#and DEFINITELY murdered the other in cold blood at least once

[annasofthe11thdimension]

Waltz

[sunboki]

— ENDLESS WINTER. TEASER a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst

WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing

WORD COUNT. estimated around 12k

AUG'S NOTES. me and my inner thoughts… as a fic 😭 i cannot believe this is my longest writing yet!!! hopefully you enjoy!

SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.

alternatively :

Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.

Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.

Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.

Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.

Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.

She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.

Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.

Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.

Growing, learning.

Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.

However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.

A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.

Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.

Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.

Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.

Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.

The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.

The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.

Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.

Had been peaceful.

A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.

Your blood runs cold.

Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.

Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.

Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.

A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.

Smell.

Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.

So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.

Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.

Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.

Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.

Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.

It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.

Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.

It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.

Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.

For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.

You won’t leave, simple.

As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.

That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.

Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.

Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.

Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.

Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.

A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.

Shoot!

The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.

However, your success is short-lived.

Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.

Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.

First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.

Beast.

With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.

This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.

“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.

His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.

The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.

Mage.

Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.

His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.

“One remained, huh.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[nyhti]

Batman Rogues Tumblr AU:

Jervis:

-Joined Tumblr in 2009, has had the same blog all this time -Has a big follower count, but most of those blogs have long since been abandoned -Is very active -No sideblogs, everything from kink to cute animal pics is on the same blog -Has witnessed or been involved in every single major event in this site's history -Attended Dashcon (he was the one who pissed in the ball pit) -Involved in some sort of petty drama on a daily basis -Has a 20km long post of just going back and fort arguing with some random user. This argument started in 2016 and neither remembers what it even was about. He gets worried if the other person hasn't responded in a while. -Gets at least 3 callout posts a week. Always makes sure to reblog them and adds an essay underneath defending himself no matter if the callout post was about liking the wrong pony in MLP or murdering someone in cold blood. -Kinnie drama the likes of which you've never seen before -And in general just discord you never thought anyone could ever come up with -At this point you wonder if he's even having fun on this site, but he just keeps on reblogging bunny pics like it's nothing -Has a Wacom drawing tablet

Jonathan:

-Joined in 2011 after Jervis introduced him to the site -Has some really tacky theme he hasn't changed since 2013 -About a couple hundred followers, but they are very devoted. Lots of mutuals -579257405547 blurry photos of Nightmare -Post fics and essays on various topics he's been thinking about lately -Of course reblogs every single spoopy art piece he finds -Definitely does fic request -The most fucked up smut you've ever read -Like smut you don't even know is smut, because it's just that confusing -Most of his post don't get past 50 notes, but he has made a couple of post, mainly of the: ”Here's how you write x, y and z...” and ”As a Professor of Psychology, I can tell you...” variety, that have about 10 000 notes -Has a chill time on Tumblr -Only uses Tumblr on desktop. Has never even seen the app. -Completely unironically reblogs every cool skeleton on a motorcycle pic

Joker:

-Joined in 2013 -The only reason he joined is because he once came across a horny drawing of Batman and searching for the artist led him to Tumblr. -Starts writing a post, gets distracted mid way though and starts doing something else. Comes back to Tumblr 3 hours later, notices he was making a post, doesn't even bother rereading it despite not remembering what it was about and just hits posts. His blog is full of completely incomprehensible post that just stop mid way through -Makes a couple post that get so popular they are still making rounds today. They will always have additions like: ”I still can't believe this post was made by the fucking Joker” and ”Joker had a Tumblr?!” -Forgot his password a month after joining and never visited the site again. Barely remembers he ever had an account -Those true crime people still harvest his 20-post-pathetic-excuse-for-a-blog-blog for content to this day all the while completely ignoring all the rogues with still active (and better) blogs. They are saying things like: ”Ooohhhh, it's like a deep dive into his twisted mind :00” and are always trying to find some hidden symbolism and meaning behind all his ”just farted so loud it scared the neighbor's cat” kinda posts.

Eddie:

-Joined in 2011 -759752974576 sideblogs, 55425720752174838+1 sockpuppet accounts -When he's really low he'll post a poll like: ”Be honest, am I cute? Yes/No” and then has his 55425720752174838+1 sockpuppet accounts hit ”Yes” and somehow ”No” still wins. He deletes the whole post. -Posts the most obvious ”and everybody clapped” Tumblr fake stories you've seen. When he gets called out, he pretends you were supposed to figure out they were fake -Has an awful time on Tumblr, but can't delete, because he's addicted to getting notes -Always falls for every one of those post where OP pretends to be stupid on purpose (i.e. smooth sharks, putting fingers in guns etc.) -Posts riddles everyday that even his biggest haters cannot help but try and solve -Sends himself hatemail so he can post the witty comeback he just came up with. Forgot to hit anon once and people just won't let it go

Hugo:

-Banned for posting cock :/

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 89)

Another Day, another adventure out to find another pod to salvage.

This one was much further away, instead of a one day journey, this would at least be a three, traveling under the cover of night and resting during the day. It was a flipped schedule for most drones, but even Thad and Lizzy had gotten used to it at this point- so the rest of the engineers could too.

Tera was swaddled up tight against her mother's chest so that she wouldn't get cold, normally she would be left in the bunker during an excursion like this, but everyone she could've been left with had joined them. V was flying ahead, scouting for any infected and clearing the way for the forklift. N was next to her, one hand a rifle and the other wrapped tightly in her own like her own personal bodyguard.

Lizzy and Thad both were on lookout, keeping their eyes peeled for any infected V might have missed, and Khan was in front, on top of the forklift directing people better than she ever would.

He'd been decently hands off so far, letting her plan and direct while he looked over her blueprints for any errors and delt with stuff internally, but now, with such long journeys and Uzi inching closer to her ‘supposed’ due date. He didn't want his daughter being overwhelmed.

Honestly? Uzi was relieved, as much as she appreciated the amount of trust her dad was putting in her now. She wasn't sure if she was ready to be leading a squad of drones by herself. She didn't want to be held responsible if something went horribly wrong…

“It's kinda weird to be traveling in a big caravan like this.” N started a conversation, probably because the tense silence was starting to put him on edge. “And on foot, it's like one of those ‘finding the promised land’ movies.”

Uzi smiled, she could always count on N to keep the moment lighthearted.

“We kinda are… what kind of planet would you want- if you could choose?” Uzi asks, squeezing his hand gently for some silent reassurance.

“Something not snowy. The temperature is nice for cooling off but I am so sick of snow…” He replied, and Uzi couldn't help but agree. “No more snow. Maybe a desert?”

“And die as soon as we land? Our systems couldn't handle that.” N laughed. “Maybe…a big ocean?”

“We're metal. And not entirely waterproof. You just enjoyed Subnautica too much.” Uzi teased and N chuckled at himself, “Hey that game is good! You're the one who showed it to me.”

Uzi thought again for a moment. “A big forest… with lots of greenery. Maybe a jungle?” She suggested. “I've never actually seen living plantlife, man that's kinda sad.” She added after a moment.

“Oh! Y-yeah I guess you haven't… “ He realized, almost kicking himself.

Whenever he thought of Uzi, he always thought that she was always there with him, even on Earth. Which wasn't actually the case of course, Uzi definitely wasn't at the manor… but he always felt she was. Maybe it was because some of his memories were of her as a crow and those were bleeding into his actual memories.

But no, she'd never been off Copper-9, and she'd only seen organic life through pictures or a screen. She'd never had the feeling of grass tickling her casing, or the petals of flowers between her fingers.

Just cold steel and ice.

“Then yeah, I hope there's lots of plants, and it's so green you'll get sick of it.” He laughs, kissing her on the forehead as he pulls her in gently. And she laughs in such a content way… it's like feeling the sun on his silicone again.

“Halt!” He hears Khan shout, and the moment is broken. He can feel the bitter wind once more, hear the howling of it overhead, and the deep shuddering groans of urban decay. The ground is a muddy slurry from all the movement … and it's cold; leeching away any heat from his feet into the ground.

With a small squeeze onto his girlfriends hand, he flies up to see what was the matter, and it becomes immediately obvious the second he can see over the forklift.

A gigantic black tendril is blocking the road, laying inert- though still breathing, V was pushing people back to avoid the snaking webbing of flesh already beginning to grow around it.

N lands next to Khan on top of the forklift, and he looks… distressed.

“I know you've shown me pictures and holograms. But this is… something else.” Khan is trembling slightly, joints clicking as they tapped together.

“This one looks new… it's not moving yet. V and I can probably burn it away so we can get past it.” He puts a hand on Khans shoulder as a way to steady the man. And he takes a deep breath.

“I'll back up the caravan. Give you some room.” Khan agreed, before sticking his hand out to motion people to back up.

“You know, it took me awhile… but I know why Uzi chose you…” Khan started, looking nervous, N lifted his brow.

“You're… stable. You're reliable. You love with every ounce of yourself. And I… she didn't have that before, unfortunately.” He stopped himself from going into self-pity, shaking off that feeling to continue;

“You have a good head on your shoulders son. I'm sorry it took so long for me to get it. Better now then never I suppose.” He laughed softly and the caravan stopped moving backwards. N smiled, his wings coming out with a flourish.

“Thank you. Mr- Ah, Khan. Thank you Khan.”

Khan smiled brightly at that.

“Now go kick some tentacle ass! Don't want you back down here until it's a burning stump!”

N laughed. “Sir yes Sir!” as he flew off, his hands being replaced with duel flamethrowers. V hovers up next to him, her arms crossed.

“What's the plan boss?” She asks, a brow raised.

“Burn it enough so that the caravan can get through… might have to burn the ground too. Can't risk people coming into contact with it.” He replied, before blinking. “D-Did you just call me boss?”

V turned away for a moment, probably to hide her fluster. Before coming up right to his visor and flicking it lightly. “Don't read too much into it, idiot.”

“Okay, Okay!” He laughed, before they both made their way down with their respective flamethrowers, aiming it down at the gross fleshy tendril.

At the same time, they unleashed a plume of hot flame. The tentacle reacted violently, thrashing wildly as a loud screech ripped through the air from… somewhere. The ground itself rumbled, as if it were alive - and writhing in pain.

After a moment, the rumbling stopped and the screech faded back into howling wind, as an extra measure, both dissasembly drones burned the ground the tentacle was sitting on until it was charred.

“Think that's good?” N asked his pseudo-sister. And she nodded, testing it herself by walking across it. “Seems good, tell Khan he can start moving again.”

He flew up and gave a thumbs up. After a moment, the group began to move forward again. He spotted Lizzy climbing onto the roof of a car to see better.

Thad doing the same closer to the back.

“You think this is actually going to work?” V asks suddenly. A distant look on her face as she watches over the group walking underneath them.

“What? Building a ship?” He cocks his head and she nods. “It's a long shot, isn't it?” He agrees, his own concern shining through for a moment. “But I think if anyone can do it it's Uzi, you know?”

“And can you imagine? A whole new life. No more murder… or corpse spires, or… weird masses of tentacles.”

V smiles, but it looks slightly pained.

“You still sound like you did at the manor. We talked about running away together if you remember.”

He was hit with it, suddenly.

She was leaning against him, in a rare moment of peace. His arms wrapped around her as she nuzzled into his shoulder. He kissed her head and she giggled; light and airy, content to be in the moment.

“If we could go anywhere, where would you want to go?” He asked, a soft blush on his face, white, like his eyelights.

“We can't… we're not human.”

“Humor me?”

She sighed, “Um… out in the country, I think. Away from people.” She replied, her glasses were perched on her face, she was so cute…

“Maybe we can one day. You and Me.” He suggested, smiling fondly down.

“Are you suggesting we run away N?” She smirked, he loved that little smirk, the little fire that was inside her burning bright for just a moment…

“Yeah… kinda, can you imagine? A whole new life… no more masters. No more cleaning wine stains off the upholstery…”

“Or doing Mrs. Elliots gross hair…” V adds, making him laugh. “Oh god! I know! Why is it so greasy?!”

He blinks, smiling.

“I'm surprised you even remember that.”

And V laughs. “Of course I do! You said Mrs. Elliot’s head was greasy!” It's a different kind of laugh now, it doesn't make him feel the same way, but it's still pleasant.

“I was agreeing with you! You said it first!” He defended, laughing along with her.

Those times were so strange to think about now… like he lived two totally different lived. His feelings for V were familial now, weirdly strengthened but anything romantic being erased to time.

“That's weird to think about now.” He admits. “I feel like you're… my sister almost.”

She snorts. “Oh same. Every time I think about the manor I cringe a little… I don't regret it obviously… but it's just weird.”

“… I remember you being so nervous the first time we kissed…” He said slowly. And she exploded in yellow blush.

“Agh! I was actually trembling. For some reason I thought kissing was biting someone's mouth.”

N genuinely cackled at that.

“Are you serious?! That… that explains so much actually. You bit my lip.”

If anything her blush grew even worse.

“Aaaand I wish you didn't remember that…”

His eyes trailed down to Lizzy, and then back up to V. A teasing smile playing on his face.

“I'm sure your practice with Liz was better.” Came tumbling out of his mouth, and his ex-girlfriend turned ‘sister’ froze up, tail kinking up as they floated there.

“You… little shit.” She said, surprised and exasperated that he said that. “You so did not just say that!”

And suddenly she was chasing him, both ripping through the air as he laughed, even though she was clearly embarrassed, she was smiling.

He decided he liked this dynamic much better.

Next ->

[yellowbunnydreams]

Melancholia (William Afton x F! Reader) [Part 1]

~So, I decided I wanted a go at writing William Afton from the games instead of Movie version/Steve Raglan, and I thought, what better way to explore that than through some really obvious religious imagery because that man definitely has a god-complex. This is obviously an AU, please don't hate on it because 'it's not cannon'~

CW: 18+ MINORS DNI - Age difference, Older man/younger woman, Murder (adult and child), violent acts, manipulation, gas-lighting, dead bodies, blood, gore, graphic description of injury, use of religious imagery, toxic relationship, boss x employee, god-complex, knife-play

The shrieks of voices and the blaring, bleeping arcade lights were almost overwhelming if you had never been to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza before. There was always a chaotic energy to the place, kids running about, practically seeing who could take out the most staff as they barrelled from the dining area and party rooms towards the arcade. You learnt to be quick on your feet and observant of your surroundings quite quickly.

