#please don’t butcher vision’s character

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

the satanic rites of eddie munson (chapter 4)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Cheerleader!Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Read on AO3

Summary:

Eddie was just trying to have a normal Thursday when some band from out of town decides he’d make an excellent virgin sacrifice for their get-famous-quick plan.

Except he’s not a virgin, and the ritual unleashes something much more sinister that lives in him now, hungry for flesh and possessive of you, the pretty cheerleader he’s always been drawn to.

Which means anyone that touches you? Needs to die.

Inspired by the movie Jennifer's Body.

Additional tags: explicit sexual content (no seriously this is filthy 18+), mentions of character death, allusions to SA, stripping, dominant Eddie, dirty talk, pet names, slight degradation, praise kink, overstimulation, begging, mutual masturbation, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, possessive behavior, mild blood/blood kink. If I’ve missed anything, please let me know.

The guy in the middle starts to read from the tome spread across his hands. His voice shakes, as do his hands, while he butchers what Eddie assumes is Latin. The wind picks up, leaves swirling around their feet and making the fire behind them dance erratically, embers floating up through the low branches.

“Uh, guys,” Eddie says, strugglings against the ropes. “Can’t we talk about this? I really don’t think I’m the kind of sacrifice that you want.”

“Shut the fuck up, man, you’re throwing off Mike’s spell casting. He’s got dyslexia, he needs to concentrate,” the leader snaps.

“Thanks, man,” Mike chimes before resuming his chanting. The ground rumbles beneath him, the leaves shaking with the moving earth and Eddie starts to think that maybe these guys aren’t just weirdos that are full of shit.

The leader flashes Eddie a menacing smile.

“Show time.”

It only took a few hours for Jason’s body to be discovered.

The party had been in full swing when a sheriff’s deputy swung by to bust it and send everyone home. In the scramble, several people tried to run off into the woods and one unlucky bastard tripped over the mangled remains.

You’d fallen asleep in Eddie’s bed by the time he finished in the bathroom. He let you sleep for a couple hours, his body pressed to yours and his arm wound tight around your waist as he listened to your quiet breathing. Around 2 a.m. you’d stirred awake, all soft smiles and cute little sleepy noises until you’d caught a glimpse of the alarm clock on Eddie’s nightstand and jumped from the bed in a panic.

As Eddie drove you and your mom’s bike home, a trio of police cars with their sirens on blew past the van, heading in the opposite direction. You’d twisted in your seat to watch them fly by, missing the way Eddie’s knuckles went white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Hope everything’s okay,” you’d said distractedly.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Eddie had replied.

Saturday morning, the morning news runs the breaking story of another animal attack. Hawkins High School golden boy, Jason Carver, found mangled in the woods near Benny’s Burgers, near unrecognizable due to his wounds. Disemboweled, his heart ripped from his chest. The town is shocked, heart broken, paranoid.

School gets canceled for the week following the loss while town officials and school board members scramble to make decisions about what to do.

As the week drags on, Eddie begins to anticipate the hunger returning, bracing himself for the aching pit to swallow him whole.

But it doesn’t.

In fact, Eddie feels the best he ever has in his life. His vision is sharper, his hearing more clear, his muscles coiled with a strength he definitely didn’t have before. He’d accidentally crushed a glass of water in his hand, the shards slicing into his palm and leaving blood spattered on the kitchen floor. The wound had healed before he even finished cleaning everything up.

In place of physical hunger is a different craving all together. It’s been over a week since that night in his trailer where he made you cum on his lap. He sees your rapturous expression every time he closes his goddamn eyes. If he doesn’t see you soon, touch you soon, he’s going to go insane.

The Monday following the discovery of their son’s body, the Carvers and the Pearsons stand beside Principal Higgins at an impromptu assembly, dabbing their tear filled eyes with tissues as they insist that the school continue the time honored tradition of the homecoming game and dance despite their loss.

“It’s what our sons would have wanted. They gave their all to this school, and would have been dancing and playing alongside you had their lives not been so tragically cut short,” Mr. Carver says into the microphone, an arm around Mrs. Carver as she sniffles demurely into a tissue.

Principal Higgins leads a tentative round of applause. Eddie rolls his eyes, searching the lower bleachers for a glimpse of you. You’re down in the front row with the rest of the cheerleaders, an arm around Chrissy Cunningham’s waist.

Principal Higgins lets Officer Pearson close out the assembly with a rousing speech about keeping the town safe with increased patrols around the wooded areas, promising that no other Hawkins High student will befall the same fate as his son.

“And if anyone sees something, remember to say something,” he finishes. The families take their leave and Principal Higgins dismisses everyone, the gym erupting with the sounds of a couple hundred voices trying to be heard above each other.

Eddie hides beneath the bleachers, eyes scanning the crowd of students passing by him. He catches sight of you and leans out of the shadows, grabbing you by the wrist and tugging you against him with a hand over your mouth to stifle your surprise.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers against your ear. As you relax against him, he removes his hand and turns you so that you’re facing him. “Miss me?”

“No, I don’t think so,” you tease. Eddie’s grin is sharp as his hands grip your ass, lifting you up and urging your legs around his waist as he presses you against the back wall of the gym.

“That’s not very nice,” he whispers against your neck. “Do I have to remind you why you should?”

He presses his hips against yours, the pressure working the seam of your jeans right over your clit. You bite your lip to hold back your groan, the sharp tang of copper blooming on your tongue.

“Shit,” you hiss, touching a finger to your lip. Eddie eyes the red spot on the digit held between you. He works a hand free to grasp your wrist, bringing the finger to his mouth and sucking gently.

He locks eyes with you as he moans gently at the taste exploding across his tongue. Your eyes are wide as he draws back before he leans forward to kiss you, licking greedily at your split lip. You kiss him back eagerly, writhing against him as he swallows your sounds.

It’s not until the gym doors slam shut behind the last student do you remember where you are, the spell broken as you wiggle in Eddie’s grasp to be set down. His hands remain planted on your hips and he can’t help the pout that he gives you as you straighten your shirt.

“Sorry I haven’t been able to see you,” you say, hands toying with a pin on his denim vest. “With everything happening, the girls are really freaked out. And Chrissy is obviously upset about Jason.”

“Damn you for being such a good friend.” He slides a hand behind your neck to pull you close again for another kiss, another hint of blood against his tongue.

“I can’t believe they’re still going to have the dance,” you continue when Eddie pulls away. “I thought for sure they’d cancel it.” When Eddie doesn’t say anything, you fidget with the zipper on his jacket before murmuring, “So…”

“So…?” Eddie asks.

“Are you…going to go? To homecoming?”

Eddie smiles tightly. “I can’t. Don’t got the grades to be eligible for tickets.”

Your shoulders slump. “Oh.”

“We could go out instead?” He offers, running his hands up and down your arms.

“I can’t. I’m on the homecoming court, so I have to go.”

Eddie groans, tipping his forehead to yours. “We’ll figure something out,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

—————

Since they’ve announced homecoming is still scheduled, you’ve been slammed with last minute preparations. You’re forced to spend your hours after school prepping decor and banners for spirit week, which starts next week. You miss your small moments with Eddie in his van as he drives you home from school and you talk about anything and everything for the short trip.

“We still going dress shopping after school today?” Carrie asks at lunch, flipping through a Sears catalog. “Do you know what color you’re getting?”

Shit, you think. You forgot about promising to go dress shopping today.

Your eyes find Eddie beyond her shoulder, his eyes already on you. “Black,” you tell her. She makes a face.

“Really? Isn’t Kyle wearing green? Shouldn’t you match?” She asks. That breaks your staring contest with Eddie.

“What?”

“Kyle’s your partner for court. Didn’t Sally tell you?” She pops the gum in her mouth. “He’s stoked about it.”

You groan. “I don’t want to be paired with Kyle. Can’t I be paired with Frankie?” You ask desperately.

Kyle Miller has asked you out countless times. Each time is more aggressive, with the last one being at a house party over the summer where he cornered you alone in a basement. Chrissy was actually the one to get him to back off that time, having come down at just the right moment to scare him off. To everyone else, he comes off as yet another popular jock, disarmingly handsome with a megawatt smile that he knows how to use to his advantage. But all you see is the times he just hasn’t taken no for an answer.

“I don’t see why you won’t just give Kyle a chance. You two would make such a cute couple,” Carrie says.

“He’s not my type,” you reply, eyes flitting once more to Eddie. He’s got one of his freshmen in a playful headlock, a broad smile on his face that makes your heart race.

“Oh, come on! You haven’t been out with anyone since John in sophomore year.”

You shrug. Pulling the magazine from her hands, you flip through the pages, pointing out ones you like for a change in subject.

________

Later that night, you throw your shopping bags on your bed, collapsing beside them. Carrie had managed to drag you to every store in the mall in search of the perfect dress. She found something wrong with every single one she tried on until finally deciding the first dress that she tried on at the first store, hours ago , would be her best choice.

Where your friend’s dress was a bright pink satin and tulle number, you went with a form fitting black dress that reminded you of Audrey Hepburn’s iconic Breakfast at Tiffany’s outfit. Leaning heavily into that inspiration, you’d also purchased a pair of elbow length black satin gloves.

You leverage yourself up from the bed with a groan and begin to put your purchases away. Your parents are away for the night, having gone to visit your mom’s sister for the weekend, leaving the house quiet.

Which is why you scream bloody murder when there’s a knock on your window.

You can just make out Eddie’s mischievous grin beyond the dark glass as you stomp over and throw the window open, smacking him on the shoulder as he climbs over the windowsill. “You asshole!”

He grabs your wrist tightly, tugging you close as he wraps his arm around your waist. You tilt your head up as he leans down to press a rough kiss to your lips. The hunger he comes at you with is a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. You wrap your own arms around his shoulders, fingers diving into his wild hair to hold him to you.

He groans against your mouth, giving you the opportunity to slide your tongue against his. That arm around your waist slides lower, his hand gripping your ass roughly before he lands a hard smack to one cheek that makes you gasp.

“Hey, baby,” he says, voice low and eyes dark. He looks over your shoulder. “You find yourself a dress?”

The abrupt change leaves you winded. When you recover you finally reply, “Yeah, you wanna see it?” You grab the plastic wrapped dress from the bed, intent on heading to the bathroom with it to change.

“Where ya goin’?” Eddie asks, taking a seat on your bed and reclining back on his elbows like he belongs there.

“I was…gonna change?”

His grin is salacious. “You could do that right here.”

_________

Eddie is practically vibrating with the need to touch you. You’re standing there in your room, looking like a deer caught in the headlights with your eyes all wide in surprise at his suggestion that you change into your dress in front of him.

He can hear your heart rate speed up, see the rush of blood to your cheeks. He licks his lips.

“Take your clothes off,” he commands.

You hang the dress on the hook on the back of your door before tentatively curling your fingers into the hem of your shirt. Eddie gives you an encouraging nod as you slowly lift the fabric over your head.

He’s pleased to note that the flush in your cheeks trails down your chest. “Tell me, does that pretty little dress work with that?”

“Work with…what?”

“That bra.” You shake your head. “Then lose it, too.”

You swallow nervously before reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra, letting it slide down your arms and drop to the floor. Eddie sits up at attention, adjusting his jeans to relieve the pressure building at his crotch.

Christ, you’re so pretty. You look good enough to eat.

“Now the pants,” he directs. Your fingers slip nervously on the button of your pants. “Come here.”

You take a tentative step closer. When he can reach out, he slips a finger into your waistband and tugs sharply, pulling you closer on unsteady feet. He keeps his eyes focused on your face as he undoes your fly.

“Go ahead, baby,” he whispers. “Take ‘em off.”

“Eddie—“

“Shh, sweetheart. Just do as you’re told,” he interrupts. Your breathing is ragged as you shimmy your jeans over your hips, letting them pool around your feet. “That’s it, good girl.”

_________

Your mouth goes dry at Eddie’s words, a shiver running up your spine as his fingertips trail lightly over your thighs. His eyes are still locked on yours, which somehow makes you feel more vulnerable than if they were roving your naked body.

“Should I…put the dress on?” You whisper.

Eddie smirks. “No, princess. I’ve got bigger plans.” He wraps an arm around your waist and faster than you can realize what’s happening, you find yourself on your back, blinking up at the ceiling in surprise.

“My, my,” Eddie continues, body looming over yours, “You look like a feast, baby.”

The wording he’s chosen throws you off. His body blocks out some of the light from above you, casting his features in shadows that make him seem…dangerous. Eyes darker than they should be, teeth sharper.

Like a predator.

His head dips down, tongue tracing the dip in your collarbone and your racing thoughts come to a screeching halt as you gasp out his name. He licks a path to your neck, teeth scraping against the thin skin that protects your pulse.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he murmurs. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Touch me,” you breathe out. You can feel his smile against your neck.

“I am touching you,” he says, kisses trailing lower until he’s trailing his mouth over your breasts. You arch your back, seeking more.

His lips circle one of your pebbled nipples, drawing it into his mouth with a rough pull that makes you moan. A hand is immediately gripping your other breast in balance to the attention of his tongue on your sensitive flesh.

“Eddie!”

“That’s right, baby,” he says before switching sides. Your hips writhe beneath him, seeking friction you can’t find. You let out a pitiful whine. “Hush.”

You bite your lip painfully hard to comply with his command. His hand leaves your breast, sliding down until his fingers are rubbing over the slick fabric of your panties.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, that all for me?” He asks.

“Don’t see anyone else here,” you tease. Eddie lands a gentle smack to your sensitive pussy in retaliation.

“Damn right there’s not anyone else here,” he snaps, not unkindly. “Because this is all mine, isn’t it sweetheart? This soaking wet cunt is dripping just for me.”

“Oh, god,” you cry out as Eddie’s fingers slip past the elastic around your waist, diving into your wet heat. “Eddie, please!”

Your hips chase his hand as his fingers curl against you in their retreat, the slick sound of his hand exploring your pussy filling the room. His lips press to yours to swallow your desperate noises as he rubs your clit in tight circles.

A ripping noise breaks through your consciousness, and your eyes pop open. You tear your mouth from Eddie’s and lift your head to see the mangled remains of your panties clutched in his fist.

“Whoops. Sorry,” he says, looking anything but apologetic. His lips continue to drag down, down, down until he’s lying flat on his belly between your thighs.

Eddie uses a hand on your thigh to push your legs apart, shouldering his way closer until you can feel his breath against your heated skin. You squirm against his hold, the attention he’s giving you almost too much.

“Anyone ever kissed you here before, baby?” Eddie asks.

“N-no,” you stutter. You’re not a virgin, haven’t been since sophomore year when you had a lackluster experience with your then-boyfriend that lasted approximately three pumps and ended in plenty of disappointment. While you don’t have any first hand experience with what Eddie’s offering, you’ve read about it. The women’s magazines and erotic books you sneak from your mom’s stash discuss it in great detail.

“That’s a shame,” he says, pressing a kiss to one thigh, then the other, all while keeping his eyes fixed to yours. Your breathing kicks up, chest heaving with the anticipation of his mouth connecting where you’re most desperate for him. “A pussy like this deserves to be worshiped.”

