#if the shadow figure wants to cause violence i can cause violence right back

[marsipaniscool]

halfway tempted to yell “post up hoe” at his (?) hiding place half tempted to spend the night with a friend

[angstywaifu]

It's Nothing - Bodhi x Reader

Request: do u think you could write something for bodhi? maybe the rider is also marked and people start targeting her for it and he finds out? or like literally anything bodhi i love him so bad. Minor book spoilers around Xaden's signet. Mentions of violence. Masterlist

It never use to be this bad. I never had to be scared walking down the halls. Hell, I’m a dragon rider. I shouldn’t be scared of anything. I laugh in the face of death every single day. And yet here I am, worried to walk these halls alone. My eyes scan every hall I walk into, every crevice they could be hiding in, waiting to pounce on me.

I was still recovering from yesterday. Too stubborn to go to the healers about it. I didn’t want to appear weak. And honestly I didn’t want anyone to know about it either. Too scared a healer might say something to someone I knew. No one could know. I could handle this on my own.

I’m too caught up in my thoughts to hear the approaching footsteps at first. But their voices carry down the now empty hall I’m in. Shit.

”You never learn do you.” One of them calls from behind me.

My body shudders at their voice as it carries down to me, echoing off the walls as if to emphasise I was alone. No one here to help me. All alone.

”You make it so easy for us to teach you a lesson. To teach you your place in the quadrant.” Another calls out.

A yelp escapes my lips as one jumps out at me as I try to rush away from them. Their hands gripping my shoulders painfully.

”When will you learn that you don’t belong here. That you were sent here to die just like your parents.” He spits out at me as he tightens his grip on my arms.

All I can do is look at them wide eyed. Listen as the other two approach from behind. It had started out as bearable. One of them requesting to challenge me one day. Which they’d won with ease due to using their signet. It was subtle enough that no one knew. Then it turned into shoving in the halls, snide comments towards me, jumping out at me and trying to scare me. But somehow I knew this was going to be worse. He had a glint in his eyes. One I didn’t like.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the other two take their place behind me. There was no point struggling or fighting to get away. They’d proven time and time again they were stronger, faster, better. I didn’t stand a chance. All I could do was try defend myself as best I could.

”Everything all good?” A familiar voice calls out to us.

My eyes snapping open to see three familiar figures standing at the end of the hall. Three figures I couldn’t be more relieved to see right now. But the rider in front of me doesn’t seem remotely phased by their presence.

”Nothing to worry about Riorson. We’re just having a friendly talk.” They call out over their shoulder, cocking their head towards them.

Their hands tighten on my shoulders, a small whimper escaping my lips as they do so. A silent warning to play along. My blood runs cold when something sharp presses against my back. Even through my leathers I know what it is. A dagger. Shit.

”I highly doubt that. How about you put that dagger away?” He calls out as he takes a few tentative steps towards us.

”You don’t want to do this Riorson. Just let this happen.” The rider behind me warns, the dagger pushing further into my back.

Xaden’s laughter echoes off the walls, almost like a warning. It’s then I notice the shadows pooling slowly around my feet and the riders surrounding me. So subtle you wouldn’t notice unless you knew what to look for.

”See that’s the issue. I can’t let this happen.”

It happens so fast I barely have time to react. Xaden’s shadows springing up from the floor, plunging the riders around me into darkness, pulling them away from me. As soon as the dagger drops from my back I shove the cadet in front of me away. I pump my arms as fast as I can in an effort to get away faster. Two figures rush past me, causing me to turn my head. I watch as Xaden and Garrick rush towards the riders still consumed by Xaden’s shadows. Another yelp escapes my lips as I slam into someone. Panic consuming me as I worry it’s another one of them that was waiting just out of sight. My hands trying to shove them off me in an effort to get away.

”Hey, it’s just me! You’re ok!”

I look up to see Bodhi’s familiar brown eyes looking down at me as his hands cup my face. His eyes laced with worry as he takes me in. I fling my arms around him, pulling him into a bone crushing hug that he returns immediately. His chin resting atop my head as I relax into his embrace. His hands rubbing up and down my back to try calm me down

I was safe. I was alive and safe. I’d gotten away.

I was safe. I was alive and safe. I’d gotten away.