"Hey superstar, you need to watch where you're going okay?" You laughed to a child who almost collided with your legs, one hand shooting down to protect your black work pants from the half-drunk cup of soda as they looked up at you and stuck their tongue out, scowling as much as the chubby face of an eight year old could before running off again.

Picking one of the nearby tables that had no patrons sat at it, you began to clean up. Piling up the discarded wax-paper lined baskets of half-chewed fries coated in god-knew-how-much ketchup and the pizza tray, swearing under your breath as you spilt soda down your purple starry vest. The uniform had changed recently from fairly easy to clean plain red, to the god-awful embroidered purple, the silver stars were supposed to match the curtains on Pirate's Cove and the paper ones that hung from the ceiling. Glancing up at them, you caught sight of the large window that overlooked the main dining room, the dark.

Every employee in Freddy's knew of that room. William Afton's office, from where he looked down at all the people like god-on-high. You hadn't had a run in with Afton during your two year employment, but you'd heard the tales. He moved weirdly silently for a man of his height, you'd even heard co-workers joking that he wasn't even human, that Henry Emily had replaced him with a robot some time ago, that you could tell by the cold, dead way his blue eyes focused on people. That he had been the one orchestrating the aftermath when an employee had had their skull cracked open by a malfunctioning animatronic, standing calmly amongst the chaos and blood with barely a wrinkled nose of disgust.

A touch on your shoulder shook your out of your thoughts and snapped you back into the chaos of Freddy's once more. The dark, neon patterned carpet making your eyes swim as you realised you had looked down automatically to child level.

"You look fucking exhausted." A mousy brown haired guy laughed, wearing the same uniform as you, his own white shirt splattered with ketchup and other slightly dubious grease stains as you relaxed your shoulders. You couldn't remember his name, but you knew the guy at least, you'd worked together a few times, and he always spared a smile for you.

"There are children present." You mumbled, earning a laugh as he grabbed the glasses from the table, holding onto them as you picked up the tray full of dining debris and headed towards the kitchen together. "If Mr. Emily or Mr. Afton catches you, you'll get your pay docked."

"Mr. Emily keeps himself in the workshop constantly and maybe three people on staff have seen Mr. Afton, like...ever." He laughed, rolling his eyes and weaving through bodies like he too was well practised, although the slight sheen to the work pants legs told of plenty of grabby little, sticky hands that had collided with him.

"He's not a god-damn cryptid!" Shaking your head and placing down the clutter from the wash-pass, wiping down your hands against your pants before bending over slightly and looking at the clock through the small window.

It was time to clock out at least, sighing as you headed towards the back corridors that belonged to the staff. The colourful lights dancing across everything in the pizzeria as you heard Freddy and the band starting up through the tinny speakers that should have been replaced something like a decade ago. Your colleague following you with a shrug as he gestured to the chunky watch he had on his wrist.

"Hey, it's time for me to clock off too. God knows we don't get overtime, and secondly, going back to my earlier point; half these kids know more foul language than we do." Pointing to a corner where a bunch of kids seemed to be focused on a much small child, crying in the corner. The laughter you could faintly hear as you passed by them to get to the employee's only door giving you a good indication that it wasn't in good nature, both looking at each other before walking a little faster.

Not on the clock, not your problem.

You waved goodbye as you headed towards the women's locker room on the west side of the building, thankful that least upper management had thought to put in separate changing rooms as you tiredly unbuttoned the starry vest, breathing a sigh of relief as you ran your fingers through your hair. Cringing when you realised that you didn't quite know what they'd touched through the day and sighing that you were going to have to wash your hair. Again. Nobody told you that working with kids would leave you feeling like you should get hazard pay for simply being in their vicinity, god only knew how many times you'd filed for sick pay when some brat had given you the flu or some other stubborn thing that wouldn't leave you be.

Changing quickly, you headed out. Uniform stuck in a plastic bag to avoid it getting too close to the semi-clean clothes you'd shoved in, in order to change into once your shift ended. Glancing up and down the comparatively quiet corridor as you picked up your time card and placed it into the clock, swearing slightly as you couldn't get the punch to work. Banging your fist against the wall in frustration, wondering why management didn't just spend a little more money on the damn equipment that you all had to use, rather than public relations to cover the bad press the pizzeria had.

"Is there a problem?"

You spun on your heel as you heard the unfamiliar voice, brow knitted together as you stared at the voice's owner. He was leaned against the nearby wall, his head cocked to one side slightly as he looked down at you with a cold regard that seemed more like he was regarding something inanimate than a person. Glancing over him, he was slender, but wiry as he had his arms crossed over his chest, able to see the tendons moving in his hands as his fingers flexed, but he was wearing the white shirt, purple starry vest and black pants that marked him as part of Freddy's. The start of dark circles under his eyes were also par for the course.

"Yeah, stupid punch clock won't move." Huffing and turning your attention back to the clock, feeling yourself wince as you noticed the time had crawled by and you were already a few minutes over your shift. Time you would never get back. "You can clock in in a moment."

He was too clean to have been clocking out. You supposed that the clock on the other side of the halls closer to the men's was probably just as busted, if not more so.

A pale, slender hand reached into your vision and startled you, making you take a step back as the man clicked a small button on the side of the clock before pressing down the stamp. Stamping your card for you, pulling it out with a flourish and handing it over with a lazy smile that made your chest tighten unusually, even if his blue eyes didn't seem to carry any warmth to them.

"You've got to check the safety's on or not. It's to stop people messing with the time cards if they came back here accidentally." His accent was rough, British, soothing. You frowned, looking up slightly at him and watching as he ran his fingers through his cool brown hair, which seemed roughly cut like he had done it himself. Greying at the temples and the occasional grey hair standing out against his darker hair. "You'll get used to it."

"I've worked here for two years and never heard of that bullshit." You muttered, rolling your eyes and changing your bag to your other hand as the man raised a thick eyebrow and stared at you some more.

"You've worked here for two years?" Seemingly surprised by the statement as you shrugged your shoulders. Wanting to go home and collapse onto your bed, not stand around talking to some newbie.

"And?"

"I've just never seen you around."

"You probably know me by my name, it's-"

"I honestly don't give a fuck what your name is. I need to finish my work, and you should go home, doll, I'm sure there's...something...you have to fill your time with." The sudden shift in his soothing voice made you blink, his tone never changing, reading as bored. Somehow, you felt mildly offended that this stranger simply seemed not to care, sucking your teeth and tutting as you shook your head and began to walk for the door. Feeling his eyes linger for just a moment before footsteps moving away told you that you were being left alone.

The next day, you managed to drag yourself into Freddy's with five minutes to spare before your shift. Grabbing your punch card and clocking in before you quickly got on your freshly washed uniform with barely enough time to grab a soda and carry with you into the main dining area. Wednesdays had never been particularly busy, but then again, what counted as 'quiet' for Freddy's never quite aligned to the other businesses in Hurricane's idea of it.

You took a deep breath and went to lean against the prize counter for a brief reprieve before the onslaught, hearing a door open and looking towards the arched entrance and waiting for a customer to emerge despite the fact it was nine in the morning, shrugging when you didn't see one emerging. Eyes flickering about to see if you could locate where the noise had come from, seeing movement on the staircase up to Afton's office that was tucked away in the corner of the pizzeria. Raising your eyebrow as you pulled out your soda and took a sip, wondering who was visiting your elusive boss.

You almost choked when the figure paused and looked directly at you however.

It was the guy from the previous day. Only this time he had a black blazer over the top of his purple vest, one lapel covered in various pin-badges from the arcade games and prize counter that made a faint clinking noise with how many there were as he walked in your direction. His hair was swept back, like he had just run his finger through it, and you could see a slight curl to the flyaway pieces that had refused to comply. Hands stuffed into the pockets of his slacks as he glanced at you for a moment, pausing and blinking slowly as you stared back.

"No trouble with the punch-clock this morning then?" That same soothing lull to his voice as you quietly shook your head and took another sip of your drink. Eyes flickering over his badges on his lapel, one worn out enamel pin of what looked like a rabbit head catching your eye before you spotted some red against his purple vest. The colour having seeped into the silvery stars embroidery.

"You have something on your vest." Making the man look down, pulling his vest away from his body to look before his blue eyes snapped back up. A wolfish grin spreading across your face that made your heart race just a little as there was a dark spark in the usually dim eyes.

"Oh, nothing to worry about. It's only marinara sauce."

With that, he passed by. No explanation, no excuse. You watched the tall, lithe man leave with a little confusion as to who he was. You decided that you had to know, jogging after him slightly to catch up with his long, purposeful strides. The man pausing and looking at you curiously, eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Look, you might not give a fuck about what my name is, but I do give a fuck about what yours is." Crossing your arms across your chest, he cocked his head slightly, regarding you with a sudden interest that hadn't been there before. Like he was realising that you were a living, breathing person for the first time. A slow, lazy smile spread across his face, turning to face you fully before sliding his hand from his pocket, offering it for you to shake. You noticed that his hands were well manicured, even if the nails were a little longer than you expected and the way he squeezed your hand when you shook made them bite a little into your skin.

"William, Afton that is." You could feel the colour draining from your face as he pulled you forwards, having to take a step closer and his voice low, almost purring as he spoke quietly. "And don't worry, doll, I'll let the swearing slide this time."

"You didn't care yesterday."

"You weren't in uniform yesterday, remember?" Releasing your hand and giving you another wolfish smile as his hand returned to his pockets, the faint jingle of the pin badges as he moved an almost comical sound as William stared for a second. Turning on his heels and moving off with no more thought than if he had already said 'goodbye'.

Well, now you could at least say you had met one of your bosses. Even if something in the back of your head scratched and itched as to why William Afton was handling marinara sauce, reasoning that it was probably from his lunch break, not that he looked like he ate often, and you had never actually seen somebody take anything up to his office space. Glancing at the darkened upstairs window, you shook your head and decided it wasn't worth thinking about. Swallowing down your confusion and settling your sights on one of the smaller, fresher faced workers with a scowl as they tried to make a beeline for the prize-counter unnoticed.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going, newbie? Older workers get to pick their jobs first, you know the rules." The unwritten code of Fazbear Entertainment workers as the smaller figure startled and scurried away whilst you detoured to pick up your drink and head towards the prize counter.

It was going to be a long day.

You'd forgotten you were on closing duties, even though you had begged to swap. Open to close was a brutal shift that nobody enjoyed, especially since to 'cut costs', recently there had only been one member of staff closing down each night. The pizzeria was creepy when the lights were mostly turned off, only the flickering arcade screens and the backlit animatronic stage to light the main dining area. Casting long shadows across Freddy, Bonnie and Chica's soft furred parts. The eye sockets seeming hollower without the eyes being lit up, the way their jaws hung open slackly seeming almost like the death throes of the animals they represented, or an all too human scream. You couldn't decide which was worse.

Heading back into the employee corridor, your footsteps seemed to echo slightly against the chequered tiles, so used to the faint sound of the extremely loud music playing from birthday parties and children's games as they ran around. Instead, there was only your footsteps and the hum of the halogen light strips above you. Casting everything in a slight sickly yellow glow. Eyes darting as you took stock of the cobwebs that had probably been there since the restaurant opened, posters lining the check bordered walls, kids drawings scattered amongst it all. Memories of happy children who loved to see the animatronics perform, or had their birthdays at that location.

You were pulled from your thoughts as a metallic clatter caught your attention. Pausing and glancing down the corridor where the sound came from. There was only one door at the end of it, which you couldn't read the signage on from where you stood. Slowly approaching and trying to place your heel down first, quieting your footsteps against the tile as your heart began to thump harder in your chest.

"Hello?" You called out instinctually, cursing yourself for it when you were trying to be sneaky. If there was anybody, they surely would have gotten spooked and ran off by the time you got to the door, but you reasoned that you weren't about to get jumped by some drugged up junkie looking to steal metal to sell off to feed their habit. The door looming large as your eyes wandered over the lettering embossed onto the plaque screwed to it. 'Parts and Services'.

Pushing the door open, you had to blink to adjust your eyes to the darkness inside. Swallowing as you stepped in and the heavy door automatically swung shut under it's own weight behind you. Eyes adjusting to the very low light, flickering as your hands reached out in front of you and felt for some form of light to turn on.

Two years you had worked there, two years you had avoided any of the creepy horror stories that surrounded Freddy's and it's owners. You just had to go and stick your nose where it didn't belong, and you were left fumbling in the dark, managing to grab onto a table as you slipped in something slick across the tile floor. Feeling across the table and squealing when your fingers touched something furry. Praying that it wasn't a rat that had decided to place itself upon the altar of mechanical parts. Heart beating so quickly you could hear it pounding in your ears, hands shaking as you reached your hand out again to check whether or not the thing was still there.

Your fingers found the furred texture again, realising it was longer than anticipated and pushing your fingers into it, trying to figure out what on earth it was.

"And on the first day, the lord said; let there be light!" The voice startling you as it seemed to be so close yet so far away, blinking rapidly as the light turned on in the room and you couldn't help but flinch and look down towards the table. Your head hurt with the rapid change of light, taking a moment to adjust as your fingers curled around the soft texture in your hand, keeping your head down, vision finally clearing.

To see the face of your co-worker staring back at you with the same slack jawed expression that the animatronics had. Your hand in his hair, shrieking and pulling your hand free, slipping and tumbling as the face followed and you watched in silent horror as the head bounced against the tile. Rolling to face away, the bloody, raw meat, bone and gristle that you could see inside of what was once a neck, looking down and realising that your shaking hands were covered in claret. Thick, clotting, the smell of hot pennies and raw red meat overwhelming, wondering how you didn't notice it before.

Footsteps, your eyes wide and transfixed on the rolled head of your co-worker as well polished black shoes came into view, kicking the head slightly and making you wince as you head the meaty thud it made when it connected. Bloody hands coming into view, one clutching a fire-axe near the head as the figure crouched. Looking up, you saw the pale, angular face. Star vest coated in red, splashed against his pale skin as the blue eyes sparkled. William looked positively elated, a predatory grin across his face as you looked him over, realising that the childish pin-badges were coated in the gore too.

"Oh doll, you shouldn't have come back here. But I'm not going to punish your curiosity, little lamb." The cool, calm British voice made you shiver, there was something dark and feral in the way he fixed you under his intense gaze, eyes lazily drawing down your now coated body with his own shiver of delight as he ran his tongue over his teeth.

