.

Now, he was looking back at you in the light of morning where you’d just climbed down on another ladder from the upper platform. This ladder passed through a hole in the platform above and he again remembered how skillfully you’d ascended without it the night before.

You were still dressed in mostly black, but the cloak and hood you’d worn during the night were gone. Along with your bow and a quiver full of arrows, there was a small bag slung across your body and you knelt and slipped it off. You flipped it open and pulled out a thermos and a chunk of crusty bread. You thrust them toward him and he eyed them somewhat warily. You finally just set them down and then stood, shifting your bow and quiver to the side, and leaning back against the tree trunk in the same way you had the night before. You crossed your arms over your chest and surveyed him.

Your eyes were bright and the colors seemed to flash in the morning sun. Daryl gulped and then cautiously reached for the bread and thermos. He unscrewed the top and sniffed its contents. Steam rose up and it was accompanied by an earthy and slightly sweet smell. Hot tea. Tea… in a tree? He was baffled. Did you have a fire up there somewhere? A stove? What the fuck? he thought for the hundredth time in a day’s time.

He looked up at you again and set the thermos aside. His eyes flickered down to your quiver. The feathers of the fletching were all glossy black. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Ya found my knife the other day.” A long beat of silence. You were unreadable. “Why’d ya—hang it back up for me to find?” he asked. “Ya knew I’d come back lookin’?”

Still nothing.

“Were ya watchin’ me out here before?”

Silence.

He was getting slightly annoyed. “Christ, d’ya speak at all or—”

“Yes,” you said suddenly. “I do.”

Now, Daryl’s mouth was hanging partially open.

“But I’m not in the habit of speaking with strangers.”

“Well,” he straightened up a bit, clearing his throat, “’M Daryl. And this is Dog,” he said, ruffling the Malinois’ fur. He waited to see if you’d reciprocate the introduction but you merely shifted a little. Daryl chewed on his bottom lip nervously.

“How’d you get mixed up in that mess last night anyway?” you asked him. You couldn’t help studying his every little movement closely, watching for a microscopic flash that something was off, waiting for him to suddenly reveal himself to be something… dark. But you saw nothing like that. Not yet, anyway. But he was obviously strong, capable. Careful, you cautioned yourself mentally.

Daryl’s stomach turned as he thought again of Eugene and Aaron and Jesus. He scolded himself for not thinking of them until now after waking up. “S’kinda a long story,” he drawled. “I was tryin’ to lead ‘em away from somewhere. Guess it backfired.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Lead them? Of course it went wrong,” you said, looking at him like that was the most obvious thing ever, or maybe more like he was a fucking idiot.

His brow furrowed low over his blue eyes. “What d’ya mean?”

“Well, the shepherds, obviously,” you said, deadpan.

“The—who?”

You straightened up, perplexed as you stared back at him. “The shepherds.” There was no understanding or recognition on his face. “Of the dead.”

Daryl only stared back at you, utterly confused.

You shook your head a little. “Couldn’t you hear them?” you asked him.

Finally, he nodded. “Ya mean the—the whisperin’?”

“Yes. It’s the shepherds,” you said again.

He still looked confused. You sighed and walked over the coiled ladder and nudged it off the edge with your foot. “Come down. I’ll show you.”

Daryl watched you slip down with ease and then glanced at Dog. “Stay, boy,” he said, and he followed more clumsily down the ladder behind you, feeling cautiously with his boots for the next step. He felt overly large and awkward behind you. When he planted his boots back on solid ground again, he was surprised to see the number of dead walkers lying at the base of the tree. You had shot more than he’d noticed the night before in all the chaos. Most had a thick arrow shaft capped with black feathers protruding from its head. You went about collecting your arrows. You paused at the last one and gave him a significant look before rolling it over with your boot so it was facedown. You bent and Daryl moved closer. “Here. See?” You pointed at the back of the head. At first, Daryl didn’t understand what he was supposed to be looking at. You withdrew a knife from your hip with a skillful movement and slipped the blade up the back of the head. It was as you did this that Daryl finally saw the lacing, like a shoelace, on the back of the head.

“What the hell?” he growled.

Once the lacing was cut, you gripped the scraggly hair on the top of the head and tugged. The whole head seemed to come off at first until he realized it was slipping off like a mask. You held it up with a disgusted look on your face for him to see.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he drawled. He turned the body back over and found himself looking at a person. Not one who had ever turned to the undead, but the very human-looking corpse of a person dead from your arrow the night before. He stood up, in slight shock.

You dropped the horrifying mask to the ground. “They wear skins, herd the dead. They walk with them. Control them,” you said. “The shepherds.”

“Why?” Daryl asked.

You didn’t answer, simply stared at him stony-faced, sheathed your knife, stuffed the arrows you’d collected back in your quiver, and climbed the ladder back up into the tree.

As a last thought, Daryl grabbed the mask and crammed it into the inside pocket in his vest. Then, he followed you back up.

Daryl found you sitting at the edge petting Dog when he pulled himself back onto the platform. The bread and thermos were still sitting there in the middle and his hunger reared its head. He grabbed the bread and sank down beside his pack and bow again.

“What d’ya know ‘bout these shepherds?” he asked you again. “These—Whisperers?”

Your eyes flickered up to his face and then back to Dog as you picked a burr out of his coat. “They almost killed you last night. What more do you need to know?”

“Alrigh’…” Daryl drawled, biting off another piece of bread. “Ya ain’t even gonna tell me yer name? Where ya came from?”

Your eyes snapped up to his face again. “You don’t owe me your backstory and I certainly don’t owe you mine,” you said. You stood abruptly as the croak of a raven sounded nearby. “You led that herd right to my tree—”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. “Ain’t like I did that on purpose. I didn’t know somebody was livin’ in a fuckin’ tree—it coulda been any tree in a thousand.”

“But it wasn’t. And I saved your ass—”

Daryl was slightly incredulous. “Ya want another thank you? Or an apology?” he asked, standing.

Your hand reflexively strayed to your knife as he rose to his full height. “And now I’ll have to move—”

Daryl continued to stare at you, baffled. The raven croaked again nearby. “Why the hell did ya even save me and Dog?” he asked.

“Should I not have?” you retorted. Abruptly, you tore your eyes from his face. “I think it’s time you go. I’m sure your people are worried,” you said, patting Dog once more time.

“Hang on—how d’ya know I got people?” Daryl pressed you.

“You have people,” you said.

“Do you have people?” he asked.

You ignored his question. “I can fit a harness on your dog to lower him down,” you said.

“Forget it,” Daryl growled. He shoved what was left of the chunk of bread into his pack and slung it across his back. He shouldered his crossbow. “Thanks for breakfast. Dog. Shoulders, c’mon!”

Daryl bent his knees and Dog propelled himself onto Daryl’s shoulders and balanced there. Daryl was bowed slightly under the weight and you watched, somewhat amazed as he navigated the edge of the platform and climbed the ladder back down. You leaned over and watched Dog jump down. Daryl readied his crossbow in his hands, prepared to set out.

You couldn’t resist having the last word. “Daryl,” you called down. He looked up. “You didn’t thank me, technically, for saving your life.”

Daryl peered up, disbelieving. “Last night, I said—”

“You stated a fact, that I did,” you interrupted. “That isn’t a ‘thank you’.”

He swore under his breath. “Hey, what the hell is your problem?” he growled back.

And for the first time, Daryl saw you smile, and his stomach seemed to somersault in his midsection. Just then, a huge raven swooped in and perched on your shoulder, letting out a raspy noise as a greeting and ruffling its feathers as you scratched beneath its bill affectionately. “Bye, Daryl. Be careful of the shepherds. And I’ll ask that you just go and forget about me.” And with that, you disappeared, and the ladder behind him slowly began to raise as you reeled it back up.

Daryl had seen a lot of shit in his time since the world fell, but this? You? Some mysterious woman living in a tree with a fucking pet raven? What the fuck... This was something else entirely. Forget about you? Not fucking likely.

[dulcesiabits]

dissection of a liar.

summary: He's just a layer of lies, delicately stacked on top of one another. But who is Lyney underneath all of that?

notes: 2k words, fic, character study, heavy spoilers for lyney and lynette's backstory, a vivid depiction of murder, a depiction of physical abuse, someone looks at lynette in a weird way

“You’re not being honest with me.”

At a little cafe nestled deep within the city streets, framed by trailing ivy and the aroma of freshly roasted coffee, Lyney finds his tongue caught by the proverbial cat.

You blow on the surface of your teacup, liquid rippling with each breath, perfectly unaware that you’ve just caused his world to somersault and tumble. Lyney drums his fingers on the table, a slow accompaniment to his racing heartbeat. 

“I’m more honest with you than I would be with any other person in this city,” he says, tilting his head just so, keeping the angles of his smile relaxed, gentle. 

“Which isn’t saying much.” You take a sip of your tea, the words mingling with the steam rising from your cup. 

“Are you… mad?”

“No. I can’t force you to open up. But… I want you to be able to trust me.”

“I do trust you,” he says instantly, but it’s the wrong thing to say.

You set down your cup with a quiet clatter. “No. You keep me at an arm’s length. You’re holding back. What are you hiding, Lyney? What are you so afraid of?”

And for once, he doesn’t have the right words to say. Because you’re asking for the truth, and that’s the one thing he doesn’t know how to give you.

—

Lyney is thirteen the first time time he kills someone.

It was supposed to be a simple mission for Father; sneak into a noble’s home, steal some documents while leaving decoys behind, and abscond into the night. Quick, painless, easy. A perfect mission for his nimble fingers and quick wit, with Lynette acting as support from the outside.

But things go wrong the moment he steps foot into the mansion. Having memorized the shifts of the nightly security patrol, and knowing the right way to avoid detection from guardmeks, what he can’t account for is the off-patrol officer lounging in the room he lands in.

They stare at each other, he and this man. No, a boy, really, someone with a faint, peachy mustache, and round cheeks still shaking off the last of childhood. 

The officer raises his gun, and Lyney tenses– the window is right behind him, but the officer is blocking off the door, and if he leaves now, it would ruin everything– and then the officer hesitates. 

“You’re just a kid,” he mumbles, and Lyney could laugh. 

A bead of sweat trickles down Lyney’s neck. With each passing minute, the chance of failure grows, and with it, the risk of Father’s displeasure.

There’s a knife hidden on his leg. Father trains all the children in all the tedious minutiae of death. But it’s only supposed to be a last resort for spies such as him.

There’s a rap on the window, and Lynette’s face, ghostly in the glass, shines through. Her mouth starts to open, a silent question, and the officer whips his gun towards the noise, finger tightening on the trigger, and he’s going to shoot– she’ll be hurt– not again. Never again– And then the guard is on the floor, and there’s a knife in Lyney’s hands, and it’s over before it even begins.