The words continue to echo in my mind, a mantra that anchors me in the moment. I cling to Bodhi with all my might, feeling the warmth of his body against mine. Every time I blink, a wave of dread washes over me, a fear that this could all be a figment of my imagination, a cruel illusion. But the steady beat of his heart, the solidness of his presence, it all reassures me that this is real. That I am safe. And I'm not alone.

Bodhi manages to pull me off him, his hands grasping my shoulders as he looks down at me. “Did they hurt you at all?”

”Not tonight.” I admit, shifting my gaze down to my hands as I pick at a fingernail. A nervous habit of mine. One Bodhi constantly told me to stop.Z

”What do you mean not tonight?” His voice dropping, anger evident in his tone. A tone I don’t usually associate with Bodhi’s voice. His voice usually the calmer and levelled of our group.

I look up, gasping in shock at the intensity in his eyes. The phrase if looks could kill comes to mind. But I know it isn’t directed at me. No, the look is for the riders behind me. Rider’s I’m very certain are no longer conscious and probably barely alive.

”This isn’t the first time.” I admit shyly.

Bodhi’s eye’s darken at my words as he looks behind me. Due to being in different squads, Bodhi hadn’t witnessed any of the interactions I’d had with them. And if he had, it just looked like normal challenges. Nothing out of the ordinary. Bodhi’s grip on my shoulder’s tighten, a small his escaping my lips as his fingers dig into a particularly nasty bruise that had been forming. Bodhi reacts immediately, pushing my flight jacket off my shoulder and pulling back my shirt. Bodhi swears under his breath at the sight of it before tugging my jacket back into place, his hand slipping down to mine as he drags me down the hall towards the dorms.

”Where are we going?” I ask, stumbling to keep up with him.

”My room. Where I’m going to give you something to help with that bruise, as well as any other one’s you’ve been hiding. And you’re going to tell me what the hell has been going on.” He replies gruffly as he pulls me into the stair case.

”It’s nothing. It will heal eventually.” I insist before colliding with Bodhi’s chest for a second time tonight.

”Darling, that is not nothing.” He practically growls out, before his face softens. As if realising the tone he’s used. “Just let me take care of you, ok?”

With a smile and a nod, he squeezes my hand before leading the rest of the way back to his room. The riders in the hall below long forgotten.

[tsunami-of-tears]

Mission Accomplished

Poly+ ACOTAR Week 2024 - Day 4 (Adventure)

Cazriel x Healer Reader

Summary: Despite the Inner Circle’s best efforts, the throuple continues to fight their affection for each other. To help things along, Rhys sends the group on a fake mission (unbeknownst to them). Of course - everything goes horribly wrong.

Pairing Masterlist

Wordcount: 1.4K

Warnings: angst; violence; injury; animal attack.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:

Reader

Weeks had passed since the incident with the love potion, and you’d given up on trying to figure out where it came from.

Despite the night of passion, your relationship with Cassian and Azriel remained mostly unchanged, albeit slightly more awkward. You were grateful to still be able to call them your friends - joking around with Cassian and your quiet chats with Azriel were your favourite parts of the day. 

You felt torn. You loved both males equally and didn’t want to come between their longstanding friendship. You didn’t want to have to choose between them. 

Their visits to your clinic had gotten less frequent, but Cassian insisted you needed some basic training. 

“Let me at least teach you some self-defence,” Cassian pouts at you for about the fiftieth time. 

You sigh, but smile as you roll your eyes. “Okay fine, it can’t hurt. But I’m no warrior, and I have no desire to be.” 

“I know, the only thing you’ve slain is my heart,” Cassian jests. “But,” he says, taking on a more serious tone, “I don’t expect you to fight in battle, I want you to be able to defend yourself if Azriel or I’m not around.”

————

Rhysand 

Mor waltzes into the office and throws herself on the plush couch. “Gods… They are even dumber than we thought,” she exclaims. “I really thought the potion would get things moving.”

Rhys runs his hand through his hair. “I know,” he agrees. “I’m sending them on a training exercise. Hopefully some time away will help them figure things out.”

————

Reader

You’re on your first-ever mission for the Night Court, camped deep in the forest of the Illyrian Steppes. 

You’d been informed that there were some Illyrian camps causing trouble in the area. You weren’t sure how your skills would help, but you were on standby in case anyone got injured. 

After a long day of hiking and scouting with little results, you’re setting up camp for the night. You stand over the small campfire, boiling water to sanitise your equipment. 