"H-He's- He's..." You stammered and William scoffed, rolling his eyes as he reached out, placing the flat side of the bloody axe under your chin and tilting it up so you would look at him again.

"Come on doll, you can say the word." Cooing encouragingly as you trembled before him.

"Dead. You...Oh god you killed him!"

"That's right, here at Freddy's, I am god." A self satisfied smirk as he tilted the axe to make the blade almost brush against your skin. Heart pounding as you realised that this was probably the end. Murdered by your boss, covered in your co-workers blood.

"So let me show you what a merciful god I am, and allow you to take your first communion." Standing up and spreading his arms wide, smile never leaving his face as the single lightbulb above illuminated behind his tousled, greying hair and formed a bloody halo for William Afton.

[frozenlight-gvf]

It's a Scream, Baby

summary: (dom!jake x fem!reader) it’s the night before Halloween, and your boyfriend Jake takes inspiration from your favorite scary movie to fulfill a twisted fantasy of yours

word count: 5.8k

warnings: 18+ minors DNI— language, brief talk of murder/killing, masks (obvi), oral sex (m-receiving), bondage (handcuffs), blindfolding, overstimulation, fingering (f-receiving), penetration (f-receiving), period sex and blood kink... starts super fluffy then dissolves into filthy madness and then gets fluffy again

a/n: this resulted from marathoning the scream franchise, having impure thoughts about jacob, and all the blood talk on this hellsite... so enjoy this disgusting smut (also pls listen to gus black’s cover of “don’t fear the reaper”)

***

The scent of cinnamon swirled through the air, the essential oil diffuser working diligently to infuse every surface in the house with the cozy spice. Cold rain from a late-night October thunderstorm pattered on the windows. The sky outside was black and plastered with turbulent clouds, but you had never felt more at peace: wearing your favorite Halloween pajamas, you stood on a step ladder hanging up orange and purple fairy lights, casting your face in a colorful, festive glow. Even the screams coming from the shitty horror movie that you had on while you worked couldn't pull you out of your contentment.

The last of the lights had been hung, and you stepped down from the short ladder to admire your work. The living room was now softly illuminated by the stringed lights, the diffuser, and the jack-o-lantern you had carved-- the electric tea light inside flickered warmly; it couldn't replace a real flame, but you couldn't risk burning down the apartment you just started renting with your boyfriend. Not yet, at least.

Satisfied, you dusted off your hands and placed them on your hips. Then, you grabbed the remote that had been haphazardly thrown on the couch, putting a definitive, long overdue stop to the recently-released movie that everyone told you you simply had to watch, that it was the scariest thing they'd ever seen. You had given it an honest try, but once again, your theory that horror peaked pre-2000’s had once again rang true.

Your slippers-- which were covered in cartoon bats, matching the little ghosts on your soft, orange pants-- shuffled on the worn wood floor as you ambled towards the dark kitchen.

You opted not to flip on the lights, enjoying the lingering light leaking in from the living room. The digitized red numbers on the stove read 10:28. You were going to wait until you had company before you started the movie you really wanted to watch, but it seemed that he wasn't going to be home anytime soon.

The spark on the stove ignited a small woosh of flame, your unfocused eyes contemplating the tendrils that curled and licked at the chilled air. You hugged your jacket tighter to your body, trying to thaw the frost from your bones as you scrounged the cabinets for the Jiffy Pop you had bought specifically for tonight.

As you set the pan on the heat, the kernels rattled in their tin foil cage, slowly bursting one by one.

Just like the movie. You smiled, taking comfort in pretending to be in that world even for just a moment.

Suddenly, too much like the movie.

You jumped as the landline rang, rattling against the wall.

Rationally, you had a good chance that there wouldn't be a serial killer on the other end, but after all, Casey Becker had thought the same thing. You felt your heart beat quicker, blood surging through your veins. Scenes of Casey's losing battle with Ghostface flashed through your mind, picturing yourself instead of her with the knife buried in your chest.

Shaking your head, embarrassed at your shaking fingers, you answered timidly, "H-hello?"

"What's your favorite scary movie, pretty girl?"

"Jesus, Jake," you exhaled into the phone, clutching your chest, the voice of your boyfriend bringing you immediate comfort. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Hm, never heard of that one. What's it about?"

"You're hilarious," you said dryly, trying to hide the smile in your voice.

"So..." Jake started, doing his best to mimic Ghostface's rasp over the phone, "You gotta boyfriend?"

"I do, actually, his name is Jake. He's strong and he's handsome and he plays guitar in a famous rock band."

"He sounds perfect."

"He is, except he's not here right now, so I'm all alone and vulnerable," you said, coating the words with theatrical drama, but letting some disappointment slip in under it all. "I might even forget to check if the door is locked."

"Oh, no, well that's not good," he teased, picking up on your bit.

"I hope he comes home soon and saves me before I'm brutally murdered."

His studio session with the band had run really late, leaving you alone on the night before your favorite holiday. It stung, but you kept reminding yourself that it wasn't Jake's fault. And besides, the joy that decorating for Halloween brought you was enough to keep you entertained.

"I'll be home soon, darling. I promise I'll make it up to you," he paused. "Save me some popcorn."

"No promises, angel," you said, shuffling the the aluminum pan, the foil tent gradually rising. "Drive safe, please. Love you."

"Love you most."

You hung up the phone, flicking off the fire when your popcorn was done, slightly mourning its comforting warmth. You settled on the couch, cocooning yourself in a thick blanket, as you cycled through your purchased movies and selected Scream.

***

It was about midnight when you heard keys jangling at the door, briefly startling you as Sidney Prescott finished off Billy Loomis with a shot between the eyes. "Not in my movie," you moved your mouth to quote with her. You heard Jake sigh and set his bags down heavily in the hallway, guitar case clunking against the floor.

He called miserably from the entryway, "Hey, pretty girl, I'm so sorry I'm late, the session was-"

"Don't worry about it," you said, tossing the blanket off of you to stand up and meet him. You pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. The tip of his nose was slightly pink and cold from the chilly October air. "I'm just glad you're here now."

"I know, but it's your favorite holiday," he whined, rubbing his hands up and down your covered arms.

You glanced back at the stove clock in the kitchen. 12:14 AM. "Well, now it is," you smiled weakly.

He hummed, looking down at you. "Happy Halloween, darling." He wrapped his hands around your waist, kissing you deeply as you felt any ire you held up against him melt away into nothing, leaving only fondness. "Mmm," he said, licking his lips once he pulled away, tasting the remnants of the salt from your snack. "Did you save any for me?"

"Nope," you said plainly, biting your bottom lip to hold back a grin. "But feel free to kiss me again if you'd like another taste."

Jake's second kiss was deeper, hungrier. He walked you backwards against the couch as his tongue swiped over your lips, trying to taste more of you. You happily granted him entry, letting him lick into your mouth, the pair of you breathing heavily. His cold fingers brushed the soft hair at the nape of your neck, holding you firmly against him, the sensation causing a tingle to run down your spine. Warmth was blooming in your stomach, and you felt yourself growing damp between your legs as he pushed his knee into those sensitive parts.

"Over the phone," he started, talking against your lips.

"Mhm?" you prompted, pecking him.

"I promised I'd make it up to you."

"Oh, yeah?"

"I've got a surprise," he said, kissing you again. "Wait right here."

He disappeared out of sight to the entryway where he had dropped his bags. The absence of him left you shivering. You stood-- slightly breathless-- exactly where he left you, leaning your hips back on the couch, anxious to see what Jake had up his sleeve.

After some rustling, Jake reappeared a few seconds later with an evil little smirk, holding something behind his back.

"What's this?" you giggled, genuinely curious about his behavior.

He coyly quirked an eyebrow. "Close your eyes."

You gave him a questioning look, but he smiled and rolled his eyes a bit, silently asking you to humor him. You sighed and closed your eyes.

"Jake, what is this?" Slightly exasperated, you wished he would just forgo all the games and fuck you.

After a few seconds, Jake spoke, his voice dripping with desire.

"It's a scream, baby."

You opened your eyes to Ghostface standing only a couple feet from you. A gasp shot out of you as you flinched backwards-- completely on instinct. But the fear that coursed through you soon dissolved into pure adrenaline once you cognized that it was Jake under the mask.

"Jake," you breathed, already starting to squirm, "are we finally doing this?"

You could hear him starting to breathe heavily under the mask. With tingling fingers, you reached for the buttons on his navy shirt— he had already done most of the work for you by wearing it sluttily half-open despite the fall weather. You licked your lips, hypnotized by the rise and fall of his smooth, defined chest.

“You wanna play psycho killer?” you quoted, the sound coming low and sultry from your chest. You slid each little pearlescent button from their respective holes on his shirt teasingly slow.

Jake nodded, the distorted white face moving up and down slowly.

You leaned in close to his ear once you had his shirt completely undone. “Can I play the helpless victim?”

Jake nodded once more, sealing your fate.

Arousal flooded your body as he slid off the slouchy zip-up hoodie you had hanging on your shoulders, revealing the dark spots of your hardening nipples under your white tank top. A barely-audibly groan came from under the mask, the rubber and fabric muffling any noise Jake made.

His sly fingers toyed at the sensitive skin right below the waistband of your fleece pants, making you pay for the teasing you had dished out to him earlier. You pushed Jake’s shirt all the way off of him, leaving his torso bare. The orange light in the room cast his skin in a warm, sensual glow. You hummed a sigh, beyond pleased at the situation you found yourself in.

“Living room or bedroom?” you whispered, running your hands up his body, resting them on his chest.

You had yet to christen-- so to speak-- the living room of the new apartment, so a sliver of you was hoping he would take you right there on the couch surrounded by all the festive decorations, but when he nodded his head back towards the bedroom, you knew he had something devilish planned.

Suddenly, he reached down to grab your thighs, scooping you up so your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist. He was always deceptively strong, making you feel like putty in his arms. You rested your hands around his neck, feeling where the ends of his soft brown hair emerged from the edge of the mask. In this new position, the urge to have his warm lips on yours again grew overwhelming, so you started to lift his mask up from the front, eager to see his pretty face.

Jake quickly slid one hand from his firm hold on your ass and grabbed your wrist roughly, stopping you in your tracks and pulling a surprised whine from your throat. He shook his head slowly, the grotesque face silently chastising you. You felt your core clench against his sturdy abdomen. Tonight was gonna be fun.

***

Jake carried you to the dark bedroom, and you stared into the mask's large black eyes the whole way, unable to see even a sliver of your boyfriend's face. He then tossed you on the mattress, jostling a yelp from you. The storm outside had long passed, and the clouds had parted to reveal the stereotypical Halloween night full moon. Its gray light slotted in through the open blinds, slicing through the blackness of the room. The cold glow lit Jake’s bare chest enticingly, and it made the bright white mask look even more haunting in the semi-darkness.

He crawled on top of you deliciously, leaning down so his head next to yours. “Remember our safe word, pretty girl?” his voice raspy, positively dripping with lust.

You nodded, “Wes Craven.” A smile creeped over your lips.

Jake sat up and nodded, clearly satisfied and ready to begin. Tingles fluttered through your skin; they started in your toes and snaked their way up through your legs, finding their destination at your throbbing heat.

You squirmed, unable to contain your desperation for his touch.

He climbed off of you and kneeled at the edge of the bed, tugging on the ankles of your pants. You lifted your hips so he could pull them off, leaving you in nothing but your panties and your barely-there tank top. You shivered in the cold air, your nipples perking up even more.

The night hadn't even gotten past a PG-13 rating, as Sidney would say, and yet, the tent that had formed in Jake's pants already looked painful. Forgetting your own pleasure, your mouth watered at the idea of taking care of his.

You slid off the bed and kneeled on the floor in front of him, so close you could hear his quickening breath. You tapped the tops of thighs to signal that you want him to stand up. Jake did so slowly, almost unsurely, looking down at you the whole time. With deft fingers, you made quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans, pushing the rough denim down low on his hips, not having the ability to tease him anymore.

His thick, defined print through his boxers almost made you moan. You ghosted your fingertips along his clothed length, in awe of him. He spasmed hard under your touch, making you gasp in surprise. There was no way he was already this sensitive.

You leaned forward, mouthing him through the cotton, creating a warm wet spot on the fabric. A pained groan sounded from above you, and you looked up to see that Jake had not moved his head the slightest bit, meaning that, under the mask, his eyes were still locked on you; he was taking great pleasure in watching you make a mess of his underwear.

Smirking, you pulled his boxers down, and he sprung free, bobbing appetizingly up and down. You were in disbelief at how hard he was already; Jake always got off on giving you pleasure, not the other way around. Could it be that he was enjoying your fantasy as much as you were?

You took his heavy length in your hand, his skin velvety-soft. Pumping him slowly, you traced the fingers of your other hand over his hipbone, considering your next move.

You decided to do something you'd never done before, just for the fuck of it. You had an urge to reward Jake for fulfilling this fantasy of yours. So, slowing removing your hand from him-- really wanting to make a show of it-- you brought your palm to your lips and spit thickly into it. A string of saliva hung between your mouth and your hand as you resumed stroking his cock, gripping him tighter this time. The muscles in his abdomen visibly flexed, and you could tell Jake was holding back a whimper from the choked noise he was making. He gathered your hair out of your face into his fist at the back of your head.

You knew he wanted to fuck your mouth, but you weren't going to let him just yet. You were going to savor this, assuming it would be your last few moments of being in control for the rest of the night.

You began pumping him faster, the slick of your saliva making the movement sickeningly easy. You rested your free hand on his thigh, feeling his muscles tense and contract repeatedly. As soon as he thrusted his hips into your hand, you broke all contact, making Jake exhale heavily, a whine sneaking in at the end.

Looking up at him and batting your eyes, you stuck your tongue out flat, moving it so that the head of his cock rested on it.

You flicked the tip of your tongue at that sweet spot under the head, and his dick twitched madly. You persisted your kitten licks, knowing that you were slowly swelling up his desire to throw you around and have his fucking way with you.

You wrapped your lips around his throbbing head, swirling your tongue around it and tasting the precum that leaked from it. You purposefully moaned loud and long so that the vibrations went straight into his dick, making him quiver.

Daringly, you pushed your mouth further down his cock, and the fist Jake had wrapped around your hair tightened, slightly pulling your chin upwards. Once your nose was brushing the soft hair at his base, you hollowed out your cheeks, pulling your head back and sucking him hard all the way up his shaft and back down again. His knees almost buckled.

