#this is the kind of thing a girl who keeps a knife in her knee socks would write

[theworldisabrokenbonebutitishome]

Kang Yo Han is the walking embodiment of I'm Not Okay (I Promise) and relates to Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge far more than is healthy. In this essay I will-

[seresinhangmanjake]

The Harkonnen's Sweet Thing

Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Reader

Summary: You watched your brother kill the man you love--a man you were once gifted to by the Baron--and now that he is gone, you think Paul will use you as a political pawn in his war. And you're right. But you're shocked to discover who is demanding to have you.

Words: 2650

Notes/Warnings: Ignore canon ages in the timeline. I don’t know what they are, but everyone young is in their twenties, cool? Cool. Dune inaccuracies. Jessica and Paul kind of (very much) suck. Feyd’s a soft boy for our reader. Angst but also fluffy-ish stuff. Implied smut. Mention of pregnancy. I think that’s it. TG:M people ignore me. I don’t know what I’m doing here either, but i'm embracing it for now. 

Part 2

When your brother pierced through armor into pale flesh, you felt it as if he had driven that blade into your body instead of the body of the man you love. You felt the shock of icy steel penetrating warm and delicate tissue, and the suffocation that came from the mutilation of your lung. You felt droplets of blood run down your front as you reached for the blade that was not there. As children, you were taught not to remove it. Not unless sufficient care was nearby to stop the bleeding before too much was lost.

Paul did not respect that knowledge. He yanked his knife out of Feyd’s torso and watched with relief as he collapsed to the ground. His body landed with a thud that matched the heavy beat of your heart. A beat that reminded you your blood was rushing strong, keeping you alive while your lover was draining dry of the strength to keep himself from leaving this world, from leaving you. 

You wailed in the silence of those around you. Screamed at the top of your lungs as tears streamed down your face. You tried to go to him but the Fremen snatched you before you could reach him, forcing you to your knees, one of them slapping a hand over your mouth. This was not the time for hysterical outbursts; it was a time to stare in awe as a new leader accepted his victory and claimed power over the emperor and his daughter. 

“Shut up, girl,” a male voice spit in your ear. He was tired of the struggle you were putting up against the hand squeezing your face. You were ruining his opportunity to witness a beautiful moment in history. A defining moment. A moment you didn’t give two fucks about. 

No one spared you a glance save for the witch whose vibrant eyes were drilling into the side of your skull. A woman your father had instructed you receive as a stepmother following your third birthday. A manipulative woman whose smile in front of the Duke had masked the scowl permanently seared onto her face when looking at you—a decades-long act that the capture and death of your father had freed her from. And she’d wasted not a second displaying her distaste for his daughter. 

Not long ago you'd thought to thank Lady Jessica for not loving you. Her lack of love made her so terribly desperate to rid herself of you that when cornered the night your family was attacked, she’d thrown you right into the arms of the Harkonnens—a fate she believed would destroy you rather than thrust you into a life you would come to cherish.

“A gift for you, nephew,” the baron had said after the fighting ceased and the soldiers, with you in their grasp, had returned to their unfamiliar home.

Feyd-Rautha had not rushed when he descended the staircase and approached you for the first time. His eyes were unblinking as he’d taken in his present; a slow drawl from head to toe that sent shivers down your spine. 

“An Atreides,” Feyd had said in a low voice, deep and thick and eerily lovely.

The baron’s voice did not contain the same appeal. “Yes. Do you like it? A new pet for you to ruin.”

You’d stood frozen as Feyd traced a knuckle down your cheek before grasping your chin and running his thumb over your bottom lip. He’d possessed not a lick of shame when his index finger drew a line from the dip of your throat to your cleavage. There had been no consideration for your feelings when he tucked that same finger between your breasts and the neckline of your nightgown and lightly tugged you forward. 

You had gasped with your stumble, your hands pressing against his chest to catch your fall while he smirked at the blush tinting your cheeks. His tongue then darted out to dampen his lips before he moved his hand to the curve of your waist and squeezed. 

“Perfect,” He’d said, not in a loud declaration of appreciation, but in a tone meant for your ears only. Then he’d grabbed you by the wrist and led you to his chambers.

When the door had slammed behind you after you were jerked inside the room, you were suddenly filled to the brim with panic. You’d heard the rumors. What would he do to you? How would he do it? Would you suffer long? 

A tear had slipped down your cheek that, once noticed, was brushed away with his thumb. 

“Do not worry yourself unnecessarily.”

You’d swallowed, stuttering, “Wh-What do you mean?”

He’d pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, exposing pale skin taught over defined, well-trained muscle. Then he’d stepped into your space, inching you backward until your spine was flush with the wall. He’d fisted the flimsy, nearly see-through fabric of your nightgown in his hand and slowly dragged it up your body until fingers could sneak under the hem to graze your inner thigh.

You’d sucked in a sharp breath at the pleasurable waves of heat that rippled from his touch.

“Atreides or not, you’re much too precious to ruin the way my uncle suggests,” he had said, his lips a hair's-width away from yours. “I've been looking for you for so long. You're mine now, do you understand?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

He hadn’t loved your hesitation—you could see it in his eyes and in the downturn of his lips—but he was satisfied when you’d truthfully said:

“No.” Because you weren’t. Not after he had brushed that tear off of your cheek.

His next question had caused your heart to skip a beat from the concoction of emotions it shot through you. Fear of the unknown mixed with unexpected excitement.

“Have you done this before?” 

You’d shaken your head and in response he lightly nodded, his nose nudging yours. 

“You want to?” he’d asked, hiking your leg up to his hip, and you found yourself nodding as well. “I won’t make it hurt.”

You’d replied with a soft “Ok” before accepting his kiss with as much fervor as he was giving it, thankful that what you’d imagined was awaiting you upon your arrival in foreign territory was far from what you were receiving. 

Days later, when you had mentioned that he did not live up to the rumors of his cruelty extending to all areas of his life, he’d hummed. Said, “I make many bleed, and enjoy it. I feed off of their pain. Those who have been in my bed are not spared this, and it will not be uncommon for you to see me stained with the death of others, including my former pets.” 

He’d paused then, allowing you a moment to question your future as one of those pets, if that's what he considered you.

“But I have been searching for something that I’ve wanted for a very long time,” he’d said. “Something that hasn't existed within these walls. Something I will never want to harm. Something…soft…and sweet,” he had admitted to your surprise.

He’d then told you that you were that sweet thing. That he’d known it from the moment he saw you. That he was choosing you. 

But it was a choice that had its repercussions. 

All things must have balance, and you had tipped the scales. From his gentleness toward you, a darker, more gruesome beast emerged when facing off with others. A brutal warrior who never surrendered and never lost. A sadistic man who showed no mercy to the opponents whose blood you would later wash from his body. He had annihilated his previous reputation as just the famed killer of Geidi Prime and evolved into something more, all because of you.

That was why you thought he would win against Paul. Your brother was skilled, but the universe had long known the name Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen for his prowess in combat and his ruthlessness which had only grown with time. 

So why was it not your brother on the floor with his love sobbing and struggling to reach him?

In the thirteen days since your lover’s death, it is that question that has robbed you of all peace. 

Despite your brother having escorted you back to Caladan for the time being, you find no sense of home or happiness in your birthplace. You walk the beaches and fields that, as a child, you dreaded one day leaving, but they are not the same. Nearly a year has gone by since you were last here, however, so much of what you once loved about this planet is overshadowed by the shattered heart caused by Feyd's death. 

When you were young, your father would often express his wishes for your future. He would paint a beautiful image of you bringing your children to play in the gardens of your childhood home, carefree and unburdened. It was a source of comfort that he used to mask the reminder of your duty as an Atreides: that you would not be marrying and having children out of love, you would marry in the name of peace and produce heirs in the name of security. And it seems in the end, he was right.

With Feyd unable to claim you, Paul will be the one to secure new arrangements for your future, which just so happens to greatly fare in his favor. After all, he just declared war, and you are the ripened political pawn at his disposal.

“Are you well?”

You turn as sharply as you can at the intrusive voice, but the uncomfortable skirts of your dress are thick and stiff, restricting your movements. Feyd never made you wear anything like this and you forgot what it's like to be weighed down by layers of fabric. You fucking hate it.

Paul stands a few feet away, his hands clasped behind his back and a light smile on his face. Clearing his throat, he joins you on the balcony attached to your old room. 

“I know we haven’t spoken much about what’s to come. I’m sure you’ve been curious,” he says. 

You shrug, shake your head, and return your gaze to the horizon where ocean meets sky. 

“We have matters to discuss.”

Matters such as where he will be sending you off to be married, you imagine. He must act quickly if he intends to establish and gain control over house alliances, since they weren't overly enthusiastic about accepting him as their leader.

“Let's sit down,” he tells you. He grasps your hand before you can object and guides you to one of the balcony benches. Once you’re settled, he takes a seat beside you and says, “I am going to ask you something. And I want honesty.”

You sigh. “What?”

“When you were with the Harkonnens for those many months, were you treated like a slave as I had feared, or were you something far from it?”

Your eyes narrow. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Because it’s important,” Paul states, staring you directly in the eye. “I’ve been thinking about the way you wept over him after we fought, and how he denied every offer I made in exchange for your release…” With his pause, he shakes his head. “I thought maybe he had messed with your mind, confused you, and that was why you were so hysterical over his loss…but that’s not right, is it.”

“Paul–”

“Does he love you?”

It takes conscious effort to keep your body from shifting uncomfortably. “What is it to you?”

“He survived his wounds,” Paul says. 

The casualness with which he shares that news heavily contrasts everything that runs through you. Your heart stops. Your lips part, unsuccessful in drawing in oxygen. Your eyes no longer see anything but Feyd’s face as it flashes in front of you. The way he looked when he last smiled at you. The way he looked the last time he came inside of you. The look of him when he died—or almost died. Death had been there, looming over him. 

You’re trying to will away the tears. Paul is watching you too closely. “Wh–What?” you say.

“He’s alive, and he is demanding you be returned to him,” he informs you. “So, tell me: is he truly threatening me so aggressively over one of his ‘pets’? Or is he threatening me to get back the woman he loves?” 

The woman he loves. You never imagined yourself in a situation where your brother would ask if a member of a centuries-long rival house loves you. But then again, you never imagined a member of a centuries-long rival house loving you to begin with.

You remember the night he told you. It was late and your bodies were bare after having bathed together. You were searching for your nightgown when he said “Come to bed, my love.” 

You sighed, defeated. He’d called you that before, but whether it was real or not was such a mystery and it hurt your heart a little bit more each time. “You shouldn’t call me your love unless you mean it,” you finally told him. 

You heard his footsteps when he stood from the bed. He walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. “Why would I call you that if I do not mean it?” he asked. Then he hummed and said “You know me better than that, my love” before dipping his head lower and nipping the shell of your ear with his teeth. 

So yes, he loved you—loves you. But there’s something in Paul’s voice as he asks you that question that gives you pause. It’s too gentle as if luring you into a false sense of security. The Harkonnens are not known for their capacity to love, and Feyd loving you could be seen as a weakness; his one vulnerable spot.

As monotone as you can manage, you reply, “If you’re being threatened you should just send me back and be done with it. I know you have more important things to worry about.”

Paul’s lips thin in disappointment. “I can’t send you back,” he says. “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

He sighs. “Because I believe he loves you. And I need to see how far a Harkonnen is willing to bend for an Atreides,” he says. “If he wants you back, he will have to be open to negotiations.”

You stand sharply, take a few steps from him, and blow out a heavy breath through your nose. You were told your brother changed after drinking that magic water and it shows. Holding you hostage for political gain is not the same as marrying you off. 

“I would like to be done with this conversation,” you say with a huff.

“I understand,” he replies, so you turn to enter your bedroom. But before you’re fully through the door, he says, “There’s more, though.”

You freeze. 

“I had a dream,” he says, his voice coming closer. “There was a boy, no more than five years old. He had your features and your hair but his skin was of the same paleness as the Harkonnens.”  

Sucking in a breath, you brace yourself with a hand gripping the door’s frame. 

“You’re pregnant, sister,” he tells you, leaning against the opposite side of the doorway. “But I'm very glad to know that the heir of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is a product of love rather than an unfortunate incident,” he says. “Additional incentive, should it be necessary.”    

In your shock, you can’t look at him. He doesn’t need you to. You can see his smirk in your peripherals, then he pushes off the frame and heads toward the main door of your room. 

“Try to get some rest, sister,” he calls over his shoulder. “You really shouldn't be on your feet too long.”

[pupyuj]

Ena you have to think bigger! You should be the one killing people instead of dying then detective an will look for you and arrest you my friend 😋

anon you have awakened something in me with this ask 😧😧 as fun(?) as doing this ask was, this is important: please look carefully through the warnings bcs this type of content might be too dark and disturbing for some! don’t engage if it’s not your cup of tea and especially if it could potentially trigger you.

[cw: murder!, blood, knife play, fear play, blood play]

OKAY SO you being this clumsy amateur serial killer that leaves evidence all over the place but somehow being clever enough to always escape arrest and stay hidden… you’re a bit famous in the precinct and detective ahn is very intrigued by you!! 🥰 so much so that she makes it her goal to find out even one thing about the person that’s been making a mess of her city 🤭 so imagine her surprise when it’s the timid, quiet girl that’s always waiting at the bus stop in front of the police station that yujin herself works in?? it was unexpected, as yujin always thought you were the type of person to not even be able to look at a drop of blood without throwing up, let alone be the very culprit of the kind of gruesome scene you leave for the police to witness after your kills… but then again, it’s always the innocent-looking ones 😰

it takes a while but yujin will definitely be able to track you down… especially since you’ve captured her heart and she became your little stalker! maybe even fan… 🤭🤭 one moment you’re driving your knife down a pervert’s chest in an alleyway and the next, yujin (who just so happened to witness the murder) has successfully lured you into her house where she has you on your knees, begging for her not to turn you in 😣 ofc yujinnie wouldn't do that though! the moment you dropped on your knees in front of her, you became her little toy!

faking sympathy and pouting at you with the fakest sorry eyes ever as you begged and begged for her not to throw you in jail… saying that every time you killed it was with valid reason.. and you know what? yujin believes you!! her judgment is not at all clouded by her strong desire to study your sick brain like a lab rat and have you all to herself… and she definitely doesn’t just let you off with a warning.. in fact she keeps you there on the floor, your face buried in between her thighs with your mouth on her pussy, eating her out like it’s your last meal bcs your life quite literally depended on it 🙁🙁 aww you’d be crying while doing it too.. so confused as to why you were so willing to do such a thing for yujin when you could just.. kill her. 🙂

and that’s what you attempt to do! pulling out a pocket knife hidden underneath your clothes and swinging it at the detective, only to have your wrist locked in a tight grip before you were pushed down on the floor, hitting your head on the cold ground and nearly blacking out.. it was the perfect opportunity for yujin to steal that knife and play with it… “you’re brave. but you’re stupid.” her running the tip of the blade across your jawline.. down to your neck, lightly pressing the steel where your pulse throbbed… yujinnie finds pleasure in the fear in your eyes, how your chest heaved while you sobbed pathetically bcs you were so scared she was just going to slit your throat and leave you to choke on your own blood ☹️

but yujin was too nice (?) for that!! you were too pretty to be left dead.. and she has to hear that voice of yours more!! mmdjdhdbfh yujinnie taking off your pants and inserting her fingers inside you so suddenly :(( but she immediately pulls out and licks your slick off her fingers, convinced that all she needed was a little taste test and she was right when she thought that you’d be sweet 🥺 but then she’d have that knife pointed at your neck while she rubbed her cunt against yours! you letting out a mix of a sob and a moan bcs the feeling was so good but fuck,, yujin’s hand could slip and she could easily kill you!! yujinnie ending up pressing the knife a bit deeper than intended when your clits brushed way too good and slicing your neck a little.. god, you looked even prettier with blood tainting your soft skin…

the pleasure blocking out the sting that came from the small wound on your neck… having to grip yujin’s free arm and grinding back up against her just to feel more… and that was when she finally chucks the knife elsewhere and focuses on pleasuring the two of you! basically pouncing her cunt against yours while she kissed all over your chest and neck.. making sure to lick and kiss your wound before grabbing your face and finally kissing your lips… tasting your own blood on her tongue 😵‍💫😵‍💫 shdhsijcdj also makes sure to coat her lips with your blood and leave BLOODY kiss marks on all over your chest… the sight gives her a new kind of rush that only feeds her brain with more sickness.. ugh 🤤

fuckfudjcjd she’d make sure the two of you came tgoether 🫣🫣 continuing on grinding while you’re cumming bcs yujinnie couldn’t help it 😵‍💫 her collapsing on your chest, the two of you breathing heavily in sync.. until yujin remembers that you’re injured… in which she’ll make sure to treat that goddamn injury carefully! her suddenly being so gentle and critical of herself as she’s bandaging your neck up,, annoyed at how she messed up such a pretty doll but still can’t help but find that wound on your neck so fucking perfect… whatever that means 🫢 she’ll send you home, telling you to be careful not to get caught bcs she’ll miss you if you get jailed 😐

and you know what happens after you’re out of her house?? she picks up that knife and runs her tongue across the steel, licking up your blood with a smile on her face… she’s already looking forward to the next time she catches you red-handed 😵‍💫

[strniohoeee]

Vile

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N is a mean girl who hates a soft boy! She wants her men mean and rough. When Chris doesn’t take this well things start to change….this is for my best friend who literally held me at gun point to write this long ass story😅

Warnings⚠️: This is juicy juicy SMUT. I’m talking hair pulling, smacking, spit, manhandling, knife kink. Chris is mean as fuck and a douchey asshole. So read at your own risk just know she’s juicy

Song for the imagine: One of The Girls- The Weeknd, JENNIE, Lily-Rose Depo

⚠️This is an 18+ story, so minors do not interact, or do??⚠️

Chris was such an annoying little clingy boy. We were friends for some time now, and we were literally the definition of black cat and golden retriever energy. I was always a bitch and cold, I mean I had my soft spots but ehhh. And he was so childish and giddy all the time.