But then, why is there blood? Blood, everywhere. On the carpet. On his hands. On his knife. Pooling beneath his feet, splattered in his hair. 

In the center of it all, a body.

A gash in the guard’s throat, torn flesh and blood trickling, like red jam in the center of uncooked dough. Limbs twitching, jumping, his hand opening and closing, grasping for something that’s not there. The guard gurgles, choking on his own blood. And he’s just a boy. Just a boy, really. With a patchy mustache and pimples on his face and a family back home wondering where he is– and he’s staring at Lyney and he keeps staring his eyes bluer than the sky– and he–

“We have to go.” Lynette touches his shoulder. At some point, she’d crept up besides him, avoiding the gore behind her. She shifts, blocking his view of the officer. “We attracted too much attention.”

Somehow, they make it back safely. Father only spares them a single glance at the orphanage. “I won’t tolerate any mistakes next time.” 

A warning. The implicit understanding this would be the only one he gets. 

That night, long after Lynette has drifted off, he stands in front of a porcelain sink, and scrubs. He scrubs his hands. His arms. Under his nails. Even when the water draining down the sink turns from pink to crystal clear, he can’t stop. The smell of iron and rust. The officer’s sightless eyes. He keeps washing until he can’t feel his fingers in the running water.

Just a kid. Just a kid, the officer had said. They were just kids.

For the next few years, every time he sleeps, he thinks of those eyes. Like chips of blue glass, his own pale face reflecting in their depths. 

—

Before Father, there is a noble. Richly-dressed, with fine, aristocratic features, and golden hair. A beautiful man, some might have said, but Lyney knows better. The worst monsters never looked like one. 

Once, when Lyney fumbles a magic trick in front of some important guests, the noble smiles, and excuses his behavior due to nerves. Later, when the last guest leaves, the noble guides him to the kitchen, pats his head gently, and orders the butler to lash his back until he learns his lesson. 

“Your sister will get the lashes if you mess up again,” the noble tells him as Lyney lies on the floor, barely conscious, with fire searing down his spine.

And the way the noble looks at his sister. It sets Lyney’s teeth on edge with a sheer sense of wrongness. He looks at her like she is nothing more than a body, to be used and discarded. 

“Stay away from him,” he whispers to Lynette. “Don’t be in a room alone with him if you can help it. Come find me if something happens.” 

But at the end of the day, his warnings, his attempts to protect his sister, are useless. The day he comes home and Lynette is gone, something in him breaks.

What is a child to a world so infinitely cruel and vast?

—

In this world, it’s just he and Lynette, Lynette and he. 

Since before the beginning, they have never been apart. They shared the same dream in their mother’s head, the same womb for nine months. 

His family. The only person he can trust. Before he’s a magician, a Fatuus, or even a human, he is first and foremost Lynette’s big brother.

Others can hurt them. Betray them. Use them. But Lynette? They are the same flesh and blood. If she were to be struck, he would feel the same pain. There is no world he can exist in without her by his side.

“Lynette,” he whispers, shaking her shoulder. “Wake up!”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Come on!”

It’s a quiet night at the orphanage, a few weeks after Father has taken them in. The calluses are still forming on his fingers, and his hands have yet to adjust to the bow that Father has given him.

“Fine. What do you want?” Lynette whispers, rubbing at her eyes.

“I saw something outside,” he whispers. He grabs her hands, tugging her out of bed, and Lynette only grumbles as they tumble down the hall and towards the window in the foyer, where he taps one finger against the glass.

A single arc of light darts across the sky, and when he closes his eyes, the glowing afterimage dances across the dark of his eyelids.

“Let’s make a wish on it,” he says.

“This is what you made me leave bed for?”

“Yes! For a wish!”

“Fine.” Lynette closes her eyes in thought, ears twitching in concentration. A second later, they open. “Done.”

“What did you wish for?” he asks.

“What did you wish for?” she counters.

“I wished that I could protect you forever,” he says immediately. Their hands are still intertwined, fingers mixing together like the limbs of a single beast.

“I thought you would wish for something like that,” she mumbles.

“What’s your wish?”

“Mine was to protect you,” she says. 

“I’m the big brother, though. That’s my job.”

She shakes her head. “No. We’re twins. It’s an equal duty.”

“I was born earlier.”

“That does NOT count.”

“It does.”

Lynette sighs. “But, Lyney, you’re always looking after me. Why can’t I watch over you too?”

He chews his bottom lip. “Okay, okay. We can look after each other.”

“Good.”

“But I get to look after you a bit more because I’m older,” Lyney adds. 

“Hey!”

He grins at his sister. Lyney and Lynette, Lynette and Lyney. In this world, they are nothing without each other. 

(In the morning, they will learn the streak of light was a burning airship, its wreckage hurtling through the sky. But for now, it is an inexplicable miracle). 

—

You’re like sunlight.

That’s the first thing Lyney thinks when he sees you. Warm and bright, with a lovely smile. A real one, unlike the one he has practiced to perfection. An ordinary person, with no ties to the machinations of gods and political organizations, simply trying to live your best, day by day.

Maybe that’s why his eyes can’t help but trail after you again and again. 

“Stop staring, brother. You’re drooling,” Lynette tells him dryly, and he starts.

“Lynette! Don’t tease your brother like that!” But his eyes are still glued to your figure in the distance, a basket of groceries under your arm. 

It starts, as it always does with him, a flirtation. A quick magic trick, a flower. A smooth line, quickly plucked and polished and offered to you.

“What’s this?” he says, presenting a ticket to you with a flourish. “It seems I’ve found an invitation to Lyney and Lynette’s magic show hidden behind your ear.” 

You press the ticket to your lips, and he can feel the touch tingling on his own skin. “I suppose I should stop by, then.” 

A gift here, an invitation there. A chance meeting around town. A quick trip to a bakery. Anything to see that smile of yours again, lovelier than a rose in bloom.

“Lyney,” you say to him once. “You don’t have to try so much.”

“What do you mean?” 

As you smile mischievously, his heart does an involuntary leap. “I’d like you whether you use those pickup lines on me or not. But it is cute to see you trying so hard.”

And maybe this is the real reason he makes time to see you, again and again: because you cut through him to the bone. You tilt your head, like you want to understand him, like you can see through the lies he’s lived for so long.

It’s unnerving at the same time that it thrills him. If he’s not careful, you might rip apart his lies like a house of cards, easily collapsing under your careful touch.

—

Sometimes, Lyney isn’t sure which are the lies, and which is the truth. 

Who is he, really? A magician. A Fatuus. An older brother.

A child, no matter how old he is, because a part of him is still cringing, waiting for the next blow of the lash.

If you were to cut him open, you might find the typical anatomy of a human: nerves and sinew, blood and flesh, beating arteries and pulsing organs. Or you might find nothing at all, a hollow space where a human should be. 

“I want to trust you,” he says quietly. “I just need a little bit more time.”

You stir at your tea thoughtfully. “Okay. I can wait. If you’re worried, why don’t you start with something small? Just give me a little piece at a time.”

A little piece at a time. Maybe his spleen one day. And his liver the next. Organ by organ, until there’s nothing left, and you hold every vulnerable piece of him in your hands.

One breath. Then another. And this time, not as a magician, or a liar, but just the man who loves you, he starts with a story. “A long time ago, Lynette and I lived on the streets…”

[tiredfox64]

Dad bi han headcanons?

Father, Father I Crave Violence

Prior notes: FATHER, INTO YOUR HANDS I COMMIT MY SPIRIT! I feel like you thought of this cause I reblogged that artist’s drawing and I will not say their name cause I don’t like involving them in my bs.

Who’s your daddy?: Bi-Han, congratudolences he got you pregnant!

Warnings ‼️: HE IS THE FATHER *camera man goes crazy*

Big, muscly, meanie (Regular Bi-Han)

He needs a son. That’s the heir to the Lin Kuei right there.

When the kid is five he will be trained to defend himself.

Don’t worry he won’t bring the kid on missions he’s not dense.

He has a soft spot for his children. Though he is cold those are still his blood children. He wants to take good care of them.

He won’t let any of his assassins take care of or even hold his child.

Bi-Han can be a little paranoid, he worried someone will hurt his child. He can never be too careful. Once the child is old enough to defend themselves then they will have some freedom.

That motherfucker (literally) will be pumped to see if his children gain his ice abilities. If they gained your abilities that’s ight too.

The max is two. No more no less. Don’t matter if it’s two brothers or a brother and sister.

Okay but what about a girl?

Overprotective and overbearing oh gosh.

If anyone in the Lin Kuei takes a peak at her they are getting smacked. Poor guys.

Bi-Han will teach her how to defend herself as well. She needs to know. He will even give her a knife to protect herself (which you take away cause she is only five)

If the son comes first it’s his duty as the older brother to protect his sister from any nasty boys.

When they seem ready (like maybe 15) they can start going out for missions. Simple ones at first. Gotta build them up.

I know I said he will teach them to defend themselves but he will teach them to fight eventually. Yes there is a difference.

His daughter wants to play. Ehhhhh, fine, just because she is crying. But he will be taking it too seriously.

“That’s not how you pour tea.” “Your dolls can’t have multiple partners.” “The dog can’t talk.” You have no imagination sir.

What do you mean they need toys? He didn’t have many toys back when he was a kid. Give them a stick and a rock.

Fine, he’ll get them toys. Only a few though. They need to be focused on other things.

Puberty is gonna suck for everybody involved.

Pads? Yes. Tampons and diva cups? What are those?

You know what helps with cramps, working out. Yeah he’s that kind of dad. They don’t need Advil they got this.

The boys are fighting again. Now Bi-Han is yelling again. Has your tinnitus kicked in yet?

He doesn’t care what they are into they just better be loyal to the Lin Kuei.

Titan Bi-Han (y’all know why I made it separate)

It’s very similar.

He isn’t too overbearing he is still overprotective.

There are too many sharp things in the temple oh lord hide them!

Bi-Han, they can’t even walk how are they gonna reach the butter knives on the tall counter.

He is serious but I think he would crack a dad joke or two.

“Dad, I’m hungry.” “Hi hungry, I’m the Lin Kuei’s grandmaster.” FEED THE KIDS STUPID!

Please don’t take my pupusas away cause I made that joke.

They will be begging him to teach them to fight. He is hesitant but eventually gives in.

Two? Why stop there? If you’re comfortable he would like a few more. Don’t worry he’s not asking for six.

Spoils them! Spoils them to death! His daughter gets anything she wants. His son can have that puppy. They just have to share NO ARGUING!

Only the most trusted of his clan can take care of his children, aka Kuai Liang and Tomas.

Puberty will never be easy in any timeline.

Pads and tampons? Yes. Diva cup? Still don’t know what that is.

Heating pads, medicine, working out, curling up into a ball on the floor, he understands his daughter is in pain.