You would have murdered the rest of the town of Woodsboro to see the pleasure splashed out on his face. His cheeks always grew so prettily pink, his lips red and parted, gasping for air.

You shamelessly ground your covered pussy into the floor, aching for friction. Jake noticed this, and he used the leverage he had on your hair to yank you away from him. You whined in protest, but he wasn’t having any of it. The realization sparked in your mind that the reason he stopped you was because you had almost made him cum. Already.

He pointed his finger stiffly to the bed, instructing you to get back on top of the sheets. You did so quickly and obediently while he tugged his pants and boxers all the way down and off, leaving him fully, stunningly naked, save for his silver medallion necklace and the Ghostface mask.

God, you had dreamed about this pretty much since you met the guy at that Halloween party back in college. You were a slutty vampire, and he was, of course, dressed as Ghostface, and you would have bet money that the mask he was wearing tonight was the very same one from all those years ago. The sentiment had almost distracted you from the feeling of his fingers fidgeting with the hem of your tank top. You nodded, thinking he was asking for permission to bare you to him, but he just kept rubbing the seam between pinched fingers. Humming with understanding, you sat up and reached to grasp the fabric where his fingers were. Closing your eyes seductively, you slowly revealed the skin of your torso bit by bit, inch by inch, letting your breasts be the prize you made him wait for.

Pausing in disbelief at the plucky acoustic guitar that had begun to whisper through the room, you swallowed hard as you listened close, praying you were hearing what you thought you were. A breathy, haunting voice began to sing,

"All our times have come,

here but now they're gone..."

The very same voice that serenaded Sidney and Billy in the movie.

Jake was setting his phone down on the bedside table right beside the Bluetooth speaker. You were hazily astonished by how he was able to do that in the time it took for you to take off your top.

“You... are…” you started, unable to hold back the arousal-soaked laugh that shook from you as his knees straddled your upper thighs, “unbelievable.”

He said nothing as he tucked a finger in the waistband of your panties and ripped them off of you, making you gasp at the sudden roughness that punctuated the serene, yet painfully arousing music. He held up the pathetic strands of fabric that your underwear had now become, dangling them so that you got a good look of what he could do to you. You hummed a moan behind closed lips, loving the overt display of dominating masculinity. Tossing the ruined panties aside like the garbage they now were, he touched the pad of his thumb to your bottom lip, pulling it down and prying your jaw open. The action dizzied you with seduction, and you let loose a loud, uninhibited moan, giving him just what he wanted as his fingers dipped into your wetness and brought them up to rub small circles on your clit.

The fire inside you was scorching every crevice, your edges smoldering. You were more than happy to let Jake take you all the way to the edge and over it just with his skilled fingers, which you knew he was more than capable of doing. But that’s clearly not what he had in mind when you felt his weight suddenly absent from the bed. Your eyes lazily blinked open to stare at the ceiling when you heard a drawer open, knowing that there was a whole variety of things he could be grabbing to use on you…

Ghostface reappeared in your field of vision, necklace and hair dangling a foot or two above you.

As well as the strip of black silk and the fuzzy handcuffs he was holding.

You were so overcome with anticipation that your vision went blurry, the back of your head pressing deep into the pillows.

“Wow," you gulped, gasping for air, "you’re really running with the ‘psycho killer’ theme, huh?”

You did your best to hide it, but your voice betrayed exactly how turned on this made you.

Jake nodded tantalizingly.

First came the blindfold. Once the cold silk was tied securely around your eyes, the rest of your senses were instantly enhanced; you felt every fiber of the sheets beneath you, and you could even faintly smell the cinnamon wafting in from the living room.

The handcuffs came next, but not before Jake took both of your hands and pinned them above your head. He closed one of the soft loops around your left wrist, the clicking sound and the almost-too-tightness sending a flood of arousal through you— you were surely soaking the sheets by now.

You heard him thread the free loop through the bars of the headboard and close it around your other wrist, hissing at the sensation. You tested your new range of movement, finding it deliciously limited. Your clit prickled with pleasure, knowing that whatever happened next was out of your control. You'd put up a good fight, but now you were thrilled to just lie down and take what was coming to you.

“Alright, pretty boy,” your voice silky with pleasure. “Do your worst.”

He let you lie untouched for a moment, your need growing rapidly.

Then, his fingers attacked to your hot center, rubbing up and down your folds, collecting the wetness that had gathered.

You whined when his fingers left you once again, starting to regret wanting this. He could tease you and edge you like this for hours.

What hit your ears next had you gushing. There was an obscene slurping sound as Jake sucked your slick off his fingers. The vulgar noise alone caused you to moan loud and long, your hips writhing.

He stilled your movements with a strong arm across your pelvis, pressing you down into the bed as he punished your clit, rubbing harder and faster, his fingers lubricated with his own spit. You felt your legs start to go numb, your chest and face flushing hotly.

You couldn’t help but wonder if Jake still had the mask on even though you couldn’t see it; the only reason he'd have it on now is if he wanted it. But when he finally pushed a finger inside you, a groan escaped him despite his best efforts-- still muffled by the rubber.

When he brushed the pad of his finger against your g-spot, you let out a high-pitched moan. The stimulation was divine, but it wasn't near enough to get you off, which you needed more than you needed oxygen in that moment. You desperately wiggled your hips under his arm, desperate to be more filled. He acquiesced, pushing a second finger inside, stretching you delectably. Jake started to pump in and out, rubbing the pad of his thumb on your throbbing clit.

You were submerged in euphoria when you felt a warm liquid drip down from your pubic bone and into your folds-- Jake had spit on you. Like you were some dirty slut. Fantasizing about being fucked by a masked serial killer? Yeah, you were a filthy whore. And you loved it. Clearly, so did Jake.

A pitiful whine slipped past your lips as Jake picked up the pace, pumping and rubbing faster and harder, the pornographic squelching noise it made had your mind going numb. The blood in your veins had seemed to be replaced by pure liquid pleasure as the feeling of Jake’s fingers on and inside your most sensitive parts shot you ever-closer to your looming peak, threatening a vigorous collapse.

“Jake, please,” you pleaded. “Shit…need more,” you panted. You meant that you wanted his thick cock shoved deep inside you, but he simply kicked up his fingers a notch or two, sending you hurtling straight into the wall of your high, but excruciatingly unable to climb over it.

“Fuck, Jake!” You grappled with your restraints, wanting nothing more than to grab his wrists and pull him away from you. The pleasure was way too much. Pathetically overstimulated, it took you way too long to realize that Jake knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“You’re evil,” you sobbed, tears soaking the black silk over your eyes. Your mind couldn't understand or perceive anything but Jake’s merciless fingers at your cunt, the sensation beyond unbearable.

Just before you thought you were going to explode into fire, leaving nothing but ash and cinders, Jake relented.

Tear-stained and absolutely dripping wet, you were sure you were a sight to behold.

“Fucking bitch,” you spat, trying to catch your breath. It took you a good minute to remember where you where.

You then felt his strong palm come down hard on the side of your hip, sending you right back up into the stars. “Ow, Jesus, Jake!” you shouted, swallowing hard. But you both knew how much you liked being smacked around. His hand soothed the red mark he left.

His thumb gently brushed your cheeks, drying the tears that had flooded beyond the silk covering your eyes.

He grazed his hand from your chin, down your exposed neck, to your collarbone, and down to trace where the swell of your breasts began, obviously reveling in the image of your naked body all tied up and leaking for him. You felt his calloused fingers pinch one of your hard nipples while his free hand kneaded your other breast, making your back arch up into his touch, feeling divinely sensitive. A whine left your throat, your hips bucking pitifully.

His hands dragged down the sides of your waist and hips, finally settling and digging his fingers into your skin. You inhaled sharply as you felt his throbbingly hard cock run through your folds, sending shockwaves up to your head, fogging up your mind once more.

“Please,” you whispered a prayer, hungry for his cock.

Stars exploded behind your eyes when suddenly, Jake forcefully thrusted into you all the way, not giving you even a moment to get used to his size.

Your whole body was attacked with tingles, that familiar heat growing in your stomach again when you felt Jake lean over you, shivering at the feeling of the cold metal of his necklace landing on your chest. The heat and softness of his bare skin on yours felt so intimate compared to the outrageously obscene slapping sound that was erupting from between your two pelvises. Your pussy was exponentially wetter than normal, attributing it to the arousal of your long-time fantasy playing out on your favorite night of the year, as well as Jake’s talented cock brushing your g-spot with each quick snap of his hips, leaving you a moaning, blubbering mess.

“Jake, please, I’m almost there, I need more.” You had the urge to reach down and rub your clit to skyrocket you to your peak, momentarily forgetting your restraints; the sound of the metal chain that connected the loops rattling against the headboard along with your desperate whines seemed to encourage Jake. He started thrusting into you even faster and harder. One of his hands left your hips, and before long, his pointer and middle fingers were pushing past your lips. You sucked on them eagerly, moaning around them as you greedily swirled your tongue all over his skin, tasting his salty sweat and your own lingering arousal.

Sufficiently slicked, he pulled his fingers from your lips with a ‘pop,’ bringing them down to rub your clit hard. At this point, you were screaming in pleasure, writhing against your restraints, chanting Jake’s name like he was a god. He was everywhere; on top of you, inside of you, within you. It was overpowering.

Your toes began to curl as you felt yourself teetering on the edge you wouldn’t be able to come back from, about to be launched into the most extreme pleasure you’d ever felt.

“I’m about to cum, Jake, fuck!” you sobbed, breathing so heavy that your head started to spin.

One more particularly expert thrust of Jake’s hips sent you screaming into the deep, vast abyss of unimaginable pleasure. Your walls clenched like a vice around Jake’s cock, wetness flowing out of you. Your whole body went white-hot numb, making you forget your existence in this reality.

All the while, Jake was still thrusting into you, riding you through the waves of you unbearable euphoria.

Blinking hard, your breath gradually slowed as you regained feeling in your body. Jake was caressing your hips, helping to bring you back down to earth.

Once your breathing evened out, you felt him peel his torso off of yours, the both of you damp with sweat.

“Shit,” you heard him exclaim breathily— the first time he’s spoken this whole time— the single word drawn out in pure incredulity. The click that followed was him turning the dim bedside lamp on.

“What? What is it?”

“See for yourself.”

He removed your tear-soaked blindfold, your vision blurry and stinging from being in total blackness for so long. You squinted as your eyes adjusted in the low lamplight to see what had Jake so amazed.

Streaks of red were splattered between you, painting the both of you with fresh, dark blood.

“Oh, fuck, Jake, I’m so sorry,” you gasped in utter disbelief and embarrassment. “I didn’t know I was starting, or else I wouldn’t have-“

You trailed off as you watched Jake remove the Ghostface mask: his brown hair was disheveled, eyes half-lidded and lips open, visibly stunned. He tentatively dragged his fingers across a particularly thick streak of blood on his stomach and held up his hand as he watched it drip down over his palm. He was entirely dumbfounded, like there were no other thoughts in his mind except your blood on his skin. He pulled out of you, still hard and twitching.

You watched in hazy awe as Jake began to slowly pump his cock, using your slick blood to glide over his length. His eyes were locked onto to his streaked fist. Gradually getting faster and faster, his breathing quickened and high-pitched moans and whines started to slip past his fucked-out pink lips. He threw his head back, and the sweat on his flushed neck glistened in the low light. His eyebrows furrowed, concentrating hard on his impending release. He grunted deep and long as he came on your already-painted stomach, shooting hot and hard.

His chin fell to his chest, every ounce of his energy drained from him as he collapsed back to sit on his heels.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, still breathing hard and admiring the red blood marring the pale white flesh on his hand and his cock.

You didn't have the words to express how turned on you were. You simply stared at him as he sat between your shaking legs.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry," he breathed, wiping his bloodied hand on his waist and sliding off the bed, rushing to your side to release you from your handcuffs.

He took your hands and kissed both of your wrists, your soft, sweet Jakey resurfacing. Without a word, he scooped you up into his arms, carrying you towards the bathroom.

***

As the warm water of the bath Jake drew for you soothed your aching muscles, the fog in your brain slowly dissolved into bliss. You watched as steam swirled around the white-tiled room. Jake, having quickly cleaned off and changed into a sweatshirt and flannel pants, had returned from the kitchen with two classes of cold water. He passed you one as he kneeled beside the tub, stroking your hair.

You cleared your throat to try and rejuvenate your weak voice. "That was amazing."

"I couldn't agree more,” he said, kissing your forehead. “Are you ok?"

You nodded and hummed a response, leaning into his touch on your jaw.

"Never thought I'd get so hot and bothered at the sight of you covered in blood," you said with a giggle.

"Well, we already knew you were a bit twisted, what with you wanting to be ruined by Ghostface," he joked, a grin spreading over his lips.

"And ruined, I was."

Jake held out his hand to help you step out of the bathtub, handing you a fluffy white towel. Once you were dry, he tied his soft robe around you, taking a moment to worship the sight of your body.

You turned to head towards the linen closet to grab a fresh set of sheets, thinking about the crime scene that was yours and Jake's bed.

Jake grabbed you by your waist and turned you around to face him. "Mm-mm. Already done, pretty girl. You have nothing to worry about." He placed a sweet kiss on the tip of your nose.

"You already changed the--?"

"Yep. All clean."

You hadn't any idea where he had found the time to do that, but you almost moaned at the idea of sinking deep into the fresh sheets next to Jake.

Once more, you found yourself with your legs wrapped around Jake's waist as he carried you back to the bedroom, your chin propped on his shoulder.

He set you down on your back on the mattress, leaning over your body to kiss you deeply. It was passionate, yet spilling over with tenderness. In that moment, all you knew was Jake's solid body and his soft lips.

You gasped and chuckled at the feeling of Jake already hard again between your legs.

He looked down at the bulge in his pants. "'God, you see what you do to me?'" he quoted Billy Loomis with a smile, talking against your lips.

"No, I don't," you said coyly, returning his smile and wrapping your arms around his back, pulling him flush to you. "Why don't you show me?"

*

PART TWO!!

taglist post!