Your head drops back with a groan as he licks through your folds, moaning at the taste. His tongue circles your clit before dipping to your leaking entrance, greedily gathering the essence of you. The sounds that come from Eddie are animalistic, deep growls and low rumbles that if you were in the right state of mind and not rocketing towards an orgasm you would find them terrifying.

His hands tighten around your legs to pin you in place as your hips work in tandem with his mouth. Those dark eyes peek up at you, but you can barely keep your own open long enough to watch. You dig your hands into his hair in ecstasy, holding him to you as his relentless pace continues.

“Eddie, Eddie,” you cry out. That grip on your hips gets damn near painful, the bite of his nails into your skin aching. “Please, please, please!”

“Please what, princess?” He rumbles, mouth never leaving your dripping core.

“Please, fuck me,” you beg, hardly recognizing your own desperate voice.

“No, baby, you’re gonna come in my mouth like a good fucking girl,” he growls, doubling down on his efforts. Your back arches from the bed as you press your hips to his skilled mouth. “That’s it, come on pretty girl, come for me.”

With a scream, you do as you’re told, your release washing over you like a tidal wave that never stops. His tongue keeps up its pace against your clit, sending additional little shocks that make you see stars.

“Oh my god,” you cry, practically sobbing as he doesn’t let up. “Eddie!”

You can feel the feral grin he hides against your flesh. His tongue slows until he’s giving you one last lick and sitting up, looking all too pleased with himself.

“Wanna see you,” you slur. You’re a boneless puddle in the middle of your mattress, squirming around on the wet spot you’ve left behind on the sheets. “Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he replies, unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them low enough that he can pull his cock out. You can’t look away from him as he leisurely strokes his thick length, a pearl of precum pooling at the tip. You reach a hand out to try to touch him, but he bats it away. “Just watch, princess.”

You pout, but do as you’re told, eyeing him hungrily. Your eyes alternate between watching his face screwed up in pleasure and watching his hand as it flies roughly up and down his cock, your mouth watering at the sight. You squirm, bringing a hand between your legs to rub at your oversensitive clit.

“Greedy fucking girl,” he groans, but he does nothing to stop you. “Already came once but desperate for more.”

You nod, unable to form the words to respond. Your motions are sloppy, hips bucking beneath your hand as he leans forward, bringing your bodies closer but not touching, making you whine.

“Quiet, baby, I’ll take what’s mine when the time is right,” he grunts, his pace stuttering as he nears his release. “Until then, be my good girl and say my fucking name.”

“Eddie!” You cry, your second orgasm breaking across your nerves. He growls and you swear his eyes go pitch black as he comes, his spend landing on your tummy in hot splashes. He works his cock until it starts to soften and he flops beside you on the bed, dragging your sweat damp body back against his.

When you’ve finally caught your breath, you wiggle around to face him. His eyes are back to that sweet soft brown that you love so much, like coffee with a splash of milk. He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You didn’t even see my dress,” you say with a pout.

“Don’t worry, I’ll see it at the dance.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You said you couldn’t get tickets.”

He smirks at you. “Who said anything about buying a ticket?”

[thesixthcavalier]

So as mentioned earlier, I want to put my thoughts from watching the first episode of Fallout into some kind of order and a probably too lengthy post. I’m going to do my best to carve this into sections and talk just about what is relevant to each section, but there’s bound to be some overlap and crosstalk. So without further ado let’s get to it!

Sound: I wanted to start with the sound because it’s some of the first stuff that I noticed and which really grabbed me. Sound design and music is such an important facet of modern Fallout games. Not only does the style of music evoke a very specific set of feelings and ideas in regards to the game world, but it generally also feeds into the black humor that we all know and love. And this show has excellently captured all of that. The use of music is sublime, especially because this is a self contained story that allows them to cue up the music they want at the right time. In the games your radio might flip into a track of Butcher Pete while you’re gunning down a raider encampment, or it might be I Don’t Want To Set The World On Fire, or it might be Civilization. Any of those fits Fallout of course, and adds to the kind of bleak humor of the songs playing during your wild sprees of violence, or even just trekking across the wasteland.

The series though can do more with it. It can cue up the perfect song to compliment a chaotic raider attack, or to frame the pre-war world mere minutes before everything goes to shit. I think they did this in spades, using the music to add to the world and what’s happening in really glorious and on theme ways. And then past the music we have to talk about the sound design. Maybe this was easy or a given, but I got giddy when the Lucy used a stimpak and it made that oh so familiar sound that, in my brain, means healing in Fallout. The vault doors make their chunky, whooshing noises of pneumatics and hydraulics, the little signs make those small ticking noises as they rotate, every little noise adds to the feel of this being a world where people are living and interacting with things, and I think that’s amazing and really shows a level of detail that could have been glossed over or ignored.

Visuals: This is honestly a big one and I may go on about it too much, but everything in this show is, visually, pleasing and well done. We can talk about the lighting and the action, and that’s all quite good, but for me it really comes down to the props, the costumes, and the set design. The pip-boys, the vault suits, the weapons, the furniture, the drugs, the power armor, everything has been designed with a clear vision and an excellent eye to detail. It could be said that this was a relatively easy thing to do, given Fallout 4 gave us a bunch of pretty clear models that could be pulled right out and utilized. Cosplayers do it after all. But it’s all too easy for people making something like this to do it half assed and end up with a poor product. They didn’t do that, and they in fact made everything look so real and right that I think it deserves praise.

The vaults feel like vaults just from looking at them, with their corridors and heavy doors and buttons and switches, I feel like I could take a player character down into Vault 32 and explore it the same way I’ve done with 13 or 87. Everything just looks proper and in place. The brotherhood’s entire setup is exceptionally on point. Military style base with some areas that are open, others that are cramped. The power armor really sells the feel of a walking tank that moves with servos and hydraulics and will absolutely fuck up your day. And of course it goes beyond all of this and into the smaller details of the visuals too. Things like the posters in the vault, the look of the world when Lucy leaves it, the pre-war stuff that all touches that retro-futuristic vibe that is so core to fallout. The robots we’ve seen, the tech we’ve seen, all of it is just perfectly crafted and a delight to look upon.

Humor: Fallout has always had a dark sense of humor, from the first game right up to the modern ones, and this show is nailing that in the first episode. It’s doing an incredibly job of balance your standard, lighthearted humor against bleaker and more dark jokes, and putting that all aside when things need to be more serious or harrowing. I spoke briefly about the use of music to heighten this, and specifically I think we can call out the raider attack on the vault and the song playing overtop of this ludicrous violence as a great example, but there’s plenty of other points in the first episode that really line up with Fallout’s humor.

Introducing us to Lucy by essentially giving us her character build is not only a great nod for people who played the games, or an excellent way to drop character info that will no doubt be important in her wasteland travels, but it also sets up some excellent worldbuilding with some humor. Lucy is practically in a job interview to get married because keeping the vault population going is important, but difficult at the same time. She plugs her credentials and the fact she has working sex organs and good hygiene like she’s listing her degrees and certifications, and it’s a perfect pin of Fallout humor, of the larger being, whether it’s Vault-Tek or corporations or the government, treating individuals as little more than resources, that’s bang on. Stuff like the blood spattered wall decor, the way the vaulters clean stuff up after the attack, it all meshes wonderfully with the Fallout vibe. We don’t get much humor in the wastes this episode, since we see so little of it. Maximus and the BoS aren’t a funny group in the overall, they offer a more serious tone as is fitting of the setting they’re in, but we do get some excellent bits like the use of the rock-it launcher/junk jet and the mention of what is definitely an old wives’ tale about ghouls attacking chickens. That plus what we’ve seen in the trailers leaves me very confident that the wasteland will have that same wonderful mix of humor that we know and love.

Violence: Obviously we have to talk about the violence. Ludicrous violence is kind of core to the series. All the way back in the isometric games you had gory kills where people melted apart or were ripped in half by machinegun fire, in sprite based glory. The more modern games give us a lot of the same, though in less detail due to everything being a bit more hardware intensive. But we still get limbs blowing apart, people vaporized or turned to goo. This level of violence, often juxtaposed against the upbeat and retro-futuristic feel of the setting in other places, is another hallmark of Fallout that the show is including in excellent detail. The violence and the blood are there on their own of course, we’ve got some gnarly wounds and damage being done, and major props to makeup for their work on much of it. The raider that Lucy fucks up with the blender looks absolutely brutal when he shows up again so kudos there.

And we’ve got the violence juxtaposed against music and other events that add to the feel of the setting. The wild chaos of the raider attack where someone gets a fork in the eye and then goes ham with a machine gun, a raider getting smashed by the vault doors in a pop of bloody viscera, these things add to the chaotic feel and they sell the vibe of the series. And going back around to the violence on its own, that same scene really sells the chaos, horror, and insanity of a raider attack on unprepared people who are fighting back as best they can. Every bit of bloodshed in this first episode is a well made choice to sell some aspect of the Fallout world, and it all comes together really beautifully.

Aesthetic: This kind of ties in to everything I’ve already said, but the show is really nailing the feel of Fallout in every way. The Pre-war bits we get perfectly nail that fearmongering uncertainty that was on America, the division between people, all of that good stuff. What we’ve seen of the world is exactly what I would expect to see in any Fallout game. I think I’ve covered the majority of what needs to be said here already, so we’ll move on swiftly for once.

The Little Things: Just in the first episode there’s a lot of small things that don’t totally fit anywhere else and which I wanted to mention. The biggest one that stands out to me is the wedding dress. I love, love, love the fact that they thought about this kind of stuff. The vault having a sort of small, shared library of clothes for important occasions, the little names and dates on the dress denoting previous weddings, that’s such great worldbuilding in small details. Additionally the use of the vault space makes so much sense. It makes sense that the biggest single atrium would also be where they grow food, and that space would then be used in various ways, with furniture pulled out or added to accommodate everything from a wedding ceremony to a big meal to sports stuff if they have it.

I mentioned the chicken and ghouls old wives’ tale already but that’s another thing that’s just excellent. Humans love to try and figure things out and apply rules to the world, of course we’d come up with some weird, oddball tests for the new, strange stuff that’s cropped up since the world ended! Even if it’s not true plenty of people will think it is and trust in it for little more than the comfort of thinking they know how stuff works. I also mentioned Lucy’s intro, and again I just think it was a great way to give us some brief exposition that will play into how she handles herself going forward. That combined with showing us that she’s capable and able to maintain a calm, level head in a desperate situation gives us a ton of background that will mean when she later gets into a bad spot and is able to get herself out of it, we already know the why of that. Specifically we get her experience with multiple forms of combat and her knowledge of science and repair, so I definitely think we’ll be seeing some turret or robot hacking/jury rigging at some point!

I could keep going I’m sure and talk about my thoughts on the various characters and all that, but more articulate people than I will probably be doing so in better form, and I really just wanted to get my thoughts on all of the above out and in the world. I highly doubt anyone will care or want to read this long of a post, but it’s there if you do, and I am eagerly looking forward to watching the rest of this series just as quickly as I can!

[pochapal]

the sprites you’re using are ugly. return to OG maria please bc this version absolutely butchers her character by transforming her silly “I know witchcraft” smug smiles into demonic features for no reason. I don’t consider this a spoiler because the sprites you’re using are non canon to ryukishi’s vision. I’m telling you the difference is so fucking stark the adaption hate her fr fr fr

this is such a wild thing to pop off about lol?? i've seen the og sprites and they are very charming but umineko project has no sprite toggle options so like. i don't know what you want me to do about this lmao.

[fangirleaconmigo]

I may be entirely too TWN critical, but with things like Burn Butcher Burn, I believe the writers genuinely don’t bother looking that deep into it. They don’t recognize just how messed up some of their choices are because they only understand the characters and themes (and especially the source material) as much shallower, more simplistic versions of what they are. They only see “butcher��� as a petty, mean name that can make another catchy song to show off how much pain Jaskier feels rather than how deeply racist and triggering and out of character it is to us. And what’s annoying is, it ends up feeling like they’re phoning it in. Like they don’t care.

PLEASE MUTE TWN CRITICAL IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE THESE POSTS

I'm catching up on asks, and Nonny, this was in response to my Burn Butcher Burn post. (I've taken so long to answer you may have forgotten lol)

Yeah there is literally no other explanation for me on that one. They just must not see that word the way I do. I don't know if it's just that they don't look at it 'that deeply'? Maybe? But I'm gonna tell you something, I just think that there is a vision of what love is, internal to that specific storytelling style, that I just don't vibe with.

The showrunner used to write for Daredevil, which I adore, but wrote the Matt/Electra eps, which I do not vibe with.

I just say that I do not vibe with, because I acknowledge that a TON of people like to read or watch that kind of relationship and I do not mean this as a knock on it, it's just that thing when you know something is not for you.

And that vision or idea of love specifically I think is not my cup of tea. And I think that radiates out to the other relationships, not just the romantic ones.

I'm being a little vague I know, because if I start assigning adjectives to those relationships, people are going to argue with me and that's not the point. The point isn't how I see those relationships, but just that they are not for me personally. And that just is what it is.

I don't liked to begrudge anyone their enjoyment of something. Life is short, love what you love. But it isn't for me.

[morocosmos]

Febuwhump Day 6 - Secrets Revealed

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Relationships: Warrior of Light, Fordola rem Lupis (minor characters: Lyse Hext, Alphinaud Leveilleur, Arenvald) Content/trigger warnings: None

Been in my head, have you? Had a little peek at my past?

You don't know a godsdamned thing about the life I've led!

Moro’a watched in horror as Fordola clutched her head, deep in the throes of what could only have been her very own Echo vision. The desire to grab the hyur by the shoulders and shake her out of what she was seeing seized the Keeper with iron jaws, and it was only with every onze of his willpower that he was able to force the storm back, nails digging painfully into the flesh of his palms as he shook from the effort.

“Moro’a,” Lyse called out softly, the concern in her voice unmistakeable. He fought to remain calm, but he felt more sick with each passing moment, helpless to do anything but wait for the visions to pass and see just what Fordola might expose.

Without warning, she cried out, nearly staggering back into the mattress behind her. As Fordola regained her balance, she stared at Moro’a with red-rimmed eyes. “Y-you…” she gasped. “All that power…all that pain…Ishgard, Corvos – your people…”

The storm swelled; Moro’a took a step towards her. “What did you see,” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Fordola eyed him like a cornered wolf. “Too bloody much is what I saw–” She didn’t have time to finish her sentence as Moro’a lunged forward, tackling her into the mattress and against the wall. He could hear the others shouting behind him, but the raging tempest had burst through and was now swelling through him, drowning out their voices. “What did you see!?” he snarled. “Tell me!”

Fordola growled in response, craning her neck to meet him with daggers of her own even as she struggled. “Everything!” she shouted. “The scorn, the lies! The betrayals! The endless loss, the endless fighting…and yet here you stand. How? Why?”

Moro’a was hauled back, clawing the air as Arenvald and Lyse restrained him. “Moro’a! Please, calm down!” Alphinaud pleaded. His words were as cold water to Moro’a’s senses, and the Keeper stilled, breathing hard.