The loud crack of a branch breaking sounds behind you, followed by a low growl. 

You turn around slowly and find yourself face-to-face with a giant wolf. It’s enormous, towering over you. And those teeth… The sharp canines are exposed as it snarls at you. Your veins chill with fear and a sharp scream rips from your throat. 

You cautiously take a step back from the wolf, narrowly avoiding the fire. You don’t dare break eye contact. You try to stand tall, holding the only thing within reach - a ladle - brandishing it like a sword, like Azriel and Cassian taught you. 

You send a silent prayer to the Mother that one of your friends can save you before you become dinner.

————

Cassian 

Cassian sprints from the other side of the clearing at the sound of your screams, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees you wielding a ladle against the angry beast. The terror in your eyes strikes something deep within him, stoking the golden embers to life inside his chest.

His soul erupts in fury, and the deep need to protect. 

A battle cry sounds from Cassian’s lips as he charges towards the wolf with his knife out.

————

Azriel 

Azriel hears your scream before his shadows alert him of trouble. 

Adrenaline courses through his veins. The only thought in his mind is of saving you.  

He winnows straight to you. Right in front of the wolf. Within a second of his shadows dispersing, Azriel feels something sharp in his left side. 

He looks down and sees a hunting knife sticking out of his side, and a wide-eyed Cassian stepping back in shock.

————

Reader

You feel completely helpless as you watch the scene unfold in front of you. 

One minute, Cassian was hurling his knife towards the creature. The next, Azriel had winnowed right in the path of the blade. 

The wolf turns to look at the two Illyrians, who freeze under its yellow gaze. It huffs out a breath before turning on its heel and prowling back into the forest. 

Azriel shakes his head, hand going straight to the blade protruding from his side, “I can’t believe you stabbed me.”

“You practically winnowed into my knife,” Cassian exclaims. 

“Why didn’t you go for your sword? That knife would’ve bounced right off its hide,” Azriel bristles, irritation growing under his skin. 

You leap right into action, stepping in as the tension between the males starts to rise. “Looks like you did need me here after all,” you say, trying to diffuse the situation. “Azriel, sit on that log. I’ll just gather what I need.” 

Cassian stands back with his arms folded across his chest as you work on removing the blade and patching up the wound. 

“It’s not too deep, look it’s already clotting. It might just be a bit sore tonight, but you’re going to be fine.” You attempt to give Azriel your best reassuring smile. 

————

The rest of the night was strained. Both males were very quiet, only speaking in one-word responses. The silence was stifling, with the only sounds coming from the crackling fire and the scraping of cutlery on plates.

Unable to handle the creeping tension any longer, you retire to your tent early, leaving the males to work out whatever issues they have.

————

Cassian 

Azriel could hardly look at Cassian, and Cassian couldn’t bear it. 

His brother was staring into the dwindling fire, as he sharpened his blades. The sharp singing of stone on metal cut through the air between them. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” Cassian admits. “I was overcome by this need to protect. I was blinded by fear. I had to protect Y/N.” 

Azriel finally looks up from his work, his expression unreadable before returning to sharpening his daggers.

Cassian runs his hand through his hair. He figured Azriel deserved the truth. “Y/N is my mate. The bond snapped when I saw her standing there, holding that damned ladle like it would’ve done anything.” 

Azriel freezes, a mixture of confusion and shock in his eyes. “That’s not possible,” he says softly. 

“It’s the truth, I felt it.” 

“No… The mating bond snapped for me not long after I brought her to the Night Court,” Azriel states.

“How? We can’t both be her mates, can we?”

Azriels gaze is captured by something behind Cassian. Cassian turns to see what his brother is looking at and sees Y/N standing there.

————

Reader

You couldn’t sleep. 

You tossed and turned, replaying the earlier incident over and over in your head. 

You’re pulled from your thoughts by hushed voices outside your tent. The mention of your name grabs your attention, and you still your movements to glean what the males are discussing. 

“Y/N is my mate,” says an exasperated Cassian. 

Your entire world slows on its axis. 

All thoughts eddy from your mind except one - your mate. 

You quietly exit your tent, walking towards the males around the fire, when Azriel’s words stop you in your tracks. 

“The mating bond snapped for me not long after I brought her to the night court.”

Both of them. 

Both males whom you loved with all your heart were your mates. 

Was this the Cauldron’s idea of a cruel joke? 