[livlaughloveluke]

𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞- 𝐞.𝐥

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you fall in love with a murderer, and have to choose between living a life with out him, or dying

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: HEAVY angst, no happy ending (sorry), ghostface au, little cursing, scream 6 spoilers ig, death :(

𝐚/𝐧: my first writing!! lmk what y’all think 👀 theme heavily inspired by @auras-moonstone, which go check her blog out if you haven't already! also story very similar to author on wattpad, forgot their name though so if you know, make sure to comment!

your feet ached from running, and with every step you took, it felt like your muscles were snapping into itty-bitty pieces. however, you had to keep running, for yourself, and for your friends.

you were currently being chased by two ghostfaces, who had just brutally murdered chad. it was painful to watch, since you had been attached at the hip since kindergarten, and had grown up together. 

he was always there for you, and was a great listener. he listened to you when you needed to vent about your shitty day, or when you were rambling on about how cute and thoughtful ethan was. 

you met ethan at the beginning of the semester, and instantly clicked. you constantly hung out, and the group liked to joke about your crushes on one another. you just thought it was playful teasing, although you had definitely fallen for ethan, hard. 

unbeknownst to you, he had felt the same. originally, you and him were never supposed to happen. the plan was for him to join the group through chad, and continue the family business from there. although, once he heard your angelic laugh and experienced your lovable personality, he knew the whole plan was fucked. 

however, none of that matters now, as you stand in front of detective bailey. he had just revealed himself as one of the heartless killers, and the other murders still had their masks on, and stood next to him proudly.

then, he took off his disguise. 

it was ethan. your ethan. the one who you baked cookies with only a few nights ago, was a serial killer, and wanted your blood. 

you couldn’t focus on the others words, all you could do was stare at ethan. he however, was to much of a coward to even glance your direction. he couldn’t bear the thought of your eyes being stained with sadness and betrayal. 

you were quickly brought back to reality as all hell broke loose. quinn chased after the sisters, bailey after kirby, and ethan after you.

you pushed your sore and aching legs down a dim hallway, only to find a dead end. it was over for you. no where to run, you turned around to look at ethan, and backed into the cold, concrete wall.

“so, this is it? you’re just going to kill me now, after everything we’ve been through?” you ask with an aggravated tone, your words still lingering in ethans ears, much after they were said.  

“i- i dont want to do this to you, y/n. but i have to. its for richie, for the family.” he grips the knife, and slowly brings it up to your throat. you tense up, and squeeze your eyes shut.

this is how you were going to die, bleeding out at the hands of the boy you loved most. it felt unreal, although you were starting to except your fate. you internally jumped at the feeling of the tip of the knife to your throat, and now you were waiting for him to end your life with one stroke. 

you kept waiting, for what felt like an eternity, but nothing ever came. you decided to open your eyes out of curiosity. he was standing still, looking down at the ground, deep in thought. 

“do it. please, don’t drag my death on. the least you can do is make it quick. kill me, ethan.” you say, the tremble in your voice very prominent. the sound of your whispers catches him off guard, and he looks up from the floor to make eye contact with you.

ethan broke upon hearing your pleads. what was he doing? he loved you, more than he loved his father or sister. you made him feel special, in a way no other family member could.

“I can’t do it.” he says, dropping the knife and beginning to sob into his hands. you look at him, both confused and distraught, until your attention is brought elsewhere. sam was covered in blood behind him, a knife in hand. she brought a finger up to her lips, signaling you to be quiet so she could attack him.

you didn’t want him to die, but you knew he had to. you quickly embraced him, arms around his neck, standing on your tallest tiptoes, due to his abnormally large height. 

you dig you head into his neck, between your arm, and began to cry with him.

“you dont know how bad i want this to be a dream.” you managed to choke out, in between sobs. “i wish i could wake up in your arms, and everything could go back to normal.” you say, still hugging him, for this would be the last time. 

you pick your head up to look at sam, signaling to her that it was time. you bury your head back into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes, waiting. you then hear the knife plunge into his skin, and you feel the vibrations of his muffled shrieks along your skin.

you decide to continue talking, trying to help him through the pain, while sam retracts the weapon from his back and goes to stab him again.

 “i wish i could wake up from this nightmare, and we could go back to studying econ on thursdays, and getting milkshakes at our favorite diner while we talk and laugh for hours.” you exclaim with a depressing and heartfelt tone.

“remember when you were walking me back to my apartment late one night, and we saw a stray cat? and you sat there for the next 10 minutes, feeding it scraps out of the palm of your hand?” you recite to him, and he nods slowly, while in pain. 

“thats the ethan i fell in love with. he would never do anything like this, and he was the most selfless guy i knew. he would spend hours researching the perfect flower to get, and would make sure to text me every morning and night to check on me.” you share, and start to feel his body go limp, and all color he once had, slowly drained from his soul. 

“i love you, so much y/n. i wish things were different.” he stutters out, before going unconscious. 

“me too.” you say, laying his body down on the ground. tears spilling from your eyes, and onto his lifeless cheek. 

that was it. there was no more ethan and y/n. you would have to live a life without him. no more sleeping in his bed while you ran your fingers through his hair, no more sweet messages, no more song recommendations. apart of you had died that day, and it killed knowing that he would never come back. 

[shiny-jr]

Hi! I just want to say that I've read all of your takes on how the overblot crew don't get held accountable for what they've done and I am so happy to find another person that agrees with me.

Listen, I understand that we're dealing with incredibly traumatised teenagers who were pushed into it and overblotting was what ultimately lead them towards their healing but put aside the damage that they did during their overblot and think about how awfully they treated yuu beforehand.

Azul: took away their home and the only comfort family they had in twst (the ghosts), and sent the tweels to attack and harrass them during their attempts to get back their home and free their friends from servitude

Jamil: Kidnapped them, locked them up in a room against their will, again took away their home, isolated them from their friends/adeuce and prevented them from contacting anyone, hypnotised them and manipulated them, forced them to participate in long marches in the desert and literally turned a blind eye during their clear suffering

Vil: (he is literally my least favourite character - and yes, I do understand that he has just as much trauma and issues as the others due to his past and the pressure he puts on himself to be perfect - but I just don't like him) he was downright cruel and needlessly awful to not only Yuu but everyone else. He not only was horrid to poor Epel but he was dismissive and uncaring to the point of upsetting Deuce and making him run off so that no one would see him in that state. And that was before he tried to murder an innocent teenager in cold blood pre-overblot.

Yuu has gone through so much because of them and not once do they ever actually acknowledge the damage they've done to them. No one ever thinks: hey, maybe we should check up on that traumatised child that we've most definitely emotionally scarred and try to make amends instead of brushing their feelings under the rug.

You know why I love Ace so much? He actually calls people out for what they've done. He rightfully admonishes Trey for being a bystander during Riddle's reign of terror whilst Heartslabyul was suffering, he rightfully tells Riddle that crying won't erase the way he treated them before he overblotted (I was shocked that he had the guts to say that but I agreed with him - I stan a real one), he punches Riddle when he maliciously insults Yuu for no reason (that was the moment I fell for him. Yes I have a 5% hunch he did that also because he just wanted to punch him but the fact that it was Yuu's feelings getting hurt that made him actually lose it after everything else Riddle did to him is just everything to me), and he rightfully gets mad at Malleus when his prank made him think that his friends were dead.

I actually have a Yuu/OC that's so traumatised by the overblots that the only people they fully trust are Adeuce and Grim. They don't know if anyone that's nice to them are actually manipulative or will just use them in the future so they've developed serious trust issues and have PTSD from the actions of the overblots that they don't even look at them or greet them in the hallways. This is a Yuu that will forgive and never forget. It sounds petty and vindictive but I want them to suffer in their guilt whilst Yuu gets the support and help from Adeuce that they need.

Okay, I held off on responding to this because goddamn is it a long ask. Hold on, I gotta put this under the cut because it's too much, and my responding just makes it longer. Also, you read all the takes? That's impressive, considering I don't remember half of what I said. Spoilers for all overblots, including from the diasomnia chapter.

I'm just gonna summarize this in one simple statement. I know people aren't gonna agree, but here it is. The overblotted students deserved more punishments. As you said, yes, they're traumatized, but they were still conscious of their decisions before they overblotted. And they all did some questionable stuff before overblotting.

You literally said everything I was going to say. None of them are innocent. Even if they didn't overblot, their actions before the disaster were bad.

Idk, I feel like Yuu should be a little more acknowledged sometimes. I mean, yeah, ultimately, the characters do get close to Yuu and help them out. (1) Riddle helping Yuu investigate against Leona, (2) Leona helping Yuu get rid of Azul's contracts to free everyone, (3) Azul stepping in to help Yuu while they were stuck with Jamil, (4) Jamil getting them out of that dangerous overblot situation with Vil, (5) Vil helping fight against Idia and giving Yuu and co. a kiss, etc. But half of these felt like they had ulterior motives when they did this, and yeah, they treat Yuu differently, but we don't see that too much.

Ace is like one of the only real ones. The realest. Yeah, he was a massive jerk in the beginning, but that character development? In the beginning of the prologe, he was just being rude for no reason. But then, by the end of the prologe, he's actually begrudgingly friends with Yuu, and then towards the end of chapter one, as you said, he defends Yuu after Riddle made that unnecessary comment. Find yourself a bro like Ace (also because, as mentioned in other posts, he did not stand for Malleus' and Lilia's bs prank).

Honestly, Yuu should be super messed up mentally and emotionally by now. Probably even physically. Because of all the stuff they've gone through.

[pureblisswrites]

A guide to being kidnapped and escaping 101

Prologue

Chapter 1

"I know you tried to move. Otherwise there would've been no marks." He looked at you accusingly as if you were the one who commited a crime or were covered in blood.

Pairing: afab! Psychologist! Reader x Bang Chan

Word Count: 1.6k

Genre: Crime, mafia au, eventual romance, slow burn, comedy (an attempt was made)

Warnings: kidnapping (not with malicious intent), use of injection(s), mentions of blood although nothing graphic, criminal activities of course.

Summary: You are a fairly renowned psychologist and therapist but definitely not renowned enough to be getting kidnapped in the middle of the night. Is it one of your past patients with a criminal record? You don't know what the kidnapper wants but you have a feeling you are about to find out.

This story takes place in the same universe as "A guide to accidental murder and cover up 101" but with a different reader. I suggest you can read that too if these kind of stories are your type. But both can be read as standalones too.

Completing Mrs Kim's therapy sessions, check. Because God knows that woman would rather chew glass than talk about her mommy issues and inferiority complex. Being promoted to senior therapist, check. Getting another new pet, check. Being kidnapped from your home, check. Okay so being kidnapped was definitely not on your this year's bingo card.

It's not everyday a bunch of well built men approach your apartment in the middle of the night, inject a needle into your veins, and take you in an expensive looking car with tinted windows. You feel yourself going limp and your mind filling with cloudy haze. Yeah you'd much rather have another therapy session with Mrs Kim than feeling like this, you think to yourself before loosing consciousness completely.

You wake up after God knows how many hours or possibly days? That thought scares you, you hadn't even submitted a leave of absence. What if they fired you? No they wouldn't fire you right? You were one of the top therapists in the country. There was no way they would fire you just after promoting you. And more importantly, what about your pets?

You look around you, observing your surroundings. The room looks like a 5 star suite room. You look down to see silk bed sheets wrapped around you. When you attempt to move you find that your movements are restricted. Your hands are free though, so you remove the sheets from around your legs. Only to find that your feet are cuffed from the bedpost. Great. Just fucking great. You jerk your legs in an attempt to unlock them but it's of no use whatsoever except making some noise.

Should you scream? What if the people who kidnapped you are psychopaths or sociopaths and it sets them off? It certainly won't be your first time dealing with psychopaths or sociopaths. But you needed to be very careful if you wanted some answers and didn't want to die.

"Hello?" You say. Your voice barely above a whisper because your throat feels so fucking hoarse. Just how dehydrated were you? You cough a bit to try to regain your voice. "Hello?" You repeat again. A little louder this time. "Is anyone there?" You almost scream now. Still no answer. You'll have to say something that they couldn't ignore now. You just hoped someone would be on the other side of the giant door. "I'm sorry but I really really need to go to the washroom. I'm not kidding." What the fuck? Did they just brought you here to leave you in a bed and go on with their days? You wished they would talk to you at least once so you could grasp what kind of people they were and what to say and not say to them. "EXCUSE ME?" You shout with all the voice you're left with now and then cough violently afterwards.

Suddenly the door opens by a man dressed in all black with a mask on his face, but his eyes are directed downwards and he isn't coming in. You see the reason mere seconds later. When a man with really well built body enters. His eyes as cold as the cuffs on your feet. He's wearing a white shirt with black harness belts over it. Who wears stuff like this? But that's definitely not the most concerning thing about him. It's the way his white shirt is splashed with blood. And not just one kind of blood. Different shades of blood. So are his black gloves and wrists.

You have worked with people who have been diagnosed with violent behavioural disorders and have seen your fair share of blood in your years long career as a psychologist. But never in this much quantity. And definitely never in this situation where you're tied to a goddamm bed. This was pretty fucking scary.

"Oh hello." He said like he was surprised that you were here, as if he wasn't the one who kidnapped you in the first place. "Did you need something?" He asked politely as if he was some underpaid staff at the local convenience store.

Deciding to not test the waters right now you just uttered one word. "Washroom."

"Oh right." He held out a hand towards the man who had opened the door in the first place and the man placed a a tiny key in his hand. He then walked towards you and opened the lock of the cuffs in one swift motion. It took you longer than this to open the lock of your door. That means he is pretty skilled at what he does. Which is scary because you suppose he murders people. Or animals? What if he is just a butcher? No but he kidnapped someone, the someone being you, he is definitely involved in criminal activities. He frowned when he noticed the red marks on your ankles. As if! Did he not know this would happen? He also seemed fairly experienced in whatever it was that he did considering the number of men working for him, you assumed. "You shouldn't have done that." He stated.

"Huh?" You questioned, too busy analysing his every move. Who knew for how much time they would leave you here again.

"I know you tried to move. Otherwise there would've been no marks." He looked at you accusingly as if you were the one who commited a crime or were covered in blood. This man needed to get his priorities straight.

"Can I go now?" You asked. It felt so weird after asking for permission to go to the fucking washroom after telling people what to do for years as a therapist.

"Uh yeah. It's that black door on your left." He gestured to said door. You stumbled to walk and heard him talking to the other man near the door. "Why did you fucking cuff her?" He sounded a bit angry.

"Because you told us to Boss!" The other man exclaimed while looking pretty shaken up.