When the storm had calmed enough for him to speak, he nodded. “I’m alright,” Moro’a said quietly, and only then did Arenvald and Lyse release him, though the latter remained nearby. Reluctantly, he looked up towards Fordola; the Butcher seemed to be regarding him with anger rather than contempt now.

“You saw everything, didn’t you?” he retorted. “Then you know why.” Without waiting for the others, Moro’a turned on his heels and walked out of the cell.

[sorry-forgot-to-mention-this]

I feel the need to say that I AM NOT ready for a show centered solely on Vision trying to get his memories and humanity back. I still haven’t recovered from Wandavision, now Marvel wants to pull this…

Also if I hear one more person saying that it’s an opportunity to separate Wanda and Vision, I’m gonna scream. They are going to say hello again!

(*Ignores MoM*)

[sundaybee]

One More Time (Julieta x Fem!Reader) Pt 6

As always I am not a native Spanish speaker, so if I butchered a sentence or word let me know so I may correct it.

This one ended up being super long so I hope it’s something you all find worth reading.

Part 6 of 20

Pt 7

I did not make the gif.

Things to note: Julieta is a widow. Reader is 30. Talks about depression early on.

Please don’t tear it apart too harshly!

You were pacing the aisle you had come to associate with Julieta. Your dress was balled up in your hands as you twisted the material furiously. You couldn’t believe you were blushing like a schoolgirl over the woman, longing for the fragrance of vanilla, imagining her warm hands… your thoughts trailed off.

There was no denying it, you had a crush on Julieta Madrigal. A bad one. You chewed your lip and continued to twist. She was a widow, a widow who was still grieving her husband. You were just shy of ten years older than her eldest daughter! You were twenty years her junior! You were a woman! 

You collapsed into one of the puffy chairs and stared at the ceiling. Your thoughts were racing a mile a minute and you didn’t hear the ding of the door bell. 

“You need to get over this immediately.” You said to yourself.

“Get over what?” 

The sudden voice startled you and you jumped, almost slipping to the ground. 

“¡Señora Madrigal! No nothing lo siento. What can I help you with?” You asked quickly, getting to your feet. 

The redhead looked at you curiously from down the aisle.

“Please, call me Pepa.” She said, you smiled awkwardly and nodded. 

“You’ve become a hot topic at casita lately.” She said, looking you up and down. 

Your heart jumped to your throat and it took a moment to calm yourself. Pepa’s sharp gaze on you made the task difficult. 

“All good things I hope.” 

“Sí, mi hermana can’t seem to get enough of this place. Mirabel has been raving about you as well. So I figured I’d come down and see who you truly are.” Pepa said, hands on her hips. Her older sister had transformed under your care and she was thankful for it, but the suspicion that you could be using her for your own personal gain was always floating in the back of her mind.

You should have been nervous, you should have made yourself a vision of perfection to convince the redhead of your character, but Pepa had issued a challenge and you were never one to back down from a challenge. 

“I look forward to your assessment.” You said confidently. You smoothed out your dress and gestured for her to take a seat in Julieta’s chair.

She sat and you vanished, quickly returning with a cup of coffee for each of you. You settled into your seat, smiled, and waited for her to come at you with everything she had. 

—-

For the next two hours the two of you spoke. Pepa started off strong with her first question but you were able to take control of the conversation and for an hour and fifty five minutes you spoke about the red head.

You spoke about her family and children. You spoke about her relationship with her mother and siblings. You listened as she gushed about her husband who she absolutely adored. Pepa’s cloud shifted multiple times throughout the two hours and by the end she was bright and cheery.

“Oh I like you a lot Y/N! I see why Julieta spends hours here.” She said finishing her third cup of coffee. 

You were easy to talk to, to open up to. You didn’t judge and seemed to have the right solution to every problem thrown your way. 

You smiled, your cheeks tinting slightly pink at the compliment. You had passed whatever gauntlet the weather wielder had intended for you.

“Well I can say for certain whenever a Madrigal enters the store my day becomes brighter.”

Pepa’s sunshine became brighter, she had clearly liked the compliment.

“You should join us for dinner one night.” Pepa said, rising from her seat. 

The idea was tempting, to see Julieta was always at the forefront of your mind. With the new acknowledgment you weren’t sure you’d be able to handle it.

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“Nonsense! You’re coming and that’s final. Next Friday I will see you at casita at 6:00pm sharp.” 

Pepa’s gaze was hard and you knew the battle was over before it even began.

“I look forward to it.” You replied, rising and walking her to the door. 

“¡Maravillosa! Don’t be late. Mamá is set in her ways and dinner is always at six.” 

You laughed and nodded. 

“I’ll be early just to be safe.”

[catcze]

hi I've read some of your work and <33 i adore it, if that's okay, can i request a kaeya x gn reader with cryo vision fic? I don't mind hc tho :D

so basically: reader is living in a woods in their little wooden house, away from mondstads people, they're not often seen in public. reader is coming to the city of freedom only to borrow books with spells, because of that some people r saying that they're a witch.

which is pretty accurate, but reader prefer calling themselves magician. they cast a spell by writing a symbol on a small piece of paper and then throwing it at enemy causing dmg, or just use it to shield themselves or to heal. (ndjdbsfhjd if u watched owl house,, there's this human who draws spells on piece of paper so that's something like this)

of course they're using cryo vision to fight enemies too!!

oh ny god sjsbsjah i wrote so much sorry if that's unclear,, so my point is; Kaeya with witch cryo vision wielder reader who spends most of their time in woods but they're not razor goodnight 🏃🏿‍♀️💨💨💨

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 FEAT : 」 Kaeya x GN! Reader

「 ### : 」 Fluff, some slice of life? bit of banter, Reader uses a cryo vision, mentions of Eula

oh hUN you've got my creative brain working with this! Thanks so much for sending it it, I hope you like it! I haven’t written Kaeya in some time so if I butchered his character I am so, so sorry lmao 💞 I really loved the concept of this omg 💞

”Really,” is the first thing Kaeya’s said to you today, “Sometimes I wonder how you could spend so much time all the way out here on your own. Don’t you ever get lonely?”

You chuckled and stepped to the side, giving him room to enter your cozy cottage. “It’s not as bad as you might think. The woods are relaxing, and sometimes a dashing knight from the nearby city comes for a visit.”

”Oh? A dashing knight you say?” Kaeya’s grin was wide as he pressed a kiss to your temple, then proceeded to wipe his shoes on your mat. He stepped into your living room to deposited the rucksack he’s been carrying on your table, then settled himself on your sofa. “And pray tell, what is it about this ‘dashing knight’ that makes visits so memorable?”

There’s a warmth that grew in your chest at the familiar sight of the Cavalry captain relaxing back into your comfy couch. You approached and nudged his long legs to give you some space to sit. “Well,” you drawled as you dug through the pack, pulling out the various books and examining them. You made a pleased noise. “Well, absolute grace and poise for one.”

In the corner of your eye, you saw Kaeya smirk to himself, resting his hands behind his head as he got comfortable. The cheeky little shit. You nudged his calf with an elbow. 

“Incredible mastery over their weapon, astounding skill with their Cryo vision,” You continued to list off, grinning to yourself as you watched Kaeya’s smirk grow with every word. It was adorable, really.

”The romantic speech. Oh, and let me not forget the stunningly good looks that I’m ever so blessed to be around.”

Kaeya waved a hand between you two, his eye closed as he basked in your praise. “Please,” he tried to say in a humble tone that was not very humble. “You embarrass me, dear. And I thought I was the flirt between us—“

”Oh, I do miss the Reconnaissance captain,” you cut him off with a cheeky smile that turned his smile upside down in an instant. “I hope Eula will visit me again soon.”

His eye narrowed at you, arms crossing on his chest as you tried to stifle your laughter. His expression was comparable to a cat who had just been dunked in water and who had not appreciated it. “How comedic of you,” Kaeya said flatly, though you knew he was not really upset. He frowned and gestured to the books on your table with a wide, sweeping gesture. “And after I braved the treacherous path to deliver these books to you, this is how I am repaid? How shameful of the witch of Wolvendom.”

”Magician,” you corrected, poking his leg. “You’ve heard my spiel before. And really, you brought the trickery upon yourself.”

”I take offense to that, I’ll have you know.” No, you’re sure he didn’t. ”You can’t say the citizens of Mondstadt are entirely wrong, though.”

Noncommittally, you shrug. You stood and piled some of the tomes in your hand, bringing them to your shelf on the opposite wall. The stack in your hands was rather large, and Kaeya wondered how you were able to comfortably carry the whole thing. “Perhaps not, but I do prefer to be called a magician either way.” You looked at him from over your shoulder, one book halfway shelved between two other books. “I trust Lisa had no complaint of the books I borrowed last week?”

”Nothing but the highest praise,” Kaeya assured. Then, as if he had remembered something, he snapped his fingers. “She told me to tell you that she wants you over for tea tomorrow, and that she wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

The thought of it made you groan, and you huffed. “I already went for supplies this week, though,” you complained, but behind your back Kaeya just shrugged.

”I’m just the messenger. Wouldn’t want to upset her, now would you?”

”…no,” You agreed, remembering the last time you had upset her.

”Glad we could come to an accord.” The cavalry captain smiled mischievously at your obvious displeasure. The conversation stalled for a minute or two as you focused on placing the books where they had to go. When you had finished organizing, you turned around and were met with Kaeya’s thoughtful stare. 

”She worries about you, you know. So do I. You can’t argue that it’s dangerous out here on your own.”

”I thought we established that a dashing knight comes to check up on me every now and again?” You asked, raising a brow playfully. You crossed your arms. “Besides, I can hold my own. There’s no need to worry.”

”I know you can hold your own,” Kaeya laughed, but there was a tinge of seriousness to it now. “Those written symbols of yours are no joke. I can still remember how tiring it was to get through your Cryo shield. “

”See?”

”And yet, can you blame me for wanting you to be safe?”

You soften at that. Kaeya’s still got a smile on his face, but you’ve known him long enough to spot the fabrication in it. There’s worry there. With soft steps you approach him, taking his hands into yours. With as even of an expression as you can, you meet his gaze. “No, I cannot blame you for it. But I feel alive here in the woods, even though it’s dangerous. I have my vision and my skills for a reason, you know? You helped me master it, you know how formidable I am.”

”I do,” he agrees. 

”And I’ve been learning to draw symbols of healing, too, so I can do more than just fight and defend. I can’t dispel your worries, though I appreciate that you care for me as much. I can tell you that I will do my best to stay safe, though.”

”Do you promise?” He asks, searching your eyes for any doubt, any indication you were saying all this just for him.

His eye was a lovely shade of blue, you realized. Leaning more on the side of periwinkle in this light, and contrasting with those strange, diamond-shaped pupils. You wondered if it was the same under his eyepatch.

”I promise.” Then the furrow of your brow relaxed and you grinned. “Though I wouldn’t mind a certain Cryo-wielding captain from the knights showing up on my doorstep every now and then. Y’know, just to check up on me.”

Kaeya’s smile changed, just enough for you to notice. He didn’t let go of your hand just yet, but his shoulders had lost some of their tension. 

”I’ll be sure to pass the message to Eula, then.”

You laughed, smacking his shoulder with a strength you doubted he could feel. “You ass!”

[blahkugo]

Rouge

Satori Tendō x Reader (Haikyuu!!)

Word Count: 2.5k

TW: Mafia AU, Dark themes, Blood play (an excessive amount of blood mentions in general), Knife play, Asphyxiation, Angst (?), mentions of death (no main characters), Just two psychopaths going at it tbh.

A/N: I’m so excited to be writing for @the-smut-pile’s newest collab, hosted by @present-mel, @pleasantanathema, and @linestrider. Please make sure to check out the rest of the masterlist here!

Every night, the smell of bleach stings your nostrils and prayers left unsaid weigh heavy on your tongue. ‘It comes with the job,’ they had warned you, had urged a ‘pretty little thing like you,’ not to take a position you couldn’t stomach. You didn't listen, of course.

Because death isn’t a stranger in your life, nor an old acquaintance you catch up with once every few years. It’s a friend that phones daily, a lover you scurry into bed with—the chill down your spine when you walk home alone in eerie silence.

As a doctor you saw it everyday, with every patient that prayed for pity when the pain became all too much. Cries of the sick plagued your every waking moment; who were you to deny them release? Their suffering ended the moment you injected the drugs.

But you’ve never seen death like this before.

“Daydreaming again, angel?” Tendō swipes a disinfectant across the cold metal counter, rubbing until pools of pomegranate red match his long, messy hair. Despite the dreariness of the task, an impish smile remains plastered across his face, the glint in his eyes unscathed by the scene you’d both just witnessed.

“It’s still Doctor to you.” Try as you might, your voice comes out shaky, your heart pounding so hard you’re worried it may actually jump out. That feeling never quite leaves you.

He straightens his gloves and out comes his signature laugh—that high, maniacal, chuckle that stops just short of a song. You’d rip out your car radio if it meant getting rid of it.

“You haven’t been one for a long time.”

The truth makes you shudder, but he’s right, of course. Once your license had been stripped away and you were on the run, your career had officially ended. An ‘Angel of Mercy,’ all the news stations had called you, yapping on for days when you were that week’s most wanted woman.

You don’t have the right to be called a medical professional and yet, you stand your ground. If it means getting him to quit with the dreadful pet name, you’ll say just about anything.

“Your boss calls me Doctor.”

“Because my boss can’t remember your name.” He meets your eyes, lips quirking upward at the little huff that escapes you, your furrowed brows spilling bits of frustration you so desperately attempt to keep bottled. The air hangs heavy with the shrieks of anger you wish you could unleash, all the words you don’t dare say aloud in fear of looking weaker than he already believes you are.

Instead of challenging you further, Tendō simply turns away, chucking the wipes in a bin and humming a tune far too cheery for a man who just ended a life.

When night comes, you dream of the older man who begged to see his children one last time and the laugh that sounds like a song.

—

The next day isn’t any better, because it never is. Ushijima’s moles bring in three more bodies for questioning; bodies, because you’ve been instructed to refer to them as nothing but. And they’re young this time, heavily tattooed kids that can’t be much older than nineteen—children that look so much like the thralls of young men you’ve learned to call friends, you have to avert your eyes when they send panicked glances your way.

You wonder if Tendō ever makes these comparisons.

“I’ll only ask once,” the gruff, even voice echoes within the small space. “Who’s your supplier?” Your boss is cold and calculated. He never wavers, never says more than he needs to. He’s everything you’d thought the leader of a crime organization would be and more.

Tendō hovers next to him, gnarled fingers twitching eagerly at the knife splayed between them. It’s his weapon of choice, because—as he mentioned your first day on the job—he can ‘take his time with them’.

The captives crack immediately, pleading helplessly for their lives as they vow they know nothing. They probably don’t, appearing to be nothing more than lowly thugs in a long hierarchy of vile men. It doesn’t stop what comes next.