I’m not sure how we became friends, or how we actually liked each other, but we did. I had actually really liked Chris, but something about him acting too childish for me kept me away.

Most of the time we hung out it required me to literally watch him like he was a child. He acted like such a little baby, and one part of me wanted to coddle him, and the other part of me wanted to smack him to reality.

“I can tell you why she ghosted you” I told Chris

“And why is that?” He said rolling his eyes

“Because you’re such a little pussy. You get pussy whipped and you’ve never even met the girl” I told him

“Not fucking true at all” he said sounding offended

“No, it's very true. You’re a munch, and girls don’t like that. Ease off. You’re doing too much” I told him

“Excuse the fuck out of me! Miss perfect. How many guys actually want you around. You’re so meh and dark and MEAN” he said

“Guys like mean girls…..I’ll have you know I get any guy I want” I told him

“Yeah right! I couldn’t be with a girl who’s mean” he said back

“Yeah because you’re too nice, and you’re like a baby. Tighten the fuck up” I responded back to him

“Could you not be mean to me” he said

“Uhhh let me think?? No” I said rolling my eyes at him

“Chris, I'm telling you. Stop being a little softy and you’ll see every girl will fall to their knees for you” I told him

“Would you fall to your knees for me?” He asked with a puppy dog face

“Not until you get mean…..i like my men just as mean, and you doing this puppy dog face is putting you at the bottom of my roster” I said giving him a weird face

“Not a single nice thing out your mouth” he said scoffing and rolling his eyes

“Oh! You see that the scoffing and the eye roll? Yeah, keep doing that. A bad attitude looks good on you” I told him nodding my head

“Ouu are you flirting with me?” He asked smirking

“Most definitely am not” I said laughing in his face

His face drops and he clenched his jaw

“Ohh Chris that was hot as fuck, keep doing it” I told him running my tongue along my teeth

“You think so?” He said getting happy again

“See now I was flirting with you, and that shit went right over your dome” I told him

“Uhhh whatever” he said giving up

I worked at a bar/lounge that Chris and his brothers always frequented. I’m sure it was for me because this is not their scene at all. I found it amusing, but Chris just wasn’t my type

I hadn’t seen the triplets in a good month. Their fame skyrocketed and they were on tour the last I saw on instagram. Man I kind of missed my munch I was getting bored with these guys.

I was working a boring night shift on a Tuesday when nobody would be in. We were so slow I think I washed the shot glasses 25 times….actually might be 26

The front door opened and Chris and his brothers walked in. Immediately my face lit up

“Hey guys” I said

“Y/N heyyyyy” Nick said walking over to sit at the bar

“Yoo” Matt said sitting next to him, and then Chris sat next to Matt

“Hey Chris” I said

He just nodded his head at me….whos this fucking cool guy? I asked myself

“How have you guys been?” I asked them

“We’ve been good, just got back from tour actually” Matt said

“Oh nice how was that? Insufferable I imagine with all the teenage girls screaming” I said

“I missed your negativity! Actually it was really fun” Nick said

“How many tits did you sign Chris? Oh wait your whole fanbase is like 16, and you’re too pussy to do it for the girls that are actually of age” I told him

“Fuck outta here” he said giving me a dirty look

“Oh someone’s a little feisty” I said looking at Matt and Nick

“Yeah he’s been a total dick lately. He’s really fucking pissing us off” Nick said rolling his eyes

“Shut the fuck up” Chris said rolling his eyes

I’m not sure who this new Chris is, but it was really fucking hot.

“Let me take you on a date” Chris randomly blurted out

“Fuck no….have you lost your mind” I told him laughing at him

“Why you gotta do me like that. I’m tryna be nice and ask you out” he said rolling his eyes

“I told you I like my men mean….not posers pretending to be mean” I said back

“Want me to smack you around and call you bitch then? Before you agree to go out with me” he asked scoffing

“Mmm that does sound enticing” I said winking at him

The triplets had left about an hour after hanging around, and I had to finish my boring shift. I was closing solo tonight since it wasn’t busy, and everyone cleaned their area, so I only had a small portion to clean

It was 2AM, and I walked over to the door switching the open sign to closed

I walked back to my area and was wiping down the bar and the tables that were mine. When all of a sudden I heard someone come in….I thought I locked the door??

“I’m sorry we’re closed” I yelled out since my back was turned

“You left the door open….rookie mistake” I heard someone say, I knew that voice

“Chris what the fuck” I said turning around

“Not happy to see me?” He asked frowning

“No…waiting around like some creep” I told him cleaning my last table

“Ohhh you wound me” he said

“Chris you’re so fucking corny please stop” I said shaking my head

“Just give me a chance please I really like you” he said

“You’re acting like a freaky obsessed teenager, NO” I told him

“I can be mean” he said back to me

“Yeah sure you can” I said laughing at him

“I can be mean, and I can fuck you like a dirty slut you annoying bitch” he said walking closer to me

“The fuck did you just say?” I asked shocked, and pleasantly surprised

“You heard me…” he said smugly

“I can make you take back all those things you said about me. When I fuck you like A DIRTY SLUT YOU ANNOYING BITCH” he said raising his voice at the last part

“I doubt you can fuck me good” I said feeding into him

“Oh I’ll have you fucking weeping and limp” he said laughing

“Come on then rude boy, I can take you” I said

Chris stormed over to me and slammed me into the edge of the bar table (fuck that will leave a mark tomorrow). He smashed his lips against mine in a disgusting and sloppy kiss, but it was so fucking hot my knees buckled a bit

“You’re getting nothing but my dick tonight, and I’m going to give it to you how I want, and you’re gonna take it, GOT IT” he said gripping onto my chin harshly

“Yes” I said

We started to make out and he was groping my body harshly with want and need

He pulled away and looked me over while licking his lips

His hand came up to my throat and he started to choke me

“You’re gonna be mine” he spat at me like venom on his tongue

He removed my shirt and my bra. Immediately grabbing my boobs massaging them while looking at my face

“Fuck Chris” I said biting my lip

He grabbed the back of my head and leaned my head down. I was looking at his palm

“Spit” he demanded

“What the fuck no” I told him

He smacked me, “I said spit” and he pushed my head a little harder

So I spat on his palm

“Good fucking girl” he let go of my head kind of pushing me back and brought his palm up to my nipple massaging the spit in

“Ohh fuck” I said throwing my head back

“Yeah what a fucking slut” he said massaging my other breast

“Stop fucking talking and do something” I said which he didn’t like because he spun me around and pushed me against the counter again

“You need to learn to be nice” he said, pulling my hair causing my head to go back. I winced in pain and pleasure

He pulled my skirt down and had me step out of it

“Red lace thong. You’re a mean bitch and a slut” he laughed

“Fuck you” I said

“OH! So vulgar” he said pulling my hair again

“How do you feel about a knife” he asked me massaging my ass with his right hand

“Chris what the fuck are you on” I said trying to look over my shoulder but he didn’t let me

“If I brought a knife up to your pussy would I make you shudder?” He asked in my ear

“You wouldn’t….you're a pussy” I said laughing

The next thing I heard was the sound of a pocket knife opening. This sick fuck, he really had a knife

“I would choose my next words wisely” he said

“Or what” I said rudely

Chris placed the blade on my ass slowly grazing it. This sent a chill down my spine

“I don’t know….you tell me” he said back

“Chris I’m not fucking around don’t be stupid” I told him

Slowly I felt the blade travel further until he slid it under my underwear, and cut the side of it, and then slid it to the other side, and cut the other side letting my now destroyed underwear fall to the floor

He then swiftly turned me around

“Speechless are we?” He said with a smile on his face

He took the knife and slowly ran it up from my stomach to the valley of my breast

“Am I scaring you?” He asked with a fake pout

“No you’re turning me on” I said looking into his eyes

He then pulled my head back allowing my neck to be exposed, and he lightly slid the knife against my neck

“Mmmm how about now” he said taunting me

“Maybe a little bit. The knifes at my fucking throat” I said getting scared

“Good” he said then placed the knife on the counter, and grabbed me harshly throwing me against a table

He flipped me around so my chest was against the table and my ass was up

“Now I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t even know your name” he said smacking my ass

“Fuck” I said wincing in pain

Chris kicked my legs apart, and started to unzip his pants. Taking his hard dick out. He walked around to where my head was

“Be a good girl and spit on my cock” he said smacking me lightly

I opened my mouth and spit on his cock. He then used that to jerk himself off. Slowly walking back behind me

He was teasing my entrance at such an agonizingly slow pace

“CHRIS PLEASE” I said already fucked out

“Shut the fuck up” he warned

And slowly he slid into me bottoming out in one go

“Mmmm this pussy was made for me” he said groaning

Within a few second Chris was pounding into me like a feral fucking animal. His hips connecting to my ass in loud smacks

“Fuck Chris you feel so good” I moaned out gripping the table

He was pounding into me relentlessly like I was some fucking ragdoll. His dick was touching all the right places

“Give me your hands” he said, but I ignored him

He grabbed my hair and pulled me up

“I said. GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING HANDS” he said throwing me forward

“IM SORRY IM SORRY” I said giving him my hands

He grabbed them together and started pounding into me even harder. How was this humanly possible

“Oh my god Chris” I said moaning and drooling everywhere

He lifted my leg up so my knee was on the table as he thrusted into me

“Such a good fucking slut for me” he said laughing as he smacked my ass with his right hand

“You gonna let me take you on a date now?” He asked

“Yes Chris yes! Whatever you want” I said moaning as tears fell from my eyes from the pleasure

“Good! Letting me fuck you like a dumb slut, and then letting me be your man” he said thrusting into me hard

“Fuck I’m gonna cum” I screeched out

“Yeah cum on my cock” he said as he pounded into me

“Fuck fuck fuck” I said and I came all over his cock. I was shaking and moaning out incoherent words as my legs were about to give out

“Let me cum on your tits” he said as he pulled out of me and roughly turned me over

He jerked himself over before moaning out my name as his lower abdomen constricted and he he came all over my tits

He came down from his high, picking his pants up and catching his breath

“Now how’s that for signing tits” he said lightly smacking me in my face

“Touché” I said rolling my eyes at him

“Let me clean you up, so I can take you home” he said

Chris had cleaned me up, and helped me clean the bar up again before I fully closed, and he decided to take me home

“So about that date?” He said when we pulled up to my house

“Yeah?” I asked him getting ready to get out

“Are you down?”he asked

“Of course! Pick me up tomorrow at 6” I said before kissing him on the lips, and walking to my house.

The End

I hope yall like this one! I haven’t done a Chris smut in a minute. Can’t wait to finish these imagines! I love writing 🤭❤️❤️

-J💅🏽

[thirstyforcharacters]

“I’ll Cut You a Deal” (Joel Miller x Reader)

Summary: You keep stealing Joel and Tess’ clients. Joel decides to do something about it.

warnings: smut!! 18+ only!!!! dom! joel miller, semi-public sex, allusions to exhibitionism, unprotected sex, spanking, oral sex (m receiving), rough sex, use of she/her pronouns (Joel calling the reader “girl”), mentions of drugs, cursing

wc: 1500

notes: Hey hey hey!! It’s time for me to do the thing where I actually post on this account! I just finished binging The Last of Us, and like everyone else, am in my Pedro Pascal era, so of course I had to write some Joel Miller smut.

Business in the QZ was booming. People flocked to you to get their fix because your prices were cheaper than most. You knew that even if you got less ration cards per translation, if you got more customers, the numbers would even out. And they did. Soon, you were one of the most popular smugglers in Boston. It got you a lot of unwanted attention. Other smugglers were pissed at you for stealing their business.

Two of them were Tess and Joel Miller.

You weren’t scared of most of the others. You could take them down with a swift slice to the throat easily enough. But those two, they scared you. You used to be friendly with them, often paired with them on the odd jobs that FEDRA made their citizens do. You managed to make small talk with Tess, and she seemed to like you. Joel barely acknowledged your presence, only responding to your small talk with one word answers or non-committal grunts, but you still found yourself wanting to work with him. Probably because there wasn’t much in the QZ that was nice to look at, other than him.

But as soon as you became their competition, they wouldn’t work by your side anymore. It made you a little sad: Tess was sort of your friend, and you would have to settle for starting at Joel from afar. Their reputation was deadly, and you took care to not run into either of them. Sure, you’d seen them around, but they couldn’t stab or shoot you in broad daylight. So you figured you were safe.

Until today.

You were in an alleyway, starting to walk back to your apartment after slipping some pills to a FEDRA agent in exchange for some ration cards. As you wound your way through the side streets, an arm reached out and tugged you into the shadows. You shrieked, but a strong hand quickly clamped over your mouth.

“Shut up.”

You froze. You’d know that Texan accent anywhere.

You wrenched his hand off of you, standing in front of him with your knife outstretched, “What the fuck are you doing, Miller?”

“You keep stealing my clients,” he growled.

You smirked, quirking up an eyebrow, “Maybe you should offer better prices then.”

He grit his teeth, eyebrows furrowing in malice as he grabbed his own knife, “You’re a fucking problem.”

“I think this is the most words you’ve ever spoken to me,” you teased, enjoying the way his jaw clenched, “I’m honored.”

“Shut. Up.” he repeated.

You were locked in a stalemate, wondering who would make the first move.

It was him. He lunged toward you, and instinctively you slashed your knife at him, thinking he was going to attack you. But instead, he grabbed your wrist, holding you in place. He was ridiculously strong, and it was making you weak in the knees, though you tried not to show it.