The boys can’t fight in front of their dad or else he will get scary.

He cares about what they like and will get concerned over some things. I don’t think he will appreciate them liking technology or having a fascination with Volcán de fuego (cause like I never did I promise). They just need to stay loyal to the Lin Kuei or else they will break his heart.

After notes: I did this one earlier cause my dad said some crazy shit this morning. He said marmalade is disgusting and strawberry jam was created by the devil. The only good kind and only kind there should be is grape. And then he went on about how he knew someone who would ask him to drink a bottle of bourbon and find Jesus. I told him “dad, if you drink a whole bottle of bourbon you don’t find Jesus, Jesus finds you”. Very strange morning but the breakfast was good. Adiós!

[pandor-uhhh]

Spoiled Revenge

Tonowari x reader x Ronal

Warnings: Violence (Tonowari almost kills someone and the reader’s character gets beat up pretty bad), blood, cursing, Mansk pulls a gun out, death but not(you’ll see)

Description: After surviving The Sullys' and Metkayina, Mansk is itching for revenge. Only his plan for revenge is cut short after he attacks the person the Olo’eyktan and his mate love.

You had known Tonowari and Ronal since you three were kids, and long before the two were mated. You knew that the two had feelings for you, and while having multiple mates was by no means frowned upon in the tribe, you preferred to stay on the side lines.

You still loved them, as they did you, you had mated with both of them including forming tsaheylu. You just didn’t live with them, this made Tonowari frustrated since to him it made him worried about if there was ever an intruder in your marui. You told him that he had no reason to be concerned since the village was most peaceful, aside from the occasional fight but they rarely ended in bloodshed, still the idea of living with them was not totally out of the question.

You knew that as the children of the village got older they would want to go their own way, and moving in with Tonowari and Ronal would mean one less marui they would have to build. Safety was never a huge concern for you, that is until a vengeful Avatar found you.

You had been asleep when it happened, you don’t know why your home was chosen out of all the others, but it was. You woke up when a hand covered your mouth, you had tried to scream but the person holding you down hit you. You started to cry.

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” They commanded, you could tell they were an avatar because of their clothes and their short hair. You nodded and they slowly took their hand away from your mouth, and let just enough weight off of you that you were able to jump for the communicator Jake had given you. You almost had it when he pulled you back by your ankle.

You managed to kick your assailant off and run, but he got his knife out and slashed your leg. You fell down and cried out in pain, you and him fought for a little while. He beat you around and you got your arms and back slashed, “why are you doing this!?” You cried out. He put his hand over your mouth again, and got out some of the orange straps they used to restrain people, he tied your hands behind your back. He grabbed cloth from a basket where you kept scraps and tied it over your mouth, and leaned you against a wall.

After that he kneeled in front of you “you recognize me?” he asked, the question seemed stupid to you. But then you remembered, he was one of the soldiers you had attacked during the raid on the boat. You thought you had killed him though.

You just nodded “yeah, you know me, you’re the fucker that tried to kill me” he showed his poorly stitched stab wound. ‘I’m gonna die’ you thought, “well you know what they said” he put his hand by your head “an eye for an eye” he stabbed into your side, you tried to scream but the cloth muffled most of it.

He pulled the knife out and you could feel the blood spilling out of your side, “now, you’re gonna tell me where Jake Sully is, and I will consider letting you live” he bargained. You shook your head, he scoffed “no? Well that just fine ‘cause you see” he stabbed into your shoulder, you cried out “I’ll find him anyways”

He pulled out a pistol and pointed it at your head, you closed your eyes. You thought about your choices up till now, you were half regretting not staying with Tonowari and Ronal now, though you also thought it was good since at least them and the kids were safe. But then you remembered every morning you and Tsireya would take a walk around the village and just talk, tears welled up in your eyes as you thought about her finding your dead body, or worse that this bastard would stay and kill her too.

You were helpless though, so you closed your eyes knowing you would be with Eywa soon. Though you heard a yelp from someone, you opened your eyes to see a spear in your attacker's leg. 

You turned your head to see Ronal standing there, furious. She hissed at the man, Tonowari came from  behind her. He walked over the avatar and took Ronals spear out, before piercing his through the avatar's shoulder. From there he just started beating on him, if not for the blood loss you might have been cheering him on.

Ronal took notice of your condition “Tonowari!” She yelled as she ran to you, and cut off your restraints. The avatar laid unconscious, or even possibly dead, Tonowari turned his attention to you. He uncovered your mouth and you sobbed, “I thought I was-” he shushed you and picked you up to take you to the marui Ronal used for healing. 

The Ronal rushed around trying to stop the bleeding, you were fading in and out of consciousness. Tonowari shook you “stay with us yawne”

You laughed “you were right” you admitted, Tonowari let out a huff “I often am” he laughed.

Ronal ran over to you, wrapping your wounds. She gave you something to drink, saying it would make the bleeding slow. She ran off again looking for something else. You smiled, but started crying. 

“‘Wari” you called out, he looked down at you. “What is it, my love?” He brushed stray hairs out of my face, you touched his face “The Sully boy, Tsireya really cares about him” you told him “she told me so on a walk once” you softly laughed, the way she talked about him had reminded you of how you and Ronal would talk about Tonowari.

“Why are you telling me this?” Tonowari questioned, you ran your fingers along his tattoos. You choked more tears back “in case I don’t make it” and whispered

“Nonsense!” Ronal said kneeling by your said again “you will live, I won’t let you die!” You took one of her hands in yours, she looked you in the eye “I know you won’t” was all you said before closing you eyes.

You could feel your body being shaken, but sounds faded. Then you stopped feeling like you were being held and more like you were floating, you let out a sigh. You felt something warm in your chest, then nothing.

.

.

.

“Not yet, my child” you heard a voice say, then what felt like a mothers embrace.

.

.

.

“Are they dead?” You heard a familiar higher pitched voice asked. “Tuk, you can’t say stuff like that!” A deeper yet still young sounding voice scolded “and they’re obviously not dead, they’re still breathing”. “They’re not dead, Eywa said it wasn’t their time” you heard a girl say, and felt a hand touch your head. That was enough to jerk you from sleep with a gasp, sitting up quickly.

“Ahhhh! They’re the living dead” the higher voice screamed, you turn to see it was Tuk. “Stop it Tuk!” Lo’ak snapped, the second voice had heard.

Neytiri and Jake ran in after hearing the commotion, “what happened?” Jake questioned. “Kiri brought them back to life!” Tuk shouted, Neytiri picked her youngest up. Jake sat next you bed “welcome back to the land of the living”, you smiled at him, “we were worried about you” he added

“Of course you were, who else would’ve watched Tuk while you and Neytiri went out?” You joked. Jake pushed your non-injured shoulder playfully

The entrance opened to show Tonowari and Ronal, who rushed it quickly. Ronal hugged you and kissed your temple, and stroked your hair “praise Eywa, you’re okay” Tonowari whispered, kissing your cheek.

Soon their two children ran into marui, “holy shit, they’re alive” Ao’nung sighed. Tsireya pushed past her brother, “you’re okay” she smiled, and hugged you. You hugged her back to the best of your ability.

Tonowari walked over to his daughter “you, the Sully boy, outside, now” was all he said to her before walking off. Tsireya and Lo’ak exchanged looks, but Lo’ak was the first to walk out. Tsireya looked at you as she left, you mouthed a quick ‘I’m sorry’. “Okay, let's give the Olo’eyktan his house back” Jake said, guiding his kids out, Neytiri waved to you before walking out.

“We brought your things” Ronal stated, fixing some of your bandages. You looked over realizing you had apparently been moved in overnight, you smiled “thank you” was all you said before locking lips with Ronal.

“I like that Sully boy!” Tonowari laughed walking back in, Tsireya not far behind “father just said he’ll feed Lo’ak to a Nalutsa if he hurts me!” She fumed, you laughed “sorry ‘Reya”

She turned her heel and left to apologize, Tonowari returned to your side, “I’m glad you're here, my dear” he said pulling your head into chest, you cuddled closer into him and held Ronals hand.

“Me too”

[druigsfavwitch]

My Mate- Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan x Reader

Word Count: roughly 1432

Summary: After the sky people return and Quaritch decides to mess with the wrong man and his mate

Warning: just like 3 cuss words 💁🏻‍♀️

/////////

The one thing the na’vi really hated was the sky people. They came in their world and tried to do ewya knows what. They killed multiple of the na’vi and the creatures of pandora. To be honest, Jake was embarrassed that he used to be one of them. But, he had changed. He saw the world through Neytiri’s eyes. He saw pandora for what she really was and he loved her. 

After Jake and Neytiri had their children, they did have the lingering worry of ‘what if’. They knew the sky people would return eventually. It was bound to happen. They just didn’t realize that their war with Quaritch wasn’t over. Not yet, anyways

They had so many blissful years of peace, minus Lo’ak getting into trouble every other day. It was peaceful. They had their family. Pandora was calm, safe, beautiful. How it should always be

/////////

Neteyam loved a lot of things about pandora. His family. Ewya. Pandora. His clan. You. You and Neteyam had been friends since your early years. He was there for you and you for him. He was there for you when your parents got killed by the sky people. You were there for him after Jakes daily rant. You guys were in love. Completely in love. So in love, the future Olo’eyktan took you to the same place parents mated at the day you turned 18. An act of love under the eye of Ewya.

It was only a few months after you had mated officially that Quaritch attacked. You had been drug along with Lo’ak, Kiri, Tuk and Spider. Quaritch was confused at who you were at first. Let’s be honest, he’s probably still confused. A random girl with the sully kids? Easy prey though. Jake and Neytiri eventually came and saved the day. Neteyam was there too but he was mainly forced to grab you guys as Neytiri and Jake fought the bad guys. He held you extra close that night.

Then, Jake made you all move. For the family. His family. The journey was long but it was worth it when you all arrived. The Metkayina we’rent welcoming at first but nothing that a little learning couldn’t fix. You learned faster then the other sully’s. They could have been a little envious but they saw it as a sign from Ewya that it would all be ok. 

///////

The months of peace were once again interrupted by the sky people. Quaritch, along with spider, were on the hunt for you all. And they were close. After killing Ronal’s spirit sister and her baby, it was practically war. Lo’ak tried to go warn Payakan and found out he was marked for death. You all tried to loosen the device. When it did eventually come out, you grabbed it. “I’ll lead them away. Go back.” You said jumping on your ilu. Neteyam grabbed your shoulder. “No, My Tiyawn. Let me.” He tried to plead with you. You smiled at him and leaned your forehead against his. “I’ll be back, muntxatan.” Then you made Tsaheylu and sped off, leading the sky people away. 