As expected, Ushijima remains silent except for the soft sigh that leaves him. Tendō sighs as well, though it seems more pleased—euphoric, even—than bored. He presses a slender finger into the tip of his knife, watches as a bit of blood runs down his lean arm, paints a strip of his tattoos red, and drips onto the metal table.

“Are they ours now?” Ours. The word brings bile to your throat. Ushijima makes his way to the door, bluntly calling over his shoulder,

“Do what you must.”

You push up your glasses, Tendō grins, and the screaming begins.

—

Blood-stained lab coats are a staple of your wardrobe. No matter how hard you scrub, fingers raw and aching, the faded pinks never seem to give. You quit months ago, resorted to throwing the worst ones away instead of putting yourself through that hell.

This coat’s going straight to the bin.

Through every horrid interrogation, you’ve forced yourself to watch. You’ve never looked away, never dared allow him to smell the fear off of you. You hand him the tools, write the information on the clipboard, assist with cleanup and disposal, and answer any questions he may have—like the good little medical doctor turned mafia member you should be.

And Tendō smiles the whole way through. Even as dagger meets flesh, as pained cries shatter your eardrums, as your vision is clouded with red, red, red—Tendō smiles, humming a tune that you hear long into the next evening.

But today, when the third young man had looked you dead in the eyes and sobbed, begging you to tell his mother he loves her, you couldn’t help yourself.

Of course, the towering redhead didn’t fail to detect the misstep.

“Bad day?” He questions innocently, resting his elbows on the now spotless titanium table. His muscles ripple as he leans, boasting the thousands of dollars worth of art across his arms. It bothers you that you notice it, even more that he probably catches you gawking. He sees everything, after all. Everything but the blood still splattered across his body.

“Won’t be the last, for us at least.” Brows raise, as though the thought hadn’t occurred to him. If at all possible, the wicked grin on his face widens.

“You’re exactly right.” And like clockwork, he laughs. Your hands grow cold, ice corroding your veins. He swipes his tongue over his lip, leaving a slick shine on his lips. When he rises and steps toward you, you stand your ground, though you so desperately long to run. “Why so serious?”

“They didn’t know anything,” you mumble under your breath, “and you tortured them anyways.” In all your months of working with him, this is the first you’ve complained—and you immediately wish you hadn’t.

Tendō moves even closer, as though entertained by your tiny outburst. Perhaps he’s been waiting for this moment, for you to finally break your silence. When he speaks, his tone is gentler than usual, but still holds every hint of mockery and nonchalance the bastard is known for,

“It’s our job, angel face.” Another step, another tiny breath you’re holding in, worried that the slightest of sighs might shatter your perfected image of faux indifference. He tilts his head to the side, peering down at you, like you’re- a child.

And the glass breaks.

“Enough.” You splay your hands in front of you, halting him in his tracks, just as he invades your space. “Enough of the patronizing looks, and the humming, and the stupid pet name that you know bothers me!” An accusatory finger is jabbed into his chest. “Don’t you feel guilt? Fear? Empathy? You murder people.”

Your chest burns, heaving with rage. Tendō’s half-smile still sits on his face, words of ridicule ready to roll off his tongue any second. But when you look into his eyes, there seems to be something more—an emotion you can’t quite place. Anger? Understanding?

His next sentence is whispered with such sobriety, you’re unsure who it is you’re speaking to anymore,

“People like us don’t deserve those feelings.”

“There is no us!” The claim may come out crazy, hysterical even— a woman covered in warm blood shrieking within a cold, sterile room. For once, you don’t care. “I’m not like you.”

Those words may be what set him off, hand wrapping around your chin and tilting it up so that you’re unable to look away. Fingers that incite panic and enact violence, fingers you’ve feared since your first day here, clutching you ever-so casually. “Exactly. You’re not like me.”

He doesn’t wait for your rebuttal, gripping harder at your face. “I’ve made my peace with who I am, but you,” his breath fans your cheeks, “you only pretend you don’t enjoy it.”

Then, Tendō’s kissing you. And to your utter surprise, you’re kissing him back. Heat rises within you, the hairs at your neck curling as your lips meet with a ferocity. His palms graze your lab coat—no doubt staining his skin with the blood it’s drenched in—before he’s peeling it off.

When you tug at his messy locks, the butcher smiles and sinks his teeth into your bottom lip. He pulls you closer, hurriedly stripping you of your remaining clothing, until you’re left in just your panties. Hands roam at your supple skin, kneading at your hips, meshing into you wherever he can. All the while, your lips do the same, bleeding into each other until you’re unsure of where you start and he ends.

“No.” The command is stern, perhaps the most you’ve ever been with him. His eyes narrow in disappointment, limbs rapidly untangling from your body. You shove him backwards until his knees hit the edge of the table, nudge him again so that he falls against it, and grab a clean scalpel off the side counter. “No, we do deserve to feel those things.” His grin returns in full force—and he laughs.

This time, you don’t hate it.

“Deep down,” he grunts as you hitch a leg over his thighs and climb onto him, “you know that I’m right.” The scalpel’s pointed tip grazes his black tee, cutting through the material meticulously. You run a palm up his broad chest before pressing a finger to his mouth, smearing nearly dried blood across his jaw in the process.

“You talk too much,” the hushed murmur tumbling from your lips doesn’t sound like you, is foreign and twisted, and too much like him to bode well for either of you. The muscles in his thighs tense beneath you, his hard chest rumbling in a silent glee.

Your fingers brush against his cheekbones and you gasp, losing all perception of who you are. It’s absurd, but the individual you knew before, the persona you so adamantly believed you could uphold, crumbles with a single, soft touch of his skin.

And it’s unfair, really, that someone so beautiful—covered in art, blessed with hair the color of sweet wine and a laugh that sounds like music—could be so utterly fucked up.

When you nick his cheek, observing the drip of blood that trickles down, you wonder if Tendō ever makes these comparisons. And when you lick at it, preening at the groan that leaves him, you wonder if you’re just as fucked up as he is.

All at once, you’re flipped beneath him, back crashing against the cool metal table. He climbs down and drags his pants off, yanks you towards him with one pull of your thighs, and presses against your core. A shiver runs down your spine at the heat, crazes you for something you didn’t think you needed.

“By the way,” Tendō speaks through kisses and nips at your neck, “you are just as fucked up.” Though you hadn’t realized you’d said that aloud, you’re unable to retaliate, only wrap your legs around his middle and moan at a particularly harsh bite. He soothes every spot of broken skin with his tongue, drifting downwards until his lips meet your cotton panties. “How cute.”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting thi– Ah,” your complaint is cut short when he moves them to the side and licks a long stripe up your slit. And he doesn’t stop, lapping and sucking at your soaked cunt, holding you down with one lean arm when you writhe in response to the pressure. “God, fuck.”

“Satori, but I’ll take God too,” he smirks against your mound. It’s then that he inserts a lithe finger, then two, stretching you out until you’re tugging at his long locks, goosebumps raised as the warmth of his mouth intertwines with the cold beneath your back.

You’re panting, unconcerned with time or it’s passing, only his fingers, his tongue circling your puffy bud, and your steady ascension to the edge. Just as your legs tense, breath caught mid-mewl of his name, he stops. You lean up on your elbows, rut against him, searching for more—friction, movement, anything—but he doesn’t let up.

“Fuck- why?” Your cry is loud, whiny even, but you don’t particularly care when euphoria’s been ripped away from you so suddenly.

“Tell me I’m right,” he teases, eyes peering straight through yours. You whine again, a mix between a pained groan and ‘are you fucking serious?’ before he flicks at your bud once more. “Say it.”

And you do. Because, as strongly as you've denied it, you’re every bit as perverse as he is, every bit as infatuated by the idea of power, of playing God—of holding a life between your fingertips and choosing death.

The second the words are out of your mouth, he thrusts deep into you. Your fingers scramble for purchase, nails dragging against the table, then his back, as skin slaps against skin.

There’s nothing gentle about Satori, all lean, hard muscle and jagged edges, but the pain is just as blissful as the pleasure. His fingertips rub at your clit, other hand moving to wrap around your throat and squeeze tightly.

“Satori, I- I need more,” you choke out, lightheaded. And he complies, shifting you to your side and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. Your cries melt into his, sweat soaking your skin, your hair, the table, as he pounds into you over and over again.

“That’s it baby– fuck, let go for me.” He presses the long-forgotten scalpel against your throat—and your vision goes white. Electricity sparks through your spine, your tongue lolls out, and you swear you feel tears run down your cheeks.

He doesn’t stop, working you through the orgasm as your legs bind his waist. A few more thrusts and he’s following you, holding your hips against him so tightly, he’ll probably leave deep purple bruises.

He finally stills, chest falling against yours and heaving, allowing you both to catch your breath. Flashing a set of pearly canines, his wild grin and the glint in his eyes reappear. For the first time since you’ve known him, Tendō is completely silent.

And then he laughs, lawless and untamed, the howl of a hyena that sounds like a song—and you laugh too.

[pascalpanic]

Blood, Sweat, and Tears (Javier Peña x f!Reader)- Chapter One

Summary: You live in Bogotá in the ‘90s, and work odd hours. No, you’re not a DEA agent, but a nurse. These odd hours prompt odd habits, like working out at 2:03 A.M. after a shift. Odd hours attract odd people, and you have a chance encounter with one DEA agent by the name of Javier Peña. Warnings: language, blood and violence (both graphic), descriptions of death and gun violence Chapter 1 W/C: 2.3K A/N: you guys! I am so in love with this fic. I already have quite a bit more written and can’t wait for you to read it! I hope you love it as much as I do! Javi deserves some softness... but not too much. this can’t all be fluff when you’re Javier Peña. Okay, this is not super canon-fitting of Narcos, I’m just gonna be honest with y’all. This is between the time of Escobar’s escape from La Catedral and his final capture and death, but also… Connie’s still in Colombia. Additionally, I don’t really have a year in mind, it’s just somewhere in that period. Please note that this is not a very lighthearted story- it begins with a death, though not of a significant character. Javier and reader both have some trauma, so please check the warnings of each chapter before you start reading. If you’re continuing on, I hope you like it! For the most part, if I use italics here when someone is speaking, it’s indicating that it’s in Spanish. I’m okay at the language, but I don’t want to butcher anything, so… just imagine it. Otherwise, it’s just the way anyone would use italics I guess.

next chapter

Chapter One

You watched a woman you didn’t know die in your arms tonight.

 She was beautiful, all dressed up to go out and party, her makeup running down her face with tears. Her lips were the painted the color of the blood that trickled from the side of them, eyes glazing over as she coughed and coughed and ruined the beautiful dress she wore. The nurses had asked what happened, and she had told them, through gurgles of blood: she had slept with one of Escobar’s men. She got too close, learned too much, and they tracked her down. 

She flatlined not long after telling the nurses around you. You had stood in the corner, paralyzed at first. You were an experienced ER nurse, nothing was new. You had seen patients die, but something about her was different. Maybe it was the way she reached out to you right before her body went limp. You didn’t make it to her bedside in time to calm her, the panic holding you down, but you finally took her hand right as she took her last breath. 

After she passed, you threw up in the bathroom, shaking and clutching the toilet. The night air had grown unbearably hot and humid, causing your scrubs to cling to your skin, and the sweat from the heaving of your stomach didn’t make things easier on you. Lorena, a fellow nurse and your best friend at work, had found you and comforted you, rubbing your back and bringing you water. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t reverse what had happened. 

Now, you sit on a bench in the staff’s locker room, redoing the ponytail holding your hair from your damp face. Your shift ended a few minutes ago, but you don’t know what to do now. You don’t feel like drinking; that would only make the visions swimming in your head worse. You know you can’t go home, can’t attempt to find sleep tonight. You look up and spot a bag with tennis shoes and spare clothing and settle your mind on at least one thing: the gym could do you some good. You change into the clothes and put the blood-spattered scrubs in the laundry pile. 

As you leave, you give Lorena a little wave goodbye and exit the building. You’re hyper-aware of your surroundings tonight, and you groan as you look at your watch and notice that it’s precisely 2:09 A.M. here in Bogotá. The walk to your fitness club is short, but your step is slightly extra hurried and your hand is on your pepper spray the entire time, extra vigilant to the fact that a hit went down somewhere around here just a few hours earlier. Surprisingly enough, no one catcalls or bugs you tonight. 

The little gym is run-down and dilapidated, and there’s no working air conditioning, but it’s the only one near you. You paid the small monthly membership fee to gain access, and you were going to use it to get in shape, you’d decided. As you swipe in and enter, the tiny fitness center looks more depressing in the fluorescent lights, no daylight to sugarcoat the atrocities of the center. There are two of every machine, a punching bag and a speed bag, two weightlifting racks, and a couple of benches. 

It’s nice that you get to work out alone tonight, you tell yourself. Even better is the fact that you now get to control the music. Desperate for a taste of home, you flip the large boombox in the corner on and begin scanning the airwaves with the dial. There’s a station in town that plays American music, and you need it more than anything tonight. You listen carefully and nearly start sobbing again as you hear Billy Joel’s voice through the speakers. With a sigh of relief, you lock your bag in the rusty lockers in the corner and head to the treadmill. It’s a beat up old thing, but this is the one you always use. It provides a little bit of comfort tonight, the familiarity of it. You turn it on low and start walking. A few moments later, you up it to a jog, mouthing along to the words of the familiar song. 

As the song ends, you push the buttons enough to enter a running speed. Your feet slam into the treadmill harder than normal tonight, feeling as overwhelmed as when you left the hospital. Your body finally works up a sweat, the physical stress overwhelming the mental stress. 

As the events of tonight replay in your head to some other song from the late 80’s, your eyes start to water. Everything was so overwhelming, and your mind is just starting to process it. You finally allow the tears to fall, mixing with the sweat coating your cheeks. It’s hard to tell which is causing more of the mess, but you let yourself cry it out as you run for the next few minutes. 

The next song that comes on is Venus by Bananarama. You almost chuckle at the fact that it’s a few years old by now, but the song is comforting. It reminds you of home, of a time before you had issues like these. You slow down the treadmill a little, singing to the words aloud once you catch your breath enough. Daring to do a little spin on the rolling surface, you groove along to the music, chuckling a little

After the first chorus, you hear a creaking noise and whip around to find a man standing in the doorway. “Jesus fucking Christ!” You shout before you can stop yourself, hopping off the treadmill and onto the non-moving one before you get flung off. Your heart is pounding from the running, only intensifying the adrenaline rush from the scare. 

The man chuckles a little, but the smile on his face doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s tired- of course he is, it’s now 2:30 in the morning. “Lo siento,” you offer in Spanish, cringing at yourself and your reaction just now. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here this late,” you stutter, still panting from the running. He shakes his head lightly. “You’re American,” he says simply. In English, in a beautifully American accented voice.

Your sweaty brow furrows, a glimmer of hope sparking inside your chest as you notice that he speaks like an American himself. “So are you.”

He nods at that. “That I am,” he says as he puts his things in a locker, snapping it shut behind him. He looks at you for a moment. You’re not working at the Embassy, or he’d know you. It was rare to find an American down here that wasn’t working for the government somehow. He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, looking at how tired he appears in the big mirrored wall. He’s curious, but he’s exhausted. 