“Let me go,” you hissed, trying to use your free hand to peel him off of you.

But Joel was stronger, grabbing your other wrist and holding both of them in one of his meaty hands. The other hand dropped his knife, pushing you until your back hit the wall of an apartment building. He towered over you, pinning your body to the brick as he used his free hand to wrestle your knife out of your grip.

“I said, let me go.”

But your voice was weaker, wavering with the wave of arousal that washed over you with Joel’s strong body pinning yours.

“I don’t think you really mean that, girl,” he mutters before smashing his lips against yours.

You squeaked in surprise before responding in kind, kissing him like you wanted to steal the breath from his very lungs. The hand gripping your wrists moved them upwards, pinning them above your head as Joel continued to kiss you harshly. Your mind was already spinning, and he was just kissing you.

Joel pulled away from you and released your wrists, “Turn around.”

Even though you wanted to submit to Joel, you didn’t want him to know that. You were one of the strongest smugglers in the business, and despite wanting to get on your knees for him the first time you saw him, you refused to look weak. So, you shook your head stubbornly, standing your ground.

He glared at you, “Not gonna ask again. Turn. Around.”

“Make me.”

He clenched his jaw again, grabbing you roughly and spinning you around, pressing your front against the cold brick. You gasped softly at his show of strength, feeling warmth growing between your thighs.

“Such a fuckin brat,” Joel muttered, and you heard his belt buckle clink, “gonna have to fuck that out of you.”

You whimpered softly, the stubbornness suddenly fading away as your arousal grew. You needed Joel to take you.

“Take off your pants.”

This time, you listened, unbuttoning your jeans and dragging down the zipper. Joel groaned audibly when you shoved them down your ankles along with your panties, exposing your ass to him.

“Such a sexy fuckin ass,” he slapped each of your cheeks harshly, making you squeal.

“J-joel, please,” you gasped as he ran his fingers teasingly through your wet folds.

You could feel him smirk behind you, “So fuckin wet. Who’s it for?”

“Y-you, Joel. For you.”

“Damn right it is,” he growled before stuffing his length into your pussy.

You cried out in pain and pleasure. You had always imagined he was big, and even though you hadn’t seen his cock, you could certainly feel that you were correct. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, setting a punishing pace right from the get-go. You moaned his name again, and he slapped his hand over your mouth.

“I told you to shut up. Someone’s gonna catch us if you keep bein so damned loud.”

You couldn’t cover up the way you whimpered into his hand at the thought.

He chuckled darkly, “Oh, so you’d like that? Fuckin slut.”

His other hand grabbed your hip, keeping you as steady as possible underneath his powerful thrusts. Your mind was fuzzy, moaning Joel’s name into his hand. Even though it was muffled, he could hear you clearly.

“Love hearin you moan my name, girl,” he groaned, “thought about this for so long. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve come with your name on my lips.”

You sobbed at that, your own nights spent rubbing your clit with Joel’s face swimming in your mind coming to your memory.

“You though of me like that before, girl?”

You nodded and you felt him smirk behind you, “Yeah? Wanted this old man to pound your perfect pussy?”

You nodded again, whining a muffled “please” into his hand.

“What you beggin for, slut? Need to come for me?”

You couldn’t answer. His cock pistoning in and out of you took every word out of your mouth.

Joel chuckled again, “It’s okay. I know what you need. Pussy’s squeezin me so fuckin tight, know you need to come. Need you to hold your hand over your mouth now.”

You did as he said, clamping your hand over your mouth as soon as his left it. His thick fingers approached your cunt, and Joel rubbed your clit with a single stroke. That was all it took to have you sobbing, your orgasm crashing over you in waves that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

He pulled out of you, “Get on your knees, girl. Can’t cum in that cunt so I will in that pretty little mouth.”

You listened, your knees scratching the hard ground as you opened your mouth for him. Now you got your first look at his cock, and your mouth watered. It was fucking huge. Joel gave his cock a few teasing strokes, relishing in your desperation.

“Please, Joel,” you begged, “need your cock.”

He smirked, “Then take it.”

He stuffed his cock between your lips, and you whined, eyes falling shut as his length filled your throat and you tasted yourself on him.

Joel reached down and harshly gripped your chin, “Open your eyes while I cum in your pretty mouth.”

You wrenched your eyes open, tears pricking your vision as he roughly used your mouth for his pleasure.

“Shit, baby, gonna cum.”

That was all the warning you got before he spilled into your mouth. You swallowed every drop, moaning at the salty taste hitting your tongue. You opened your mouth for him when he pulled out, showing that you swallowed every drop. Joel pulled you to your feet and kissed you once more, this one a bit less animalistic, but still not what you’d call sweet.

He pulled away and said, “I’ll cut you a deal. You join up with me and Tess instead of stealing our clients, and I’ll fuck you like that as often as you’d like.”

You didn’t need any time to think about that one, “Deal.”

[lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit]

I'm so glad I found your account! You guys are very talented <33

I know canonically Mortdecai isn't, uh, amazing with kids but what if a Marigold members daughter started hanging around the building (like Ivy did when she was younger) and she reminded Mortdecai of one of his sisters (Esthers moodiness or Roses cheeriness)? I'd love some headcanons about the scenario^^

I wasn't going to write this until later but I absolutely had to jump ahead of schedule and write this because it nagged at my mind almost all week. You even started an AU for the other mods and I, anon. This little idea is so tasty and adfghfgferhrj

You are the biggest brain and I hope you don't mind that me and Iphiko (and maybe even Rory!) had a little taste of this drink ourselves first. Different bottle, don't worry, we haven't touched any of what's in your hand right now

Also thank you so much for your kind words! I'm really glad you guys are enjoying these things (as if the inbox flooding wasn't proof enough), it makes us Lackadaisy Moonshiners so happy and gives me an excuse to keep writing. You're all awesome!

At first, it almost stings. He still remembers Ivy, after all; her wandering around following Viktor or whoever caught her eye whenever she could. It was cute. Adorable, even.

But Mordecai seems to be the target of this little beast's attention. And no amount of waving her off, gently pushing her away with his foot or annoyed threats will get her to pick someone else.

The Savoys are enamored with the little bugger. Serafine started calling her "Bébé Couteau" (Baby Knife) after being allowed to teach her some knife tricks (why Asa let them put a knife in the hands of a kitten, Mordecai will never know) and Nico picked up the habit of startling the little girl by picking her up and spinning with her...Which slowly evolved into throwing her across the bloody bar into Serafine's arms after an accident that resulted in the kitten getting yeeted by a distracted Nico (apparently she loved it (and to Serafine's credit, she ran like Hell to catch her); so it's not exactly safe but it's okay??)

Several speakeasy attendees mistake her to be Mordecai's kitten since she's always hanging around him (and especially so if she's a Tuxedo cat). It probably doesn't help that he loudly objects to the twins throwing the kitten back and forth like a football and has even ripped her out of their arms once or twice

They also (correctly) assume that he calls the shots when it comes to her. If she's making trouble or is heading somewhere that she shouldn't be, someone has to work up the courage to tell that ferocious shadow of Asa's. It's him, the queen cat that looks like she's constantly considering stabbing you or the heartthrob at the bar vicious son of a bitch who always looks like he knows that he's better than you

It's an unspoken rule between the three that Mordecai's word is law when it comes to the kitten. He hates this and is sure that they just use this as another excuse to tease him.

Asa scares the Hell out of the poor little thing. He tried greeting her once and she burst into tears and ran to Mordecai so he could protect her. The twins thought this was hysterical: the kitten adores the ground Mordecai walks on, laughs at Serafine's threats and thinks Nico throwing her at a soft target as hard as he can is the bee's knees; but Asa Sweet-the big fat cat with the softest features out of all of them-scares the living daylights out of her.

Mordecai thinks the kitten has a good judge of character sometimes. If it wasn't for her love of the chaotic duo he'd say that out loud

They brought the kitten along to a "meeting" once when she were sick with a fever. She cried when Mordecai left the car and Serafine refused to leave until she was comforted or at least sleeping, so (after some arguing and sweet-talking) Mordecai went back for her. When he didn't leave the vehicle for a few minutes, the Savoys went on without him.

They came back to find him reading a book, the kitten snuggled up against his side and sound asleep tucked under his coat and arm. The soft look in Morde's eye told Nico that maybe this wasn't the time to be teasing him.

This didn't stop Serafine. Mordecai hasn't heard the end of that event. (Asa also gave him some Hell for leaving the twins to do the dirty work, but Serafine and Nico shut him down pretty quickly-they found whatever crate he wanted, no witnesses are around to tell the tale, the job was done just fine and the kitten needed him more than they did. Shut up, Mr. Sweet.)

Whoever's daughter the kitten is, they'd better learn to deal with Mordecai becoming her guardian angel of death. If she doesn't have a parent and just wandered in somehow, she's gonna end up with something better: an aunt that'll teach her to kill and how to stay strong, an uncle that'll toss her around like a hot potato and teach her to be fearless and another uncle that'll pretend to not care for her until someone looks at her the wrong way.

Mordecai, Serafine and Nico. Probably the worst-fitting cats to be any kind of parental figures, yet ones that will guard a mutually-adopted kitten until their final breaths-whether they'll admit to it or not.

[xxmyhomexx]

SONG OF THE CRIMSON NILE: Danger

I have a fan theory now because of the new update. Amen and Eva get their happy ending with their two children, their 15-year-old daughter Bahiti and 11-year-old son Zahur.

Ramesses is now in charge of training people in the dark arts, Livius works as a personal healer, Agnia still works alongside Amen, and Amen and Eva have a happy marriage. Unfortunately, Remmao is still out there on the run from the hunters.

Eva and Amen believe he's dead because of how many years have passed, but he surprisingly shows up one. He finds out Eva has two children, and he ends up going after the family. He decides to go after Bahiti because she's their only daughter. He sees she looks just like Amen, similar in face but with long white hair and big milky blue eyes. She's gorgeous and the perfect target...or so he thinks.

Bahiti stays up in bed late one night reading from an old magic tome, a usual routine because of her love for reading. Unfortunately, Remmao sneaks up behind her while she reads.

"Keep quiet," he warns her. "Or I'll cut out your tongue right now."

"Who..." Bahiti demands. "Who are you?"

"Ah," Remmao smirks. "Your mother's never mentioned me, has she?"

"Wait..." Bahiti panics. "You're...her old mentor!"

Remmao laughs. "Clever girl. Now don't speak and things will end rather quickly without so much pain."

"W-wait!" Bahiti pleads. "We...we can make a deal!"

Remmao scoffs. "Oh? And what kind of deal?"

Bahiti's panic masks into that of a cold, calculated teenager. "The kind of deal that has YOUR tongue being cut out!"

In a flash, she rips a hidden knife from the robe of her night clothes and stabs him in the thigh. Remmao screams, causing him to drop his own knife that she catches and stabs him in the other thigh, forcing him on his knees.

"AAAGH!" Remmao screams. Bahiti glares down at him, grabbing his chin and forcing his mouth open.

"Did you really think my family didn't warn us about you?" She spits. "You have some nerve showing up."

Remmao gurgles as she forces the sharp end of her dagger into his mouth.

"You overestimated your success," Bahiti smirks. "First, NEVER sneak up on the daughter of the Supreme Epistates. Second, that dagger you tried to stab me with...I could smell what was on it before you even snuck up on me."

Remmao's jaw flexes and his amber eyes bug. The poison...how could she have...

"You used too much," Bahiti shrugs. "And that's not even poison...it's a paralysis elixir. It only paralyzes your victim for two minutes, but in your case you coated your knife in an entire bottle.

Remmao looked down at his thigh where his own knife was embedded. In seconds, he could no longer feel his muscles or his hands, not anything! He groaned as Bahiti stepped back, falling onto his back. In one swift move, he watched as she grabbed the hilt of the knife and yanked it out.

"Agh!" His tongue felt swollen as she flung it to the side.

"FATHER!" Bahiti shouts. "HE'S IN HERE!"

The door bursts open and Amen comes running inside. He stands right over Remmao's crumpled body, pleased that his family pulled off something as easy as this. Eva comes running inside as well, past her husband and toward her daughter.

"Oh my baby!" She grabs her and nestles her in her arms. "Are you ok? Did he hurt you?!"

In her arms, Bahiti slumps forward. She shakes her head. "No...I'm ok."

Two hunters enter the room as Amen flings Remmao toward them.

"Take him to the tower," he orders. "Let him face justice there."

Remmao groans as he's escorted out. Amen sighs as he turns to Eva and Bahiti. He kneels before her, cupping her face.

"You were so brave," he smiles.

However, her face crumbles and fresh tears pour down her cheeks. "I...I was still scared!"

She wraps her arms around his neck.

"It's over now," Eva promises. "You're safe. You and your brother both."

"Mom? Dad?" They all turn to see Zahur peaking inside. "Is it over? Did you get him?"

"Yes. We did."

Zahur runs over as Amen holds him close. Eva smiles.

"This is what it means to be brave," she tells them. "Sometimes you both must fight your own battles."

[hopenight]

Let’s Talk About Velora, Vax, and Vex

One relationship that has always low-key fascinated me (and simultaneously warmed my cold dead heart) is that between Vex and Vax and their half-sister, Velora. 

It’s not a relationship that is really explored in much depth in the campaign proper. She appears for like 15 minutes of game time, is generally adorable, and the twins know about her and have a relationship with her. One that is very warm and some sort of balance between like sibling and vaguely paternal. It’s that weird sort of dynamic that happens when you’re so much older than your sibling. 

But it’s very sweet. And then she shows up in the final episodes of the campaign because why not twist that knife in a little more? But she’s not mentioned much outside of those instances. 

Even so, I think the dynamic between the three of them and this includes the Legend of Vox Machina is still really fascinating and, again, extremely heartwarming along with saying a lot about the twins’ character in that while they aren’t nice people, they are kind people. 

In the campaign, the twins are interested in seeing Velora. In fact, they are genuinely happy to see her. Vex picks her up and puts her on her lap. They tell her about how Scanlan takes magic blue shits. Vex gives her an owlbear feather to match her plushie. And at some point previously, they gave her some sort of special necklace. 

Velora is so excited to see them both. And it’s clear that she’s not a “proper” elven girl. Or what we would image them to be. Matt calls her a bit of a tomboy and Vax encourages her to “keep scraping up those knees”. She’s mischievous and listens to what they have to say.

And it’s clear that however shitty a father Syldor was to the pair of them, and he was a shitty father, that any animosity toward him is never put on Velora. And, yeah, you should never hold the sins of a parent against the child, but given how much Syldor shit on their beloved mother? A little resentment wouldn’t have been out of line for the plot.

But no, in the first campaign, they adore Velora and probably consider her the only good part of their father. 

Something to keep in mind, however, is that in the first campaign, they’ve known of her for awhile. They’re re-meeting her. 

In The Legend Of Vox Machina, it’s changed into a first meeting. We see how the twins react to their sister upon first meeting her. And their immediate reaction is one of utter love. Vex gives her her iconic feather. Vax says that never meeting her would be “a travesty”. 

In the show, in particular, they really build up how Vex wanted her father’s approval. And here’s a little girl who has what she always wanted, her father’s love. But not even for a second does she get upset with Velora for that. It’s her little sister, why would she?

And it even shows that, again, while the problem is clearly Syldor, it never went to the other people in the household. Vax and Vex great their stepmother warmly and seem to have a good relationship with her. 

Ultimately, it shows that the twins are kind characters over nice characters. And what I mean is that they don’t much care for manners or social niceties outside the moments where they have to do those things. But, when it comes down to them, they have a lot of empathy and kindness and want to have relationships with others.

In contrast, Syldor is presumably a “nice” character. By “nice”, I mean he does the social niceties that is expected of him, but without any understanding or deeper level of emotion behind them. And it leaves him looking cold and callous as a result.