"Yeah well I didn't-" he cut himself off and looked at you watching them while standing near the door. Fuck. You rushed inside quickly, afraid of what will happen now that he heard you eavesdropping on their conversation. Even though technically they were talking right in front of you.

You used the washroom not knowing when will be the next time you'll get to get out of the bed you were chained to. You go out and see the man who was not the "boss" standing next to the bed. Trying really hard to unlock the cuffs from the bedpost.

"I- uh sorry I'm kind of an intern here so-" he was clearly struggling to get the key out of keyhole now. Did he get it stuck there? "So- um I wanted to apologise for the inconvenience caused to you on my behalf. Boss ordere- uh asked me to apologize. Did that sound too formal? Sorry I used to work in retail before this if you couldn't already tell." You could.

"Let me see this." You go up to the lock as the man makes way for you. "I think you pretty much broke one of the latches in the locking pad." You observed. You had some experience with broken locks from that time you had your first internship in an asylum.

"Well then I'll go prepare for my funeral. In the meantime you can wait here. Someone will be here soon enough with some food for you." He sighed in despair and walked away. Not even bothering to close the door. Yeah he definitely was an intern.

Well then you might as well observe this place right? Right. You approach the giant door with slow and light steps. Not knowing what you could see on the other side. You look out to see dark hallways on all three sides with multiple doors in them. They are dimly lit from the sunlight that's passing through the huge windows on each end of the walls. You can see greenery. Maybe there's a garden somewhere.

Now... you were a psychologist but no psych vol. 6 book ever had notes about how to escape from a supposed mansion after being kidnapped by God knows who and for what. So you decided to throw caution out of the window and run out. Future you will just have to deal with whatever happens.

Confused between whether to go right, left or center, you decide to follow your instincts and go center. You run as fast as you can, which isn't actually fast because you had long ago decided that you would never have to run. Your job was to sit in a room with someone and talk to them. Why would you need to run? Yeah right. You hear footsteps following you behind so you look behind you just to find... no one? Running while looking in the opposite direction was definitely not a good idea. Because you just know you ran into someone you weren't supposed to run into.

You look up from the well built and hard chest your face had collided into, only to see the "boss" looking at you with an expression you couldn't identify. He was unusually cold yet held a soft look in his eyes. Very contradicting. Thankfully he had changed his blood stained shirt for a plain black one, although he still had those bloody gloves on. You can feel him staining your t-shirt as his big hands grip onto your shoulders from when you had lost your balance while faceplanting into his chest. And you really wish he hadn't held you and let you go so the ground could swallow you whole.

"Going somewhere doc?"

A/N: I wanted to make this longer as well as show their first proper conversation but I've been running low on motivation lately so I thought I should just post this first. Please let me know your thoughts on this, comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

[sunlightandsuffering]

Feminist and The Fratboy AU

THEORETICALLY, I COULD WRITE MORE BUT AS OF RN I KIND OF LIKE HOW IT'S ENDED AND STUFF?? it's not as smutty as i wanted but y'all i really think this is the essence of them, feminist mikasa and fratboy eren WE DO LOVE

She’s sitting in his room, lazily turning herself in loops on his desk chair, spinning around over and over again. And isn’t that the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. 

And yet here she fucking is, in the bedroom of one Eren Yeager, expecting it to play out differently than it has the hundred or so other times she’s been in this exact position. 

Her socked foot taps against the edge of his desk once more, giving her the momentum she needs for one more spin– but she’s stopped. 

Eren is glaring at her, his own foot wedged harshly between her and the desk, “No more.” She winces, definition of fucking insanity. 

“I should go,” Mikasa tells him, sitting up from the comfort of her swivel chair, she should at least pretend she wants to leave, that she has some dignity. “No, we have to work on our gender women’s studies assignment, I need a good mark if I don’t want to worry about the final.” Mikasa glares at him miserably, slumping back into the comfort of the plush high-backed swivel chair, the one she is sure is used for all too much video gaming, “You could, you know apply yourself, that might help.” Eren shoots her an unimpressed look, “Why would I do that when I have an angry little feminist at my beck and call.”

This time she stands up, fully intending to leave, but Eren shoves her back, his foot on her thigh, dumping her right back into her chair, “Relax, Miki, I didn’t mean it.” Debatable. 

She quirks an eyebrow at him, irritated, and a smirk tugs at Eren’s lips, those smug, full lips that she loves to kiss way too much, he’s so fucking irritating.

“Don’t be so sensitive.” She could murder him right now, in cold blood, and ruin his mother’s perfectly beige carpet.

For a moment she considers it, her eyes flickering toward the butter knife, lying innocently on the dirty plate on his desk. It’s probably from before she got here, when Mama’s boy eating his dinner at his desk, like a fucking king. 

Her face twists into a scowl and Eren’s smirk blooms into a full-on grin, but he must sense her rage because he puts his hands up in surrender, just before she can make a grab for the dull silver of the blade. 

“Fine, I’m sorry,” he kicks her affectionately, and she comes back to herself, stops contemplating murder, just three words from him and it’s over, her brain a puddle of mush, “You know I love my angry little feminist.” “Fuck off.” He’s practically beaming now, man spreading wide from his seat on the bed and Mikasa turns to glance over at her notebook, the list of prompts for an essay they need to write. 

“What do you think chivalry is?” Mikasa reads aloud, picking up her pen to tap against the desk, she looks up at Eren curiously, awaiting an answer from the very antithesis of feminism himself. 

“Get on your knees.”

He says it with such authority, such confidence that she’s already moving to obey before she stops herself, hands clutching the armrests of her chair. 

“What?” He doesn’t elaborate, simply jerks with his chin, repeating himself, “Get on your knees.” Mikasa hates herself for following his directions, feels like a fever dream as she drops to her knees, only to find herself looking up at him now from between his legs, that dark feral smile on his lips. 

For a moment, it’s quiet, and she simply sits there, her breathing quick as she tries to figure out his angle, and looks up at him through long dark lashes, coated in the most carefully applied mascara, a layer so thin it doesn’t look like she’s wearing it at all. 

Because despite her rabid dislike of him, she’d wanted to be pretty, to affect him in the same way he does her, for his heart to skip a beat, his breath to come a little faster. Her heart is galloping in her chest as she looks up at him, the tense set of his shoulders, the complete and total fucking power he has over her, on her knees between his legs, looking up at him, awaiting her fate, her pretty face inches from his cock. 

His hand moves and she flinches, expecting what, she doesn’t know, but his touch is soft, his smile still dark, eyes glazed over with something she can’t name, lust, desire, power? 

Carefully, he traces a hand over her face, his thumb brushing over the hollow of her cheek, before slipping up to catch her bangs. He gathers her hair back, tucking it from her face with soft reverence, his other coming up to catch any stray strands. 

He tangles his right hand through the silky strands of her, knotting it at the base of her skull so he has a firm hold, his other hand tipping her chin up roughly. His voice is gravelly as he speaks, evergreen eyes hooded, “Chivalry is holding your hair back while you suck my cock, Miki.”

Her mouth parts, from shock, or an unconscious desire, she doesn’t know, and the wicked smirk on his lips grows. He drops her chin to tug his sweatpants down, his dick jerking up as he’s released from his confines, no boxers because of course he’s not wearing any. He slaps against her cheek lewdly, a drop of pre brushing against her mouth as he lines himself up, resting comfortably against her cheek. 

She’s entranced, watching as he gives himself an experimental stroke, even his own hands not enough to grip his cock completely, an inch or so left out, the thick length of him daunting against the delicate lines of her face.

He’s an imposing figure as he jerks himself off, and Mikasa is caught, silver eyes enraptured. She takes her lower lip between her teeth, tasting the saltiness of his pre, her breath coming faster now, her head foggy with desire. 

“To me Miki,” Eren continues, his voice a low rumble that has her staving off a moan as it settles over her, “Chivalry is keeping your hair out of your eyes so you don’t have to worry.” Eren yanks at her long raven locks, a slow almost painful pull, reminding her of the hold he has on her, the literal and metaphorical grasp he has, how she couldn’t shake him off even if she wanted to. 

“So you can be a good girl and focus on sucking me off.”  

He gives her hair another experimental tug, pulling her just a touch closer, just enough so that plump lips kiss against the hard length of his cock, saliva coating the obscene length of him, a sweet massage that she has no doubt he doesn’t deserve. 

“That’s what I think chivalry is,” He looks down at her, smiling dark with mirth, almost gleeful as her lips part, the weeping head of his cock slipping into her mouth, unbidden, a movement all her own, “Wouldn’t you agree, Miki?” Definition of insanity, huh? Call her insane, then. 

[aspiringtrashpanda]

Hi, I have a request!

Could you make a fic with the twins and my MC Allister. Allister uses they/he pronouns. They've had a long week at RAD and are quite overstimulated. The twins think of ways to help Allister relax. Maybe they could go around asking the others what might help?

Other than that have with it!

Tysm :3

OOO! This is a cute prompt. I hope I was able to help Allister relax <3 Thanks so much for the request!

Characters: Beel, Belphie, Allister (OC), Satan & Asmo make an appearance A sweet lil' comfort fic! Fluffy fluff! No warnings apply

Footsteps scurried through the room. Tap, tap, tap. The sound was partially absorbed by the thick carpet of the sitting room, eaten by the playful whoosh of flames in the hearth, but still audible enough to be perceived. However, the twins paid the noise no mind, instead continuing their chosen activities. Such activities consisted of Beel performing situps, while Belphie dangled dread popcorn in front of him. 

It was a dangerous gamble. If he didn’t drop the snack at the right time, he risked Beel’s teeth nicking his fingers. Absently, Belphie wondered if his blood would even sully the popcorn, or if Beel would just think it was some new sort of sauce for added flavor. Then, he pushed the thought away. His twin would definitely know if he was bleeding. 

The rustle of limbs power-walking from point A to point B tickled Belphie’s ears. Beel’s torso curled forward once more, the crunch of popcorn drowning out the background noise tugging at his mind.

With a shrug, Belphie doubled up the snacks, dropping them into Beel’s open maw with each rep. 

This time, the footsteps were accompanied by the flipping of papers, the crinkle of pages pressed against a chest as someone rushed towards the entrance hall. Belphie frowned as he heard the echo of the front door click shut. 

“Hey,” He withheld the popcorn, prompting Beel to pause in his situps. “Allister’s been running around a lot lately.”

“Yeah.” That little crease appeared in Beel’s brow. The one that popped up when he was concerned about something. “Why?”

“Well, they offered to help Lucifer with some paperwork for the upcoming festival.”

“Ah, and they did promise Diavolo they’d help decorate the courtyard for it, too.” 

The fire crackled in the hearth. For a moment, Belphie considered finding the papers that had Allister so busy. What if he just tossed them into the flames? Then, they would be able to relax. He compromised on sighing, “Rookie mistake.”

It fell silent once more. Beel’s abs crunched three more times before he pulled himself upright, wiped the sweat from his brow. 

Belphie was already formulating a plan in his head. “Do we intervene?”

Beel nodded, “Yeah.”

A few messages were exchanged, D.D.D’s buzzing in uniform pockets all throughout the day. For once, Belphie wasn’t sleepy during his classes. No, he was looking forward to what was to come after dinner. Quality time with Allister was always a shot of adrenaline to his brain. 

However, the clock ticked on, the snacks grew cold, and Beel and Belphie sat by their lonesome in the attic. At least, until frantic footsteps rushed into the room. 

“I know! I’m late!” Allister gasped, chest heaving as they keeled over, hands on their knees as they caught their breath. “Sorry, it’s just… been a week.”

Really, the relief overwhelmed any annoyance Belphie felt. He was just glad they were okay. Ish.

“It’s fine,” Belphie yawned, sinking further into the pillows he had placed around him. “The movie’s on Nightflix. It’s not time sensitive or anything.”

Beel patted the spot on the mattress next to him. “Here, have some popcorn.”

The remote hit play and noisy credits popped up on the television, accompanying a grainy found-footage horror scene. Shrieks of terror rang out through the room, the star of the film muddling through an overgrown forest, away from the masked murderer brandishing a chainsaw. 

It was about thirty minutes into the movie when Beel hit pause. “Are you okay?” 

Allister’s jaw popped, held in a vice grip. “Yeah.” 

Belphie was concerned they would shatter their teeth under the pressure of their bite. He ventured, “It doesn’t seem like it.”

“You’re fidgety.” Beel leaned closer to Allister, indigo eyes flicking up and down their frame. “And pale.”

Allister flexed their fingers, tenting them beneath their chin as they took a deep breath, screwed their eyes shut, exhaled noisily. 

“Um,” Their voice shook, the timbre indicating unshed tears, “I’m okay, I guess. I’m just having a lot of difficulty focusing. I think I’m…”

Beel and Belphie waited.

Allister rubbed their eyes, a grimace pulling at their lips as they got to their feet. “I think I’m a little overwhelmed. Sorry, I’m going to call it a night.”

Beel’s gaze mirrored Belphie’s, in more ways than the pink to purple gradient. As Allister retreated downstairs, it was clear that the twins were going to have to up the ante, increase their efforts.

Step one, Belphie decided, was research.

“Satan, are you busy?” He peered into the library, glad to see the mop of blonde hair tucked into an armchair. 

“Not particularly.” Mischief was quick to cloud Satan’s eyes. “Is this an impromptu meeting? Should we get Allister? How are we ruining Lucifer’s life this time?”

It was tempting. Belphie had to admit that it was difficult to curb the ideas flooding his brain. They could spike Lucifer’s favorite tea with hot sauce… Oh! They could curse his pen to sign his name with a heart over the i! Wait, no, he needed to focus. “It’s probably better if Allister isn’t present.”

“Is something the matter?”

“I was wondering if you know what would cause someone to freak out when they’re supposed to be relaxing.” Belphie leaned over the back of the chair. Satan’s book seemed to be written in ancient infernal. Belphie could only make out every other word.

Never one to miss a detail, Satan understood immediately. He hummed, “Allister’s been awfully busy lately, haven’t they?” 

“Yeah,” Belphie sighed, “We tried to watch a movie with them, but they said they were overwhelmed and left.”

“Ah, sounds like they were overstimulated.” 

“How can I help with that?”