You look at him for a moment. “You going to explain anything, like, tell me about yourself? Or do I have to go first?” You ask, hands on your waist as you hop back on the slowly moving treadmill, back into moving. He doesn’t respond. “Fine. I know you’re government. I’m not an idiot.”

He chuckles and tugs on his t-shirt, moving to the treadmill next to you and getting on. It’s been ages since you’ve held a conversation in English, and you missed this, missed how easily your first language flows from your mouth. “And you’re not.”

“Correct,” you nod, turning up the speed a little on the machine until you’re at a light jog. “My bigger concern was going to be why you’re here at 2-fucking-30, but I’m guessing I know the answer. You get called in around here for the hit?” He nods, starting the treadmill up and walking on it. 

“You don’t have to be so guarded, Jesus. I fucking hate Escobar, I’m on your side,” you scoff before turning up the machine until you’re running once more.

Javier shrugs. “Makes sense. How did you know-”

“She died,” you say quickly and firmly, keeping your eyes straight ahead and looking at the room around you. “Add that to your file.”

He nods, understanding a little more now. You knew her somehow. He doesn’t say a word either, cranking up the machine and heading into a jog too.

A few more minutes pass of the two of you silently running next to each other, the American music still playing throughout the gym. It’s a comfort to Javier too. Tonight was shit for the DEA- they had known Escobar’s men would be around here. They had the intel, they had everything ready, but the men somehow had escaped and left a victim in their wake. 

The frustration of everything, of the man being something close to home for you yet being a brick wall, threatens your eyes with welling tears again. “I just wanted to talk with an American,” you sigh and cross your arms, moving back into the walking stage of a treadmill. 

The man next to you gives a similar sigh, stopping his treadmill completely and offering you a hand. “Javier Peña.” You take it reluctantly, feeling the sweat of both of your hands mix, and tell him your name before retracting it and stopping the treadmill too. “So, what brings you to the gym at 2:30?” He asks, crossing his arms and leaning against the center part of the treadmill. 

“I’m a nurse. I work the graveyard shift. Bad night, a patient died because she got fucking shot for having a boyfriend and not knowing he was a narco, I need to get something out, I come here,” you shrug, unconsciously mimicking him by folding your arms as well. 

He nods at that. “I’m here for the same. Shitty stakeout, I’m pissed off, I come here.” He leaves out the part about his favorite call girl being taken, and how he needed another way to get the rage inside of him out. He walks off of the treadmill and to the weight rack, pulling a bench beneath the bar.

You turn again and turn the machine back on, slowly jogging. “I see. Odd hours to be here, that’s why I asked,” you say simply. “And to see another American at such a time. I haven’t interacted with one since I came here.”

Javier nods, adjusting the weights on the bar. “Yeah. Weird,” he nods. “And that you’re an American who isn’t working for the government and you’re down here. What, you got a husband who works for us?”

You shake your head, swallowing hard for a moment. “No, don’t have a husband in the first place,” you admit, adjusting the ponytail holding your hair up. “It’s a long story.”

“We got time,” he shrugs as he gets on the bench beneath the rack, looking at you in the mirrored wall. Even with the sweat and the stress of working out, he notices that you’re gorgeous. You have a nice body, and even your face is pretty while you’re working out.

You shake your head. “Fine, if you really want to hear it.”

“Might as well. It’s that or more of this fucking Wham! music, and I’m sick of George Michael.”

“First of all, first person here gets the music, so mind your manners.” This finally earns a chuckle from the man, and you want to smile but it just can’t come. “I came down here with a man. He’s a citizen here. We were going to get married, but he left me. That was a couple of months ago now,” you admit, the tears beading in the corner of your eye again. “My work visa was still valid, and I renewed it so I can keep working at the hospital. I don’t really have anyone down here except the girls I work with, but I like helping out. They need me.” He nods a little as he listens, breaking his focus as he starts his reps with the bar.

“And you’re government, so that explains everything I need to know about you,” you continue to babble. “One of the girls I work with has a husband who’s at the Embassy. Murphy,” you say offhandedly. 

Javier’s attention is caught, and he sets the bar on the rack. “Murphy?” He asks, and you turn your head to look at him and give him a nod. “No shit. That’s my partner.”

You chuckle slightly and look back at him, stopping the treadmill. “So you know Connie?”

Javi nods. “Yeah, great gal. She could do better than Steve,” he says, sitting up.

You laugh softly at that. “From what I’ve heard of him, I agree. She’s a really great girl, you’re right,” you nod in agreement, looking back at him. “She’s never mentioned you. She says her husband’s in janitorial, but we all know that’s not true. What, you guys CIA? DEA?”

Javier nods again. “DEA.”

“I see,” you say, folding your arms and leaning against the machine. “Can’t make you many friends around here. I learned pretty quickly to keep my mouth shut about being a gringa. They can usually tell though.”

“You’re right,” he chuckles and cracks his back.

You bite your lip as you look at him, your voice watery when you can finally speak again, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion again. “It’s nice to talk to someone in English again,” you admit with a forced smile. 

He can read your eyes easily. You’re a nurse, and you told him that the victim died. You saw it. “It is,” he nods, reading your pain and trying to show you he empathizes with it. Your eyes are beautiful, he notices as he looks into them. So much more hope and trust than anyone else he works with, but the pain in them is unbearable. He looks away, leaning back on the bench to lift again.

“So where you from in the States?” You finally ask when the silence is too long. 

“Laredo, Texas,” he chuckles. “Yourself?”

[sly-merlin]

KILLING ME - 13 | n.y

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre :    angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au.

warnings of this chapter : mentions of brutality described in previous chapter, mentions of strained breathing, curse words. For future chapters, major character death(s).

words : 4.5k

summary :

“life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”                                  

or            

 “  curiousity got the cat hitched”

K.M masterlist

K.M 12

taglist : @kpop-choco @moon-yuta @kawaiiayasan @btm-taeyong @exfolitae @lanadreamie @cheersskznct @hyuckiesgf @theworld-accordingtocasey @yiyi4657 @sorrywonwoo @sillywinnergladiator @minejungwoo @leesalts  @mal-nakamoto23 @ro2424 @itlittlefangirl @nctzens-world @bl--ankhaeji @simplybree @ncttboo @jeaneteflo @nuoyii @bralessmermaid @minhoseyeliner

In the silent room, the sound of taeil's shoes reverberated as he paced back and forth. Of the seventeen men standing in the living room, most had their heads hung low while some paid side glances to Jaehyun and ten as they fell prey to Taeil's anger.

"Last time!" Fingers pointed in the air, taeil asked in a dangerously calm voice, "don't make me repeat myself. Who left the door open?"

Messing his hair, jaehyun began,

"We didn’t know she was still there in the basement. Usually she’s out by-

“just answer me already.” Taeil shouted in exasperation.

“we don’t clearly remember. Me and ten were busy interrogating him.'' Jaehyun's voice was barely above a mumble but it still managed to reach everyone in the parameter.

Taeil turned to ten, furiously rubbing his forehead, impliedly asking for a reply but he merely shrugged in shame.

“Since when you have been butchering people with doors ajar for everyone to see?” the volume of his voice sent shivers to each and every presence in the room. Taeil never lost his calm, this was, after all, his metier. But he knew when to let go of his usual demeanor and nobody plucked up the courage to question him either.

“we didn’t do it deliberately. It was a mistake. An accident. Why are you drawing this so much.” jaehyun daren’t raise his voice above a whisper but his words were alarming enough

“You all need to recall the rules we stand by. What if jisung had gone down? Would you throw the same lame excuses even then? Won’t you be sorry if he or chenle or sungchan had seen a human being cut open like that? you and ten are both equ-

“we are ready to apologise to her okay. I’m not running from responsibility here. Nobody i-”

“Accepting a mistake is not even the bare minimum. We don't need your hollow apology if you don’t mean it. just because she’s understanding doesn’t mean the blood would leave her head. There’s a reason those rooms are forbidden for some of us here.”

Jaehyun’s unexpected raspy chuckle earned multiple gasps from the room. Taeyong was about to reach him but taeil stopped him by a show of his palm.

Jaehyun pinched his nose before barking,

“when jisung and chenle are told not to enter forbidden areas, they actually do listen but your pretty sweet y/n never does that. she’s just reaping the fruit of her own reckless behaviour again. it’s not my mistake that she’s so damn nosy all the –

“WHAT IF IT WAS NARA AND NOT Y/N JUNG JAEHYUN? WOULD YOU HAVE SPILLED SAME BULLSHIT IF IT WAS HER?

Taeil knew he shouldn’t have said that. Jaehyun’s darkened eyes calmed Taeil instantly as he realised he too had crossed a line.

as he angrily took a step forward towards taeil, jaehyun was abruptly halted by johnny and taeyong as they kept the two men apart. The reason for the argument left Jaehyun's mind, the mere mention of nara was enough to blow his fuse. He was furious yet he didn’t resist the boys and let his sharp breathing convey his message to taeil.

“Stop it you both. Go back to your rooms everyone.” Johnny announced, hands still holding Jaehyun's arm and torso, almost hugging and shielding him from taeil. “let it go jae. Just calm down. Please.”

Everyone remained glued to their feet, too afraid to make any noise. Huffing loudly, Jaehyun pushed Johnny away. Jaw clenched, chest heaving in rage, he furthered himself and instead of going for taeil’s neck as everyone has thought, his hand reached for the vase and the very next moment, the beautiful curved glass met the ground, shattering into innumerable pieces, right where taeil stood.

“JAEHYUN”

Taeyong roared watching younger and the older staring each other down.

“never compare nara to her.never!” With a perilously low voice, jaehyun glowered at taeil. “measure them up on the same scale again and you won’t be alive to regret again!”

Jaehyun stormed out upstairs. Soon after, without saying or expressing anything, taeil left too, masking his emotions just like usual times.

“when are they going to talk this out. It’s been three years already.” Johnny mumbled more to himself but everyone heard him and each and every presence in the room understood him.

Sleep despised you. Even sleeping pills had turned their back on you. Sprawled on the bed, you prayed to some magical being to descend and help you but no matter how humbly you pleaded, there was no end to your misery.

"He was a drug supplier, one of the accomplice of importing life threatening drugs in korea. He had it coming when he refused to tell us about other handlers. What you need to know is we have done a favour by taking his life."

Taeyong's words were seeded into your head. Your fear was fine, he had told you. He also said you’d forget about it in no time but he couldn’t mark when the “no time” would end. The vision of what you witnessed was quite blurry by now but the awful feeling in the pit of your stomach chose not to leave you yet. From what taeyong explained, that man was a mere pawn. A hidden syndicate was exporting deleterious drugs and they were just trying to find out the people behind it.

The only thing you had gathered was that just like every normal entity, criminals like neos weren’t fond of any sort of competition. With a pack of sleeping pills given by xiaojun, meant to help you sleep through the night, you were dropped at your house by dear Mark who kept stuttering explanations while driving. They have never killed anyone innocent, Mark said and kept it repeating in different possible ways a sentence could be transformed into.

You weren’t sure if you believed him yet. But even the mere thought of getting used to the brutality was horrendous than what you had seen once.

Two days later, at black neos. 9: 50

“when do you want us to sue them y/n?” mr. jung questioned, rotating his walking stick by the wooden head.

Sitting on the sofa, just beside him, you wondered why you were always so conscious of all the eyes directed at you. or maybe you were distracting yourself from answering the man. Among all the things, his way of showing his care was not settling in.

one amusing revelation was that Jaehyun's father, mr. jung or senior jung, as hyuck called them, was the only person with the capacity of putting a noose around all the valiant necks that were ever present in the house. The wrinkles of old age held enough authority to shut each and every young mouth, including yours even though you kept your quiet.

And he adored everyone, johnny, yuta and haechan among his favourites of course. He was also persistent and you were struggling with coming up with an answer because of this very trait. He kept asking you and your eyes remained transfixed on the papers bunched up in your hands, that were shoved into your hands upon your arrival. They opened the chapters you always had doubt about but no corroboration.

You had no home, the reason you were sent into that orphanage in the first place. The little kid that witnessed her parent’s death in front of her eyes didn’t understand why her parents took so long to wake up or why they never did when she waited for so long hiding among strangers or despite having a home, why she was sent to a place where she knew no one. There was no answer to why you never saw your uncle and aunt again and why they never came to take you back. As you grew up, you gave up on them. the car crash had crushed every relation you had with the home you once dearly loved and now you were conflicted with the new information that was thrown your way. your uncle and aunt were under illegal possession of the house that allegedly belonged to your father and after his demise, to you. but what would you gain by going back? Bricks and cement could never compensate or alleviate the pain that you had learned to live with. Even with law on your side, tormenting them would be of no benefit to you. So you said what you had decided years ago.

“I-I don’t want to sue them.” you replied meekly, eyes still fixated on the thread holding the legal papers together.

A sound of disapproval caught your ears as mr. jung spoke against your decision,

“no y/n. Those leeches abandoned you to rot in an orphanage and are living comfortably with insurances and the house that belongs to you. all that money could have been used for your future. You don’t need to be afraid of them. kun would provide you the finest lawyers and within two hearings, they would be in jail for committing fraud and trespass. And as a lawyer yourself, you should know better than to let them go off like this.”

Everybody heard but no one spoke.

“no.” you raised your head to face him and swallowed hard before continuing, “I do not want to meet them”

“don’t you want to go back there? that’s your home.” Somewhere from your left, Johnny spoke.

“never.” You refused immediately. “the people who live there were never my family. They never wanted me a part of their family. I’m clearly not their blood. The people who adopted me are not alive anymore. Those who loved me left me years ago. For a ridiculous sum of money, they didn’t even say their goodbyes to me. I was left there thinking that maybe one day someone would come. But money wins over love. It always does. And i don’t give a shit about them. I have learned to live on my own. I never needed their love. And I certainly don’t want more of their hatred.”

Inhaling sharply, you spat your speech in a single breath. Your words weren’t emotionless still you didn’t feel them like others did.

“I think we should bury this matter.” this time your voice was polite.

They nodded.

Mr. jung, however, wasn’t done.

“Okay so no one would mention this but keep these papers with you. you never know when this might come handy. After all, you are the sole owner of those properties your father left. Now you see, we grease the palms of officers so we can escape the shit we create for ourselves but people like your family are worse than the devil hi-

Multiple coughs halted his train of words. His breather was immediately fished out of his pocket and handed over to him. once he regained his senses, he begin again,

“never mind. Family must be protected y/n and those who fail to do so slaps the most precious value away from them. it’s not necessary that you should cherish something when it’s really out of your reach. at least i can die peacefully knowing that you all would settle down finally. If yuta can leave his chaser personality to find love, there’s hope for everyone here and speaking of yuta, when he’s arriving?”

“in two hours”

Your eyes widened and a hiccup escaped your throat. You voiced out a hum of surprise, gathering everyone’s attention.

“You weren’t told?”

You football sized eyeballs told mr. jung that you certainly weren’t aware.

“I guess I just spoiled a surprise then. Forgive me, I'm old and I am also hungry. Show some courtesy to your guests and feed me and y/n.”