I don’t know. I just think that the twins relationship with Velora is neat and would like to see more of it.

[allthingsfangirl101]

The One That Got Away–Kurt Kunkle

A/N: It's concerning how many requests I've gotten for more Kurt imagines.

I stormed out of the bar, practically fuming. I grabbed my phone and instantly ordered a car. Once it was ordered, I wrapped my arms around myself.

"Y/N!"

"Go away, Alex."

"Just let me explain," he stuttered.

"I don't really want to hear how you got that girl to stick her tongue down your throat," I groaned.

"Baby, please," Alex sighed. He grabbed my hand, but the second he turned me around, I slapped him.

"We're done," I spat out. I started to walk away but he grabbed me again. I gasped in pain as he pulled me into his chest.

"Not until you let me explain," he sneered.

"Hey!"

We looked over to see a car pulled over. "I have a rideshare for Y/N."

I pushed Alex off me and walked to the car. The tears streamed down my face as the guy looked between me and Alex.

"Is he coming too or. . ."

"No," I cut him off. "He's not."

The guy nodded before finally pulling away from the bar. I angrily wiped at the tears on my face.

"You know," the guy cleared his throat, "he's an ass."

"You got that right," I scoffed.

"My name's Kurt," he introduced. "The water in the cup holders is up for grabs."

"Thank you," I sighed. I grabbed a water and instantly look a large drink. I slowly pulled it away when I noticed it tasted a little funny. As I examined the label, things started to get fuzzy.

                                * * * * *

I woke up and the first thing I noticed was the feeling of being strapped down. I could feel the panic rising. I tried to sit up but all I could see was what looked like a hotel room.

"Hello?" I called out shakily.

"You're awake."

His voice sent chills down my spine. And not the good kind. I gasped when he crawled on top of me, straddling my hips.

"What do you want?" I asked shakily.

"It's pretty simple," he chuckled.

My breath got caught in my throat when Kurt leaned down, his face inches from mine.

"I'm going to enjoy this," he whispered as he brought the knife up and pressed the side of the blade to my throat.

"Wait," I gasped.

Kurt froze above me, his smirk slowly dropping. I had a plan but it was insane. Then again, so was this rideshare driver. I tilted my chin up, but I wasn't close enough.

Please don't make me say it.

"What are you doing?" Kurt whispered.

He's going to make me say it.

"Kiss me."

I internally cringed and struggled to hold back vomit as he slowly smirked. I can't believe this was turning him on! What the hell is wrong with this freak?

Kurt moaned before dropping the knife and roughly pressing his lips to mine. He didn't hold back. Which just made this all feel worse.

As our lips moved in sync, his hands explored my body. I was going to have to boil every inch of myself after this. No shower or vodka would be strong enough.

"Baby," I moaned as I broke the kiss. "Untie me. Please, baby. Then we can have some real fun."

I gasped but covered it up with a moan as he pressed his lips roughly to mine. As we kissed messily, he reached up and undid my hands. I grabbed his face and pulled him away from me. Before he could say anything, I pulled him down to me and started kissing his neck.

He chuckled darkly again as he reached down and started to untie my legs. As soon as my right leg was free, I brought my knee up.

Hard.

Kurt groaned in pain. I pushed him off of me, causing him to roll off the bed. I sat up and quickly untied my other leg. The second I was free, I ran.

I ran out of the hotel room, running down the hallway. I got outside and ran toward the office. When I roughly pushed open the door, the lady behind the counter and the family checking in looked at me like I was crazy.

"Help me," I stuttered. "Please. You have to help me."

Six Months Later

I walked into the prison, my legs barely keeping me up. People thought I was crazy for visiting the man who drugged me, kidnapped me, and almost killed me. But not knowing was driving me crazy too.

"Open on 7!"

"I'll be here the hole time," the guard Simpson whispered. "He won't touch you."

"Thank you," I stuttered. He gently put his hand on my back and escorted me through the door.

When I saw him sitting at a table in orange, my heart jumped into my throat.

"Hey, baby," he smirked at me. He started to stand up but Simpson instantly forced him back down.

"Stay on your ass, Kinkie," he warned.

"It's Kunkle," Kurt sighed.

"Like it matters," Simpson scoffed.

"Although Kinkie works too," I laughed.

Kurt angrily grunted and tried to charge me again. Simpson instantly stopped him.

"Now, shut up and let the pretty lady yell at you," Simpson said, nodding towards me.

"Careful," Kurt warned him. "She likes to go for the nuts."

"Damn, you're an asshole," Simpson mumbled. He sent me a look before rolling his eyes. I took a deep breath before sitting across from Kurt. Just like Simpson promised, he stayed behind Kurt the whole time.

"Why?"

"Why what?" Kurt chuckled.

"Why'd you do it?" I asked, suddenly not afraid of him anymore. "Drugging the water, kidnapping, torture, who knows what else. Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?" He laughed. "The fame!"

"You're sick," I said through my teeth. He fake pouted but slowly smirked. He reached for my hands but I stood up.

"I hope you rot in here you sick son of a bitch."

[beetoo]

SWEAR ON IT SINCLAIR ✧ :: part one

[2120 Words] | WATTPAD | AO3 | [next chapter]

❝ What happened the night of Enid and Ajax's date? ❞

a/n: it's been a minute since i last wrote. i hope this reaches the heart of wenclair stans and it help fills the a bit of our endless desperation for more wenclair content.

With tears rolling down her cheeks, Enid weakly climbs into her room with defeat weighing her shoulders. Her outfit once bright and shimmering like her personality is now sullied with dirt and grim. Her nails dirtied with paint and metal. At the closure of her window's door, she collapsed into it, slowly falling into a ball of dreary disappointment and dismay.

Wednesday, trying to ignore this performance of the year going on behind her tried to keep typing but Enid's presence weighted heavy on her mind and fingers that soon came to a halt due to unforeseen fatigue. Wednesday pressed her lips together while she lifts her hands away from the typewriter and onto her lap. Her emotional tantrums are so annoying. They weigh too much on the little empathy I have, it's ridiculous. Thing taps on the desk, edging Wednesday to do something. "You need to comfort her!" Thing signs in desperation and evident disbelief. Wednesday gave thing a clear look that said: 'Do I look like someone who knows how to comfort someone?' Thing rose his imaginary eyebrow, leaned towards one side and put a finger on his 'hip'. "Since when did Wednesday Addams care about that?"

With a sign of defeat, Wednesday finally broke the heavy silence in the room. "So do I need to go staple his heart on his doorframe and hang his head at the entrance of Nevermore?" Enid sobs even harder. Wednesday stands from her chair and walks over to the crying girl. Standing tall above her, she asks, "Enid what can I do to stop you from crying? It's annoying. And cutting into my writing time." The girl in pink chuckles and wipes her tears away. "Wednesday, you are still so bad at comforting people."

"Well I told you before you left I would do that if he hurts you." Wednesday retorts, a little irked her efforts were judged.

"He didn't hurt me Wednesday, I hurt myself. I shouldn't have expected much from him anyways, it's not like he was even worth my time."

"You do that a lot."

"Do what?"

"Put others before yourself. And blame yourself and complain when you can't meet the expectations you set up for yourself."

"Well, geez Wednesday if I wanted a therapy session I would have just booked one with Kinbott and not with you and your terribly, front, truths."

Wednesday didn't retort back. It's true, why settle for empty words of advice whose only goal is to shut her up for the night when you can have an eerily creepy woman tell you everything wrong you're doing in life and why you should spill all your secrets to her so she can psychoanalyze you and tell you things you already know. Hmm. Definitely the better option indeed.

The girl painted black sat next to the sobbing girl, of course a good meter away. Hiding her face into her knees Wednesday found herself contemplating what the next thing to say should be. She heeded her words knowing well how deeply they can hurt others--except now she actually cared if it did.

Thing had already made his way into Enid's arms, caressing a part of her wrists in an attempt to comfort Enid. What a hopeless case. What I'd do for a shot of cyanide right now.

Wednesday scotches close to the two, awkwardly sitting there with her knees in her chest and arms dissatisfied with the distance between them. Knowing Enid, Wednesday was aware that the best thing she could do right now is offer Enid a hug or simply let her rest her head onto the shorter girl's shoulder, however the apparent skinship made it impossible for Wednesday to initiate that on her own and wishing Enid would simply ask for a knife to cut Ajax into bits and pieces. Life sure was full of suffering and despair, but this was the kind Wednesday was not accustomed to, nor the kind she enjoyed.

"I'm sorry Wednesday, I know you're trying to comfort me and even if it sucks I really appreciate it. But can you just, leave me alone? Please? I want to rot in peace right now." With a sniffle and a creak on the wood floors, Enid takes Thing and puts him on the floor, stood up and slumped into her bed. Normally I encourage rotting. Wednesday scoffs.

"You're not even going to tuck yourself in?" Wednesday scrunches her nose in disgust. "Enid you're letting the outside dirt get all over your bed. Not even murderers would sleep in their outside clothes, what a crime."

Standing up, Wednesday walks into their shared bathroom and grabs a clean washcloth, wets it, and picks up Enid's favorite PJ's from her drawers.

"Wednesday what are you doing--" Her face was met with a warmth and moisture.

"Smothering you. It's long due." Wednesday gently rubs off Enid's ruined make up along with her tears. Last I told my own mother I would never live up to her dreams of becoming a mother. Here I am being one to this tiresome little pup.

After taking off the last of the debris and tears, Wednesday hands her a dry cloth along with her PJ's. "Change."

Enid looked at Wednesday and her arms stretched out with her favorite PJ's, surprised yet not that she knew which one it was. Enid sniffles once more and smiles, taking her clothes along with Wednesday's hand and pulls her into a tight hug, with Wednesday on top of Enid. Wednesday hid her face into Enid's comforter dizzy from Enid's scent and flabbergasted by the physical touch and warmth that contrasted her unusually cold skin. Admittedly, she liked it.

"Thank you, Wednesday." She breathes out, right into Wednesday's ear making them bright red. As the two pull apart, Wednesday loomed over Enid with a new expression Enid wasn't familiar to. With her face flustered and disoriented, Wednesday rushes to stand up and away from the werewolf, hand over her mouth to cover her ever growing red luster.

"Swear to me. Swear on it, Sinclair, don't ever do that. Or I will promise you your hands will join that household cleaner's head on the front gates of Nevermore." With that Wednesday rushes to close the lights of her room and tucked herself into bed.

Enid, didn't think too much of it until she found herself in her bathroom, changing into her pajamas. 'That was weird. I've never seen that kind of expression on Wednesday before--maybe she really is allergic to color. I mean she was pretty red... NO WAY. ' Being only half-way dressed, Enid realized. "NO WAY."

Frantically putting her shirt on, Enid rushed to Wednesday's bed, muttering, "No way no way no way no way no way..." She halted once she found Wednesday sleeping, facing away from her. "Wednesday."

Silence.

"Wednesday!"

Silence again.

She looked for Thing, who was at the desk, flicking on the light. He signs to Enid, "What ever you're thinking, I'm for it."

Enid was truly a brave soul. She'd forgotten about her problem with Ajax, as something more amusing and important finally made it's way into her mind that seemingly was around from the beginning but was never acknowledged until this moment. Enid sits on the edge of Wednesday's bed, watching Wednesday squirm away from any contact with Enid's body.

She snickers, "You like me, don't you? Have I grown on you Addams?"

"Never, not in a million years, Sinclair."

"Can I sleep here tonight, Addams?"

"Not in a million years, Sinclair. Do you have a death wish? I have a knife under my pillow."

"So if I waited here for a million years, that's a yes?"

"Enid--"

"I don't want to sleep alone tonight, Wednesday. Please."

"Can't I just gouge his heart out for you?"

"So you're willing to commit homicide for me but not let me sleep in the same bed as you?"

"Yes."

"How romantic."

"That's disgusting, don't ever compare my hobbies to that emotional cocaine, mine is much more productive."

Enid groans. She wasn't having it with this midnight banter. Thing had already switched off the lights and tucked himself into Enid's bed. Even if she's got The Wednesday Addams for a roommate, that doesn't scare away her monsters in her little werewolf brain. "Wednesday I can't go back to my bed now, the monsters are going to get me." She whines.

"I thought we've established monsters feared me most, why would they dare touch you?"

That was almost sweet. "See you almost say the most romantic things and then you don't. Why do I find that annoyingly cute."

"You find me cute?" Wednesday sits up, meeting Enid eye to eye. "Like a well-preserved corpse?" With the moonlight being the only source of light, Enid could see Wednesday's curious expression shone against her pale skin. She is so cute but so weird. Enid thought. I just got my heartbroken, man I move fast. Am I a girl boss now? Wait--

"Wait--a well-preserved corpse?" Enid retorts, snapping out of her thoughts.

"There is so much beauty in the dead, Enid. Your obsession with the living and their deeds and details are the reason you lack in understanding of that."

"That's rich coming from you. Your lack of understanding with the living along with your denial will eat you alive."

"What are you insinuating, Sinclair?"

"You like me, Addams."

"I would happily throw your body off the terrace simply for that rude accusation."

"So if you didn't like me, why won't you let me sleep with you tonight?"

"I just don't want you to."

"Why not?"

"Why can't you just sleep in your own bed?"

"Thing is sleeping on it already!"

"Throw him out the window."

"Wednesday! Please? It would be very comforting if you let me sleep with you for the night. Just one night! It'll help me forget about Ajax." Enid gave Wednesday her puppy eyes that she couldn't resist. Wednesday doesn't say a word, but scotches towards one side of the bed to give Enid more space.

Enid lifts the comforter and lies down. She's overwhelmed by Wednesday's scent, like running into a field of violets, with the hint of musk from the forest wood. She smells like home, to Enid. The safest place on Earth and the most at peace she'll ever be.

Wednesday turns around to check on Enid to see if she was asleep. Mother always said curiosity killed the cat. I wish it were the same for me at this moment. The two shared a thought in this moment. When their own two eyes met, feeling the warmth of their bodies radiating from each other, and hearing the other's heart beat of their chest.

Nothing else happened in this moment besides their eyes slowly giving in to fatigue and eventually sleeping soundly. The two were both comforted by their new found feelings for one another. Unspoken but known. Unacknowledged but recognized. The two knew they were important to each other and that was enough to describe their relationship.

However, this was not the same once morning drew more light into their room, and Wednesday was engulfed into a hug by the werewolf.

She pretended not to move or know. She listened while Enid panics to take her hands off Wednesday only to put it back on her and pull the other girl into a tighter hug. Mischief pursued the heart of Enid, but teasing Wednesday at the beginning of their day together was definitely not a smart move on her end.

The blonde knew the other girl was awake. With a smirk plastered on her face, Enid pulls Wednesday a little closer and whispers, "Good morning, Wednesday." into her ear and watched the other girl fume bright red, hiding her face into her beddings and kicking Enid out.

With a loud laugh, Enid left triumphantly to get ready while Wednesday is left in bed to contemplate her symptoms of heart failure. "Am I dying? Why am I experiencing tachycardia and diaphoresis this early in the morning when it's freezing outside and I am cold? I should stitch that witch's lips closed. I've been cursed."

Wednesday cackles quietly to herself, possibly giving in to delirium due to the lack of proper sleep. "Might as well play her game too."

Ready for the day, the two girls were about to exit the door, Wednesday grabs Enid by the wrist gently and tugs her back into the room. Closing the door behind her, Enid was suddenly pushed to the door with Wednesday looking up at her.

"Enid, do me a favor, and figure yourself out." Wednesday put a hand on the back of Enid's neck. "I will not let you meddle with my feelings so carelessly." She pulls her in the a gentle kiss then pulling away and letting the hand that was on Enid's neck fall to Enid's stomach--using it to push her into the door more.