You had managed to lead them away and swam back to the clan when you saw them all gathered around the sky peoples ship with Jake further forward than the rest. You quickly saw that Lo’ak, Tsireya and Tuk where tied up on the ship. You swam to the group and decided to stay hidden for a few. You watched from the back as Payakan slammed into the ship. This caused an opening for Neteyam and he quickly ran in to save the three. You, however had realized you had no weapons. You quickly swam back to the pod and grabbed your bow and arrow. You stashed your knife with you as well. However, instead of taking the ilu back, you called for your ikran. It was now of never

///////

Meanwhile, back on the ship, Quaritch had managed to capture all of the sully’s and tie them up. He walked around them, boots crunching in the water. “Well, Jake, Looks like i won. Checkmate.” Tuk was crying and Neytiri was trying her best to comfort her but it was hard to do while tied up.

None of them were going to mention the fact he left a sully out. That he had forgotten one. The mate of The oldest son. A fierce warrior. The most important piece in this game of chess, The queen.

You flew your ikran around, surveying the area. You saw that Quaritch had them all tied up. Your family. Your mate. You were furious. The kind of rage you’ve never felt. Neytiri had told you she has felt a burning fire of a rage before. The kind that you would hate to be on the receiving end of. This had to be that rage. Regardless, Quaritch was going to pay. With his life

/////////////

You landed your ikran quietly and swiftly took out the guards outside, wether it was landing and arrow between their eyes or slicing their throat open. They were falling regardless. You made your way towards Quaritch and the Sully’s. He was completely oblivious. You wanted him to feel fear. Pain. You saw a guard standing inches in front of him. You quietly pulled the bow back and took your shot. It landed right between the fools eyes. Quaritch snapped his head around and saw the skxawng’s head fall. The sully’s were freaked out at first. Then Jake, Neytiri and Neteyam looked at the arrow and smirked. Lo’ak took a second to realize who’s arrow it was. He looked at Quaritch. “You’re screwed now, cuz.” Quaritch walked over to him and grabbed him by his queue. “Who is that?!” He screamed. Lo’ak just smirked at him. Neteyam spoke up next. “My mate.” Quaritch looked at him, clearly confused. “You forgot a Sully. A pretty important one.” Jake spoke up. Just then, you walked out of the shadows, bow in hand. The look on your face spoke for it all. Rage. Anger. Revenge. “You. I knew you were related to them somehow.” He spoke, his eyes never leaving yours. He reached down while maintaining eye contact and grabbed a gun. “Now they can watch me kill you.” He smirked. You stopped in your tracks and turned your head. “You have it confused. It’s me who’s killing you.” He threw the first punch so to speak. He pulled the trigger on the gun as you ran to the other side. He may have the training of a marine but he doesn’t have warrior training like you do. You disappeared back into the shadows. Watching. Like a predator. “Come out, bitch. We have unfinished business.” You ran out from behind him and jumped on his back. He hissed and threw you off. You, however, where not fazed. You slid across the floor and maintained  your balance. You bared your teeth at him and let out a loud hiss. He tried to hiss back. It was pathetic really. You rushed at him and started swinging your knife. The battle was pretty even. Until, somehow, he managed to uppercut you and pin you on the ground. Your knife was out of reach. He went to go plunge his through your chest and it took everything in your strength to hold him back. You were struggling and honestly it looked like you were loosing. You prayed to Ewya for something. Anything. Just then, the boat rocked a bit and your knife started falling towards you. You mustered up the courage to grab it and slam into the back of his neck. He gasped. His grip on his knife loosened and you kicked him off. You grabbed your bow and arrow from the guys skull and pulled it back. Quaritch watched, paralyzed. “Checkmate.” You said as you laid the arrow in his face. When he fell for sure, your raced and cut Jake and Neytiri out first. They freed the rest while you went and freed Neteyam.  “Ma Neteyam.” You said as you hugged him. You leaned out of the hug and kissed him. “Oel Ngati Kameie, Neteyam.” He smiled at you. “I see you too, my mate.” You smiled at him and watched at the sully’s started piling together for a hug. You dragged Neteyam and pulled you guys into the hug. Jake ruffled your head. Neytiri just gave your hand a firm squeeze. This is your family and you would protect them forever.

//////////

a/n: ok so this is my first official fic in like over a year 😭 but i almost had a mental breakdown because i lost like 3 paragraphs 🧍🏻‍♀️

first avatar fic though so how are we feeling? :)

also:

tiyawn: love

muntxatan: husband

[vintagenahbi]

HOME pt.1

Jin x Reader

Summary: You and Jin discover that you are expecting your first child, but are faced with challenges that neither of you could imagine.

Warnings: topics related to pregnancy that could be considered controversial.

Jin and the guys were about to start shooting In the Soop when I got the news I would be allowed on set with them. I had been dating Jin for two years now, but never got the chance to see him in his work element. I was so busy with work myself that I rarely had the time to visit him or even know what all went on behind the scenes.

Unfortunately, I had been sick for the past two weeks and Jin did not feel comfortable leaving me home. Since I had moved to South Korea alone, I didn’t have anyone to care for me, leaving the only option of going on set. It was entirely Jin’s idea to have me near him in case my sickness worsened.

When we arrived, everything was going smoothly for me. I made it to my room which was separate from the main house so I wouldn’t be seen by any of the cameras. I had my own space that Jin could come see me anytime, not to mention the beautiful view outside my window. Although I felt a little isolated I didn’t mind. It was peaceful being in nature, not having to work and only focusing on getting better. Plus I got to spend some time with Jin.

I put on my lounge wear and got into bed immediately after unpacking. I had been exhausted, I had flu symptoms that were out of this world. Some days all I could do was stay hunched over the toilet for hours at a time. After a while it started to take a toll on my body causing me to be tired all the time. I knew once my head hit my pillow I was going to be out like a light.

I heard a soft knock at my door. I sat up to see Jin’s head peaking through. I smiled as he walked his way over to me. He sat on the bed with his long slender frame. He looked at me with his stare lingering down to my lips. I quickly pressed my lips against his causing him to blush. He pulled me in for a hug, pushing me down back on the bed attacking me with kisses. I started to giggle.

“I’m so glad you’re here with me. I wish you felt a little better though.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. As I was about to kiss him, I felt the sudden urge to throw up. I moved him away, rushing into the bathroom. I lifted the toilet seat up and all the contents from my stomach came rushing out. Jin stood behind me rubbing my back. I tried to apologize but I was too sick to even speak.

I heard Jin sigh. Being this sick was almost unbearable. I had never felt this bad in my life. I wanted to cry and apologize, but nothing ever came out.

We heard someone yell out Jin’s name to signal him to come back for a side interview. He rubbed my back one more time kissing my forehead. He left the bathroom. I curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor simply because I was too weak to get up. I started to cry because having no control over my body for two weeks was causing me to suffer. Then it suddenly dawned on me. The light bulb went off and I gathered the strength to figure out what was behind this sudden illness.

I sat on the bed holding the slender object in my hand. Hours had passed and I had not seen Jin since earlier. I heard on a knock on the door and it was Jin. I hide the object in my hoodie pocket. I grabbed his hand and walked him over to the bathroom again. I turned off his mic as if I was a secret informant who couldn’t have this conversation get to anyone else.

I took the object out my pocket and handed it to Jin. He looked at it. I watched his expression closely. Nothing changed. Absolutely no reaction. He handed it back to me.

“Jin say something.” He ran his hand through his hair.

“We can’t.” Those words cut me like a knife. “We can’t have a kid right now. The timing is not good.” I looked at him shocked. His facial expression shifted from panic to a realization of what he had said. “I didn’t mean that.”

“So I’m gonna have to raise this baby alone? Like you said it’s not a good time for you.” I shoved him away. He grabbed my arm and wrapped his arms around me. I cried against his shoulder. He held me close almost as if it were for dear life. I could feel his breathing quicken and his heart was pounding.

Jin pulled me away and rubbed his thumb against my cheek. I cleaned my nose with the sleeve of my hoodie. He lifted my chin to look up at him. I could tell he was about to get serious. Before he could speak I cut him off.

“I want this baby.” He had no verbal response, he only pulled me back in for a long embrace.

“I want it too. I’m sorry I reacted that way, it’s just that it’s sudden. I thought I’d be married first. I thought you’d get to know my family better, not to mention I haven’t met yours yet. I thought it would be different.” I nodded my head in agreement. I thought it would be different as well, but these were the cards we were dealt. It was starting to make sense. All the sickness, me barely being able to stay awake during work, constantly bloated.

He grabbed my hand and took me over to the bed. We laid down and cuddled for a while. The entire time he kept his hand on my stomach, nearly imagining what was about to be. Jin checked his phone and saw that he had 5 missed messages telling him to come back to the main house. He left again and I was stuck there to face the reality alone. My mind excited, my body weak.

The next day I managed to go unseen. I got a ride to the doctors so that Jin and I could confirm if I was really pregnant. The doctor gave me the news I was already expecting. I was 9 weeks pregnant, however I was blindsided when I immediately found out this pregnancy could cost me mine and the baby’s life. I sat on that doctor’s chair frozen. The drive back I felt absolutely numb.

I got back into my room and crawled into bed. The room was spinning and everything felt like it was a dream. Jin walked in without knocking this time to make sure I was okay.

“What did the doctor say?” Jin said inquisitively.

“He said that it’s a high risk pregnancy. I could have this baby but there is a-“ I paused for a moment to clear the lump out of my throat. “There is a chance that I and/or the baby might die.” The last word nearly took Jin’s breath away. He sat on the bed immediately taking in the news he just heard. “Before you say anything, I still think we should keep this baby.” He looked at me with a stern face. He rubbed his tongue on his inner cheek to contain what I assumed was anger.

“No.”

“Jin, I want this baby.”

“No Y/N, our story isn’t going to end with me losing you. You can’t. I don’t want you to. I can’t lose the thing that jolted me back to reality. I’m not losing you.” I started to get teary eyed. I understood his pain. Although it had been two years of dating, I had found my best friend. Now there was a chance that that would be taken from the both of us or we would have to grieve the pain of losing a baby.

“Jin.” I whispered. He looked at me with tears flowing down his cheek. The door suddenly opened and we both looked. It was a PA telling Jin to go back again. He collected himself and stood up. Before he left the room he turned back to look at me.

“I can’t lose you Y/N.”

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

[sadistic-kiss]

Nanami Knows Best

What's Best

Nanami is tired of your poor choice of men so he takes matters into his own hands. 

TAGS: Dubious Consent, Knife Play, Degrading, Dacryphilia, Bondage, Praise

Genre: Some Angst, Dark Romance, Possessive, Obssessive 

Yandere/Slasher Nanami x Reader

****************************************************

Your giggles tickle Nanami’s ears like little bell chimes. He always enjoyed it when you laughed or smiled. It made him feel warm. However, he wasn't feeling that sweet delight that squeezed his heart… not right now. Right now he was feeling irritated. Pissed. All because he wasn't the cause of such a beautiful laugh, no it was the mouth breather who had his arm slung around your shoulder. 