Hyuck jabbed at him before they all got up to run for their seats in the dining room. “You are old. Why do you even need to eat anymore. Go to himalayas, eat snow and acquire some peace. That’s what old people should do!”

Everyone seemed too occupied with their bickering to pay you any mind so you dragged a reluctant taeil to his room, demanding answers for the latest drama they had launched in your name.

"I'm so sorry about that. The day after reception at the office, uncle suddenly asked about your family and that got me curious too so I ended up searching in deep and that led me to this whole discovery. I swear i never meant to breach your privacy y/n." Taeil pleaded in a low whisper as he locked the knob.

"Why would he do that though?"

"He's just too sensitive when it comes to families. He even told me to find your real parents but I got no luck there because you were adopted from an open adoption center from a different country. I found no information on them but I'm sorry about that." His ramble was again reduced to a murmur..

Playing with your fingers, you signed heavily before replying,

"Thank you for your effort but you should have asked me first.”

"Did you perhaps know anything about their schemes?"

"Right since I learnt about the adoption laws. I couldn't have been adopted without a security registered under my name. Maybe that property was the house where they are living right now"

"I'm sor-

"When were you going to tell me about that little whiny bitch? He's coming back in a few hours? I have to live with him again? " Scrunching up your nose in disgust, you bellowed.

"Yeah. He and taeyong had a long love chat yesterday. He was indeed being dramatic so i wonder what happened between them that he agreed. But he's coming back yeah. It was inevitable anyway. I don't know how you want to approach this but I'd say don't choose conflict. Eventually you have to live together so why try to break each other's necks. I've said this before and I'd say it again he-

"He's not that bad? I don't understand how easily you forget that I'm in this predicament because of that man. How can you expect me to make peace with that fucking piece of shit who had his gun pointed to my head since very first day?"

"Are we that insufferable?"

"Don't change the topic"

"I'm not changing it.You said predicament. We are also part of it right. Do you really hate us that much?"

Your eyes softened, reflecting his tone. No, they were just mildly bearable. And no, there wasn't any need to admit it either.

"Taeil, you sound like the voice of reason here. Taeyong seems fishy too but he's too unpredictable. He's like a chameleon. Others don't seem to have any power in your stupid hierarchy I've come to notice so it's you right? You are the one who told taeyong to marry me to that poopface and spare my life. It is definitely you.” staring him right in the eye, you pointed your forefinger at him.

"Please do me a favour and don’t use your brain too much y/n. I already have too much on my plate. I don’t need another one. If you don’t want our uncle to die due to a heart attack caused by your and yuta’s actions, stay shut. Now let’s eat before they gobble down everything.”

Our uncle! Yeah sure, you thought.

14:00

Standing alone in the kitchen, fidgeting with your hands, you tried your best to eavesdrop but nothing coherent met your ears. You indeed expected the army of men to have a party when their estranged soldier would arrive but the welcome outside sounded more like a hue and cry. The screaming indicated anything but happiness.

Your dilemma ended when you heard your name being called, the voice belonging to senior jung. You couldn't understand why he loved shouting when clearly his lungs couldn't take anything in higher volume.

Walking into the living room, you saw everyone seated in a very civilian manner but their conversation was difficult to hear amidst the babble.

“Come sit” Mark, who had gone to fetch yuta from the airport, spoke.

As you took the seat next to taeil, your eyes fell on the raven haired man and met his own. If his blonde hair shrieked peril, the black softened all the darkness his previous hair projected. Mayhaps, it was the black rimmed glasses he wore. You didn’t even know he had eyesight issues. He looked different.

He might have looked non-barbaric for a few seconds but his intense eye roll with the twitched lips upon meeting your eyes caused you to scowl. That’s when you noticed the elbow crutch on his left arm leaning against his outstretched leg. Nothing seemed wrong. You sized up his both legs with a crease of confusion forming on your forehead. You might have been looking too hard for your unasked doubt was answered by none other than yuta himself.

“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”

You scrunch your nose at the politeness that dripped from his lips, the honeyed words clearly in contrast from the uneasiness he felt while uttering them. Though the words were directed at you, he never regarded you directly and you weren’t sure how one was supposed to act in such a pretentious setting.

“No, definitely not a scratch.” Mr. Jung interrupted your internal unrest, interpreting your silence to be worry for the boy. “His left thigh is bandaged so it needs a lot of care. You might need to take some days off given how much movement hurt him. and you! I know you don’t want to worry her but lying around won’t work. she can’t tend to you unless she knows where you need care.”

He mildly instructed him as you found yourself staring at yuta’s brown cargo pants which hid whatever injury was being mentioned. The said words were dodged by your ears even before they’d have entered. The problem laid with the response that was expected of you. you couldn’t have possibly replied to him your true intentions that included ducking every wifey duties you were supposed to fulfil but like everyone else and as taeil had explained, you didn’t want the blood of an old man on your hands so you just played along.

“yes.”

That was enough for playing, you decided. Your quietness, for the first time won't be subjected to judgement as the dejection was expected.

“I think you both should go home now. I have some business to sort out here.” he got up and walked past you, not before petting your hair lovingly. He also smacked yuta on his head and mumbled something on the lines of how he should have enjoyed his last overseas trip and whatnot.

Once he, taeil and taeyong were out of sight, chatter started again. hovering over yuta, they dropped questions like he was in some interview and you remained seated, waiting for their next request they were possibly going to annoy you with.

“did you like france?”

“what the fuck! you didn’t tell me about the hair colour. Now I want to change mine too!” that was ten.

“why are you wearing pants if your thighs hurt?”

“I’m sorry for laughing at you earlier.”

Right when you thought you were specialising in drowning the sounds, Johnny's voice caused you to jerk your head towards them. Not the voice, maybe the question he asked!

“dude! Where did you exactly fall from? The room is on the ground floor and your work didn’t even require you to switch places. How can you break your leg while monitoring the local cells?”

Only two sentences were needed for the laughter to escape the confines of your stomach and the realisation that you actually thought about a bullet or a knife being the reason of the harm only elevated the amusement you felt. understandably, you became the center of their attention.

“who the fuck are you laughing at?” yuta sneered.

“you.”

The twisted bitter smirk on yuta's face told you that he still needed some good time getting used to your unfiltered tendencies but by the suppressed snickers that chenle and hyuck let out, their voices recognisable to you by now, you were sure at least a few of them were enjoying your jabs as much as you did.

"Fuck off." He finally barked, breaking the harsh eye contact.

"Happily!" You remarked, raising yourself from the cushioned seat.

"Where are you going y/n?" Intersected jungwoo.

"Home. Tell mr.jung that college called. It's Saturday so I've to visit the library anyway."

"Wait I'll drop you both."

Glaring at Johnny, you wordlessly challenged him to repeat what he said.

"Yes. You and him are not leaving alone. Uncle is still here. God forbid if he decides to stay the night, we won't have answers for him." He rather whispered to you.

"That sounds like a problem for you. My pact was over as soon as I saw that face. And I can guarantee you the feelings are more than mutual from that side too." Rolling your eyes towards yuta, you said.

"No no no! You can't do that yet!" Johnny came closer and continued his whispering, "please y/n. I promise he'd behave. Uncle did so much for you, can you help us this one last time? And yuta was returning anyway. If not today, then four days later. Please? You'd do that for me right?"

Sometime while talking, his fingers had found your hand and you weren't sure if he was aware of it or not.

But you were. And that had caused a little temperature problem in your whole body as you felt warmness enveloping your whole being.

And it seemed like your ears had stopped working too.

"Y/n! Are you hearing me?"

"Are you fine?"

His hand on your cheek broke your trance and your eyes darted away to look at his eyes, finding the same worry in them. Why was he so genuine, you thought.

"Are you sick?"

He questioned again, to which you only stuttered.

"No. I'm fine john. What were you saying though?"

"I said yuta needs to go back home. Please. He can't stay here even if we don't want him to be alone."

Somehow, you found yourself mindlessly nodding at his words. A cheeky contagious smile appeared on Johnny's lips, your own slightly curving on both sides. He backed away after caressing your face, the action more noticeable to others than he probably had intended.

"Let's get you home baby boy." Johnny snickered at yuta earning a slap from him.

"Fuck off bitch. At least feed me something before I leave. I'm hungry!" He screeched, hitting Johnny's leg with the end of his stick.

"What about the jjajangmyun you had in the car? How can you still be hungry?” Mark chirped up innocently.

"Oh come on. Don't make excuses.I'll bring some food in the evening." Johnny offered when yuta was busy giving a stink eye to mark.

"I too need some compensatory food john.”

“What the fuck do you mean compensatory? You live in that house because of me! Don’t imply yourself as the owner of that place!” you rolled your eyes for the nth time at yuta’s words, dismissing his words with the action.

“Why dont you donate your eyeballs to someone like me who can actually make better use of them. Instead of rolling them to the back all the time, I shall happily play tennis with them.”

“If my habits annoy you that much then why are you going back to breathe the same air as me. I’d be more than happy if i don't have to see your cursed face daily!”

“Stop you both.” Johnny's back shielded your view as he spoke. “He’s still here! Renjun, go and run a checkup for him and tell me how bad his leg is in actuality or is he just crying like a baby.”

In defeat, you sat down again. Fifteen minutes passed and despite being sleepy, you tried your best to listen to donghyuck’s ramble of something that jeno did the other day. All you heard was how jungwoo and jeno had a fight over piggyback rides and after that every word was transformed into a chant of word sleep as it hit your ears. Though it was early afternoon, the whole week had been nothing but tiring.

Once again your relaxation time was robbed off by none other than yuta. Maybe this was the end of your peaceful days.

Hopping off, you hurriedly whisked away before Johnny and Jungwoo could say anything to you. Two men were enough for towing the baggage.

As you stripped yourself off your jeans, an exhausted cackle left your lips when Johnny's words echoed in your head. During the car journey, he gave you some instructions in case of some emergency. That emergency being yuta! Not that you were going to put up with any of yuta’s demands, you listened to them anyway. Amusingly, yuta wasn't injured due to falling from stairs. He was getting drunk on the roof of a random building when he had launched himself into a sharp edge of a railing that gave him stitches all over his left thigh. Now he was as good as an exhausted car freshener.

As they settled him down, you didn’t bother going out even for a second. Choosing sleep over your much needed trip to the library, you tucked yourself into white sheets as the light breaths from air con lulled you to sleep.

17:00

Sitting in the library, your fountain pen ran along the plain pages like you were writing a well known story and not your thesis. The words were flowing like water and you felt no difficulty as you finished pages with the speed of light. Everything was going smoothly. You felt happy. And suddenly your hand stopped moving. It was glued to a single point, the nib leaking out on that spot. Next moment, your thoughts were muddled and a distant shuffling distracted you. The more you tried to move your wrist, the more forceful the noise became. Your breathing got heavier and your body jammed, the whole weight punching onto the weak muscles of the hand.

Your attempts never stopped but the noise did and it transformed into loud thumping coming right from your heart.

You tried to inhale but something stopped you.

Then you heard the calls of your name.

Rapid and loud.

Your body jerked forward and your breath finally returned as your eyes opened.

You had woken up from a dream. You were still in your room and the loud thumping was the loud banging on your door.

“y/n! Are you sleeping?”

Registering his words, you replied in a groggy voice.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Your phone. I left mine in the medical room. I need to call Mark right now.”

Whining loudly, you fell back on the bed. It was only due but flailing your arms and legs like a kid in a toy store, you let out a screech full of annoyance, cursing on your fate.

Were you really going to babysit him now?

****

Stay safe everyone. 2021 is just 2020 with a change of pajamas😑wear your mask and force others too🌝

[bitchassbucky]

.eps (explicit)

Word Count: 2k

Warning/s: dark!bucky x dark!reader, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, blood mention, gore and dismemberment/beheading, murder, toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, sedation/drugging/use of sedative, stockholm syndrome-ish, one very special character reveal

A/N: i told y'all there's more <3 the special character treat is for @sarge-barnes-sir mwah!

this is queued shdhhsh gonna fix the links in the mornin’

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS ABOVE, IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ THIS VERSION, GO AND CHECK OUT THE NON-EXPLICIT VERSION.

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Safeness, comfortability, warmth are all but a false sense of reality.

When a prey takes down its walls, the predator moves in. Camouflaged in familiar colors, in words that you’re used to hearing, in praises, in lies. Most predators use the mask of the night to move in darkness—unyielding and calculated. Come morning, there will be only one left alive, tainted with victory and bloodshed.

You and Bucky have been engaging in a dance for two—a battle of who’s willing to take the leap of faith and unleash hell upon the other.

Stifled smiles and pursed lips.

The air is filled with unsaid irritants, little things that ticked away like bombs.

There was no time for pleading, no time for mercy, no rest for the wicked.

Did you still love each other?

How far are you willing to go to keep up with his… complacency?

Bucky’s mundane life already taking a toll on you. The endless nightmares of him feeling you. The swirling vision of Bucky being with you every waking—and sleeping—moment: it grates your soul to shreds.

“We’ll be together forever, right?”

“Yes, darling.”

“What about the day after forever?”

“That too, honey.”

Where was the man you loved so deeply? The man that broke his morals just to be with you?

Was he under this hull of a Yes Man? A poor little thing that says ‘yes’ to everything like a puppy.

The man you held so dearly now slipping away, chipping his humanity, shedding the once-human.

“Would you marry me tomorrow if I asked you?”

“Of course, baby, why wouldn’t I?”

“Would you kill for me?”

“I’m meant to do the same for you.”

It’s irritating how Bucky gave up too quickly. Too fast, moving too fast. The gazelle let the lion tear its neck as it lay there, unmoving, letting the blood seep into its hide.

When you first met Bucky, it was your own fairytale unfolding before your eyes. Kismet, reality, forgiveness from above. He was soft and shy, passionate, lively.

Far from what you expected from a man his age—you blame Steve for forcing you into his narrative before. That all men are out to get you. They will hurt you. They will use you and leave you for good. But Bucky? Bucky came in like a knight. He saved you from the carcass of your past. He saved you from the sins that you prayed and knelt for.

Bucky taught you how to love.

Bucky taught you how to live for yourself.

Bucky taught you that being alone doesn’t mean you have to be lonely.

“It was an unspoken little thing, wasn’t it?”

“What thing, baby?”

“Our love.”

“Yes, honey, it was.”

He worships you.

He worships you like a fucking God and you hate it.

Suffocating, too suffocating. You dove straight for the water and now you’re drowning.

Do you still love each other? The question hangs in the air, heavy with its weight, light as a feather.

It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault.

So you stand there with a syringe half-filled with a horse sedative. It’s a concern how easy it is to waltz into a pet store and pick up a general anesthetic. You make a mental note to look at it later.

Bucky’s body slumps forward, his forehead meeting the edge of the table with a dull thud. If the overdose doesn’t kill him, the weeping crack in his head will.

Holy fuck, humans bleed a lot. And fast. Good thing you already have that clear tarp taped down. Even with the hush money stuffed down your throat, it would take a good nick to regrout the kitchen.