"Can you swear on it, Sinclair?"

[ next chapter ]

[lokidottir1308]

A nightmare before ghostface died

Billy Loomis x reader x Stu Macher

Warnings: the usual warnings for scream (mentions of death, gore), Billy is the best friend and Stu the love interest

How long had you known Billy and Stu? Twelve years? Fourteen maybe? You couldn’t remember, but it was a hell of a long time. The three of you went through preschool to Highschool together, so you were bound to be close to them.

You remembered the day you met them, three little kids brought together through their parents. Your parents were close with Billy‘s and Stu‘s since they’d known each other since college.

To be fair, the boys were always little troublemakers together, but it got ten times worse once you joined their friend group. You were always out, doing mischief with them. Your parents could barely keep up.

Eventually, all of you got into Highschool together. Billy met his girlfriend, Sidney, and you dated Randy for a while. It didn’t work out in the end but you stayed close friends. You also met Tatum, who grew quite close to Stu but they never got together.

You were a horror geek like he was, hence why you worked in the same store. It was a good thing, too, because ever since a mysterious serial killer had appeared, you didn’t feel safe walking home alone anymore and he loved keeping you company.

Still, you probably weren’t even safe in your own house. Casey Becker and her boyfriend had been killed a few nights ago, and everyone seemed extra on edge.

Dewey, Tatum‘s brother and Woodsboro‘s sheriff, questioned every student that went to your school. Apparently, everyone was a suspect until proven differently.

Dewey was quick to cross you out as a suspect since you were working with Randy at the time. Your manager confirmed your alibi.

"I can’t believe Dewey actually suspected us." You complained to Sidney. "He‘s just doing his job. It’s not like he can just rule us out because he knows us."

"I know, I know. But I can’t imagine one of us doing something like that. I mean, imagine if they suspected Billy or Stu." You laughed, making Sidney chuckle along with you.

Later that night, you fell asleep on your couch…

Stu was standing in a room with Sidney, a knife and a ghostface mask in his hand and a vase in hers. She threw a vase at him which he dodged, afterwards throwing a TV at his head, electrocuting him to death.

The scene started to blur before you see Billy looking inside a closet, watching a TV in confusion. He turned around right as Sidney brought a knife close to his chest, stabbing him twice.

He fell to his knees, lifelessly lying on the floor…

You awoke with a startle once the phone starts ringing. Your eyes searched for it before spotting it on the kitchen counter. You stood up and accepted the call, bringing the phone close to your ear.

"Hello?"

"Hello, darling. What are you doing?"

"I was asleep until you so rudely interrupted me. Who are you?" Walking towards the kitchen cabinets, you took out a glass and filled it with water.

"You‘ll find out soon enough. Tell me, what’s your name?"

"Why would I talk to a stranger? Did your parents never teach you not to do that?" You took a sip, leaning your back against the kitchen counter.

"I wanna know who I‘m looking at."

"What did you just say?" You froze once you heard those words, your hands shaking in fear.

"Darling, tell me, am I at the front door or the back door?"

Suddenly, the back door crashed open and a masked figure ran into the kitchen. You grabbed the glass bottle beside you and threw it at the figure, hitting their chest.

They groaned in pain as you ran up to them and kneed them in the gut before slamming their head against the freezer. As they lay on their back, disoriented, you pulled the mask from their face.

"I knew it was you. You were pretty obvious. But I‘m kind of hurt you‘d target me." You spoke, crossing your arms over your chest upon looking down at Billy.

"Stu couldn’t bring himself to kill the girl he loved so I had to." He groaned, sitting up. "Did you plan to tell me before I died or did you want me to die thinking you guys liked me?"

"I would have told you." He promised, leaning on his elbows. Suddenly, footsteps appear from the back door, another masked figure entering way more calm.

Upon seeing Billy on the floor and you standing above him, the figure freezes in shock. "It’s okay, Stu. She knows. She figured it out." Billy said, stretching his hand out so you could help him up.

"I had a dream that the two of you were the killers. It’s not like I figured it out just like that." You explained as Stu pulled off his mask. You couldn’t tell if he was proud you figured it out or just shocked.

"So, what now?" Stu asked, looking at Billy quizzically. "Well, either you kill me on the spot which I wouldn’t fine very nice or you could let me join." You suggested.

"You wanna join us?" Billy asked, frowning slightly. "There’s something about the dream I didn’t tell you. I can’t tell you right now either, but I wanna prevent it if I can." You explained.

They agreed to let you join them, though they didn’t force you to do any of the killings. You were able to prevent your dream coming true.

You were sad Sidney had to die, but you would choose your life long best friends over any one any day. After Sidney and Gale were dead, you and the boys moved to another state.

A deceased family member owned a house there, and since it was in your family‘s property, you could hide there for a while. You were glad to find out that Billy didn’t lie to, Stu actually loved you.

You couldn’t believe that, though all of the ups and downs, the three of you were still together and you actually got to be with the guy you‘d been in love with for years.

Years passed. Eventually, you went back to Woodsboro, only to find out that your adventure wasn’t over yet… would you be able to survive another series of ghostfaces that targeted you?

Surely, with both OG‘s on your side, you‘d be able to master every obstacle.

[mydarllinglover]

Alone || Sharing Stories

Previous

"Circle around. Don't let them slip by." Voices whispered, filling the air.

Dog barked at the noise, Natalia grabbed hold of him, keeping him close to her as they tried to find the unknown sounds.

"Keep them together."

"You die now."

Walkers loomed towards them through the rain and fog.

"Go. Now." Michonne ordered, quietly.

A woman with a bandage around her head picked up the mask, whilst Aaron and Daryl lifted Jesus's body, to take back with them to be buried.

Natalia attacked the walkers that got too close to them.

"Go. I'll cover you." Michonne told her, as the others left.

An walker with a knife went to sneak up on Michonne, but Natalia got there quicker, stabbing the female walker in the head.

They both peered down on the "walker." Before meeting each others eye, nodding.

"Come on! Let's go!" Daryl called for them, he then locked the gates of the cemetery behind them.

"So you managed to climb over the gate, huh?" Natalia spoke to Michonne, as they walked, the sun was up, it was the next morning.

"See you managed to find your way back home."

"As you can see, it was a short stay."

"I saw them, the kids, hear Evie's gonna become Enid's second."

"I didn't know that."

"She's a good kid, they all are." Michonne spoke. "The baby, is that..."

"Yep. Archie, Archie Carl, he's ours." Natalia answered.

"Oh, so you guys were busy, in the woods." Michonne smirked at the woman.

"Who are these guys?" She pointed at the two women ahead.

"Yumiko and Magna." Michonne interrupted their muttering to each other.

"Ah, part of the group that my niece brought back."

"You the famous Aunt Nat who would've fought for our stay?" Magna looked over her shoulder at the woman.

"Who the hell would even think about doing this?" Yumiko rambled, passing the mask thing to Magna.

"I suspect some vessel filled with a chunky salsa of abnormal impulses and metastasized rage." Eugene gave his input, as Michonne and Natalia helped him walk.

"It's full on bat-shit." Magna shook her head.

"You think there's more?" Aaron asked.

"Yeah." Daryl nodded, looking around.

"So, what do we do?" Yumiko asked.

"Right now, keep moving." Michonne told her.

Once they got to the horses, they were able to put Jesus across it, to get him back with them.

Daryl looked back at the two women, who were riding the other horse.

"Judith vouched for 'em, so do I." Michonne spoke.

"All right." He grunted.

"It's gonna mean a lot to them." She continued. "Bringin' him back. Burying him."

"Sorry I couldn't do that for you." Daryl apologised, even though Natalia had been pushing onto him that that wasn't his place, and he didn't need to, he never listened.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do it for all of us." Michonne said. "Thank you, both of you. For trying to find him. And... for after."

"What matters now, is that we're together, now, that you were there." Natalia told her.

"Thanks for saving my ass back there." Michonne smiled.

"Just paying back the favour, 'Sides, I wouldn't let my best friend go like that." Natalia returned the smile, holding hands for a brief moment.

Dogs barking started again.

"We got some tails." Magna said.

"The living kind or original recipe?" Eugene asked.

"Let's find out." Daryl decided. "Good Dog."

They had got to a bridge.

Walkers were making their way towards them.

Daryl had shot at their legs, working out which was a walker and which was pretend, he found out as the man let out cries, the walkers quick to take him down for them as they tore the man apart.

A few turned away as others continued forward, then one man brandished his knife, running for Michonne, who sliced off his arm, stabbing him in the chest.

Natalia went for the girl who attempted to walk away, knowing she wouldn't get out of this, she dropped to her knees, hands up in the air.

"Nat! Wait" Daryl stopped her from killing the girl, ripping the mask off, revealing what looked to be a teenager with long dark hair.

"Please..." She sobbed. "Please don't kill me. Please."

Natalia dragged her knife back with her boot, slowly crouching down to pick it up without taking her eyes off the girl.

"How many?" Michonne asked, catching the mask Daryl tossed her.

"Please... you killed them all. It's just me now." The girl cried.

Natalia held her own knife to the girls throat.

"I don't believe you." Michonne spoke for her.

"There ain't no time. We'll take her with us." Daryl spoke, spotting the herd closing in on them.

"Get up, slow." Natalia breathed, grabbing the bit of rope that was handed to her, tying the girls hands together behind her back.

"Hey, you try anything, you won't have to pretend." Michonne threatened.

"Let's go. Come on." Daryl encouraged, taking the girl from his wife's grasp.

They soon made their way back to the Hilltop, the girl had a white bandana around her face, blocking her view as she sat on top of the horse.

The people of Hilltop gathered to welcome their leader back.

Tara and Enid left the house, with the twins following behind the young woman, Archie was on Tara's hip. 

Daryl, Yumiko and Magna helped get Jesus down, as Michonne and Natalia yanked the girl off the horse, dragging her towards the cells.

"This who did it?" Tammy- Rose asked, once the people of Hilltop had realised Jesus's fate, their relief and happiness quickly vanishing

"No. One of her people." Michonne answered.

"You locking her up?" She continued to pester with questions.

"We're getting answers." Tara told her.

"And then what? Tara, Jesus trusted you, so we're all lookin' to you now. But people are gonna want justice for this. And when that time comes, we're gonna look to you for that, too." 

"I know." She promised, following the pair, Daryl had also caught up with them.

"Evie?" Natalia gasped, spotting her daughter in one of the cells, Henry was in the other.

Daryl opened the door, pulling her out.

"Get inside." He told the other girl, pushing her in.

"Daryl?" Henry called.

"Evie, what the hell are you doing here? What are the both of you doing here?" Natalia looked at Henry through the bars as she assessed her daughter.

"Drunk and disorderly, you can either bunk her up with Henry, or call her sentence." Tara told her.

"What's going on?" Henry continued to look for answers.

"Jesus is dead." Daryl spoke, glaring at Evie, she was supposed to be babysitting, and now she's being sentenced for drunk and disorderly, with Henry of all people.

Tara and Michonne dealt with the other girl as Daryl unlocked Henry's door, pushing Evie inside.

"Both of you shut up, we'll talk about this later." He growled, as they turned to watch the interrogation.

"How many more of you are there?" Michonne pressed, when she kept bullshitting.

"They're all dead." She cried. "My family's dead. Please just stop."

"Not until you start answering our questions."

"Your name. Start with your name." Tara said.

"I told you, I don't have one." She answered. "None of us do. None of us did. That's not how it worked."

"How did it work?"

"Why do you wear their skins?" Daryl asked. "Answer!" He demanded, when she was quiet.

"They were good people." She sobbed harder. "We were good. It's what we did to live. That's-- That's all we wanted to do. Live."

"Bullshit." Natalia scoffed.

"Oh, you're saying you had to do this?" Tara asked.

"You wouldn't understand." She shook her head.

"Then make us understand. What the hell were you doing?" Michonne tried again.

"We, we were just trying to see if they were good people, too. But then you attacked us, and now they're dead."

"We attacked you?" Natalia took a step forward. "Sweetheart, we were tryna find our friend, and you and your "good people" ambushed us." 

"They're dead. They're all dead. And I don't have anything." She cried for herself, but no one was buying it.

Michonne clamped a hand on the back of her chair, stopping her from rocking backwards.

"What did your people know about us?" She asked. "Do they know about this place?"

"I don't know."

"Huh?"

"I don't know. I don't know anything. They didn't tell me anything. Please stop asking me. Just leave me alone, please. Please just leave me alone."

They sighed in defeat, leaving the cell's.

"I don't trust a word coming out of her mouth." Michonne started.

"She's a good actor, I'll give her that." Natalia sighed.

"We'll get it out of her." Daryl promised.

"We try again in the morning." Tara decided.

"You'll have to do it without me." Michonne told them. "Taking my people back first thing. Can't risk them not knowing about this back home."

"Okay." Tara nodded. "Thanks, for being here and for helping. That group you brought in, I'm gonna let them know that they can stay. I guess that's my call now. That's what he would've done."

"Thanks, Tara."

She nodded, heading off to go deal with her duties, and to probably go check on her girlfriend.

"Keeping her here is a risk." Michonne told the pair who were still there. "You both know that."

"Yeah, I know."

"Her people, you reckon they'll come for her, I mean, she looks Evie's age, think she's got a parent, someone looking after her?" Natalia asked.

"That's what I'm worried about." Michonne admitted.

"I'll get her to talk." Daryl nodded.

"If she doesn't... You know what you have to do."

"We'll get her to talk." Natalia stepped in. "I'm gonna go check on the kids, you find out what the hell Evie and Henry did last night." Natalia told Daryl, hugging Michonne.

"On it."

"Hey, come meet, Archie, officially." She smiled at her friend, pulling her away.

Rosita had been watching the twins and baby, whilst Siddiq fixed Eugene's knee.

"Mommy!" Daisy called, spotting her as her and Michonne walked into the infirmary.

"Mommy!" Bambi repeated as they both swarmed to hug her.

"Hey, hey guys, hanging out with Aunt Ro and Eugene and Siddiq?"

"Mommy, Siddiq popped Eugene's knee in and it went phew and it cracked and it was so gross!" Daisy smiled excitedly.

"Glad I could be of service of entertainment to your younglings after saving my life, today." Eugene nodded at her.

"Oh, wow, so having fun, then?" Natalia laughed, taking the baby that was handed to her. "Thanks, Rosita, Thanks Eugene."

"'Course, anything for these lil guys." She patted the twins heads. "And that bundle of cuteness."

"Hey, Bam, Daisy, I want you to meet another one of Mommy's friends, this is Aunt Michonne."

"Hi." They waved at her.

"Hey, guys, I used to know you when you were this big." She smiled at Archie.

"Oh, yeah, I remember that." Daisy lied.

"No, you don't." Bambi scowled at her. "Mommy, Daisy's telling fibbers, again."

"Hey, guys, why don't you go find Uncle Aaron, ask him to show you the animals." Natalia told them.

"Okay!"

"My kids, everybody, you gotta love them." Natalia commented, when the girls ran out the door. "Anyway, this is my favourite child, because he can't walk or talk yet."

"Awe, come here, Archie." Michonne let out a sigh, taking the baby, who apparently loved cuddles with everybody, something they discovered very quickly, after getting to The Hilltop.

After Daryl and Natalia left to go rescue Eugene, Tara had begun passing the baby around as though it were a meet and greet back in the day.

"I didn't even know you guys would ever have another kid." Rosita folded her arms across her chest.

"We didn't think we would either, it was an accident, y'know what I mean. But I'm grateful, because of you." She kissed Archie's cheek.

"I think after the third kid, you gotta stop using the accident excuse." Rosita chuckled.

"It was, I swear." She put her hands up. "Y'know, I thought he was a girl the whole time, until I gave birth, the lil sneak."

"How did you and Daryl manage that, that's really dangerous, Nat." Michonne told her.