“Guys this is Mahito.” You introduced the bluette to the group with an excited chirp.

"Sup!"

Jerk number five. 

“Nice to meet you Mahito~.” Gojo shook the man’s hand as he greeted each person.

“So you're the guy I've been hearing so much about?” Shoko winked.

“I hope all good things.” Mahito looked toward you with a smirk. 

“Of course!” You shimmy into him playfully. “You're my perfect man~.”

Your newest boyfriend. 

After rounding the table the man reached his weird stitched hand toward him. Where did you find this one out of the mental hospital? He disregarded his hand giving him a nod instead. “Nanami.” 

“Oo~ Nanami is a bit weird with germs.” you whispered quickly trying to ease the tension between them. He wasn't weird with germs but he allowed you to think that so he didn't have to physically interact with waste. 

“No worries! Germaphobe Kento huh?” 

“Nanami.”he corrected.

“I heard so much about you!” the drunk disrespectful bastard continued, “Heard you were real smart and all, a true brainy guy. Like the big-headed kid from the cartoons uuuuh...” he began to snap his fingers, “John- Josh-”

”Jimmy Neutron!” you laughed as the two of you busted up in a cackle. 

“Yeaaah! Jimmy Neutron!”

Nanami let out a short snort as he sipped his drink. The table giggled in drunken fun. After that little joke, he allowed everyone else to talk. Mahito would pick on him but he never bit back. Never took the obvious bait. Nanami was quiet, always had been. You learn more about someone by watching them closely. People were like open books, you just needed to know how to read them. 

Nanami likes to observe, and as he scrutinized your new boy toy he wanted to roll his eyes. He truly wasn't impressed with this one. The rest of the table seemed fine with him but that's because they were too oblivious to see how textbook this whole thing was. It always started like… this. The cute little honeymoon phase where you introduce the new guy to your friends and they gush and get excited for you. Where you ignore all the obvious red flags and let them slap you in the face. 

It was pitiful honestly. 

The guy could say anything and you'd give him whatever. Money, time, ass, your damn dignity. Just like the rest of them. You let these deadbeats in and they take and take from you until you have nothing more to give and when they leave you broken and crying you run to Shoko. Last time, Shoko was away so you had called him. 

You cried and cried and vowed to never do this to yourself again- he truly believed you yet look at you now. You silly... silly girl. You always do this don't you? It's like you can't help it. You were a smart woman. No debt, great credit score, graduated college early, paid for all your things, and shine in your career. You worked really hard to get to where you were. Summer classes, extra credit, internships, volunteering, you name it. You built yourself up and now you were letting homeless idiots break you down. You were booksmart but you were not street smart. 

Unfortunately, you followed the very trope of- good girl dates bad guy. You think you can change them huh? Give them a place to crash when the go on a drug binge and as they steal your money and lie to you you just nod and smile thinking you see the good in them. When were you going to grow out of it? Aren't you too old for this? Whatever happened to 'fool me once shame on you fool me twice shame on me? What the hell is fool me five times? 

Clearly, you were sick in the head to be going down this same path again for the fifth time. 

More sick than he was, and that was really saying something. He wiped the earth with scum bags like your shitty boyfriends. He even enjoyed doing it. However, he was an honest man to himself and his disturbing hobbies.

He enjoyed killing but it was best when done to someone that he felt was a waste of oxygen. 

He wasn't a sociopath- he was a psychopath. There was a difference. He had his little morals. He didn't like killing those who didn't deserve it. Only people who thought they could shit on the world with no consequences. Cocky bastards… much like all the men you seem to be a magnet for.

So, as he watches you with yet another dirtbag, he begins to wonder how delightful it would be to cut this one's life short. Just like he did with all your other poor choices. You just didn't get it. Couldn't see what they truly were. You always joked about your third eye but you were blind to these things that were lesser than men. They didn't deserve you, but you keep picking them up.

Was it your daddy issues? Mommy issues? Both?

Nanami truly thought the time he spent with you crying after your last breakup would have sparked something within you. He was a model man. Everything opposite of the strays you take in off the street. If anything you should have seen how perfect he was for you. How much better he could treat you. Jealous? He wouldn't quite say that. He was more...how should he say...disappointed. He would have felt much better if you came into this bar with a man who was more his status or at least someone who had a higher IQ than a fifth grader.

"ALRIGHT! LET'S GET THIS TRIVIA GAME STARTED!" 

Speaking of iQ, he can't wait to see how many questions this one gets wrong. The last one was 8/10 for questions wrong- not right. He got only two answers. Will this one be a knockout? 

The announcer yelled into the mic making the crowd cheer and holler as they raised their glass into the air excited to start the game. 

Mahito elbowed him in the side, "Win this one for us aye Jimmy Neutron."

Nanami's lip twitched as he gave him a half smile. At that moment your boyfriend sealed his fate. Hammering the last nail into his coffin. Who was he kidding, he nailed it in when he decided to date you.

~

You swayed and giggled as Mahito helped you into your house. 

"Careful babe." He caught you before you could slip and eat your stone steps.

"Sorry sorry~ I had one too many margaritas!" You hold on to him as you kick your stilettos off your feet. You were already home so you didn't mind going barefoot the rest of the way. 

Climbing up your stairs you dug into your purse to grab your keys with jingly accessories upon them. You open the door and lean against it letting your guest in. You smiled at him while he turned the lamp on. You had such a fun night and you felt something was so different about this one. Your friends even liked him. Though they were pissed he got some questions wrong- easy ones-matter of fact you don't think he answered anything correctly- despite that! You still felt it was a good night. Closing the door behind you, you stalk over to him and throw your arms around his neck.

"Ooo~I know that look, did I do good tonight?"

You smiled with a flirtatious flutter of your lashes, "Yes~ Yes you did." You reach on your tiptoes as you kiss him, nearly making him tip over the couch.

Mahito hummed wrapping his arms around your hips, about to take this to the next level but his phone began to ring. He pulled back from you with a peck, "Ah~" He hissed looking at his phone, "Give me a minute work is calling." 

You pout giving him puppy eyes, "This late at night? Can't you let it ring?" You reach for him again but he untangles your arms from around him with a light chuckle. 

"I'm always on call, you know how business is. Go wait for me." He smacked your ass while walking toward the door.

"Don't take long!" You giggle running to your room to put something sexy on.

Mahito stepped out onto your porch, answering the phone. "Hey baby?"

"When are you coming over~"

"I can't tonight, I gotta..." He looked around while licking his lip, "Do a late-night delivery."

Nanami was listening as he hid in the dark, your new boyfriend spoke to what he had deduced was another girl... or boy. Whatever the case it was clear he was cheating on you and then lying to both of you. Well, the guy just made this a whole lot easier. Guess that was the one perk of you dating trash, it was easy to get rid of.

Once the call came to an end Nanami made his move. Mahito opened the door when he caught the man around his neck with his knife and then dragged him in with a hand clasped over his lips. Nanami shut the door with his back, leaning against it while he held the dying gurgling man. His eyes were wide as they looked upon him in shock. 

"She deserves better than you." Nanami made sure to send the man to the afterlife with his stone-cold eyes as the last thing he saw. He watched an arrangement of emotions flicker across before Mahito went still. He wished he could have basked in his taunting screams like the others but this was new. He has never done… this. In your house. About to confront you. He thought it was about time you truly opened your third eye and saw reality. 

Nanami dragged the man with him as he walked toward your room, pausing in the hallway mirror. He adjusted his bloody jacket and combed his blonde hair back with his fingers, flashing his teeth to make sure nothing was in them. When he was satisfied he knocked on your door with two sharp taps.

"Come in~" You called from inside.

He twisted the knob and pushed it, allowing the door to swing open the rest of the way.

You had a smile on your face, sitting in bed wearing a see-through baby doll gown. When you realized it was him and not the garbage man, your expression morphed into horror.

"N-Nanami!" You scurried up on your knees with your mouth wide open. Eyes darting to the body that he was pulling into your room. He plopped down on your bed with a tired sigh, flicking out his handkerchief as if he had just gotten off of work. 

You open your lips wide about to scream but he grabs your calf while holding the knife to his lips, "Don't. I've already had a long night with your one-brain cell boyfriend." He let go of you before he snorted to himself, "Sorry, your ex." Using his white handkerchief he began to wipe his bloody knife with smooth delicacy.

"Why-why Nanami?!"

"He was trash sweetheart. All of them were."

"A-all? Wh-what are you talking about?"

"Every single one you pick." He looked at you like a disappointed father. "I'm about sick of it. It’s obvious you're too stupid to realize it. Letting these leeches into your life. At some point, you'd think you were enjoying it! How about that? Do you enjoy being treated like crap? Enjoy letting pigs treat your home like a sty they can smoke their crack pipe at?"

Your lip trembled as you watched him clean his knife, "A-are you going to k-kill me?"

Nanami shook his head in disbelief as he scratched some blood off the steel, did you not listen to a word he just said? Honestly, sometimes you can be so dense. You’re lucky you’re cute. "No, I'm not going to kill you sweetheart." He looked up at you just in time to see your eyes land on your phone that was plugged into the charger. He saw the way you nervously gulped before looking at him. 

He raised a blonde brow at you. Were you really about to-

You dashed for your phone but he was quicker. He lunged forward and slapped the device across the room but you took that moment to pick up your lamp and toss it at him. He growled, blocking it with his arm, the glass cutting him. You released a scream while running. You barely jumped over the lump of flesh on the ground before he caught you by your hair and yanked you back into the room. 

“Ah! HELP HELP ME!”

"Enough!" He yelled at you as he wrestled you onto your bed.

You kicked and screamed as he quickly got you under control. He shoved his handkerchief into your mouth and grabbed your hands together with one hand. Swiftly he unbuckled his pants with one hand and yanked it out of the loop to tie around your wrist and the bedpost. He yanked on it making sure it was tight, and to be double sure you weren't getting out he jiggled your arm, searching for any open space. He then sat on the side of your bed with a release of air. Glancing at his forearm he picked out pieces of your lamp from his skin and tossed it to the floor. 

“Tch- ". He pulled out the last piece looking at you. 

Your sniffling and choked sobs are what caught his attention. He couldn't help how absolutely beautiful you looked even with precious tears streaming down your cheeks. He cooed as he took out the bloody handkerchief, from your mouth. "What's wrong sweetheart? Why are you crying?"

"Are you..." You gawked at him before giving him an angry stern look. "Y-You killed Mahito!"

Nanami scoffed leaning over the bed so he could pick up Mahito's phone. "Ah, your boyfriend?" He typed in the easy password that he had seen the leech put in. 6969. Fucking childish. He then went to his text message to girlfriend number two and flipped it over to show you. "What do you see?"