You walk towards them, your mates, and the glimmering bond between you starts to appear. You can see the two strands coming from your heart, connecting your soul to each of the males before you. 

As if they can feel your presence, they both look up at you. 

“Y/N” Cassian murmurs, your name a prayer against his lips. 

You touch your heart as you feel the deep longing flow down the twin bonds. 

“Both of you?” you whisper.

“It’s rare, but I’ve read about similar occurrences,” Azriel admits, rising to his feet.

“But, how am I supposed to choose?” You say. Tears well in your eyes and your lip quivers at the thought of rejecting either male. 

Cassian and Azriel exchange glances and a small nod. 

“Who said anything about choosing?” Azriel asks.

“I know it’s a lot, you don’t have to decide anything here and now,” Cassian chimes in, reaching for your hand. “We’d be honoured to share you, if you’ll have us both.” Azriel steps forward, taking your other hand in his. “It won’t always be easy, but I’m willing to try for you. Truthfully, there’s no one else I’d rather be bound with,” Azriel finishes, meeting Cassian’s eye. 

The tears that threatened to spill pool over the edge of your lashes. You nod earnestly as you send all your love down the bonds to your mates. 

You pull them into a tight embrace, your bodies fitting together perfectly, like the final piece to a puzzle, the answer to a question you’d been asking your entire life. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Tags ♡ @littlestw01f @impossibelle @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @the-wall-willow @xasael @lilah-asteria @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe @therealmoonstone

[chairofchaos]

When the Blood Burns

Blood (Part 1)

Burns (Part 2)

Pairing: Azriel x Eris

Summary: Azriel and Eris find themselves drawn together during the first war with Hybern. (Requested here)

Rating: Explicit (see warnings- I mean it. I can give details in DMs if you want specifics before reading)

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: violence, homophobia/homophobic violence (if you want details my DMs are open), graphic depictions of wounds and wound care with a very rudimentary understanding of the subject, alcohol use, and much less important than the others but still concerning: unedited.

A/N: Shoutout to @tsunami-of-tears for once again providing me with the perfect divider for this fic. Shoutout to @unanswered-stars forgiving me permission to do whatever I want with this request. And please know I tried to make it short. But now it's almost 10k so this is part 1 of 2. Maybe 3.

Their first meeting was unremarkable. Azriel, blinded with rage over Eris’ rejection of Mor and the ensuing pain it had caused his family, thought nothing of the young lord other than how callous he had been, and avoided him under the orders of his High Lord.

So the first time they had truly met was in a war tent five years and seven months into the war with Hybern. Eris stood with his elder brother behind Beron’s seat at the round table. Rhys and Azriel stood shoulder to shoulder behind Rhys’ father. When the High Lords had dismissed their advisors for a recess in planning, somehow only Eris and Azriel found themselves walking outside. 

They were silent. Azriel scanned the passing troops for any sign of Cassian. It had been three weeks since either he or Rhys had seen him, but there was a chance, stationed here near the western battle grounds, that they would encounter him. Still, even Azriel’s shadows hadn’t been able to locate his brother. 

The shadows' presence was thin. There were only so many he could task, only so many he could control. Only a fraction of his usual cloud of shades stayed with him. Still, they whispered to him. 

“The Autumn lord watches you,” they hissed. They seemed less concerned than intrigued. It wasn’t often people stared directly at him, and yet when Azriel turned his head, the lordling was staring, openly and with no concern.

“Can I help you?”

Eris shrugged evenly. His face was impassive, but he either didn’t know or didn’t care Azriel would notice the shuffle of his feet. “No.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “And yet, you have something you want to say.”

Eris’ lips pinched, his eyes darting to the tent entrance. “You have less shadows this time.”

“Yes.”

Eris waited, but Azriel was more patient and well aware that the Lord just wanted him to speak. Finally, Eris sighed. “Are you… well?”

Well? Azriel was… oh. He dared a glare. The lord was nosy. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“You have less shadows. That isn’t a symptom of something being wrong?”

“No. It’s a symptom of being at war.”

“Ah,” the lord breathed. “That’s… good.”

Azriel didn't bother to respond before he turned and walked back into the tent. Such an odd male.

Two months passed before they crossed paths again. Azriel had shadow-walked to take a message from his High Lord to the High Lord of Winter. Rhys had been sent away as well. There was little to lure him back, so he would take advantage of the distance between the two encampments to take a night away. It was already after dark. He could safely return in the morning with no one noticing.