“What is that for, honey?”

“I’m painting the cabinets.”

“Okay, darling.”

So you let him bleed, surprised that the liquid is redder than what you thought it would be. A soft gurgling noise came from Bucky, the last of air escaping his dead body. You stood there, syringe in hand, as you thought how to dispose of a six-foot-tall man without arousing suspicion.

Not that he’ll be missed anyway: the local news and the internet already branded him as a psycho and you as a victim. You were both victims in this fairytale. They reported his case as “skipped the town like the sicko he is.” So, no—no one’s going to look for him.

The sun was high up in the sky and there was a dead body in your kitchen.

A butcher and a surgeon walks into a bar for a drink. “What do you do for a living?” Said the butcher, “I save lives! What about you?” The doctor answers. “I save animals from dying slowly. We’re basically the same. You’re just very clean.” You see, the butcher comes into the bar covered in blood, reeking of death. The surgeon, on the other hand, wears his white coat with pride even though he’s surrounded by death every passing second.

Today was the day you learned that you have the tools of a butcher and the precision of a surgeon. Unlike before.

You carefully take Bucky’s fingers off of his left hand, leaving a skin flap on the edge of the last knuckle for you to stitch close later. Four promises. Four goddamn promises and he broke all of them.

It was his fault that he’s dead. He made you do this.

Starting with his left shoulder, you jab the knife between the bone and the soft flesh of his armpit, bringing the blade downwards. The sickening smell of blood swirled along with the image of muscle and fat being sliced made you gag.

Does the brain know that it’s seeing something it shouldn’t?

A rational part of you wanted to look away but the time is ticking, it’ll be much harder once rigor mortis sets in an hour.

You swing the knife down, cracking the bone once, and then again, and again, and again until the shoulder bone splinters and dislocates itself from the rest of Bucky’s torso. You had to switch knives and blades and a fucking bone saw to get through the rest of his limbs, leaving only his chest, head, and stomach untouched. After taping up and packing the arms and the legs, you work on putting the rest of Bucky into a nondescript suitcase.

The only problem being his head getting into the way of things.

Wanting to preserve even a shred of his dignity, you left his face untouched. Well, save from the crack in his skull.

You begrudgingly take a hefty chef’s knife and start cutting through the jugular vein, only stopping when the blade hits the spinal cord by his nape. The serrated blade of the bone saw sits on your blood-soaked gloves, scrape-scrape-scraping until it snaps into two.

The human head weighs around 10 pounds, kinda like a bowling ball.

An opaque black garbage bag containing Bucky’s head looks nothing suspicious as you put it inside a backpack—into a firepit you go.

His limbs—arms and legs alike—are going deep into the ocean, forgotten and to be used as fish food.

The limbless torso will be finding its home in a deep hole in the middle of a densely wooded area, far from the city.

But you’re not quite sure what to do with the mason jar of teeth though; the clinking noises of it remind you of the seashells you used to collect when you were a kid. Maybe you’ll stash it away with the torso.

Placing the bags into the trunk of a rental, you begin your journey to the end of your fairytale.

The drive to and from the places was tiring, to say the least. The internet connection of the diners was spotty at best. Locals were overly friendly with the city folks who came passing through their towns. The roads reek of roadkill and manure from the farm animals that were left to roam for fresh grass.

At least you get to come home in a spotless apartment, alone once again.

But not lonely.

Your space is yours again. No trace of anyone anywhere. Immaculately yours.

—

Humans are social creatures.

No one can truly be alone, especially in today’s world where we’re connected to everyone—whether we liked it or not.

Leaving your wretched job behind was an easy feat to do. No one can say no to the victim of such a vile crime. That’s all they saw you: a helpless little thing. So off you went; saying half-assed goodbyes and sending emails of courage and hope and fucking resilience.

Your resignation meant that the company’s free of any dirt from you, Bucky’s disappearance quickly becoming a joke and a rumor blending in one.

They let you leave: in your bank account a fat check ensuring that you’d shut up about the scandal for months until you can’t feed yourself no more. So you packed your bags and jet off without looking back. You never liked that apartment anyway.

Nevertheless, you found yourself looking into another dead-end job in one of the towns you stopped over before. It’s a charming place like time froze in their plaza while the rest of the world went on. You found a small studio apartment in a street tuckered away from the main avenue, you settled there as days became nights and nights turned into days.

You woke up one morning craving a healthy serving of coffee and pancakes, luckily the town’s local diner wasn’t far from your new home.

The coffee was too hot, the pancakes were amazing, fluffy, and just right. You’re sitting in a sunny booth, the warmth doing its wonders.

“Hi, can I get today’s paper, please?” Your voice is sweet as you call your server, giving her a quick smile.

A pair of Raybans adorn your face, unconsciously hiding behind its darkened glasses. The waitress gives you a thick stack of newspapers, refilling your cup with black coffee.

Upon opening the paper, you ignore the town’s headlines and went straight for the job postings. The door jingled open as patrons come in and go, waving to familiar faces.

Job Vacancy Announcements

Secretary to the Town Sheriff

You skimmed over the rest of the details, only noting the address of the office. The job looks quite lucrative for someone who would only take messages and organize files for the sheriff.

Looking over the job posting again, you read over the words walk-ins only. That shouldn’t be hard enough.

The diner looked deserted save from the man sitting behind your booth. Leaning over and tapping his shoulder, you put on a polite smile, “Hi, sorry, do you know how to get to the sheriff’s office from here?”

“Hello, darling.” The man croons in an accent, he looks over to you, “join me in my booth, will ‘ya?”

You’re in no position to reject his proposal, you’re the one who needed an answer.

Taking your coffee cup, you slide into his booth, “hi.”

“Just the face I wanted to see.” Clean-shaven, a hint of mint and smoke, and something woody; a worn leather jacket and white button-up shirt hugging his soft frame. “Some folks over on the apartment complex were talkin’ about a city girl wanting to rent a studio all by herself. That happen to be you?”

You look over to him, trying to understand how that small of news spread like a wildfire, “yeah. I moved in a week ago.”

He leans over, smiling sweetly as he unabashedly lets his eyes roam your features, “What’s a city girl like you doin’ in a place like this? I hope we ain’t too boring for you, gal.”

Chatty—he’s way too chatty.

“Just wanted a change of pace, really. Away from the bustle of the city.” You rustle the paper, clearing your throat to get back on the matter on hand, “so the sheriff’s office? Is it too far from here?”

“What business are ‘ya bringing into the office?”

“A job, actually. Says here that they’re looking for a secretary.” You might as well tell him everything, he seems too chatty to be dismissed over and over again.

“Well, darlin’, today’s your lucky day. No need to drive down the old road.” He reaches down to his seat, pulling up a brown hat, “Hi, I’m Sheriff Bodecker. Now, to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

You bite back a giggle, you’ve always wanted to be involved with the law.

[spicycreativity]

I saw you were taking requests and i wanted to send one in!

Can i request Remus angst, where his intrusive thoughts are getting really bad and he thinks that everyone is going to abandon him like roman (the split) and virgil, and then Janus comforts him and it ends with janus holding remus and comforting him?

Please and thank you!

You're awesome!!

This kinds turned into fluff, oops. Like angst-fluff. Also thank you for the request! This was a fun one b/c it's not something that ever would have occurred to me to try to write, and it was interesting to take a character like Remus, who feels very sure of himself (imo) and explore what kind of self-doubts he might have

I ended up leaning on my own experiences w intrusive thoughts and also that like Aro Fear that all your friends are gonna pair off and forget about you because That's What Happens

Anyway! I hope you like it!

Remus and Janus are QPPs, your honor

Unhealthy behaviors were hard to gauge with Remus. His being quiet was not always a red flag, nor was his tendency toward sudden bursts of energy. Even his self-soothing behaviors were a constant, and did not necessarily mean anything was amiss.

He was quiet this morning, chewing on his knuckles and staring at Janus, who was drinking his coffee and pretending to enjoy the silence.

Remus was agitated. He bit down on his bent index finger and tried not to think. Unfortunately for him, being Intrusive Thoughts meant experiencing intrusive thoughts, and no amount of coping mechanisms could make them go away. Much like himself, they simply demanded attention, repeating like propaganda, over and over and over until they became the truth. It wasn't self doubt and it wasn't fear. It simply was.

Today, the manifest truth that drove his front teeth together against the barrier of his finger was this: Janus was going to leave him. Roman left, after all, and Virgil left, and Patton and Logan wanted nothing to do with him. Not that Remus wanted anything to do with them, but if he ever did…

So it stood to reason that Janus was next.

The inevitability of it lodged in his chest like so many knives, until he was certain he could see them sticking out of his chest and-- Ah, they were there. Big, ugly butcher knives. Janus hadn't noticed yet, too busy with his newspaper (an imperfect facsimile of one Thomas had seen a few days ago in a coffee shop).

What would mornings be like without Janus? What would Remus do without anyone? Preemptive loneliness washed over him; the knives faded out and he started to go with them, gradually turning transparent in his armchair. Loneliness. That great certainty, that big, ugly fact.

What the fuck was he going to do without Janus? With no one to listen? How much time did he have left? How long before it all went away?

Now it was fear, now it was despair, now it was an utter lack of any sort of hope for the future, because it was going to happen, it was going to happen and there was nothing he could do about it, and it didn't matter if it was now or a year from now because there was no happy ending--

A few cold tears snaked down his cheeks. Stupid. Not shameful, but completely fucking stupid. He sniffled.

Janus put his newspaper down. Remus watched with blurred vision as his expression turned from curious to concerned and then stayed there, instead of reaching its usual sardonic terminus. "Um, Remus?"

It was hard to talk. Remus swallowed and made an effort. "What?"

"I don't know if you noticed, but you're crying."

"So?"

Janus cocked his head. "What do you mean 'so'?"

"So what?"

"Goodness, it's not like we're friends or anything. If you're upset, please keep it to--" Janus took a deep breath. "Look, if you're upset, you can talk to me about it. I want you to talk to me about it."

Remus accepted this with a nod, knowing full well it wasn't that simple. How could he make Janus understand? "I was just thinking about what it's going to be like when you leave, and… Well, I'm gonna miss you, that's all."

"When I leave?" Janus leaned forward, pressing his elbows on his knees so he could study Remus better. "Who said I was leaving?"

"Everyone else did," Remus said, trying for bravado. He got a few more tears instead, which he really should have seen coming. Remus was many things, but he was not a liar. "R-Roman went away, Virgil…" His voice broke. "I just…"

"Oh, come here." Janus got up. It was a difficult thing to jam two grown men into an armchair, but Janus was clever and arranged it somehow, so that Remus could rest his head on Janus' chest and get snot and tears all over his nice gray shirt. That was nice of him. "Remus, why are you mourning something that hasn't even happened?"

Sure enough, Janus didn't understand. "It's going to happen," Remus said. "I just know. It's-- I know it."

"Oh, come on, Remus." Janus pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Where would I go? I don't like any of the others half as much as I like you."

"But--"

"But?"

Remus smiled through his tears and nuzzled into Janus' chest, leaving wet spots on his shirt. "I just made you say 'butt.'"

"There you are," said Janus, and the fondness in his voice was so undisguised, so genuine, that Remus found he had no choice but to believe in it. "I take it your brain is being mean to you today?"

"I guess," Remus said, because it was easier than arguing. He'd never been able to make Janus understand that the thoughts didn't always feel mean even if they were upsetting.

"How can I help?"

"Can we just stay like this?" Remus asked.

Janus ruffled his hair. "Of course. But you're not using my shirt as a tissue."

Remus wiped his eyes on Janus' shirt just to be contrary, and laughed when Janus jammed a whole fistful of tissues in his face. "Thank you," he said, shoving one of the tissues into his mouth and swallowing it for the joy in the shock value.

"I'm not going anywhere," Janus promised. "I'd like to see you try to get rid of me."

[knifeythinks]

❣︎ make my birthday special ❣︎

🔪: a morbid way to celebrate Rin’s birthday 🥳

⚠️: 18+ CHARACTER DEATH, MURDER, ABUSIVE RIN, YANDERE RIN, STALKING and I think that’s it

🔪: I’m testing the waters when it comes to writing dark content. I didn’t want to make it too dark or too explicit but soon enough I probably will

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

“S-Suna—“ “Its Rin.” Suna gave a glare and you nodded and licked your dry lips, “Rin.” You corrected and he gave a nod to continue. He was sitting backwards on a chair and leaned on his arms that were on top of the back rest. He had a butchers knife in his hand. “I-I can’t kill him, I can’t kill an innocent person. I’m sorry please, I’ll do anything. Just let Atsumu go.” You pleaded, your vision became blurry with your tears.

“And why would I wanna do that?” He whispered in your ear and you jumped, frightened almost dropping the knife in your hands and cutting of your naked toes. “Hm? Cat got your tongue?” He asked. “N-no...he didn’t know we were together. He didn’t know we’re in love. He shouldn’t suffer because he’s s-stupid.” You tried to reason.

In reality you’re not in love with him. Well I mean...you were..? He accepted your confession on graduation day of highschool but as years passed, he changed. You now have no friends, no phone, you’re stuck inside the house. He even convinced you to quit your job.

There are times where Suna gives you privileges when you behave for a good while. It’s called grace; doing things for him without expecting things in return, because you love him and you want to please him.

Examples are offering him popcorn when you’re both cuddled on the couch watching a horror movie or making him a bath when he’s had a rough day at work. Even offering sex without him having to hint that he was in the mood.

This past privilage you received was permission to go to the grocery store and the mall alone to buy food and lingerie since Rin’s birthday was today and you wanted to surprise him.

In reality he was following you the whole time.

You wanted to buy some sweat bands for Rin since his hair can get in the way sometimes so you went inside a sports store and bumped into Atsumu. Your old classmate, the boy who was madly in love with you in highschool, but you were too blinded and head over heels for ‘tsundere’ Suna.

You didn’t want to talk to him, you know Rin would find out one way or another. So you just avoided some questions and answered with as few words as possible.

Then Atsumu tried being slick by putting his hand on the wall and leaning in with his face very close to yours, your back was pressed against the wall and you didn’t know what to do.

That was when Suna made a appearance by gripping his shoulder, Atsumu immediately turned and brightened when he saw his old teammate, “Sunarin!” “Tsumu.” He deadpanned. “What are you doing with my wife?” Suna immediately asked and your eyes widened just as big as Atsumu’s. “Holy shit my bad, I didn’t know she was married. I didn’t see a ring so I just tried to shoot my shot. But it didn’t seem like she was interested so that’s good. At least you know you have a beautiful and loyal wife.” Atsumu chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah I do.” Suna hummed and turned his gaze to you, you fake smiled and held your ‘husbands’ hand. “Well we should be going, nice meeting you Atsumu.” You said and tried to leave as fast as possible.

But Suna pulled you back, “How about you join us for dinner?” Your ‘husband’ smiled. “You sure?” Atsumu asked and Suna nodded. “Okay I’m in.” He said and followed you guys to your house.