“Let’s see…” Satan actually looked up from the page, peering at Belphie in thought. He spoke slowly, as if weighing the advice on his tongue. “If they want to talk about it, vocalizing their feelings could help. If they don’t, well, perhaps some mindful breathing would be comforting. Shutting your eyes for a while and focusing on your body instead of your thoughts might ground them.”

Belphie grinned. If there was one thing he was good at, it was shutting his eyes.

As one twin made his way to his bedroom, a plan unfurling from the corners of his mind, Beel took a different approach. 

“Asmo,” Beel announced his presence, slipping into his brother’s room without bothering to knock. 

Asmo’s head snapped up, a nail polish brush poised over his fingers. “Oh, Beel! You’re just in time! I was about to try this new nail color, see, and I-”

Beel didn’t bother looking. “It looks great, Asmo.”

“I haven’t even applied it yet…?” 

Plopping himself down on Asmo’s luxurious bedding, the springs creaking under his weight, Beel spoke to the floral canopy above. “When you’re stressed, what do you like to eat?”

“What do I like to eat?” Asmo echoed, strawberry blonde hair falling over his eyes with the tilt of his head. “Comfort foods, I suppose. Something that would get me excited and distract me from whatever else is rattling in my beautiful brain.” 

Well, for the Avatar of Gluttony, that didn’t narrow down much. “And what would you consider a comfort food?”

“Beel,” Asmo scoffed, “Do you not have comfort foods?”

“All foods are comfort foods.”

Asmo exhaled slowly, though there was fond amusement in the sound. He carefully swept the thick polish over his nails, considering, “I like cake, but nothing too sweet. I like to cut the sweetness with a bit of coffee. Oh! And I love that brutal chiffon cake that Barbatos makes! It goes so well with the hell coffee beans from café lament.”

“Perfect.” Beel was already halfway out the door. “Thanks Asmo.”

“Wait, Beel! Your nails are chipped! Let me fix them!”

Despite his best efforts, Asmo - in a rare show of strength - did manage to restrain his younger brother, refusing to allow Beel freedom until his nails were runway ready. Though Belphie didn’t mind the wait, the cuticle care enabling a solid half hour nap, he was reaching impatience by the time Beel returned to their shared room.

They waited in quiet anticipation for Allister’s arrival. 

“Hey, what’s up?” The door creaked open, Allister worrying their bottom lip. “I know I bailed last time but I promise it had nothing to do with you two! I really appreciated the effort but - Is that brutal chiffon cake?”

“It is,” Beel beamed, gesturing to the spread he and Belphie had put together. “And if you need a palate cleanser after, we have some decaf hell coffee.”

“Decaf?” Allister echoed, creeping into the room slowly, carefully, as if he was concerned the twins had set some sort of booby trap. 

Belphie lifted his head from his favorite pillow. “Well, we thought the caffeine wouldn’t be ideal for what we want to do.”

“And that is?” Allister’s eyes were wide, flitting between the beds where Beel and Belphie had arranged countless blankets and pillows, to where food and coffee were laid out on a foldable table.

“We know you’re stressed,” Belphie started.

“And we want to help,” Beel put on his best smile, extending as much soft reassurance as he could. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Allister blinked, ducking their head as they twiddled their fingers. “Ah, um, not really? I mean, I don’t really have much to say. It’s just… so much, you know?”

“Come here,” Belphie encouraged, “I got an extra fluffy pillow for you.”

“Here!” Beel barely waited for Allister to settle themselves in the nest of blankets before he was shoving a fork of dessert into their mouth. “Focus on the flavors of the cake. Do they bring back any memories?”

“But also try to clear your mind.” Belphie reminded, “Take a deep breath in.”

“And don’t forget to sip the coffee too. Barbatos paired the blend himself!”

“Ah!” Allister covered their face with their hands, their breathing shaky. Their voice quietly squeaked through the gaps in their fingers. “This is really nice, but…”

Beel frowned. “Are we being too much?”

“A little, yeah.”

“What do you want to do?” Belphie leaned away, watching every little twitch of muscle in their face. 

“Can we just…” Allister sunk into the pillows, their eyes fluttering closed as they exhaled all their worries. “Lie here? Just for a little bit?”

“Of course!” 

And as Allister drifted to sleep, their head on Beel’s chest and Belphie’s fluffy tail tuft warming their cheek, the twins heaved a sigh of relief. The movie could wait. The cake could wait. All that mattered in that moment was that their dear human got some much deserved rest. Beel’s eyes met Belphie’s, a silent agreement resonating between them. Even if they slept through dinner, Allister would not be woken by anything other than their internal alarm.

…Or the rumble of Beel’s stomach.

*・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜

My requests are open! Find out more HERE.

[veeluvss]

SURVIVOR

Chapter four

JJ couldn’t stop thinking about it. She’d killed someone. Murdered them with anger and cold blood. There was no justice there. She protected the woman who was being raped but then took it further - she killed him with her bare hands. She could have beat him up a little, he deserved that. But did he deserve death? The word rapist carved into his head? JJ shivered at the thought of it. He was a rapist and rapists deserved to die. He deserved to die. That was the basic rundown. 

“Good afternoon, baby,” Elle said as she came into the bedroom. Elle had got up around 10 am and let JJ sleep in. JJ appreciated that as she had had a long night. However, she didn’t want to see Elle at all now. She felt horrendous - how could she be a killer? She was. And she hated the fact that she wanted to do it again. “Hi,” JJ replied. She was rolled to her side, away from the door. It was 2 pm and she was still exhausted but knew she couldn’t stay in bed forever. “I made you coffee,” Elle said, her tone sweet and patient. “I’m not thirsty,” JJ replied. She pulled the duvet up to her chin and closed her eyes. She wanted the world to swallow her whole. “JJ, you haven’t eaten or drunk anything since yesterday morning, you must be hungry at least,” Elle said. JJ didn’t respond. She was hungry but felt sick at the thought of food. She couldn’t shake the feelings. She wanted to do it again. Her blood, her bones - she wanted to kill again. “JJ,” Elle sighed and crawled across the bed. “Don’t touch me,” JJ whispered. Elle’s hand hovered over her shoulder then fell to the bed. She sighed loudly. “I cancelled your weekly meeting with Emily so you could rest at home,” Elle said. She stared at the ceiling, thinking it all over. She hated this. JJ, once again, didn’t respond. “You have therapy again tomorrow,” Elle continued. “Is that helping at all? It doesn’t seem to be.” “I’m fine.” “JJ, stop saying that. It’s okay to not be fine.” “I’m fine,” JJ sighed. She said it almost to convince herself she was fine. She definitely didn’t feel fine. 

“JJ-” JJ threw off the duvet and sat up, she leaned over the bed, picked up a pair of discarded pyjama bottoms and pulled them on. “I’m going out,” she said. “Where to? Let me come with,” Elle said, sitting up also. “Just the gym,” JJ said. It wasn’t a lie for once. She hoped the punching bag could get her anger out without anyone getting hurt.

“Let me come, we can work out together,” Elle said. She began getting dressed in gym clothes. “Elle,” JJ sighed. “Let me drive you at least.” “No.”  “Please.” “I said no!” JJ snapped. She stood up and walked from the room, slamming the bedroom door behind her. 

She got to the car and finally took a breath. Her head leaned against the cold metal top and she sighed. It was cold out. It was refreshing against her hot skin. She felt bad for snapping but she just wanted Elle to get off her back and leave her alone. She wasn’t a weak child. She was a grown adult who could look after herself. Elle watched from the bedroom window as JJ got into the car and turned it on. She didn't even put on her seatbelt before driving off the driveway. 

JJ got the the gym and thankfully, it was quiet. It was the middle of the day on a random Saturday, people were at home with their kids, or at work. Plus it was sunny outside, not warm but sunny and a lot of people preferred working out outside. She found her locker and began getting changed, she chose a more covering outfit today so people couldn’t see her bruises and scars. She hadn’t not worn a t-shirt in the gym since her torture incident. 

Her instructor was in today, she liked that. Some controlled hand-to-hand combat was what she needed. She geared up, with gloves, helmet, and mouth guard. The gloves hurt her bruised hands but she ignored the pain. She pushed through. She was stronger. They started easy. Light work, punching each other, a little footwork, nothing too serious. The sound of punches and groans could be heard in the dimly lit basement room. Until it all came back to JJ once again; Askari, Uncle Tod, Dr Tretter, Michael Hastings. One punch, harder, shook the instructor. Then he punched back, right in her face. The needles. The waterboarding. The rape. Their hands were all over her. I know exactly how to get what I want. 

She went mad. Punch, punch, punch. Her hands flew about in anger as she grew angrier. Grunts and groans echoed through the small chamber as she advanced on the instructor. She was punching Askari, her uncle, Dr Tretter, and Micehal. All of them, her new victims of anger and hatred and grief and resentment. 

“Stop. Stop. Stop!”

She fell to the floor as the punch was dodged. “Stop. What was that, huh?” Her instructor spat. JJ took heavy breaths, her hands on her hips. She took out her mouthguard and undid her helmet. She was restricted, held back, restrained. “You lost your form. Completely let your guard down. What was that?” “What?” was all JJ could say. 

“You know if you‘re fighting someone who knows what they’re doing and you pulled that garbage they’d kill you.” “So why didn’t you?” Her voice was wavering in anger. Hatred. She wanted them dead. Or herself dead. She wanted away from the pain. “Yeah, I think we’re done here.” Her instructor said and walked away. 

In the locker room, JJ unwrapped her hands. She sat on the small bench, her head down and her knees apart. She felt sick. Sweat was present across her whole body. She was breathing deeply, trying to contain herself. It hadn’t helped. She still needed her fix. Still needed to kill. 

Her phone chimed from beside her and she sighed, she expected it to be Elle, asking her to come home again or maybe Emily checking in. She picked it up and checked. 

Penelope Garcia: we have a case. 

JJ was surprised she was allowed to know considering she was on desk duty and had taken the day off but then again, it was Garcia and Garcia missed her best friend, she wanted her around as much as she could have her. But she didn’t want to go in, if the team were out of town on a case and she could get away with being away from Elle then she could kill. She could do it - properly this time. She got up from the bench and wiped the sweat from her face. 

Looking down at her scar, she felt sick. Abused, tortured. She’d been through it all and it haunted her. She may have survived but she wished she hadn’t. Askari ran through her mind like a cheetah chasing his prey. She groaned loudly, slammed her locker and turned away. She was ready to hunt her prey. 

[grimes-luvr]

promise.

carl grimes x fem!reader

angst && slight fluff at the end <33 !!

|| summary - carl runs to hilltop alone and hops on one of negan’s supply trucks. when he comes back with negan himself, you can’t help but be angry, worried, and concerned for what he did.

warnings - mentions of murder, death, blood, gore, weapons, language, violence, angry carl & reader, yelling, enid doesn’t exist (solely for plot reasons, i’m an enid stan fs), carl & reader are dating

“your kid gunned down two of my men! and you know what i did? i brought him home, safe and sound, and i made him spaghetti.”

negan looked over at where y/n and carl were standing. olivia’s dead body sat at their feet. y/n glared straight into his eyes, quite frankly unafraid of the pathetic man in front of her.

“all while that girl stared me down! the least she could do was say a little thank you. my, my, she is creepy!”

her eyes were cold. carl had been trying to get her to look at him since he got back, but his attempts failed. she always looked in the other direction or continue to glower at negan.

the audacity that the man had to barge into their homes, kill two of their people (although spencer definitely deserved it), and ask for gratitude was insane. y/n wanted to put a bullet through his head.

———————————————————————

it had been almost an hour since negan and his people left, and y/n still wouldn’t speak to carl. he was starting to worry - it was the first time she had ever seen his eye and she was avoiding him.

he couldn’t take it anymore, so when y/n walked into the house, looking for michonne, he confronted her.

“are you avoiding me?” he asked.

“where’s michonne?” she asked monotonously.

“out. don’t avoid the damn question, y/n, are you avoiding me?”

y/n didn’t answer. instead, she headed upstairs to search for michonne in case carl was lying.

“where-“ carl started, but decided it was useless to ask and just started following her. she looked in every room in the house, eventually reaching carl’s and finding nothing. before she could leave, carl stood in front of the door.

“move,” she mumbled, still not looking at him.

“why? why have you been ignoring me all day?” carl asked.

“just fucking move.”

his voice started to break, “is it because of my eye?”

her fists were clenched and her eyes were narrowed at the ground until she heard him sniffle.

“are you crying?”

“stop ignoring all of my questions, y/n. please. just answer it,” his chin quivered as he spoke, making y/n feel absolutely terrible.

“carl, no-“

“so what is it then? i have been waiting hours for you to say anything to me, and you’re angry at me. why? what did i do?”

“you left,” y/n looked down at the ground again.

“what?”

“you left. without telling me, without saying goodbye, without offering to let me go with you. you could’ve died, carl. then i wouldn’t have been able to say goodbye. i was worried about you, and when the saviors pulled up to the gates with you in the truck, and your bandage off, i knew something was wrong. then when negan said what happened, i knew you were just being stupid. you could have gotten yourself killed this morning, and what would that leave me? carl, i know you want him dead, so do i, but i cannot lose you. we’ve lost too much- i’ve lost too much,” she said, starting to cry too. carl just stared blankly at her, taking in everything she just said.

once he processed it all, he felt like puking. he didn’t realize how much it affected the ones he loved, the one he loved. the only aspect of death that he had imagined upon arrival was negan’s body in front of him and the blood on his hands. he had almost forgotten that he wasn’t immortal himself.

and once he gathered his thoughts, they were too much. he broke down, grabbing a hold of y/n and hugging her tightly like if he let go, she’d disappear.

“i’m sorry,” he sobbed into her hair, “i’m so sorry.”

——————————————————————

“hey carl,” y/n whispered, her voice muffled by his chest. he hummed in response, his arms still almost painfully enclosing her.

“why did you think i was mad at you for your eye?”

carl paused for a good minute, “that’s not important.”

“yeah, it is.”

he paused again, this time for a little longer.

“i’m scared.”

“of what?” y/n asked, pulling away from the hug and holding carl’s face in her hands.

“my eye, it’s gross. i felt like once you saw it, you’d realize i was disgusting-looking. i don’t want you to leave me,” he avoided her eyes, slightly ashamed.

“carl, i’d never leave you. i wouldn’t care if you had three eyes. you’re not disgusting, you just look different. and that is perfectly fine, okay? i’d never be enough of a dick to leave you because of something you can’t control. i love you,” she kissed him softly.