"Oh, Daryl wasn't there, just me, I was in a cabin, so it was fine, and Evie left to go find him and the twins, but it was fine, we're both alive, and I've dealt with worse, it was a piece of cake."

"Have yet to work out if you are terrifying or truly an amazement." Siddiq shook his head.

"I prefer being acknowledged as both." She shrugged.

"Neither of 'em will talk." Daryl told her, catching up, after putting the two teens back in their joint cell.

They were watching Aaron show the twins the horses, Natalia hugged Archie to her.

"Really?" She asked.

"Yup, won't give me names, where they got it from, but they're real sorry, think Henry's more sorry than Eve, she was more pissed at him."

"Good to know, we really gonna leave her in there?"

"Rules of the Hilltop, she wanted to come here and get lit first chance she got, that's her problem."

"Yeah, you're right, I just, I can't believe she would do something like that, y'know? We didn't raise her like that, hell, I think the last time I had alcohol, was the day before I met her."

"You mean, when we had spaghetti instead of going to that party, an' you got hammered."

"In my defence, it was my birthday." She ignored Daryl's furrowed brows at her confession, changing the topic, quickly. "What are we gonna do about that girl? The other one."

"I'll talk to her, find out what she knows." Daryl shrugged, taking Archie out of her arms. "And if that fails, thinking maybe you could. You're the best judge of character we got."

"I don't want to trust her, I don't want to figure her out and find out why she's walking around with walker faces on, unless it's something that's gonna harm us or our people."

"But you do want to." He finished her train of thought. "She's a kid, and something's nagging at you, I know."

"I think you know me a bit too well." She folded her arms across her chest. "It kinda bugs me actually, If I'm being honest." 

Jesus's funeral was held the next day, it was a tough conversation to have with the twins, especially considering they would have to explain that the man they met with the funny name, just the day before, had come back dead, and what a funeral even was.

But for two five year olds, they had managed to stay very respectful, listening carefully and being quiet throughout the whole sermon, even though Daryl and Natalia were mourning their friend, they were both very proud of the twins, they just hoped this was the last funeral they would be attending.

After, Daryl had left to go deal with the girl in the cell, to get some answers.

After setting Archie down for a nap, and giving the girls an activity, she found Daryl sat outside the cell window.

She took a seat beside him, hearing three voices talking.

"I'm Henry, she's Evie."

"Henry, my dad's seriously going to kill you if you don't shut up." Evie's voice hissed.

"Evie relax, he's not here. No reason to be rude to her." Henry told her.

"I'm Lydia." The girl ignored her worry.

"My parents, they don't wanna hurt you, they're good people too, but, your people gave us a reason to feel threatened, just be honest with my dad, and it'll turn out better for you." Evie told her. "If not, then it's only self defence."

Daryl and Natalia silently low-fived, that was their girl.

They had sat out there most of the day, listening to the three teens talk, how Lydia opened up, told them her story.

When Natalia returned from checking on the kids, Daryl would quietly fill her in on anything important, but only when he felt he had to.

"I remember that look in his eye. Still see it. How cold it is. Was." Lydia corrected herself, telling them about her father. "Why am I even telling you two this?"

"Beats the quiet. Beats being alone."

"Alone, seriously?" Evie scoffed.

"I've never been alone." Lydia continued. "My people travelled in groups with the dead. I miss the sounds... the smell..."

"Not gonna lie, walking around in dead people's skins is pretty messed up."

"I've been covered in guts of the dead, and I would still prefer that over wearing their faces." Evie kicked something as she sighed.

"Thinking this place isn't gonna fall like every other place... that's messed up."

"It's not, because it won't, these people worked hard for this, they didn't take any easy routes out." The blonde got defensive, She had also dealt with shit during the war, things she couldn't forget.

"Evie, chill out." Henry told her.

"Your dad's an asshole like mine." Lydia spoke up. "All you did was sneak out. Is it even that hard? Are there a lot of guards posted here?"

"We're not dumb enough to fall for that." Evie raised a brow. "And my dad's not an asshole. You're just a stranger, he's an actual good person."

"Your dad doesn't even wanna be here, he's only doing it for your mom and my mom." Henry told her. "That's why he had you living in the woods for years, with your sisters and brother."

"That's not why." She scowled at him again.

"I thought you said both your moms died." Lydia stood up, looking at the pair as they sat on opposite sides of the small bed.

"Second mom, I mean." Henry corrected. "They're both tough. Not somebody you want to mess with."

"I used to call mine my back up." Evie scoffed, "She's been my mom longer than my real mom was, same with my dad, I barely remember them, my first dad, he used to have a crush on my mom, and so did my second dad, guess he got it in favour that the first died in her arms." She laughed.

"Hey, what happened to your dad?" Henry asked Lydia.

"My dad was a stupid man. My mom, though, she kept me alive. Kept me safe. She's a lot like your mom's. You don't mess with her, either."

They had no choice but to interfere when Henry started talking about the Kingdom, even when Evie kept telling him to shut up.

"Hey. What's going on?" Henry asked.

"You been pardoned." Natalia told him, unlocking the door of the cell door. "Both of you. Let's go."

"Mom." Evie started.

"Let's go." She pushed both of them forward.

Daryl was waiting for him at the top, grabbing hold of the boy and yanking him forward.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" He circled the boy. "Huh? Telling her about the Kingdom? What if there's more of her people out there? You got family at the Kingdom."

"I'm sorry. Okay? I didn't think that it would..."

"I told you!" Evie yelled.

"Wait. You were listening?" He caught on.

"Yeah, of course we were, me and Nat, few of the others, we've been switching off, seeing what she'd say to you."

"You were using us."

"Yeah and it was workin', too." Daryl stared coldly at him.

"She's a good person who got messed up out there. And she's right about you. You know that? You're an asshole."

"Henry, shut up." Evie pushed him back. "You were being stupid, what for some girl that you just met? What happened to Enid?"

"Oh, yeah, that's why you were sucking faces with Gage. I told you we should've stopped drinking, but no Evie never wants to listen." He pointed at her, who's face had got completely red, as she backed down. "You want answers, get 'em yourself." He looked back to the girls parents, before walking away.

"Evie? Who's Gage?" Natalia demanded.

"No one, just.. leave it alone." She scampered as well, before her parents could interrogate her too.

Daryl was even more angry, when he went down to talk to Lydia.

Natalia decided to spend the remainder of the day with Archie, taking him in, appreciating him, soaking up how little he still was, and when the girls were done with their chores, they joined in, she gave the teenagers their space, knowing they needed it.

At night time, Archie was kicking up a fuss, whilst the twins were trying to sleep, Natalia guessed he was missing his dad, considering he'd barely seen him for the past couple of days.

She left the trailer, the one her and Daryl had got married in when they escaped all those years ago, to get some fresh air, trying to soothe her sons cry's.

"It's alright, shh, lovey, it's okay." She tried, bouncing him as she went in search for her husband.

When she had found him, he pulled her to a stop, covering her mouth as he pointed ahead, three people were scampering around, whispering, Evie, Henry and Lydia, until Lydia demanded to go back to the cell.

"If my dad catches us, we're all gonna be in so much trouble." Evie complained, as they rushed past, not even catching the two adults.

"He's not gonna catch us, we're putting Lydia back, so it's fine, right Lydia?"

She didn't give a response.

Natalia was the one to give the girl her breakfast, finding the two other teens right where she expected.

She had moved silently in order to not wake them. She noticed how Henry and Lydia were holding hands, and Evie curled up by herself, away from Lydia's cell.

"Ahem." She cleared her throat.

"Mom." Evie gasped.

"Mrs Dixon, this was my idea, she didn't wanna be alone, so we were just keeping her company." Henry sat up.

"Go." She nodded her head. "Go help your father with the kids"

"Will do, sorry mom." Evie kissed her cheek as she scrambled past, Henry followed.

"My ear hurts. Everything hurts." Lydia told her. "Does Daryl still have those pills?"

"You should know something, my husbands the soft one, after what you tried with him, I'm not falling for your bullshit." Natalia sighed, setting down the tray of food, grabbing a seat to sit down in.

"My mom's not coming for me." Lydia said. "None of them are. If someone dies or gets taken or whatever, they move on. Like they never existed. That's how it's always been. They don't come into contact with big groups unless they don't have a choice. That's why I-- I was trying to find out everything I could about you. 'Cause then when I escaped. I'd have something to give them. A reason for them to take me back."

"Your mom needs a reason to take you back?" Natalia asked, tilting her head.

She looked down.

"Think our moms would've got on pretty well." Natalia commented. "Except, my mom was clean, very clean, she wouldn't of been walking around with masks of dead people. She would've washed her hands with me if she could. She never hit me, never often, only when I deserved it, to make me better, she hated it too, because she loved me, and it hurt her more to cause me pain, but, she was mostly the type of parent that liked to pretend her kid didn't exist, unless it was something she could shove in other people's faces, prove to them that even as a single mother, she was better than them."

"What about your dad?" She asked.

"My dad was my best friend, and I was his, until he died, when I was four, allergies of all things, sometimes, I used to wonder if my mom did it, if she killed my dad just to get rid of him, but she loved my dad more than she liked me."

"Did she make it?"

"I don't know, she went on a cruise, with my step-dad, right before shit hit the fan, she's most likely dead, or she could still be on that boat, just sailing around the world, avoiding all this shit." Natalia finished talking about herself, opening herself up had done the job, she could see it on Lydia's face. "Where are our people, and don't bother lying to me, I can tell."

"If my mom found them... I can't think of a reason she'd keep them alive. Sorry." She sighed.

Natalia caved, tugging out the bottle of pills Daryl had handed her when she left, moving to drop them in the girls hand, then grabbed a spoon full of water, handing it to her.

The girl graciously accepted it, throwing the pills back.

"See what happens when you co-operate, you earn things." Natalia took the spoon back. "She got a camp somewhere?"

"Near the guard bridge. Maybe a mile east. But we don't-- They don't stay in one place for long."

"What you told my daughter, and Henry, about your family, were you telling the truth?"

"I thought all of it was." She answered honestly. "I needed it to be. But I had it all mixed up. It was a lie, but... the lie wasn't mine."

"Your mom told you it all, like she was the good guy, right? Until you believed it."

"Deep down I knew, I knew what she was. I knew what she did." Lydia agreed, sadly. "My dad was my best friend, too. But then, he was against the wall, scared. And my mom was there. Had that cold look in her eye. Then she-- She got her knife. And then she-."

"I know." Natalia sighed gently, soothingly. "It's okay. I know what you mean, that's alright."

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you." She apologised. "I'm sorry I wasted your time."

"You've done more than enough, Lydia, don't worry about it. Eat your food. Evie is a talented doctor, get her to check you over, considering you seem to know her quite well, on your midnight strolls."

She then left the cells.

"So this whole time. Lydia's mom made her think it was her fault her dad died?" Henry badgered her, as soon as she left the cells. "Why would a mom do that to a kid?"

"Sometimes, people end up with kids when they shouldn't, just how it goes."

"So what happens now?" Henry asked. "Can she stay here with us?"

"It's not up to me, come on, get Lydia some fresh clothes, I'm gonna report back to Daryl and Tara, see what we can do about scoping out that camp. Maybe after you can point out to me who this Gage person is."

"He's an asshole." Henry gave his opinion as he walked the other way. "I told Evie she could do better."

Next

[that-left-turn]

Sweet Summer Child

A continuation of Sweet Summer Child in honor of Mother's Day. This one is for all motherless daughters, whatever form that might take ❤️‍🩹 I wish today is kind to you.

There's a girl... woman marching across the parking lot. Long stride. Knee-high buckled boots. Her hair is up in a sleek ponytail that swishes as she walks. For a moment, Carol envies the straight length of it, the color not so far off from her own. Only lighter by degrees. Then she recognizes that it's an unchristian thought and checks it.

As she comes into closer view, Carol sees that she has a sheath with a knife strapped to her thigh. She looks lethal, with what appears to be a fancy compound hunting bow strapped to her back. She's tall and lean, and nothing like the girls from the area. Even the ones who have daddies to take them hunting.

As she comes inside the diner, she stops when she catches sight of Carol at the counter and smiles. "Hi," she says, with a little wave of the hand and in a few strides, she's sliding onto one of the stools at the front counter after stowing her bow against it. "I hope you don't mind," she says, "I don't have a car to leave it in."

Carol shakes her head, feeling the bun of wayward curls wobble on top of her head and she briefly wonders how the other woman even got there if she doesn’t have a car. "Coffee while you look at the menu?" Carol slides the laminated booklet across the counter.

"Yes, please," her customer smiles again and Carol is certain this is the prettiest girl she's ever seen. Hazel eyes and striking eyebrows, with high cheekbones and freckles. Oh so many freckles. More prominent than Carol's own, but they look good and she has such a happy, infectious smile that Carol can't help but to smile right back.

"All right," she turns to grab a cup and the coffee pot, happy it's a fresh brew and hasn't been sitting on the hot plate for hours.

"The survivalist special, Three Sisters ABC Soup, sounds good." Carol's new and mysterious guest looks a bit wistful, like she's lost down memory lane and can't decide if she just wants to turn around. "My dad used to tell the story of the three sisters, do you know it?"

Carol shakes her head. The three sisters are corn, squash and beans which Carol’s grandma learned from her grandma to always plant together because they grow and protect one another in a symbiotic relationship. The dish is Carol’s first contribution to the menu, an experiment aimed at the participants of the survivalist courses out on Route 12. She’s foraged wild onion and there's rabbit from the snares her grandma taught her how to set, so the ‘survivalist special’ is a little different from the usual comfort dishes on the menu, like biscuits and gravy or fried catfish. Carol's been nervous if diners will like it and now, she finds out that she doesn’t even know the story to go with it.

"In Cherokee lore, they were three women who helped each other stay fed, hydrated and strong on the Trail of Tears when the Cherokee people were forced off their lands. They had no other family than each other.” The other girl rearranges the salt and pepper shakers, and turns the handle of the syrup dispenser the other way around. “Selu was tall and lean, and she'd use her strength to help her sisters keep upright and moving when they got tired. Tuya was agile and alert, and she’d disappear into the thick brush around the trail to reappear with food to keep her sisters alive. And Iya was dependable and observant. She noticed things along the trail, like small springs of water, which would keep the sisters refreshed."

There's a sadness to her that Carol aches to relieve, she's not sure why. Maybe because it's the Christian thing to do and the other girl literally just told a story about cooperation and empathy. “It’s a beautiful story.” She busies herself with getting a bowl and scooping up a portion of the fragrant broth with the right ratio of vegetables and meat. Carol can't do much else to alleviate whatever sorrows the other girl carries, but she can feed her.

“My mom made soup with alphabet pasta when I didn’t feeling well as a kid,” the girl continues, plucking at the napkin wrapped silverware in front of her. “I’d leave my name in the bottom of the bowl when I’d finished.” She looks up and smiles at Carol, her eyes lingering.

“You’re close with your mom?” That must be nice. Carol’s memories of her mother are hazy for the most part. She remembers her mom teaching her how to lift wallets without getting caught and how to pick the right marks. She also remembers the police station in Atlanta where her grandmother picked her up late one night when Carol hadn’t been careful enough and her mom got arrested as a result.

The girl nods, taking the spoon in her left hand and stirs the soup before looking up. "My mom..." There's a pause, weighing in the air, as the girl looks at Carol. Really looks at her. "She's the whole package. A lot to live up to." She smiles and there's so much love in it that Carol could almost imagine what it's like having a bond like that with your mother.

After Mama got custody, Carol only saw her mom occasionally before postcards from faraway places replaced her physical presence. They’d randomly show up in the mail: Reno NV, Cheyenne WY, Santa Fe NM, El Paso TX... Eventually, they stopped coming too. So, she doesn’t have that connection to her own mother, but if Carol ever has children of her own, she wants to give them all the love her mom couldn’t give her.