You gasped at the text messages, and nude pictures being sent between the two. Mahito said dirty things about the girl as she reciprocated the flirting. You snapped your head away too distraught to see such a thing. 

The blonde grabbed your cheeks, turning your head so you could look at the evidence. "What do you see?" He asked again more sternly. 

You sniffed, "I see I see!"

"What! Do you see?"

"I SEE THE NUDE PICTURES!" You cried with more hot tears bubbling in your orbs.

"What's the date?"

"T-Today! It's- it's today...." You began to cry as Nanami moved the phone from your face. Your boyfriend is dead, the guy you saw as a friend killed him, and now you found out you were being cheated on- was there anything else to bury you in? This was all too much! You were sobbing now, choking on your saliva and trying to sniffle so you could breathe, but it was so hard to breathe. 

Nanami pet your cheek with the back of his knuckles. "There you go... good girl let it all out...it's okay." 

"I-I'm sorry N-Nanami you are r-right- why does this happen to me..." You cried through your words hoping to pull on sympathy strings.

Nanami kissed you on your forehead as he spoke more to himself than anything. "You just can't help yourself sweetheart it's not your fault..." He moved to kiss your wet cheek. "I'll make sure it never happens again."

His words made your eyes widen along with his lips connecting with your own. 

"HM!" You tensed up shutting your eyes tight, your hands jerked to push him away but his belt didn't let up. What the hell does he think he's doing!? His lips slotted into yours as he shifted on top of you. You felt his tongue touch you and, you let it slip in your mouth. He moaned as he licked your tongue but then you clamped your teeth making him rear back in shock.

"Mm..."He touched his bloodied tongue. Surprised to see the red liquid on his fingers. "You bit me." He stated matter of factly. 

"Don't touch me!" You spat his blood at him. "You're a murderer! 

He was calm and then he wasn't. He grabbed your face pressing his fingers into your cheeks as he shook your head back and forth. "I know what I am darling but do you know what you are?"

You did your best to glare at him as you mewled in discomfort, your cheeks being pressed into your eyes. You weren't even able to answer his question, but he did.

"You're a dirty little whore that can't go one single day without being fucked."

You gasp in shock.

"Oh don't do that. You get dumped by one man you're looking for the next to warm your bed. How long did you know this one? Less than a month? How long did it take you before you were throwing on this slutty outfit that you wear for every man?" He flicked the fabric for emphasis.

You felt your chest squeeze in pain as your resolve began to decay, you didn't expect him to be so mean- hell you didn't expect any of this from kind sweet Nanami Kento! It was like a whole new person was above you. Nanami rolled his eyes at you, "Nothing hm...figures." He dragged his other hand over your body until he reached in between your legs. You gasp feeling him slide two digits against your slit. "You only think with this don't you?"

"What-what are you-ah!" You flinch feeling him slip into you. You were so ashamed by how your body fluttered around the intrusion.

"This is all you can think about hm?" Nanami leaned his head so he could watch the pleasure flicker across your confused eyes.

"Y-You're wrong!"

"Give it a break. You don't want them because they treat you like a princess, you certainly don't want them for money." His fingers curled inside you, rubbing on something delightful. "You just use them for the sex and allow them to do the same to you. Why else do you think all your choices are terrible?"

"S-Stop!" You snatched your face from his fingers, your legs quivering as you let out a tight groan. The way he thrust and curled inside of you was causing your body to betray you. It shouldn't feel this good. "Ah~!" You try to jerk your hands from its binds but you only end up with shaft wrists.

"I can take care of you and more..." He pressed his thumb to your clit, your hips flinched. "Ah~" Nanami grinned, "Did you like that?"

"N-No!" You shout at him but he began to circle your clit expertly. "-Ah~" You bit your lip turning away from him.

He chuckled, "Now now, there's no need to lie...I can feel you clenching around me, go ahead and cum, it's what you want to do."

You squeezed your eyes tight denying this reality, doing your best to escape mentally. You didn't want to feel all this pleasure, but it was too difficult to ignore. From the blonde's taunting words in your ear and the squelch of your wet cunt you knew you were done for. 

You felt something cold touch your neck, it was the knife he used on Mahito, "Look at me. I want to see you when you squirt on me like the slut you are."

You kept your face away but you opened your eyes to glare at him from the side. The knife bites into your flesh like a mere paper cut.

He gave you a sort of soft smile, "You can enjoy it as much as you like, don't be ashamed sweetheart." 

It pissed you off how sweet he sounded. How those simple words sent shivers and butterflies. This man you thought was a friend was a damn killer! Yet you could feel the growing build-up of your orgasm. You began to shake your head trying to pull yourself away from those dangerous hands. 

"N-no no! Stop!"

"Stop? Why would I stop when you are so close my dear? Don't tell me you don't want to cum?"

"Ah-N-no no! I don't want to-mm-" You grit your teeth trying to hold yourself back.

Nanami chuckled low at you, "Sweetheart don't be so stubborn. Come on and be a good girl. Cum for me." His movements didn't let up and even though you did your best to fight, it was inevitable.

You came with a scream, hips lifting as you squirt upon this killer's hand. You felt good and then immediately regret. How could you cum...so much?

"Good girl..." Nanami used the knife to cut off your thin lingerie. "We are going to need to throw this one out my dear, I'll get you a new one. Just for me."

What? He was insane- You had no time to stew in that statement because he pulled his pants low enough to release his large leaking cock.

"N-Nanami!" You were shocked to see how blessed he was. "W-Wait! I-I can't!"

"Yes, I'm aware none of your boyfriends were as big as I am." The blonde pushed your legs up and pressed his tip to your cunt. "Gojo said that they oozed little dick energy and I am quite displeased with you darling, you couldn't even be a slut properly."

You let out a cry as he pushed into you, stretching you around his cock. Tears streaming down your cheeks, making the man moan. He loved seeing you cry. You found that out when you cried to him about your last boyfriend. You didn't want to believe he was hard because of your tears but now you could see- it turned him own.

 Nanami moaned deeply as he kissed the corner of both of your eyes, rolling his hips until he was fully inside you. More tears seemed to pour free, like a never-ending stream. You cried out of frustration- you cried for your dead exes and you cried because the bloody monster above you was making you feel unbelievably good. You hated how he slid in and out of you with no pain- you wish it hurt- you wished you weren't enjoying it.

"It's okay darling. "Nanami cooed sweetly. Let it all out. Cry as much as you want," He snapped his hips faster as you bit back your pleasurable moans. Your bed rocked as he fucked you into it. The psycho blonde talking to you. "They didn't deserve you-mm. None of them..." He panted. 

"N-Nanami~" You began to play into the pleasure, letting it take your moans. Maybe you could speed up this process. You circled your legs around him allowing him to get deeper. Soon your moans weren't 'fake' they were quite real. "Oh~ You feel so good! Ah~Please cum in me!" You cried.

Nanami saw right through your charade, if you thought he was cumming alone you were wrong. He pulled out of you so he could flip you onto your stomach, your arms awkwardly crossed in their binds.

He reentered you making your back arach, "AH!"

"Mm~ I know how much you love being treated like a slut. Beg for it." He slapped your ass as he fucked you from behind.

 Holy shit- 

Your eyes rolled while you moaned deeply. "Oh~P-Please Nanam!"

"Who do you belong to?"

"AH~" 

He slapped your ass again getting much more aggressive as he pulled on your hips and bounced you on his cock. 

"YOUR'S I'M YOUR SLUT PLEASE!" You'd like to say you were still playing along but as he grabbed your breast and smacked your ass like an alleyway whore you may have had a very real very intense orgasm. "Oh fuck-!" You hiss as you came, throwing your hips back so you could feel every part of him. He was long and thick and hit all the right places. Places you never even knew needed to be touched. 

Nanami quickly slipped out of you before you could milk him for all he's worth but once you settled he thrust right back inside, making you scream again. 

"I know my little whore needs more orgasms than two...don't worry... I'll make sure you are more than satisfied."

Trued to his damn word he made sure you were a panting mess by the end of the night. You could barely open your eyes as he finished, shooting his cum all over your face. Marking you with his seed. Despite the messy goop on you he grabbed your chin and kissed you deeply, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. Demanding you to submit to him. You didn't bite him this time, much too physically and mentally exhausted to do so.

Separating from your lips with a light smack he rubbed your chin sweetly, "Good girl, you took me so well."  

You weakly look at him with a pitiful, "Please release my hands..."

He reached up for his belt and loosened it for your arms to go free. You let out a breath of relief. Before you could rub your wrist Nanami grabbed them and massaged them for you. It was silent in your bedroom...until Mahito's phone dinged. Picking up the device, the blonde snorted and showed you the screen. It was yet another girl your dead ex was fooling around with. Girlfriend number three. You rolled your eyes looking away making Nanami laugh.

"It's not funny..." You muttered.

He pinched your cheek playfully, "Don't pout so much my sweet girl, I'll take care of you. I promise I won't let anyone else hurt you ever again. You are mine and I am yours."

"What if it's you... hurting me..." You blinked looking at his deep brown eyes.

He gave you a charming smile, "I said...anyone else...I do what's best for you." He cupped your cheek, "Because you don't know any better. I do. I know what's best."

You swallowed a harsh lump as reality became all too real. He was a lunatic and wasn't going to let you go. You didn't realize you were crying until he had moved for you.

"Shh...I'm here..." He scooped you up so he could hold you. Just over the mattress, you could see Mahito, lifeless and on the floor, but the whispering from the man behind you was both eerie and soothing at the same time. "I'm here now my sweet girl, let me worry about everything."

~Commission from anonymous ~

https://ko-fi.com/c/a12d45af4a

[httplilyyy]

𝐆𝐎𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐊 | 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: it all comes down to this

warnings: descriptions of violence, gore, blood (lots of it), knives, guns, swearing, scream vi spoilers, bad writing as i wrote this with a broken hand so i apologise if there is any mistakes

word count: 3.2k

a/n: due to the original chapter nearing 8000 words, and due to your feedback, i’ve decided to split this into two parts, so after this there is only one more to go. i also wasn't planning on writing an epilogue, but if it's something you want, i’ll write one :)

scream masterlist | prev. part | next part

006. goo goo muck - the cramps

‘you better duck, when i show up.’

“Are you sure calling Sidney was a good idea?” Tara questioned, watching as you rounded the counter to stand behind it.

“Well, I didn't tell her to come here. I just informed her about what was happening.” You shrugged, picking up some old milk duds and shaking the box.

“But what if she does come here?” Tara wondered, leaning against the counter, her fingers drawing shapes in the dust.

“She won't.” You said, turning to face Tara. “She needs to keep her kids safe.”

“Okay, if you say so.” Tara said, not fully believing you.