“i love you too,” carl said, letting out a shaky breath.

“you needed your bandage changed this morning right?” y/n asked. carl nodded. “well, since olivia . . . can’t help you anymore, do you want me to do it?”

“yeah,” carl said, a little bit of panic in his voice.

“hey, don’t worry, i’ll make it quick. i know the shit stings.”

y/n moved the hair out of carl’s eye. she inspected it, making sure there were no infections or pieces of hair stuck to it. she cautiously picked out stray strands, careful not to hurt carl. she then cleaned it and held the base gauze to his socket while carl wrapped it comfortably.

“it’s good, no infections or other unknown damage. it’s nice you let it air out for a bit, helps with the healing. it looks fine, you’ve been doing good with the regular changes,” she smiled and kissed his forehead.

“thank you,” he said quietly.

“no big deal, carl. just promise me you won’t leave again? at least without saying goodbye.”

“promise.”

——————————————————————

a/n: this shit was all over the place, but yooo my first carl fic !! feel free to send requests, nothing nsfw cus carl’s a minor (and i’m ace) 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Can I get UT toriel, Papyrus, alphys, undyne, and grilby's reaction to frisk telling them that sans once said if he didn't make a promise to toriel, then they'd be " dead"?

Undertale Papyrus - Papyrus suddenly choked on the pasta he wasn't even eating yet. What? You probably heard that wrong, Sans would never say something like that, he loves children. ... Right? Well, anyway, it's in the past so who cares? He quickly changes the subject to not talk about it. He still will confront Sans later who explains why he did this. Papyrus is a little shocked he could say something like that to a child, but yeah, he can guess why. But that was still terrible. But he can understand. Sometimes, he wishes Sans confess a little more to him, but knowing he's trusting at least Toriel to give up on such crazy plans is still comforting him. Sans needs more real friends he can rely on, and that's a long time since Papyrus resigned to not being one of his confidants. Sans is too scared to hurt him to be sincere. Not that Papyrus is that sincere with him either though. But, well... Maybe it will be better someday.

Undertale Toriel - She acts like it's nothing in front of Frisk, but it's upsetting her slightly. She's glad Sans trusted her on this and (more or less) protected the child on their journey, but... She can't stop thinking about what would have happened if she never answered that weird jokester back then. Could Sans really have killed a child in cold blood? Maybe she doesn't know her best friend all that much after all. She's still looking for a chance to have a heart-to-heart with him about this.

Undertale Undyne - She gives the kid a big tap on the back and says with a big shark smile that if the Hotlands weren't this hot they would be long dead too and that she perfectly understands the feeling! ... Uh, thanks Undyne, I suppose. She can't really blame Sans anyway when she puts so much effort into destroying the kid Underground lol. She doesn't take Sans' words seriously, he is always a little weird.

Undertale Alphys - She quickly looks down and pretends she didn't hear any of this. She is closer to Sans than most people think and she knows it wasn't words he said only to scare them. He was thinking each of these words. She saw him hesitate on the cameras at the entrance of Snowdin, as he followed you. She saw him hesitate several other times through your journey. Sans didn't attack you only because he's one of the most empathetic monsters she knows, and he cares deeply and grew attached. A lot more than what people think. Everyone sees Papyrus' kindness because he's a lot more expressive, but Alphys knows that Sans raised him and that the apple never fall far from the tree. She can't say to Frisk that Sans wasn't serious, but she won't call him out either. When she needed help, Sans was always here for her, and she wants to be a good friend back and not call him out for his past actions.

Undertale Grillby - He's a little disturbed by Frisk's revelations, but not too surprised. Grillby has known Sans for a long time, but more importantly, he witnessed a lot of things Sans said when he was completely drunk. Grillby is one of the first who got concerned about Sans' evident depression and tendencies to sabotage himself. He talked with him a lot about this, trying to get him to find some help. But Sans is way too stubborn. So of course, when an opportunity to finally leave this hell showed up, the first thing Sans would think about was to take it and kill a child. Grillby is not sure if Sans would have done it. Oh, he definitely could have done it, Grillby knows he's stronger than he seems, I mean, have you tried to drag a drunk angry Sans home? But he also knows he would never have forgiven himself for this. He cares too much to be a cold-blooded murderer. That wouldn't have ended well for him, so he's glad he gave up that stupid project.

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

Ghoulette Appreciation Week 6

Week 6: Murder Ghoulettes and self-care

Aurora wakes up thirsty. Cumulus taking Aurora out on her first hunt, followed by a tiny bit of self-care with Cirrus afterwards.

Rating: M Content: murder ghoulettes, kinda vampire au, blood/violence/murder Words: 1270

In my mind Aurora is a huge Twilight-girlie, so you can't tell me she doesn't try and recreate Bella's first hunt to cope with learning what her topside diet includes...

Read below or on AO3! where this almost got named "good soup"

Aurora wakes up thirsty. She’s been topside for a few months by now, and while she’s mostly on top of this strangely fragile Vessel’s needs, she’s never felt a thirst quite like this. Her mouth feels drier than it does after a band rehearsal without water, like her throat is burning.

She delicately untangles herself from the arms of the ghoulettes around her and makes her way to the kitchen to get a drink. Grabbing the largest glass she can find, she fills it and gulps it down, immediately refilling it. Nothing. In fact her thirst seems to be worse than ever. Too cold some instinct screams at her. She puts the glass in the microwave, and takes another sip of the gently steaming liquid. Wrong. Aurora lets out a small growl which reverberates around the darkened kitchen, mocking her in her frustration. The lights flicker to life as Cirrus joins her in the kitchen, yawning widely.

“What’cha doing, Rory? ‘S too early to be up yet.”

Aurora turns to her with frantic eyes, gesturing to the half full glass of warm water, “I’m so thirsty Cir, but water just makes it worse!”

Cirrus seemed to wake up fully at that, blinking sleep from her quickly darkening eyes. “Ah. I thought you were overdue a feed. Lus is going on a trip soon, she’ll take you later.”

A feed? What sort of trip? Aurora rakes her fingers through her hair in frustration at Cirrus’s cryptic behaviour. With a tilt of her head at Aurora's confusion, Cirrus turns abruptly to head back to the dorms.

“Come on, you'll want to be sitting down for this.”

Aurora took the news well. Almost too well. Instead of the abject horror most ghouls displayed at having to hunt in their weak humanoid forms to survive topside, she seemed almost excited at the prospect.

"So we're like vampires up here?” There was a disconcerting gleam to her eyes. "That's so cool!”

Cirrus and Cumulus shared a glance. Oh dear. They recalled Aurora's current obsession with 2000s chick-flicks. She watched Twilight last week. Cumulus nodded sheepishly; at least this reaction was better than the hysterics from Sunny.

“Sure thing Starburst, just like Vampires.” Cumulus didn't specify that she meant the non-glittery-variety. “Go get changed, we'll head out this morning before the boys decide to join us. Rain always makes such a mess.”

Aurora practically skipped across the hall to her room.

"Good luck with that.” Cirrus remarked to Cumulus, “I'll have a hot bath ready when you get back.”

“Thanks love.” Cumulus rolled her eyes good-naturedly, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I'll bring the little bloodsucker back in once piece.”

“I'm ready!” chirps Aurora from the doorway. She's met with stunned silence for a second.

"Sweetie,” Cirrus starts hesitantly, “What are you wearing?”

A short while later, once Aurora has been convinced that while yes, she definitely can wear that tiny silk dress, she really does have to put proper shoes on, Cumulus leads the way to the edge of the forest surrounding the Abbey. As she does, she makes a mental note of other movies to blacklist.

The pair trek through miles and miles of forest, well beyond the invisible perimeter wards of the Abbey. There is an agreement with the Clergy that although ghouls definitely need to feed, they should do so as far from the Abbey as possible, and not in the same region too often. After her initial excitement, Aurora now feels her mouth getting drier and drier with each step.

After what feels like hours, Cumulus stops, sniffing the air around them and smiling.

“Alright Rory, you're good to go.”

"What do I do?” Aurora asks uncertainly. The air here felt thick, and held the same allure as the waft of Mountain's freshly baked bread did.

“Oh you'll see,” Cumulus smirks, "just follow your nose.”

Aurora took a deep sniff before instinctually dropping into a hunting crouch. The scent was stronger down here, sticking to the leaves underfoot. She slinks through the trees, tracking the captivating smell until the air around them is rich with it. A gust of wind blows it even stronger in their direction, and she takes off running in the direction of the mouthwatering aroma. The branches around her tear at the flimsy satin of her dress and Cumulus has to laugh internally at the destruction: what did she expect?

The deer hunter Aurora has tracked never stood a chance. Before he could even link the sounds of branches snapping with danger, the small ghoulette is on top of him, his gun still raised in the direction of a spooked deer that is now bolting away.

She rips and tears at his flesh with vicious fangs and claws, carving through bone and sinew, and devouring blood, viscera, organs. The rush of warmth on her tongue and the sweet, metallic tang finally satiates her unholy thirst. As Aurora begins to return to herself from the red haze of the hunt, Cumulus looks on proudly, with feral eyes of her own. There is blood smeared around Aurora's mouth, her entirely ridiculous dress is hanging onto her by threads, more rip than fabric, and Cumulus can't help but marvel at her terrifying beauty.

She helps Aurora maneuverer the remains of the hunter's lifeless body deeper into the trees. By the time he is found, likely months later, his ghoulish mutilations will be indistinguishable from those caused by a wild animal. Possibly the ghouls will see talk of a bear attack in the newspapers the Siblings of the Abbey read.

Aurora’s thirst may be satisfied but Cumulus’s is only baited, so the pair move on. It isn’t done to share one’s prey with another ghoul if they are not mated, so Cumulus will find another victim, she always does. Sometimes they even come willingly, hypnotised by her unfathomable beauty in the depths of the unforgiving forest.

Eventually returning to the Abbey, Aurora find that the less feral she feels, the more she realises how deeply uncomfortable she is; cold and sticky, covered in mud, blood, and Satan only knows what else. Cumulus tempts her to keep moving quickly, despite the tiredness that is setting back into her bones, by telling her how Cirrus won't be able to resist her after a hunt. She’ll run them a warm bath, meticulously clean her claws for her, and take care of her in every way she knows. Cumulus tells Aurora how she's in for it now, as she looks every inch the terrifying hellbeast that she is.

They enter the ghoul wing with their hair everywhere, wild nests full of twigs and leaves. They are careful to avoid the common areas of the Abbey looking like this. All the ghouls, no matter how reckless they are when hunting, know better that to give any indication to the Siblings of Sin that this side of them exists.

“How'd the little vampire do?” Cirrus asks Cumulus when they tumble into her room, jumping up to begin picking detritus out of her Mate's hair and usher them both towards the cloud of sweet-smelling steam emanating from the bathroom.

Aurora is doing great: she’s preening just inside the door, feigning nonchalance as she picks blood out from under her claws. The dress maybe didn’t survive as well as she expected, the liquid silk slip hanging off her small frame in tatters. She shoots out a delicate tongue to lap up a spot of blood on her arm, her high-pitched purr reverberating around the room with self-satisfaction.

Cumulus smirks, “Oh, she’s gonna be just fine up here Riri.”

[ask-olive-huchers]

☆•~“Empty thoughts fill my head.”~•☆ ((Yaaayy olive angst!!))

WARNING: mentions of d3@th, $uicid@! thoughts, and other sensitive subjects.

The morning was cold and grouchy. It had rained all of last night. The water had seeped in through the leaky roof, causing a few damp spots to appear overnight. That’s not really why Olive was upset, however. I’ll let you in on a little secret..

Olive never liked themselves. Sure, there were moments where they felt proud and confident, but those quickly fade once the phrase is over. Why do you think they’re so damn loud? Though, the thoughts were definitely imprinted into their head, as well. By all kinds of people in their lives. Mother, Father, Strangers outside. Always telling them “don’t be so upset, let it roll off your back” or “relax, it’s not a big deal”. It had never been that easy for them. For as long as they could remember.

It seemed like almost everyday, they’d be pissed off, yelling at the nearest person who fucked with them. But today, however, was a bit different. The only anger that was inflicted was- well, 

Was on themselves. It wasn’t all self rage, though. A bit of insecurity and lack of actual confidence was mashed in there. Especially since- well, since their eye was sorta..

..not..working, anymore? Yeaahhh, it’s safe to say they went blind in one of their eyes. Which, actually- really fuckin’ sucked. 

Olive was balled up, hidden under their blanket. Like usual, I suppose. A couple muffled sniffles can be heard. along with a pathetically cracked voice. A couple of sad hiccups follow. It wasn’t hard to tell, Olive wasn’t accepting this fact easily.

And this certainly wasn’t helping with their self hatred problem.

They so desperately just wanted to disappear. Vanish, go missing. They didn’t wanna be here anymore. Olive hopes every day, someone would just- end their suffering. Cut their throat, suffocate them to death. Toss them off a Cliff, push them in-front of a moving car.

They wanted to die.

So, so badly.

Life has no point if the people they love and care about aren’t apart of it. Olive hadn’t heard from anyone in weeks. Did they even care about them? Or were the visits out of pity?

That’s what they started believing. No one could even care about them. They weren’t capable of having a real family. Real friends.

…they didn’t deserve it.

And Skipp. Why hadn’t he come visit? Olive couldn’t blame him, though. Who would ever find interesting in a blood- covered murderer? 

They knew they deserved this. I mean, obviously. Anyone with common sense would agree.

But-..they couldn’t help but wonder..

What would it be like if none of this would have happened..?

After a couple more minutes of pathetically weeping under a blanket, they emerged. Messy bed head hair, red puffy eyes, it was the definition of sad, really. How embarrassing.

They sniffled, using their one good eye to look down at their ends. They remembered how they were covered in blood, once. 

…sometimes, they wished it were their own.

Olive stands up. Their legs weak from all the sitting and lying down. They limp to the wall, sliding down it. Olive let their head rest against the cold brick, letting out a long and shaky sigh.

They knew they’d escape, soon.

..at least, in some sort of way.

So..all they could do was wait. Wait, wait, wait, and wait some more. Before their time had come. Sooner or later, anyway. They had a feeling mercy wasn’t in option, so..

..i guess they were waiting for death to come take them. And if they are being honest?

They didn’t hate that idea one bit.