Once he retrieved the paper with the instructions, he walked the encampment shrouded in shadows. Here, Winter and Autumn soldiers did not mingle. In fact, the road Azriel walked through the camp was so stark a dividing line he found himself all alone. Except…

“Oof!”

A figure had darted awkwardly from behind a Winter tent. They were looking over their shoulder, and had plowed straight into Azriel. 

Azriel snarled, wings flaring behind him to keep himself righted as the figure fell at his feet.

“Watch where you’re going,” he growled, stepping back. His hand instinctively rested on Truth Teller’s handle while he glared at the figure. The road was so dark he couldn’t even see the insignia on the soldier’s tunic.

“I- My apologies.” It took Azriel the time it took for the male to scramble to his feet to place the voice.

“Vanserra?”

“Shadowsinger,” was the response. It was curt in a way Eris’ attempts at conversation hadn’t been previously. Yet this time, Azriel’s shadows said nothing.

“You really should watch where you’re going.”

“I know,” Eris snapped.

“Snippy tonight, aren’t we?” He had been moving quickly, and yet was no longer rushing. It was odd enough for Azriel to order shadows to examine him. It was dark, so it was easy for them to go unnoticed. 

“Do I owe you courtesy?” was the bitter response.

“You crashed into me.” His shadows slithered about his ears, talking over one another.

“And I apologized.”

It was then that the shadows’ one-word report made sense. Blood. There was blood gushing from the male’s body. When he paused, Azriel could smell the metallic tang from Eris’ general direction, distinct from the days old blood scent of the camp around them. It was enough to send his shadows into a vague fury, as if they couldn’t decide whether this was something to be concerned about given who the male in question was. 

Eris waited, standing there in complete stillness. 

“You’re injured,” Azriel finally settled on. 

Eris snorted. “And? So is everyone.”

“It isn’t a war wound. This camp has not seen battle in over a week and that wound is fresh.”

“Does it matter?” Eris snapped. “I don’t know why you bother to bring it up at all.”

Azriel took a deep breath. “Because if you’re fighting next to my brother your injury could get him killed. I know you haven’t seen much battle, but from what I’ve heard your father is doing everything he can to keep you on the front lines to get you killed. I’d rather not give him the satisfaction if it means my brother dies.”

Autumn and Night court soldiers had been fighting alongside each other frequently. With Winter replacing Night Court forces in this camp, chances were dwindling, but it wasn’t a risk Azriel was willing to take.

Eris tried a new tactic: complete silence. Still, Azriel saw his silhouette cross his arms defensively. It was a bad move. His hands were pinned where they were, and he was already off balance. Azriel took the opportunity to reach a hand out and shove the male’s shoulder with a moderate amount of force.

Eris’ sharp intake of breath gave Azriel more pause than he expected. “I’ll tend your wound,” Azriel said gruffly. “I refuse to let you get killed over some stupid fight with a soldier from another court.”

Still, Eris didn’t move. 

“You can walk, can’t you? You were doing fine when you ran into me.”

“I’m fine,” Eris bit out. “Leave.”

Azriel snorted. Now he definitely wouldn’t leave the male alone. “No. You’re in more danger like that than you know.”

“And what would you know of it?” Eris all but hissed at him, arms uncrossing to clench against his sides. “You don’t scare me.”

“I should,” Azriel snapped back. “I should terrify you. I could have killed you about thirty different ways in the course of this conversation.”

“You’re not touching my– wound.” Eris’ voice broke. 

“You aren’t tending it yourself.”

“I’ll go to a healer.”

“No,” Azriel shook his head. “You won’t. Because if your father finds out he’ll use it to his advantage. Why does he hate you so much?”

“I can handle it myself,” Eris’ voice was losing all conviction and confidence. 

“No.”

“Leave.”

“I trust you know somewhere safe enough. I’ll get the supplies and meet you there. A shadow will tell me where you end up, or I can winnow us there.”

That seemed to give Eris pause. “I thought shadowsingers did something called shadow-walking.”

Azriel balked. It was rare anyone bothered to know the difference, let alone remark on it. He nodded, then remembered the male likely couldn’t see him. He cleared his throat before saying, “Yes.”

“Can we shadow-walk?” Now, the lord just sounded tired.