Dinner was normal, you explained you were a stay at home ‘wife’ which pleased Suna, he’s trained you so well. After dinner Suna wanted to show Atsumu something in the basement or as Rin liked to call it his ‘man cave’ and that’s when you heard a scream. Out of fear for both of them you immediately ran down only to see Atsumu on the floor while Suna beat him with an old baseball bat. With each hit, the bat started turning into a maroon color, you screamed in horror and pulled Suna away by the torso asking what was wrong with him.

Suna turned so quick and pushed you against the wall, his bloody hand wrapped around your throat. “C-can’t brEaTh.” You wheezed as his grip tightened. “Go upstairs and put on the lingerie you bought. Come back down with the video camera.” He said and let go. You fell to the floor and coughed trying to get air. “YOU FUCKER HOW CAN YOU DO THAT TO YOUR WIFE!” Atsumu yelled. “Oh shut up.” Suna rolled his eyes and lifted the bat to break the setters other arm.

With tears streaming down you obeyed and began crawling up the stairs, you walked through the halls of your home, you passed the hallway mirror and saw the bloody hand print on your throat. You began to sob and quickly made your way to the bedroom to change. You already know what happens when Suna is angry and you’re not fast enough. When you successfully put on the lace material you try looking for the video camera but it’s nowhere to be seen. Rin likes recording your punishments, countless videos of you bloody and bruised, fucked into oblivion.

When you’re being a good girl he sadly has no reason to punish you, I mean he’s not a monster, right? So he goes to his man cave and pumps his cock to the sound of your cries, the sounds of your whimpers and moans. When he looks at the screen he sees your tear stained eyes and wishes you’d disobey a little more.

“Ten, nine, eight—“ Suna began counting loudly and you squealed in terror trying to find the video camera. But it was so hard when you were crying. When you finally found it you ran down the hall, tripping along the way, but successfully making it before he reached one.

“-two...wow that was quick.” Suna said with a smirk. “This is my birthday gift?” He asked as his head tilted and took in your delicious figure. You squirmed and fidgeted with your fingers. “Do..do you not like it..?” You asked. “Oh no honey, I love it. You look so beautiful. I’m just amazed at how beautiful you look in them. Come on, give me a twirl.” He motioned with his finger. You turned and wiped your eyes quickly before more tears streamed down.

“Oh baby don’t cry, you’re not in trouble. On the contrary you handled this fucker like a champ.” He chuckled with a praise. He lifted your chin with a finger and you looked into his eyes. “Do you love me?” He asked.

“Yes.” You replied instantly.

“Would you do anything for me?” He asked,

“Yes, of course.”

“So you’d kill for me?”

He said with a smirk and you felt your stomach drop.

︎ ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

You couldn’t do it, Atsumu just looked so horrible. He was bleeding his face was bruised. He was standing with his wrists tied above his head. Suna tied it to one of the beams on top of the basement. It was perfect to hang someone.

“Y/N...just kill me please. Along my pulse. If you cut fast I won’t feel that much pain and I’ll be gone more quickly.” Atsumu instructed. Suna lifted the volleyball and threw it at his face, probably breaking his nose since you heard a crunch. “Don’t talk to her.” He said simply.

“We’re not leaving till he’s dead.” Suna shrugged and fixed the headband on his head that you bought him. You were cold, your feet hurt. The knife was clutched in your two shaking hands. You’ve been in this position for a good few hours, it was already passed midnight. “Come on babe I wanna see that lingerie drip with blood. That’s the best present you could give me.” Suna rested his chin on his arms.

But you stayed frozen, eventually Atsumu knocked out due to exhaustion and Suna grabbed an empty water bottle on the floor to piss in, no way in hell was he leaving you alone with him. He turned his back to you and that’s when you gripped the knife. You yelled running to him with your fist clenching the knife. You stabbed him right in the back but he didn’t flinch.

You gasped and moved your hand to notice it was a fake knife. The fake blade popped back out. How did you not notice? “You’ve been a bad girl. Haven’t you? Trying to kill your husband, the man that loves you.”

“You’re a devil.” You spat with gritted teeth. “I sure am, and I’m dragging you to hell with me.” He said growled and slapped you across the face. You face moved to the side and you held on to your cheek, he then grabbed you by the nape of your neck and turned you so your back hits his bare chest. “Hold this.” He instructs and places the handle of the knife in your palm, “Rin I can’t.” You sobbed. “Shut up.” He gritted and placed his hands over yours. The knife was pointing to Atsumu.

He slowly began pushing you to him but your feet planted onto the floor to stop. Sadly it didn’t do much thanks to Suna’s athletic build and before you knew it you were face to face with Atsumu. His chest heaved up and down quickly, his wrists were purple, fingers obviously broken. “I’m sorry Atsumu.” You apologized as Rin thrusted your arms to stab his stomach, the setters eyes widened at the pain and he saw your tears.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry but he bit his lip and tried to stay silent as you pulled the knife out and continued your assault on his body. He just hoped you somehow escape his old teammate and get the justice you deserve. This was the least he could do for the woman he loved.

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

🔪: ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ hope you enjoyed! Plz send an ask to be in my taglist

[80s4life]

Character/Movie List

Below is movies and TV shows I like personally and are lsited as a reference. If you don't see something you're interested in, it is not that I don't like it, it is because I most likely forgot it because I love so many movies/shows tbh. Just ask, and I'll answer! And, from the Rules and Regulations page, what I had meant by "mostly" is that I can dabble outside of the acting world and into actors/actresses themselves and/or singers, popstars, etc.

{Another side-note, I am not so much into shows, but mostly movies! Although, there are some exceptions that I love beyond belief!}

MOVIES

Back to the Future Series:

Biff Tannen

Griff Tannen (Maybe, he wasn't the best of the Tannen's imo)

Buford Tannen

Marty McFly

George McFly

Doc Brown

Lorraine Baines

Match

Titanic:

Rose DeWitt Bukater

Jack Dawson

Caledon Hockley

Brock Lovett

Rabrizio De Rossi

Thomas "Tommy" Ryan

Karate Kid Series {1/2/3}:

1-

John Kreese

Mr. Miyagi

Johnny Lawrence

Daniel LaRusso

Tommy

Dutch

Bobby Brown (not so much; don't know him too well)

Ali Mills

Lucille LaRusso

2-

Chozen

Kumiko

3-

Terry Silver (duh lmao)

Mike Barnes (also duh)

Jessica Andrews

Stand By Me:

Vern Tessio

Billy Tessio

Gordie LaChance

Chris Chambers

Eyeball Chambers

Ace Merrill

Teddy Duchamp

Goonies:

Brand

Mikey

Chunk

Mouth

Data

Andy

Stef

Jake Fratelli (he was kinda hot ngl)

Ferris Bueller's Day Off:

Ferris Bueller

Jeanie Bueller

Cameron Frye

Sloane Peterson

License to Drive:

Les Anderson

Dean

Mercedes Lane

Charles

Toy Soldiers:

Billy Tepper

Joey Trotta

Snuffy Bradberry

Ricardo Montoya

Hank Giles

Derek/Yogurt

Scream Movie Series {1/2}:

1-

Billy Loomis

Stu Macher

Dwight "Dewey" Riley

Ghostface

Randy Meeks

Tatum Riley

Sidney Prescott

Gale Weathers

2-

Cotton Weary

Derek Feldman

Mickey

Predator:

Dutch

Blain

Yautja

Escape Plan:

Emil Rottmayer/ "Victor Maheim"

Ray Breslin/ "Anthony Portos"

The Expendables:

Barney Ross

Lee Christmas

Toll Road

Tool

Gunnar Jensen

Bao Thao/ "Yin Yang"

Hale Caesar

Trench

Church

Divergent Movie Series {1/2/3}:

Divergent-

Beatrice "Tris" Prior

Caleb Prior

Peter

Tobias "Four" Eaton

Christina "Chris"

Eric Coulter

Will

Insurgent-

Marcus Eaton

Allegiant-

Matthew

Terminator Series:

T-100/"Uncle Bob"/Terminator

T-1000 "Austin"

John Connor

Sarah Connor

Grace

Dani Ramos

Dazed and Confused:

David Wooderson

Fred O'Bannion

Randall "Pink" Floyd

Ron Slater

Don Dawson

Mitch Kramer

Benny O'Donnell

Rocky Series:

Rocky Balboa

Apollo Creed

Captain Ivan Drago

Zombieland {1/2}:

Tallahassee

Columbus

Berkeley

Witchita

Little Rock

Madison

Lethal Weapon Movie Series {1/2/3/4}:

Martin Riggs

Roger Myrtaugh

Rianne Murtaugh

Leo Getz

Goodfellas:

Henry Hill

Jimmy Conway

Tommy DeVito

Karen Hill

Marvel:

Avengers Heroes-

Iron Man/Tony Stark

Thor

Ant-Man/Scott Lang

Hulk/Bruce Banner

Captain America/Steve Rogers

Hawkeye/ Clint Barton

Quicksilver/Pietro Maximoff

Scarlet Witch/Wanda Maximoff

Black Panther/T'Challa

Vision/Victor Shade

Black Widow/Natasha Romanoff

Mantis

Spider-Man/Peter Parker

Doctor Strange/Stephen Strange

Avengers Anti-Heroes/Antagonists:

Yondu Udonta

Loki Laufeyson

Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes

Whiplash

Thanos

Mysterio

Kaecilius

Ronan

Hela

Ultron

Wolverine/Deadpool:

Wolverine/Logan Howlett

Sabretooth/Victor Creed

Bolt/Chris Bradley

Gambit/Remy LeBeau

Cyclops/Scott Summers

(Younger!)Professor X

Deadpool/Wade Wilson

Cable/Nathan Summers

Colossus/Piotr "Peter" Nikolayevich Rasputin

Dopinger

Weasel

Negasonic Teenage Warhead/Ellie Phimister

DC Universe:

Superman/Clark Kent (Henry Cavill)

Batman/Bruce Wayne (Affleck, Bale versions)

Aquaman/Arthur Curry

Wonder Woman/Diana Prince

Harley Quinn

Joker (Leto, Ledger, Phoenix versions)

Deadshot

Captain Boomerang

Enchantress

Rick Flagg

Bane (Tom Hardy)

TV Shows

Stranger Things:

Mike Wheeler

Nancy Wheeler

Will Byers

Joyce Byers

Johnathan Byers

Maxine "Max" Hargrove

Billy Hargrove

Dustin Henderson

Lucas Sinclair

Robin Buckley

Jim Hopper

Steve Harrington

Sex Education:

Erric Effiong

Aimee Gibbs

Adam Groff

Ola Nyman

Rahim

Otis Milburn

Maeve Wiley

Hannibal (Show):

Hannibal Lector

Will Graham

Dr. Alana Bloom

Jack Crawford

Abigail Hobbs

Orange Is the New Black (OITNB):

Piper Chapman

Nicky Nichols

Suzanne "Crazy Eyes" Warren

Galina "Red" Reznikov

Tasha "Taystee" Jefferson

Dayanara "Daya" Diaz

Gloria Mendoza

Lorna Morello

Tiffany "Pennsatucky" Doggett

Alex Vause

Joel Luschek

Big Boo

Maritza Ramos

Poussey Washington

Yoga Jones

Gina Murphy

Brook Soso

Sophia Burst

George "Pornstache" Mendez

Larry Bloom

Polly Harper

Stella Carlin

The Boys:

Billy Butcher

Starlight/Annie January

Hughie Campbell

Homelander

Kimiko Miyashiro

Queen Maeve/Maggie Shaw

Mother's Milk "M.M."

The Deep/Kevin Moskowitz

Frenchie

Stormfront

Becca Butcher

The Walking Dead (TWD):

Daryl Dixon

Merle Dixon

Rick Grimes

Carl Grimes

Lori Grimes

Maggie Greene

Beth Greene

Glenn Rhee

Negan Smith

Michonne Hawthorne

Carol Peletier

Shane Walsh

Paul "Jesus" Monroe

Eugene Porter

Sgt. Abraham Ford

Outer Banks (OBX):

Sarah Cameron

Rafe Cameron

Ward Cameron

JJ

John B

Topper

Pope

Kiara

Shameless:

Frank Gallagher

Fiona Gallagher

Lip Gallagher

Ian Gallagher

Debbie Gallagher

Carl Gallagher

Kevin Ball

Veronica Fisher

Mickey Milkovich

Mandy Milkovich

Svetlana

Jimmy "Steve" Lishman

Karen Jackson

Cobra Kai

Miguel Diaz

Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz

Robby Keene

Demetri

Carmen Diaz

John Kreese (baby version & old version)

Terry Silver (baby version & old version)

Tory Nichols

Samantha "Sam" LaRusso

...AND MANY MORE!

If there is something or someone you like not on this list, feel free to ask or direct message me! For movies like the DC Universe and Marvel, if there is multiple actors of that character and you want a certain one, please make sure that you add that detail!

Rules & Regulations

Masterlist

[glassesandswords]

eruri please 😋

Ren, darling, you want me to die, don't you? (jk)

Disclaimer: These ratings are my personal, biased opinions, and are purely for entertainment purposes.

Erwin and Levi's relationship was obvious from the beginning. The two of them were really close together and you have tons of examples from the first two seasons itself- they visited Eren in his cell together, Levi stood next to Erwin in the courtroom, they had an entire 2 episode OVA to explain how Erwin recruited Levi into the Survey Corps and show more of their dynamic. Levi did not question Erwin's orders most of the times, because like other SC veterans, he completely trusted Erwin and believed his decisions to be beneficial to humanity, no matter what. Erwin, to Levi, was this person with a strong vision in his mind- a vision that can save the whole of humanity. So, he decided to follow him throughout his life. When Levi realized Erwin’s real intentions and his personal dream, he looked kind of disappointed as if he was wondering whether all of it was just a façade. I think he was very bothered by it. But in the end, thanks to Levi's words Erwin was able to toss aside his personal desires and offered his life for humanity’s sake just like he had always preached. And Levi held on to his promise to give meaning to Erwin’s and his other comrades’ deaths by killing Zeke and helping to stop the rumbling. There is a lot of mutual trust and respect between these two characters. I just wish Erwin had been given more manga/anime instances where he showed that he cared about Levi too, because I see a lot of Levi caring about Erwin, but Erwin being fixated on his dream more than caring about anyone else (this is not to say Erwin didn’t, but I would have loved to see it being elaborated more).

I sometimes think that if I had watched No Regrets first, I would have probably shipped them, for they have the Enemies to Lovers trope there that I really, really love. But since they were introduced to me with the King and the Knight, the superior-subordinate dynamic (it’s the same with Rivetra and Mobuhan), I found myself leaning towards ships where both parties had a rather equal power-dynamic because I’m a sucker for those. But that ofc, is just my own taste in ships, and Eruri as a ship is pretty wholesome, inspiring, angsty, strong and has a solid foundation. It’s definitely one of the more healthy ships as compared to many other ships in AOT. I highly approve.  

Favourite moment: When Erwin convinced Levi to join the Survey Corps in the No Regrets manga (that speech was totally butchered in the anime). It was a very hard-hitting scene. God, I love Erwin. 

Canon Rating: 8/10

AU Rating: 9.5/10