“This is sooo good,” the other girl moans around a mouthful and Carol beams at the praise. Her eating and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand reminds Carol of Dixon and she smiles at the sight... and the thought of him.

She’s seen him twice since the picnic. Once, while he scarfed down his food so fast it looked like he was afraid that someone would take it from him and the other time had been awkward. Dixon had seemed lost in thought, staring out into the darkness, not really saying anything. Carol doesn’t know if he was uncomfortable with her after the picnic. If people had implied something to him. She also doesn’t know what she was thinking, dressing up like a slut and almost throwing herself at the man over a game of Cornhole. So embarrassing. It’s not wonder if Dixon is uncomfortable around her.

The sound of the door opening snatches Carol from her thoughts and there he is. He halfway raises his hand in greeting, but when the other girl turns around to face him, Dixon does a double take, like he’s not sure what he’s seeing.

“Hi Dad.”

He doesn’t reply. His whole body is still and Carol isn’t sure he’s even breathing. It looks like shock, like ‘hi dad’ is way too much to take in. Wait. What? This is Lydia? She isn’t at all what Carol pictured in her mind. She’d expected a nice Midwestern girl—wholesome and milkfed—not someone sophisticated and armed for bear.

Lydia gets up, walks over to him and after a moment of them staring at each other—Dixon looks like he’s seeing a ghost—she hugs him. Lydia’s tall, but skinny, so when he very tentatively raises his arms to embrace her, she vanishes within the span of his biceps. The moment expands... Then there’s a small sound coming from him, almost like a whimper and his arms tighten around the girl.

Carol tears up at the sight. It’s so heartfelt, almost like finding long lost family and she can see it so clearly now. Those cheekbones are her dad’s, just like the table manners.

When Dixon releases his daughter, his hand hover by her cheek, not quite touching her. “How are you here?” His voice is small and filled with wonder, but Lydia only covers his hand with hers, holds it against her cheek for a moment.

“I need to talk to you. Can we take a walk?” she says finally and Carol busies herself with wiping down the counter. Staring at imaginary stains. It’s a reunion—a family moment and she’s an intruder. Of course they want some privacy. “I need to get my bow and pay up.”

A couple of steps later, Lydia is once more in her field of vision, bending over to grab her fancy bow. Carol remembers Dixon saying his wife hunted with a bow, so she wonders if this is that bow. Lydia’s mom must have taught her how to use it and Carol swallows against the sudden lump in her throat. All she learned from her mom was to stick her hand into a pocket or purse without anyone noticing and help herself to its contents.

“How much do I owe you?”

Carol wills her tears to subside. It’s stupid to be jealous over a relationship Lydia doesn’t have anymore, just as stupid as being jealous of Dixon’s late wife. The irony of that being the same person isn’t lost on Carol, but she shouldn’t covet what other people have. Or had. Envy is a sin and Lydia deserves more consideration. She’s nice, like her dad and Carol’s mom might be lost, but she isn’t dead. Carol really has to work harder at being a better person.

“It’s on the house,” she says, forcing a smile, but she can feel her chin wobble. “For being the first to try it.”

Lydia looks at her, scans her face for something—Carol’s pretty sure that in the background Dixon studies her too, but she won’t raise her gaze to look at him. “Thank you,” the other girl says, “It was nice to meet you.” It’s a thing people say to be polite, but something about Lydia suggests that she actually means it.

“It’s nice meeting you too,” Carol attempts another smile. She wasn’t raised in a barn, she has some manners, but she makes the mistake of casting a glance over Lydia’s shoulder to acknowledge Dixon’s presence. He’s watching them like a hawk. Expression unreadable, but unblinking. Then Carol sees that he too has tears in his eyes. When Lydia clears her throat, she snaps back into reality.

“All right, Dad, let’s go.”

Dixon holds the door open for his daughter and Carol watches them for a moment through the window. They move in sync towards his bike. Dixon gestures to her bow and Lydia shrugs, showing him how it’s strapped to her back. It’s wholesome. A dad being concerned for his daughter’s safety on the back of the bike. Carol’s own dad is... not thoughtful like that.

She looks away. She should be working, not spying on the customers. With a sigh, Carol grabs the empty bowl to put it in the washer, but glancing down, the alphabet pasta letters left at the bottom don’t say LYDIA. It says NOTED. Like, she agrees with something? Carol frowns and then decides that she’s being stupid. Again. Lydia didn’t leave her a message. Why would she? They don’t know each other like that. Lydia’s last mouthful just got interrupted because her dad showed up. There’s even a piece of meat in there, so unless that’s part of the secret message, Carol’s imagining things. As usual.

Thank you for reading 🙏 I've had a lot of long tedious posts, so I hope this one was better/more enjoyable. Happy Mother's Day.

[papasbaseball]

Secondo x OC (Dead Ghuleh Walking)

+18 CONTENT NOT FOR MINORS. MINORS KEEP SCROLLING

Pairing: Secondo x OC(Libitina)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Blood, Biting, Zombies.

Summary: Sister Libitina's heart has been heavy ever since the Papas died. An innocent paying of respects quickly turns into a graveyard chase as Papa Secondo, back from the dead, looks to make her his Zombie Queen.

Word Count: 3,495

Notes: This is the last of my fics that needed to be migrated over from AO3. Another thank you to @princess-nope for letting me borrow Sister Libitina. She's seriously the coolest OC. Please go check out her stuff.

Translations at the end

AO3 Link

The cemetery was an ugly sight in the daytime. Tombstones were covered in grit and grime, names no longer readable, not a single one of them straight. In the cloak of night, it would scare even the bravest of souls. Gnarled trees played tricks on the mind and looked like hideous twisted demons walking amongst the dead, seeking out souls to steal that dared to leave their graves. The fog that settled in that evening was thick enough that the dead could slip out of their eternal resting places and walk amongst the living, worry-free that their souls might be devoured. For Libitina, however, it made the walk back to the Ministry one of peril. Her boots squished in the mud as she stepped, not even able to see her hand in front of her. The night had been pleasant and clear when she’d gone out to set up for the graveside service earlier.

She had watched with dread as the fog swept over the grave and attendants. While it had lent a spooky aura to the funeral of the late Cardinal Giacomo, it was nowhere near as fantastic as the funeral had been for the three Emeritus brothers earlier that month. Everybody that called the Ministry home was in attendance, the wailing so profound that there had been a late night knocking upon the main door by police to make sure that everything was okay. Papa Emeritus Primo’s gardens had been cleared out of every flower so they could be strewn in a massive pile at the foot of the three ornately carved statues that took the place of tombstones.

Cresting a hill, Libitina could see better. Up ahead stood those very statues. They were remarkable compared to the rest of the bygone papas, still clean and white as if free from sin. Having all three clean at once drove a knife into the congregation's heart. Their deaths had been unexpected, all that is except for Papa Emeritus Secondo. From the tales she had heard of the nurses that attended to him in his last few days, he had been delirious and sickly pale. They would bring him his meals up from the kitchen and he would try to bite the poor serving girls that dared show any kindness to him. His death had not been a surprise.

In a foolish moment of sympathy, she strayed from the path, wandering into the thick fog that shrouded the stone feet of the effigies. She waved and batted at the fog, to no avail, as she got closer. The ground was cold when her knees met it and there were still a few scattered dead flowers left over from the funeral service. Gathering what she could, she made a bouquet and said a quiet prayer for the eldest brother. He had been a friend and mentor, often working with the funeral team at the Ministry to preserve the grounds and provide modest floral arrangements when called for.

“Can you take care of him?” she had asked the other sister who had been assigned to help with embalming that day. “I’m feeling light-headed. I’ll be back in a minute.” Being surrounded by death was one thing, seeing the man who had taken her under his wing lifeless on the table was another. She had run outside the prep room as the walls felt like they were closing in around her, a desperate need to escape overtaking her as her heart pounded against her rib cage. The tears had tried to spill forth, but she tilted her head up and blinked them back. Her mortuary sister was a gossip, most of them were.

In the shroud of the fog, she let herself cry freely for the first time since the day he’d been declared dead. The only people around to judge her were the deceased and everyone knew that they didn’t talk. She pressed a kiss to the stone, setting the flowers at the stone hem of his robe.

“I miss you, old friend.”

She wiped her tears and gripped the cold monument, helping herself up to move to the next memorial. Her stomach dropped and her foot slipped. Her fingers clawed at the rough unhewn stone as she scrambled back up onto the safety of Primo’s grave.

“Lucifer below-” She knelt on the ground once more, this time feeling for where to avoid as she left the gravesite. She sucked in a breath when she felt the ledge and drop off. She crawled along the grave of the second oldest brother, hand following the ledge all the way down the plot.

Grave robbing? It was unheard of, especially for one of the Papas. They had taught her about it in her apprenticeship but always assured her that it would never happen. It was a dishonorable tradition abandoned at least a hundred years ago. Her mind raced as she wondered what to do. If she went to get help, they might question what she was doing straying from the path.

She pushed herself back up once more, realizing there was nothing she could do until that damn fog cleared. There was no way of knowing if they had even taken anything. Dusting her hands together to clean them of the dirt, she resolved to come back in the morning, before anyone else had woken, to properly assess the damage. Slipping between the monuments, she made her way back to the path.

She jumped when she spotted him.

“Brother Gregor, that's not funny! Did you see who did this to Papa Secondo’s grave?”

Brother Gregor stood there silently. He had always been the dark, hulking, and silent type, but was never hesitant when questioned. She swallowed hard, moving forward to question him again. Her palms dampened with sweat, but if anyone knew what had happened here it would be him. Perhaps he was hiding from the culprits?

“Brother-”

He had seen better days. His papal paint was smeared and runny and his cheeks were hollowed from his illness like the nurses had gossiped about in the common room. His funerary robes were soaked and covered in mud, and his hands were as well. If she didn’t know any better, she would say that he had punched and clawed his way out of the ground, but that was impossible. The weight of the earth alone would be enough to keep even the strongest of men buried six feet under. His body must have been propped up against the monument by some novitiate on a disrespectful hazing dare.

“Papa,” her voice broke, “how could they do this to you? It’s not right.”

Her hand reached out to swipe away a wet raindrop full of paint when he caught her arm. His eyes flashed open to reveal both of them flooded with blood, even his signature white eye. The gaze was vacant but hungry and it turned something deep inside her as her mind told her to run. Everyone had thought of him at least once in that way, she had told herself. He was the tallest of the Emeritus brothers and his discerning look had turned more than one sibling’s legs to jelly and flooded their stomachs with butterflies. Even now she could feel the infamous butterflies beating their little devilish wings against her rib cage. Still, she tried to break free.

Secondo, stronger than ever, threw her up against his grave marker. “Ghuleh,” he said, stumbling over the syllables. Whatever had happened to him, he was no longer the Papa that he once was. His grip was iron and inescapable as she struggled against it, his fingers tightening to the point it felt like he might crush her wrist.

“Papa, what happened? I saw them bury you. You were dead. I-“

Secondo growled at this. It was an awful bone-chilling growl, half wounded animal and half stones scraping together. His bloodied eyes flashed with rage leaving Libitina to guess his meaning.

I wonder if he knows he’s supposed to be dead? What if this is some sort of shapeshifter that’s taken his place? But then why would the grave be open? Whether he was really undead or a shapeshifter didn’t matter as she gritted her teeth, pain shooting from her wrist. It would be best not to bring up his death again.

His free hand roamed her body, squeezing the curve and form of it. “Ghuleh,” he groaned again, this time more smoothly. A breathy moan escaped her as he pressed her between his body and the hard stone. He was cold, but that didn’t stop the blood from rushing to her core as those hungry eyes looked down on her, a bloody smile spreading across his lips. “Ghuleh w-want.”

She could feel his cock underneath his robes pressing into her stomach. It was everything she could do to remain standing on her feet, going slack in his grip. She had given up the chance of ever sharing his bed the day they had all died, but it seemed Satan had other plans for her.

He released his grip to slide his hands down her legs, hoisting her up so her hips met his. He paused, words trying to form in his undead brain. “Ghuleh want?” he asked again, this time the inflection more like a question. He loosened his grip a bit and his gaze softened, though the hunger remained.

She smoothed her hands down the muddied and wet brocade, debating the ethical implications of fucking an undead satanic pope. Fuck it. “Yes, Papa. Please fuck me,” she blurted out before she could take the words back. She looked back up into his eyes, asserting her words.

He hoisted her onto the plinth of the monument, gloved hand snaking its way under the skirt of her habit. His fingers curled into the waistband of her panties and quickly tugged on it, ripping it at the side seams away from her body. He was urgent, like a wolf that hadn’t eaten in days, his tongue lapped at the damp spot on her underwear before throwing it to the ground, craving the source of his desire instead. There was no warm breath against her thighs and she jumped when his cold tongue slithered up her folds, flattening against her clit. A gentle kiss was the only warning she got before Secondo growled, slurping at the small trickle of wetness that had already escaped Libitina’s folds. “Ghuleh- G-Good. W-arm.”

She moaned at the praise, letting her head rest against the stone folds of the statue’s robes. Tossing the front panel of her skirt aside to watch him devour her, she couldn’t help but rake her sharp talons against his paint-blackened scalp. “More, Papa. Please.”

He looked up at her, slowly comprehending her words. “More? Ghuleh… Hungry?”

“Yes, please,” she blushed. She pressed lightly on the back of his head, urging him back to his feast. “I’m starving, Papa.”

He latched onto her clit, flicking his cold tongue against her warm bundle of nerves. She shuddered, but pressed his head further in, rolling her hips as he sucked against her. He kissed and nibbled, stroking his tongue slowly down each side of her clit until she was on the precipice, nails digging into his scalp.

“N-Not yet,” he said, out of breath from his attention. He brought two gloved fingers up to her and delved them into her warmth. Drawing them back out, he separated them, undead fingers slightly trembling, to reveal the shiny strings of her slick that spun themselves like a spider web between the two digits. “Ghuleh ready.”

Secondo gently guided Libitina toward the edge of the plinth and supported her as she slid back down the stone block into his grasp. His hands slid down to her knees, groaning at the effort. “Hold…” he managed.

Libitina followed his command to the best of her abilities, wrapping her legs around him and taking hold of his shoulders. Once more he swept away the front panel of her skirt and hiked up his own robe to reveal his cock. A chill ran up her spine at the girth and how the veins seemed to run a dark green of something that was not blood. The flesh itself had the pallor of death and, when he lined himself up with her, she could feel the chill of death begging for entrance into her throbbing cunt.

“Papa-”

“Riscaldami, Ghuleh.”

He sank in slowly, a hiss slurring into a growl as he split her open. She clenched around him, his cock searing her inside. His mouth was slack and agape as he bottomed out.

“Papa, ah! It’s so deep.” She clenched again, her pussy trying so hard to bring some warmth back into the undead intrusion. Her lip quivered as she looked into those blood-red eyes, any human warmth gone.

“Ti rend-erò la… mia reg-ina degli… zombi.” He rutted against her, shoving his cock hard up against her cervix. Intentions made clear, he pulled out to the tip before shoving himself back in. The force of the thrust shoved Libitina into the stone, knocking the wind out of her. She inhaled the fog deeply as he pumped into her deep and slow, the cool mist chilling her lungs. Her exhale was a moan as she relaxed into his grip, letting the pleasure of the stretch take over.

“That feels so good,” she sighed. “Take me. Make me your zombie queen.”

He grunted at her words, quickening his pace. With a rough hand, he yanked her head to the side, exposing her neck. “Vuoi il… mio zom-bi sborro? Vuoi… che ti s-sporchi il grembo, suora?” Groans seemed to drone out of his lips as he neared her neck.