“What, you don’t think I can handle myself?” You said, tilting your head to the side, a small smirk making its way onto your face.

“I mean, you have been stabbed twice...” Tara trailed off, a smile of her own forming.

“Okay, smartass.” You chuckled, moving back round the counter to stand in front of Tara, her eyes never leaving yours.

“I’m only stating the truth.” Tara replied, a small laugh bubbling from her stomach.

“Oh really?” You hummed, walking closer to her causing Tara to take a step backwards till she felt her back hit the counter.

You placed your hands on either side of her waist, pulling her close to you so your chests were touching. You leaned your head down, your lips hovered over hers, unsure, a million thoughts running around in your mind.

“I thought you were waiting for the perfect moment to kiss me.” Tara teased, her lips almost touching yours.

“Who gives a shit about what I said.” You whispered, your grip tightening on her waist.

You leaned down, just a little more, closing the gap between the two of you. Tara’s eyes fluttered shut as your lips grazed hers, melting into the kiss. Her lips were soft against yours and when she pulled away, you found yourself leaning forwards, chasing after her for more.

“You’re eager.” Tara muttered, moving her hands up to your chest.

“Can you blame me?” You smiled, resting a hand up to cup her cheek.

She stared at you, her lips quirking into a small smile. When you leaned in again to kiss her, Tara felt her body erupt with butterflies.

You poured in every pent up emotion into the kiss, and she gave you everything and more back. Your brain short-circuited as her hands went around your shoulders, playing with your hair.

After a few seconds, you slowly pulled away, your noses touching as you looked into Tara’s eye’s deeply.

“I could kiss you forever.” You whispered, your foreheads resting against each other.

“So do it.” Tara replied, leaning back in.

Just as your lips were about to touch, Tara let out a loud yell. You pulled away with wide eyes, seeing a Ghostface behind her, pushing a knife into her shoulder.

“Shit, Tara!” You shouted when the masked killer pushed Tara into the counter causing her to fall to the ground.

You looked at the Ghostface with a new found anger bubbling up inside of you. They charged towards you, swiping their knife haphazardly, hoping to hit you.

Dodging another attack, you stepped back before punching the Ghostface in the jaw, sending them falling to the ground. You ran over to Tara, helping her up from the floor with a supportive hand around her waist.

The two of you rushed towards a door when Sam and Chad came bursting through, startling you both.

“Come on!” Sam yelled, eyeing the Ghostface on the ground, helping you pull Tara out of the room.

Chad closed the door behind you, running back into the main theatre. The four of you stopped, looking around trying to find a way out.

“It’s Kirby,” Sam spoke up, “she’s the killer.”

“No shit!” Chad yelled, going to run out of the theatre.

“That’s locked!”

“Fuck!” He exclaimed before running back to you, Tara and Sam.

“She made this whole theatre a kill box for us.” Sam said, disbelief in her voice.

“Hey, how about that? There's an exit door! Maybe it leads to the roof or something” Tara said, pointing up, causing everyone to follow her finger.

“There’s only one way to find out.” You shrugged, looking back at Tara.

You each ran towards a ladder, but you spotted the Ghostface running towards you out of the corner of your eye. You pulled Tara behind you as the Ghostface jumped off the stage, landing in front of you.

The Ghostface swiped their knife at Sam, the woman dodging the attack. Chad tackled the masked killer to the ground, quickly getting up, grabbing a camera from a table and swung it at their face.

“Smile for the camera, mother fucker!” Chad knocked the Ghostface down and followed as You, Sam and Tara ran onto the stage to find another way out.

“Over there!” You pointed out, seeing a hallway.

Sam nodded, taking the lead as you all ran through the hallway, the Ghostface hot on your tail. Tara yelled when she bumped into the wall, trying to run as fast as she could.

Chad threw the camera he was still holding back at the Ghostface, slowing them down slightly. You had done a full circle and you were back in the room you and Tara were in together.

You waited for Chad to run past you, pushing a popcorn machine over to stop the Ghostface. Standing face to face you waited for the Ghostface to make the first move.

They tried to stab you with their knife but you dodged it, stepping back as you calculated their next move. Sam and Tara took a hold of the Ghostface’s arms, pulling them away from you.

Chad ran forward and punched the masked killer, sending them to the ground once again. Tara kicked them in their face, making sure they wouldn't get up.

“Tara, come on.” You pleaded, taking a hold of her hand and pulling her away.

You walked back to Sam when Chad picked up a small bubblegum machine, stalking over to the Ghostface, going to throw the machine down.

When Chad went to throw the machine another Ghostface came up behind him and stabbed him in the back. Chad let out a scream causing everyone’s heads to snap towards him.

Tara gasped, going to help him, but you held her back by the waist. The Ghostface on the floor got up and started to stab Chad in the stomach too, the boy telling you three to go.

“No!” Tara shouted, fighting against your grip.

You watched as the two Ghostface’s pushed Chad’s body to the ground. The two killers stood beside each other, swiping their knives at the same time, getting rid of Chad’s blood.

“Go!” You said, handing Tara over to Sam as you pushed the sisters towards the door.

“No, y/n!” Tara screamed, watching helplessly as she was pulled back by her sister.

You gave the younger Carpenter one last look before you closed the door and faced both the Ghostfaces.

“Hello, fellas.” You said, waving your hand.

They looked at each other before looking back at you. One of them walked back, exiting the room as another stalked towards you.

You held your ground, watching as they got closer and closer but they walked past you, exiting through the same door Sam and Tara exited only a few moments ago.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself.

Sam and Tara tried to get away, heading onto the stage when a Ghostface appeared, jumping down, pointing their knife towards the sisters.

The two turned around to go the other way but the other Ghostface blocked them, moving their knife from side to side as a way of saying ‘no’, the two killers blocking them from going anywhere.

Sam took a hold of two bricks, handing one to Tara and keeping the other to herself. They stood, watching as the Ghostface’s made their way closer to them, the sisters tightening their grip on the bricks.

“Sam.” Tara sobbed, looking around frantically.

“Ready?” Sam asked Tara but she didn’t get a response. Sam turned around to face her sister, taking a hold of her shoulder gently. “I need you to be ready. Are you ready?”

“I’m ready.” Tara nodded, closing her eyes for a moment before turning around to look at a Ghostface with her sister doing the same thing.

The two sisters took deep breaths in, calming their nerves before putting on their game faces.

“Come on, mother fucker!” Tara shouted.

As the Ghostface’s were about to attack them a gunshot rang out in the theatre causing them to scatter away. Tara and Sam ducked, covering their heads.

The two thought they were alone when they heard footsteps coming from the stage. Kirby appeared looking rugged as she held her gun in her hand.

“It’s okay!” Kirby reassured, walking down the steps to Sam and Tara.

“Stay the fuck back!” Sam warned, pulling Tara behind her.

“We know it’s you, Kirby.” Tara said, taking a step forward.

Kirby shook her head as she limped forward, pointing to the stage as she tried to not let the tears fall.

“One of them knocked me out.”

“Kirby, stop!” A voice shouted, causing Sam and Tara to turn around to see Bailey, his gun raised at Kirby. “Get away from them.”

“What are you doing?” Kirby asked the man, pointing her own gun at him.

“Did you kill Quinn? Did you kill my daughter?”

“Jesus Christ! Whatever he has been saying to you, don’t listen to him. He’s probably the killer!” Kirby muttered before pointing her gun behind him, seeing the Ghostfaces reappear. “Behind you!”

Bailey didn’t look all that surprised and he pulled the trigger, shooting Kirby in the stomach. Sam and Tara watched as she fell to the floor, their mouths dropped open in shock.

Bailey smirked, the two Ghostfaces coming to a halt behind him.

“Great job, both of you.”

“You?!” Tara gasped, looking at the man.

“Eh, of course me.” Bailey replied, tilting his head as he looked at the two sisters. “Frankly, I expected more from the two of you after what you did to us!”

“What do you mean ‘us’?” Tara asked, confusion written on her features.

The taller Ghostface took a hold of their mask, pulling it over their head, revealing themself.

“Mindy was right.” Ethan laughed, a manic smile on his face. “It was easy to juke the roommate lottery. I mean, all I had to do to meet you was room with a conceited, condescending alpha, literally named Chad! Fuck, it felt good to kill him!”

Ethan held up his mask beside him, tapping his knife against it as he looked at Sam.

“This was your grandmother’s Sam, Nancy Loomis. It really runs in the fucking family, doesn’t it? Speaking of family…”

“Wait for it.” Bailey smirked, bouncing on his feet.

“My name’s not Ethan Landry!” He laughed, looking over at the man beside him. “Isn’t it, dad?”

“Dad?” Tara questioned.

“Wait, if it’s you two, then that just leaves… Mindy?” Sam wondered, looking at the second Ghostface.

They grabbed their mask, slowly pulling it off to reveal themself.

“Hey, roomies.” Quinn smirked. “Didn’t see that one coming, did you?”

“Yeah because you died!” Tara exclaimed.

“I kinda didn’t.” Quinn shrugged. “Though it was a good way to get off the suspect list. Stabbed Gale Weathers, and y/n, and stabbed Mindy on the train. That sort of thing.”

“Yeah. I just made sure I was first on the scene so I could switch her body out with the fresh one. A little fake blood and prosthetics, you’d be amazed at what a grieving father could get away with…”

Sam and Tara looked at the Man with shock and hatred but their gaze soon turned onto something moving behind the three.

“Oh and one more thing.”

Another Ghostface came out from the shadows and stood behind him. The two sisters soon realised who that person could be.

“Y/n.” Tara whispered out, heart breaking as she looked at you.

“What?” Bailey questioned, tilting his head to the side.

“Boo!” You said, from behind them. Quinn, Ethan and Bailey jumped out of their skins, turning around to face you.

You swung a knife at Quinn, slicing her arm causing her to real back in pain. You kicked Bailey in the chest and he fell to the ground, not getting up as he looked at you in shock.

Ethan threw a punch towards your cheek but you took a hold of his arm, twisting it till you heard a loud pop, the boy letting out a scream of agony before kicking him to the floor too.

Your chest heaved up and down, when you took off the Ghostface mask. You looked up at Sam and Tara and when you were about to walk towards them you heard a laugh along with slow claps coming from behind you.

“Well, well, well. Look at my baby sister following in my footsteps.”

“Wha- what are you-? But-” You stuttered, turning around to find the source of the voice.

“You’re all grown up.” They said, finally coming out of the shadows to reveal themself.

“Jill.” You gulped, watching as she walked closer to you.

Everyone else stopped to look at you. Tara and Sam held expressions of confusion and sadness whilst Ethan, Quinn and Bailey had looks of mischief and glee.

“I never thought I’d see the day.”

“What the fuck?!” You finally managed to spit out, backing up from the woman only to come in contact with Ethan’s chest, the boy holding you still as Jill continued to walk towards you.