“Yes. Where are we going?”

“North of camp, there’s a glade.”

“It’s safe?”

“Yes.” Eris reached his right hand out.

Azriel gripped the male’s wrist roughly with his own right hand, binding their hands together with shadows who seemed all too eager. “Don’t let go,” he warned. 

“I won’t.”

A blink and a breath of complete darkness followed before they arrived in the clearing, which Azriel’s shadows had found quickly. A small fire was reduced near to ashes in the center of the glade, but it was more light than the road had held. Eris moved to drop Azriel’s hand, but the shadowsinger shook his head, motioning for the lord to stay silent and wait.

The shadows not binding them together scattered, darting around the trees at the outskirts and winding back to Azriel once they had cleared the area and confirmed its safety. “Safe. Safe. Safe,” was their chorus, one after the other. 

When Azriel was satisfied, he sent a third of them for supplies, tasking another third to unroll the lord’s bedroll, which they had found tucked in an oak, next to the fire. Dropping Eris’ hand, he crossed to a small pile of wood at the edge of the glade and collected half of it to bank the fire. Eris stayed where he was, watching silently. 

“Come sit,” Azriel ordered, pointing to the bedroll as he squatted to blow at the cinders and coals and encourage what little flame was left to grow, to light the new wood and give them more light and heat. Eris made no move to help him, so Azriel didn’t bother to ask. 

With the increasing light, Azriel could see the dark gleaming of what had to be blood down Eris’ thigh as he walked. There was a lot. The side of his leg was saturated to the top of his boot, while the wound seemed to originate near his hip bone. It had to be nasty for Eris to be bleeding that much. That explained why he hadn’t offered to help with the fire, or, better yet, to feed the fire himself with his power. Yet, he walked. 

That took strength. Azriel almost found it in himself to be impressed as the male lowered himself gracefully to the ground. 

His shadows had begun piling bandages and other important things by Azriel’s side. He sent one of them off in pursuit of a new pair of pants for the lord, who wouldn’t be wearing this pair again without an excellent laundress, and those who could keep secrets were in short supply in a war camp when information was money.

“Take your pants off,” Azriel commanded. Eris winced.

“I’m not sure I can.”

“I'll have to cut them off.”

Eris hesitated, his eyes darting to Truth Teller. “Be careful.”

How badly hurt was he, that he would allow Azriel to have a knife that close to his skin, to vital blood supply? 

As the light increased, so did Azriel’s concern that the male’s condition may not be as stable as he originally thought. His skin seemed to pale more and more with every flare of the fire. Sweat dripped from his brow, despite the chilly night around them. And he was obedient. Vanserras, in Azriel's admittedly limited experience, were never obedient. Certainly not to orders given from a Night Court grunt.

As if they sensed his growing concern, shadows dispatched to scan the male again. They returned with whispers of blood and wounds– multiple. Azriel nearly sighed. This was perhaps a bigger job than he anticipated. He sent shadows now to retrieve his own bedroll and bag. He’d be damned if the last thing anyone saw before the autumn lord died was the two of them together, and there was no real way to guarantee he hadn’t been seen with Eris on that road. Damn it all.

“How many wounds are there?” he asked, unsheathing Truth-Teller and setting the supplies beside Eris.

“Just the one.”

“Don’t lie to me. If you die, it’s my wings they’ll come after.”

Eris glanced over Azriel’s shoulder at the reddish membranes which were his constant companion, his pride and joy.

“Three.”

“Only three?”

“Only three,” Eris confirmed.

“Where?”

Eris gestured at his right shoulder, waved a hand over his injured leg, and then looked away.

“That’s two,” Azriel commented. “You’re going to need to take that tunic off, too, but let’s start with your leg.”

Eris laid back. Azriel reached into his boot to retrieve a flask and offer it up. “Whiskey. It’ll take the sting off.”

Eris grimaced, but took the flask anyways, draining what was left of the alcohol from it before handing it back. 

Azriel knelt at his side, the fire on Eris’ other side giving him light to work. Truth Teller made quick work of a cut through Eris’ pants from ankle to waist, and Azriel sheathed the blade quickly. When he removed the fabric a barrier which had begun to form to protect the wound would be removed, and he needed to know everything he could before that happened.

“What blade was used?”

Eris blinked at him slowly. He was fading, fast. “A dagger.”

“Was it poisoned?”