The thrill of him coating her in his seed made her grip his neck, talons pricking the soft decaying skin. She brought him back up to look into those blood-red eyes. His teeth gnashed together in an angry hunger. “Fill me with your filth first, corpse.”

Her heart quickened as she realized the danger she was in, that the rest of the Ministry was in. There would be no use in spreading the word of Satan through groans and moans. She had to get out of there in order to warn her sisters.

Secondo foamed at the mouth as he thrust faster and harder. Libitina kept her grip, not eager to unleash the monster. “Want y-you. Let P-papa h-ave taste.”

Libitina pushed off the plinth, sending them both toppling forward. Scrambling to her feet, she dashed down the cemetery path, groans and yells filling the air behind her. The fog still remained, obscuring identifying tombstones that she would have used to find her way back on a normal night. No time to waste.

“Ghuleh, tor-na quiiiii. A-Abbiamo a…appena iniziato,” he seethed. A roar ripped from him as he staggered after her.

Libitina turned and ran, boots sliding in the mud, but that didn’t stop her. She wove her way through the jagged tombstones, apologizing to the dead for any disrespect or trampled flowers placed by siblings. She had to get to the Ministry. Once she got there she would wake Sister Margery and they could board the doors together and barricade the rest of the Ministry.

“Y-ou can r.. run, but youuu can’t hide… Ghuuuleh. I kn-know your scent.” He was further behind now, but she had to keep running, had to keep going. It wasn’t just her life that depended on it. Her thighs ached, but she pushed harder in the mud when she saw the faint light behind a stained glass window.

“Margery!” she cried out. “Sister Margery! Anyone!” The Ministry became clearer the closer she got. Out of breath, she threw her fists in a dizzy haze against the heavy wooden door to the funerary wing. “Please! Anyone!”

“Sister Libitina, is that you?” The voice was muffled, coming from the open window above, but the high pitch was unmistakably that of Sibling Antina.

“Antina! Let me in! I don’t have time to explain!”

“Don’t you have your key?”

“No! It’s too long of a story, please come let me in! It’s urgent!!”

“Ghuuuleh,” came a groan in the distance.

“Hurry!” Libitina cried again.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!”

Libitina rested her hands on her knees, doubling over as she tried to catch her breath. The damp night air tasted like danger now, and she pulled herself back up to rest against the wall, holding her breath as best she could. The last thing she needed was to alert him to exactly where she was.

It wasn’t much longer until she heard the footsteps on those worn stone stairs, racing down to meet her. The door flung open and there stood Sibling Antina in their nightgown.

“Everyone else has gone to bed. I was on duty tonight. What happened? Where is your key?”

“I’ll explain it all later please just let me i-“

Like being hit by a truck she was knocked to the ground, pain searing through her arm as she saw Secondo’s teeth tearing through her sleeve and puncturing her skin. Glossy blood welled up in the faint light of the open door

“Shut it, Antina! Shut it! He’s a zombie!”

“Wh-“

“Shut the door! Ah!” she winced at the pain as he bit down harder. “Papa Secondo is a zombie! Wake the siblings and barricade the Ministry. Form a hunting party in the morning to come and find us.”

“Hunting? Us? But Sis-“

“It’s too late for me! Save the Ministry.” And with that, Libitina kicked the door shut on Sibling Antina’s face.

“Ghuleh t-aste gooood.”

She turned back to Secondo, watching him lap up the blood that was trickling down her arm and soaking her sleeve. His tongue delved past the fabric tear and into the cut, eyes gleaming with delight when Libitina grit her teeth. “So you want to finish what we started?”

“Yesssss”

“They know what you are. If you want to fuck me you’d better find a new place before someone takes your head off.”

He growled at the reminder of his monstrous form and got to his feet. Strong hands gripped Libitina’s boots and he dragged her the short distance to a nearby monument, stowing them both behind it, away from the view of any foolish rescuers. “Im- Impatient.”

“Go on then: make my death worth it.”

He snarled and flipped her over, ripping her skirt away from her in a flutter of cloth. Rough hands gripped her hips, yanking them up into the air to display her still dripping cunt for him. He hitched up his robes and thrust his cock into her without warning. The soft muddied sole of his papal slipper pressed her cheek into the dewy grass as he snapped into her at a punishing pace. “R-egina de…gli zzzombi è … è un onoreeeee, ma… tu ssscappi, pu..t-ttana innnngrata,” he groaned.

“Puttana ingrata? You fucking bit me, asshole!”

His cold palm cracked against her ass cheek. Her spine arched at the delicious pain shifting the angle of his thrusts. She moaned loud enough to wake the dead as he brought her closer and closer to the precipice.

“Que-Questa trooooia brrrrama.. co-sì tannnn-to il …mio cazzo… e la miiiia s-sporciiiizia?”

“Sì, Papa,” she groaned, drowned out by the claps of his hips bruising hers. “Fill me with your cum. I want all of it.”

He stopped as she was on the edge and pulled out. She whined as the ache took over. He removed his foot from her face and shoved her over so her face was lit by the moon. Her hands spread her thighs in lust when she saw how his thick cock was coated in her slick.

“Vo..Voglio guarrrr..d-dartiii in ffffaccia… quan-quando tiiii me-tto in..inciiinta del …nosssstro e-errrede, Ghuleh.” He hooked her legs over his shoulders and once more impaled her. She whimpered as his new position pushed him deeper than before, deep enough that his seed would take hold.

He was slow and gentle at first but Libitina’s cries every time he bottomed out quickly sent him into a frenzy. Her wails soon had his hips stuttering. “C-Come fffor me, Ghuleh. Letttt… your w-womb driiiiink… my seed.”

Her hands ripped out fistfuls of grass as the waves crashed down on her and she spasmed hard around his cock. The contractions were the final push for him as his cock shot cold ropes of seed deep within her.

She groaned feeling the tingling coolness seeming to numb her inside. Already her brain was fuzzy and she couldn’t help but feel hungry like something was gnawing at the pit of her stomach. “F-food,” she moaned.

He pulled out and she could feel the numbing cum trickle out of her. “R-rest f-irst.” Scooping her up, he staggered off into the graveyard.

“Where are we going? They’ll look in your grave first.”

“O-old ma- mauso-leum. Rrrest. Then f-fill… Ghuleh… again.”

Translations:

Riscaldami, Ghuleh. - Warm me, Ghuleh

Ti rend-erò la… mia reg-ina degli… zombi.- I will make you my zombie queen.

Vuoi il… mio zom-bi sborro? Vuoi… che ti s-sporchi il grembo, suora? - Do you want my zombie cum? Do you want me to soil your womb, Sister?

Ghuleh, tor-na quiiiii. A-Abbiamo a…appena iniziato - Ghuleh, come back here. We’re just getting started

R-egina de…gli zzzombi è … è un onoreeeee, ma… tu ssscappi, pu..t-ttana innnngrata - Zombie Queen is an honor, but you run away, you ungrateful whore

Que-Questa trooooia brrrrama.. co-sì tannnn-to il …mio cazzo… e la miiiia s-sporciiiizia?- This slut craves my cock and my filth so much?

Vo..Voglio guarrrr..d-dartiii in ffffaccia… quan-quando tiiii me-tto in..inciiinta del …nosssstro e-errrede, Ghuleh. - I want to see your face when I impregnate you with our heir, Ghuleh

[thelustybraavosimaid]

"A grey girl on a dying horse. Daggers in the dark. A promised prince, born in smoke and salt. It seems to me that you make nothing but mistakes, my lady." (Jon XIII, ADwD)

There is an order to this, not dissimilar to the order Jon has when he thinks of his siblings before he decides to change the plan. But this one is of events.

A grey girl on a dying horse.

This is of Alys Karstark's arrival.

A grey girl on a dying horse. Melisandre's fires had not lied, it would seem. But what had become of Mance Rayder and his spearwives? "Where is the girl now?"

"Maester Aemon's chambers, m'lord." The men of Castle Black still called it that, though by now the old maester should be warm and safe in Oldtown. "Girl was blue from the cold, shivering like all get out, so Ty wanted Clydas to have a look at her." (Jon IX, ADwD)

--

Daggers in the dark.

Jon's death.

But the skulls were here as well, the skulls were all around him. Melisandre had seen his danger before, had tried to warn the boy of it. Enemies all around him, daggers in the dark. He would not listen. (Melisandre I, ADwD)

--

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger's hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. "Ghost," he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold… (Jon XIII, ADwD)

We know that Jon is dead based on Varamyr's prologue:

True death came suddenly; he felt a shock of cold, as if he had been plunged into the icy waters of a frozen lake. (Prologue, ADwD)

...and by Melisandre mentioning how cold it was.

"It is not the foes who curse you to your face that you must fear, but those who smile when you are looking and sharpen their knives when you turn your back. You would do well to keep your wolf close beside you. Ice, I see, and daggers in the dark. Blood frozen red and hard, and naked steel. It was very cold." (Jon I, ADwD)

The skulls around Jon represent death specifically in Melisandre's visions, as well.

Death, thought Melisandre. The skulls are death. (Melisandre I, ADwD)

And the last.

A promised prince, born in smoke and salt.

Death and resurrection.

"On the Wall, a man gets only what he earns. You're no ranger, Jon, only a green boy with the smell of summer still on you." (Jon III, AGoT)

--

"You are half the age that Egg was, and your own burden is a crueler one, I fear. You will have little joy of your command, but I think you have the strength in you to do the things that must be done. Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy and let the man be born." (Jon II, ADwD)

The boy of summer died so the man can be reborn in winter.

He rose and dressed in darkness, as Mormont's raven muttered across the room. "Corn," the bird said, and, "King," and, "Snow, Jon Snow, Jon Snow." That was queer. The bird had never said his full name before, as best Jon could recall. (Jon XII, ADwD)

But his spirit, in warg fashion, is housed in Ghost's body.

The flames crackled softly, and in their crackling she heard the whispered name Jon Snow. His long face floated before her, limned in tongues of red and orange, appearing and disappearing again, a shadow half-seen behind a fluttering curtain. Now he was a man, now a wolf, now a man again.(Melisandre I, ADwD)

(I think they'll have a split mind in two bodies kind of situation when Jon is returned to his body, based on this:)

Jon smelled Tom Barleycorn before he saw him. Or was it Ghost who smelled him? Of late, Jon Snow sometimes felt as if he and the direwolf were one, even awake. The great white wolf appeared first, shaking off the snow. A few moments later Tom was there.

...

Ghost nuzzled up against his shoulder, and Jon draped an arm around him. He could smell Horse's unwashed breeches, the sweet scent Satin combed into his beard, the rank sharp smell of fear, the giant's overpowering musk. He could hear the beating of his own heart. (Jon VII, ADwD)

The promised prince mention is perhaps something that George played around with.

Yet now she could not even seem to find her king. I pray for a glimpse of Azor Ahai, and R'hllor shows me only Snow. (Melisandre I, ADwD)

--

The knight was clean-shaved and windburnt; beneath a cloak of white fur he wore a cloth-of-silver surcoat emblazoned with a blue five-pointed star. (Jon IX, ADwD)

--

The knight's cloak flapped in the cold air. Of white wool it had been, bordered in cloth-of-silver and patterned with blue stars. Blood and bone were flying everywhere.

Men poured from the surrounding keeps and towers. Northmen, free folk, queen's men… "Form a line," Jon Snow commanded them. "Keep them back. Everyone, but especially the queen's men." The dead man was Ser Patrek of King's Mountain; his head was largely gone, but his heraldry was as distinctive as his face.

...

Then Bowen Marsh stood there before him, tears running down his cheeks. "For the Watch." He punched Jon in the belly. When he pulled his hand away, the dagger stayed where he had buried it.

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger's hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. "Ghost," he whispered. Pain washed over him. (Jon XIII, ADwD)

--

She was stronger at the Wall, stronger even than in Asshai. Her every word and gesture was more potent, and she could do things that she had never done before. (Melisandre I, ADwD)

[cepheusgalaxy]

Megan is not having a good time :) First moments of their arc, when Benedict just captured them. Cws for torture, swearing and blood ment.

Febuwhump day 18 (late): Too weak to move.

Megan was panting, in way too much pain to even move. His limbs were a limp mess below him, and he couldn’t even tell in what position he was in. His vision was blurred and all he could see were mixed up images and colors that danced in front of his eyes. He had given up on trying to make sense of them.

He heard footsteps. Someone was arriving. He should get up, he should run, he should hide--

He could only manage to let a whimper come out of his mouth.

Donatello kneeled in front of him.

“Oh, you poor thing”, his mocking voice infuriated Megan. “Are you in pain?”

Between rasped breaths, he managed to shout “go fuck yourself.”

Donatello smiled, his fangs sharp enough to make Megan shiver. Not one second after, agony replaced everyhting in his body and he felt like throwing up. He moved his hand to his mouth. Megan was surprised to see that he still had it on him to scream anymore.

“I think I’d be more polite if I was you”, he heard Donatello say. “You’re kind of depending on me here. And your friend on the other room is already on the limit, you know?” He grinned. “But I mean,” he laughed. “You probably noticed that.”

If Megan had the forces to, he’d spit on him.

“H-how… How, dare you--”, he coughed, his chest hurting with every breath. “T-totsuka--she…”

Donatello just waited for him to finish, patiently. Megan couldn’t continue, despiste his best efforts. He was already using all he had in him not to pass out.

He knew why he was in pain, even if his body had not a bruise on it. Well, not actually not a bruise, but a few cuts and scratches weren’t responsible for that freaking purgatory that made him feel like shit. It was Totsuka.

He was feeling her pain.

Benedict Donatello, the stupid vampire who had captured them, knew that. He spared efforts and made the bare minimum to hurt them both.

Just torturing one.

The mere echo of whatever the vampire was doing to his partner had Megan on his knees in an instant, and after some hours, drooling helpless on the floor. He could barely talk, or think, and having his eyes opening for too long made him feel like he could die.

Megan knew it was stupid, but he wished Totsuka was okay. But by Donatello’s words, he knew not to hope much.

“Well”, his torturer slowly got on his feet, his pale dark skin shining with the white lights of the room. “I’ll pay a visit to her, and maybe, when I’m back, we can talk like reasonable men, yes?”

Megan flinched.

No.

“A visit”.

That meant hurting Totsuka more.

Megan wanted to protest, but he could only cry out something in the tone of an offense.

Donatello laughed. He left the room and let the door open.

Megan tried getting up. Maybe… maybe if he could just reach Tot…

His arms couldn’t lift his weight long enough for him to sit up, and he fell on the hard white floor again.

But he couldn’t stop trying… he--

A blood-boiling scream cut the uneasy silence, and when the friction of the air hurt his throat Megan noticed it was coming from his mouth. The pain went away as fast as it had come, and it had him trying to curl around himself, trying to ease something, but there was nothing he could do.

He felt an itch on the back of his conscience, and he knew Totsuka had blacked out.

Tears streamed through his face, making him use all of his forces to keep himself from crying out loud.

He’d punch the wall if he could.

What had they got themselves into?

Benedict Donatello was quite proud of his new aqquaintances.

Two kids, whom he first thought to be a pair of girls, but were a boy and a girl, powerful magicians, with silly screams and that were bonded to each other.

Incapacitating them was easy. He’d only had to order his servants to restrain one them, and with one knife and one strike, he had both on their knees. Two for the price of one! A perfect affair, he’d say.

He hummed a random lullaby as he walked through the corridors to the room he’d let the black-haired one in. The door wasn’t even closed, nor was he restrained in any way, but the boy was a limp doll on the floor.

Benedict lowered himself to his level and manhandled him to sit. A light whimper came out of his body, but he doubted the boy was even aware of what was happening at this point. His dark eyes were glassy and unfocused. He was quite pretty, Benedict thought.

He smiled, brushing his hair.

Oh, they both would make such good pets.