“Surprise, y/n.” Ethan whispered in your ear, tightening his grip on you.

“What a lovely family reunion.” Bailey chuckled as he got up from off the floor, making his way over to you.

“Get away from them!” Tara shouted, trying to get to you but Sam held her back.

“How?” You questioned, looking at Jill. “Sidney shot you. She killed you!”

“I guess I'm in the clear.” Jill shrugged, stepping closer so she was only a few millimetres away.

“Mhm, great.” You said through gritted teeth.

“Oh come on, y/n. That’s no way to greet your sister after a decade.” Jill said, pouting as she lifted a hand to touch your shoulder.

“You are not my sister.” You said, hardening your grip on the knife in your hand.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Jill shook her head, her gaze tilting to the knife.

“Do what?” You asked, faking innocence, your knuckles turning white as your grip tightened.

“I think you forgot who I am.” Jill said, her hand shooting out to your forearm. “You’re not going to get away this time.”

Jill pulled you from Ethan’s hold, tugging you so your back was against her front. She took the knife from your hand and held it against your throat.

“One sudden movement and I slit your throat.” Jill whispered in your ear, pressing the knife harder against your neck, not enough to draw blood but enough to halt your breathing.

“Now I wonder why Sidney was the favourite.” You muttered sarcastically.

“Watch your mouth.” Jill said harshly, nicking your neck as a warning.

“Where were we?” Bailey asked rhetorically. “Oh yes…”

“I got Stu Macher’s mask.” Quinn said as she moved around the theatre and over to the mannequins. “He was my favourite.”

Ethan placed the mask he had been wearing on a mannequin. “That’s number three.” Bailey explained, holding up three fingers as he slowly made his way towards Sam and Tara, sparing a glance at Quinn who placed her mask down as well. “That’s two.”

“Which leaves your fathers.” Bailey said, pulling out Billy’s mask from his bullet proof vest. “This is what we’ve been counting down to, Sam. I'm gonna need you to put it on.”

Bailey held out the mask to Sam, slowly making his way towards her.

“Fuck you!” Sam exclaimed, slapping the mask out of his hands.

Ethan leaned over and swiped his knife at Sam’s arm, creating a large gash where blood immediately poured out.

“Ooh.” Ethan taunted as he heard his dad laugh at his action.

“You stay the fuck away from her!” Tara sneered, placing a protective arm around her sister.

“What- what is this?” Sam questioned, looking back to Bailey. “You did this as a family?”

“Oh yeah, bitch. You should know better than anyone.” Quinn responded angrily, walking closer to the two girls, standing next to her brother.

“They’re still not getting it.” Ethan chuckled.

“Look, I don't know what you believe. But I didn't commit those murders in Woodsboro, it wasn’t me.”

“Oh we know that.” Bailey scoffed. “Of course you didn’t, what d’you think this is based on some bullshit conspiracy theory? Come on, who do you think started the rumours about you in the first place?”

“You know how easy it was to turn Sam, from the hero of Woodsboro, into the villain.” Quinn said, raising her knife. “How easy it is to convince the world to believe the worst in people, rather than the best.”

“Because it’s not enough to just kill someone these days.” Ethan spoke up, going into further detail. “You have to assassinate their character first, so when dad here discovers your horribly mutilated bodies, posed with Sam wearing her fathers mask. He'll say some poor dumb bastard read on the internet that you’re the real Ghostface and took matters into their own deluded hands.”

“Exactly, that’s why it’s a perfect alibi and all the best lies are based on the truth.” Bailey said, pointing at Sam. “You’re the killer, just like your father.”

“No I'm not!” Sam shouted, her voice breaking with anger.

“Yes you are, you mother fucker!” Quinn yelled, anger pouring out of her. “You killed our brother.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You said your brother died in a car accident.” Tara pointed out.

“No, no, no you sweet dumb thing.” Ethan said lowly. “He died in woodsboro, in the hands of your bitch sister.”

“You're Richie's family.” You said, as it all finally clicked inside your head.

“Well done.” Jill chuckled, moving the knife up from your neck to trace the side of your face. “I always thought I had the brains in the family.”

“I’m not nine anymore, Jill.” You scoffed, moving your head away from the knife.

“What did I say, hmm? Shut. Your. Mouth.” Jill tutted, adding a little pressure to the knife, cutting along the side of your face.

You let out a toe curling scream, the pain being unbearable but Jill just laughed, enjoying the way you squirmed in her arms.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Jill said condescendingly, “did I hurt you?”

You didn’t respond, gritting your teeth as you created a fist with your hands, trying to push through the pain.

“I asked you a question!” Jill snapped, creating another cut through your eyebrow.

“Stop!” Tara shouted, watching as you shook in Jill’s arms, tears welling up in your eyes, immediately feeling as if you were nine again.

“What was that?” Jill questioned, tapping the knife to the back of her ear, acting as if she couldn’t hear. “Keep going? Well, if you say so.”

“She said stop.” Someone said but it wasn't from anyone you could see.

Jill turned her head around, her grip on you faltering as she saw who the voice came from. You stumbled out of Jill’s arms and looked in the same direction as her.

“Sid.” You said breathlessly, looking at the woman in shock.

tag list: @andsoigotabutterfly @dksjskx @dreifhraniquo29 @karsonromanoff @btay3115 @bananasplits-world @youralphawolf72

[mist-see]

Liar

In which Ethan Landry doesn’t know who the hell he’s talking too.

Ethan Landry x reader (doesn’t describe)

Crazy x crazy trope

⚠️ warning ⚠️

Blood, cursing, (small) manipulation, crazy reader, knife, small text

Your breath shaky, you gasped in the air as Ethan places his hand against your jaw and neck, grip tight, knowing if he’d let you go, you’d run, then he’d have to hurt you. And he didn’t want to hurt you. “What-“ you sobbed “What are you going to do to me?” You couldn’t help to ask.

You found out he was Ghostface after the apartment attack. It… happened so fast, you almost missed it if it wasn’t for one of Ethan’s friends asking why he didn’t come to Ecom that night.

So when you stupidly called him to come to your apartment this morning to confirm where he was, you didn’t expect him to give up so easily, to admit to his doings while he pulls out the pocket knife he always had tucked in his jeans, to push you against your apartment door with the knife against your throat.

“Do something to you?… oh no… no, no, no.” He smiles. Smile so pretty and teeth so perfect you had to look away, god how could you be so stupid, Mindy was right, she’s always right. Falling for the smart shy kid because he’s smart and shy.

You clench your jaw as you felt the sharp pain of the knife pressing against your skin, the smooth metal so sharp your flesh underneath it split like butter. “My love, do you not know how much you mean to me? I could never, ever hurt you.” He leans in, lips close to your ear, you felt his breath as he spoke. “As long as you’re good to me…” you released a gasp as he takes the knife away from your neck. “And you keep that pretty little mouth shut so I can complete my business, 'kay?”

You looked up ahead, eyes clearing up as the tears fell, only to get foggy again when they fill back up. You looked across the room to the window across from you, the tall buildings of New York polluting the blue skies.

“And I’ll keep you safe, I can promise that.”

Empty promises are what Ethan Landry gave you. A promise you’d know he’d break, because he already failed to keep one promise, to protect you. “I promise to protect you.” He said when we were at the park while Mindy was suspecting everyone. He said that with the prettiest softest smile.

Liar.

He’s a liar.

“Just kill me. Please just kill me!” You begged, the view from the window getting blocked as he puts his face in front of yours, pink lips brushing yours, forcing you to shut up and stop breathing, hating the feeling of his breath hitting yours. It was too intimate. Like you were the other day when the both of you shared a long kiss after the party.

“No. No, you know I can’t do that.” You release the breath from your nose, which he just seemed to inhale when he tilts his head, as of leaning for a kiss. Disgust makes its way to your face, the thought of him getting aroused at a moment like this making your stomach clench and churn. Before his lips could touch yours, you turned your head causing his kiss to land on your neck.

Ethan just laughs at your stubbornness, ego not wavering as he just kisses up your jaw. “Kill me…” you whispered out, eyes peering down at his brown curls. His lips stopped against his skin to fake think, but when he gets his answer he continues marking up your skin“Mm…no.”

“Kill.me.” You repeated yourself with a hardness in your voice, your face going from scrunched up crying to relaxed and stiff. The time of weeping and sadness was no more, you couldn’t get away from this craze lunatic with tears, sobs, and hiccups. You started to get pissed off.

And with his uneven temper, he was already there. Slamming his hands on the door behind you, the sudden action made you flench, and you hated that, it made you seem like you were afraid of him, but you were just afraid of death. And he wasn’t death.

“NO!… I said no.” He takes in a deep breath, face pulling away from your neck to get directly in your face, forcing your eyes to meet with his. “Y'know, for someone afraid of dying, you’re begging for it. How about you be grateful you have a loving boyfriend such as myself.”

Motherfucker must’ve forgotten you boxed for 5 years. Thanks, dad.

He was taller, stronger. But you had stamina, skill, and technique. And a fuck load of manipulation, thanks, mom.

“Ethan… my love. If we stay together, I’m going to end up dead regardless, right? It’ll be you, or- or your sister, or the mastermind of it all, your father-“

“Don’t-dont say that. I won’t let anything happen to you-“As he was distracted, trying to stare into your soul, you kicked him in the knee, causing him to fall flat on his ass. “Ouch!-you- you,” you could’ve ran right there, and honestly you should’ve.

Instead, you grabbed the knife that fell from his hand, and as he was about to step back you placed yourself on top of his stomach, his hand coming up to throw you off but you were quick to swing the knife through his arms, making him yell in pain as he held them to his chest.

“Listen to me Ethan… or whatever the hell your name is,” you start, left hand holding his arms down to his chest while

The right one holds the blade of the knife just below his Adam’s apple. You dared him to say something, to even swallow, his whole shit would be opened to the world.

You adjusted yourself to be above him, your fake tears from earlier that day falling onto his cheeks as you stared down at him.

“When I asked you to kill me, I meant that shit.” His feet struggled behind you, trying to kick you off but you wouldn’t budge. “Be still so I can talk.” You spoke nicely, the corner of your lips twitching up into a smile as he grunts. But, as his ego began to bruise, he still flopped around below you, causing you to grin as you began pushing the knife against his throat, a drip of blood pooling to the base of the metal.

“I SAID BE STILL.”

Oh, now he wanted to listen. His brown eyes blown wide as he slouches below you, lips twitching up in a scowl.

“Good.. good boy. If you didn’t stop I would’ve just made you a cripple. You’re too cute for that.” You chuckled as you felt his arms tense from your words. “When I told you to kill me…” you leaned down close to his ear, your warm breath causing him to close his eyes from the tickling feeling.

“I was trying to save you from myself.

And now, I’m going to make the rest of your life hell.”