“No,” Eris shook his head with conviction.

“Was there anything special about the blade?”

“Standard Winter court issue,” he said. 

Azriel nodded. “Alright. This is going to hurt.”

Eris paused, looking at Azriel, then turning his head to the fire. Azriel barely heard the quiet “I know” which followed.

Azriel pulled the fabric of the male’s pants away from him and grimaced. Eris didn't even flinch. The cut went across the male’s hipbone nearly twelve inches to the outside of his upper thigh, getting deeper as if Eris had rolled into the knife to protect his midline.

“Tell me what happened,” Azriel ordered as his hands began to move. Damn it all, they were cold. And tired. He was so tired. But he couldn’t let Eris die. For some reason, he needed the male to live.

“No.” Eris countered with a fire he hadn’t shown all evening. It was the first anger Azriel had heard from the male, and it awoke something in him. He dumped three antiseptic potions across the wound. Eris barely moved, blinking up at the stars.

“You could die,” Azriel snarled, pressing bandages against the seeping wound. “Why? You are the son of a high lord. If it was a standard issue Winter court blade it likely wasn't anybody of your status. Why protect them?”

Eris bit his lower lip. Azriel pulled Truth Teller out to cut through what was left of the male’s pants and underwear and remove them. A long strip of fabric wound around the male’s waist, then around his upper thigh, to secure the padding of bandages against the long wound. When Azriel was certain the bands wouldn’t move, he tied them off in a quick knot and looked up at the lord’s face. 

His eyes were closed, his face turned slightly toward the fire. He looked slightly flushed, and yet entirely too pale. His breathing was shallow. He needed water. Food, too. He didn’t seem to be interested in answering any more questions. Maybe those things would loosen his lips.

First, the other wounds. The removal of all his clothing revealed a gash along his shoulder, about four inches long. It wasn’t deep, but it was angled, and the skin could be folded back away from the wound. Azriel stitched that one with quick stitches. He would have stitched the large one, but without any indication that it wouldn’t get infected, he was unsure about closing it with the sutures which would solidify by the time the horizon had light on it. An infection growing beneath the skin was much worse than a scar from skin knitting itself back together.

The last wound didn’t immediately present itself, so Azriel had nudged Eris until he grudgingly rolled onto his side.

His bare back was a maze of scars. Azriel was struck immediately by how well his hands blended with the mottled skin of Eris’ back, burns seemingly crisscrossed by the stripes of what had to have been made by a very long, thick whip. It turned his stomach to see just how broken the male’s back was. They weren’t that different in age, and Azriel had his fair share of scars. But this was a level of brutality Azriel hadn’t expected to find carved into the male’s skin. It was no doubt he hadn’t flinched at the stitches, or even the bandaging. He had to be intimately familiar with both.

One wound on his back, a long stripe across his shoulder blade, was red and struggling to close. Azriel stitched that closed, too, before throwing the bandages he had used to wipe the male’s blood away into the fire. Seeming to know it was over, Eris rolled back onto his back. He didn’t open his eyes, but his breathing seemed slightly steadier.

Azriel grabbed his bag from where the shadows had dumped it unceremoniously behind him and retrieved a tin of dried meat and crackers.

“Eat,” he ordered, setting the tin on Vanserra's stomach. “I’m getting us water.”

Eris cracked an eye open to stare at him. “Fine.”

Azriel ordered some shadows to scout ahead for water, and some to watch over the lordling, as he unrolled his own bedroll next to Eris. Better to have the fire lord between him and the fire, he told himself.

His shadows returned with a satisfactory report, so he went when he was certain Eris would eat more than a bite or two.

On his return, the container sat on his bedroll, half the food gone.

“You should eat more,” Azriel said, nudging it towards him. 

Eris shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Drink, then,” he tried. Eris nodded, reaching a reluctant hand to grip the offered bottle.

He propped himself up on an elbow to drink, and swallowed until he finished the whole bottle with a gasp. “Thank you.”

Azriel nodded. He felt as though he hovered over the lord, but he found himself unsettled. “I’ll take the watch.”

Eris didn’t argue or say they didn’t need one. It would have been a lie neither of them would have accepted. He just nodded, dropping his head back and closing his eyes again.

Azriel didn’t bother to wake him through the rest of the night. When light began to peek over the horizon, Eris stirred on his own, sitting up with a groan and a stretch. 

“Thank you,” he said again. 

Azriel nodded. “I need to check your–”

“No,” Eris said abruptly, sitting. “Enough. I will go back to camp, and so should you.”

Azriel shook his head. “You can’t fight like this.”

Eris smirked up at him. “I’ve done it before.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Azriel narrowed his eyes.

Eris shrugged, shuffling awkwardly until he was on his feet, even though he panted. “That’s fine.”

“I just spent last night putting you back together. If I hear you undo that work, I’ll kill you,” Azriel protested. Eris seemed to soften at that. “I think you should go.”

Azriel bristled even as his shadows obeyed his silent order to retrieve all his things. “Fine.”

“I’ll burn away any trace of you being here,” Eris assured him, waving a hand at his bedroll. It disappeared.

Azriel nodded. “Check those wounds this morning.”

Eris nodded. “I will.”

When Azriel had his bag and bedroll in hand, he shadow-walked away, Eris not sparing him more than a moment’s glance as he disappeared from view.

Their third meeting was much like the first. Outside a war tent, the Autumn court delegation lingered in hushed circles. Their forces had been hit hard in the last of Hybern’s offensives. No doubt they were reconsidering their participation in the ongoing war, if only to save the rest of their soldiers. Still, from the thick of the fray strode Eris Vanserra, his gait no less even than it had been the first times Azriel had seen him.

Azriel couldn’t help but watch him as he stood outside the tent. They had tightened the circle allowed in. The recent losses had been too stark to eliminate the possibility that someone on the council or one of their advisors was selling information or even was an agent of Hybern. It was no doubt that fact which kept the sons close, and everyone else at a very great distance. Still, Azriel could watch from here. Could keep an eye out for either of his brothers. 

Shadows told him nothing of them. Their names were not on the rolls. But here was Eris. Alive, breathing. He would have known if Eris had died. And Eris had not.

“Shadowsinger,” a curt acknowledgement. Azriel nodded firmly in return. No words could explain his relief, even to himself. Eris rolled his shoulders, his embroidered coat restricting his motions. Instead of walking past Azriel, the lord stopped at his side.

“Thank you,” Eris murmured. If Azriel hadn’t been attuned to the male's presence, he wouldn’t have heard it at all. It was dangerous to speak this openly. Eris had to know that. Surely, a High Lord’s son would know that speaking to the spymaster of another court was dangerous. Surely.

Azriel turned to walk away. He would not risk it, but Eris still tried. “Azriel.”

He spun to face Eris, schooling his face into an angry mask. “What?”

Eris’ eyes flashed with an answering anger, then cooled. “I saw your brother. The soldier.”

This was unexpected. Azriel’s eyes narrowed. How would Eris know he searched for his brothers?

As if anticipating the question, Eris stepped closer. “Your shadows, the ones who stayed, told me. I asked them how I could… repay you. They told me. He’s in the next camp over. Injured, but not badly. Ask for Madja.”

Shadows zipped away from Azriel faster than he could respond. He had left some of them with Eris that morning to ensure the male checked and cleaned his wounds.

Now, Eris watched them go, nodding once, then walking on past Azriel. Eris knew what it meant to see those shadows go out. It was all he had needed to see. 

Azriel may not be able to get away on his own, but he could send those shadows. They would find Cassian, who would recognize them and maybe even be able to get away for a day. 

More pressing was that the shadows had spoken to Eris. Had deemed him worthy of information about Azriel. That happened so rarely. Only when Azriel was truly in need of something, or on the rarest of occasions, when he was in true danger, would his shadows bother to try to communicate with anyone. Never before had they shared with someone as nonsensical as Eris Vanserra. He would ask them later why. He hoped they would tell him.

Someone was calling his name. It was the middle of the night, and his shadows were rousing him from sleep with a frantic energy. Months had passed since he had seen Cassian, or Rhys. He had only just gotten back from a scouting mission in Hybern that evening. The war still raged, still slowly marching them all toward death. 

But someone was calling his name. “Hurry,” his shadows urged him. “Fight.” 

The second prompt was enough to speed him. He rarely slept without weapons at hand, and he grabbed two Illyrian blades and strapped them to his back with the speed of a soldier who had been at war for over six years. 

Finally ready, he ordered his shadows to take him where they willed. Emerging from their total darkness into the moonless night with Truth Teller clenched in his hand, he found himself at the edge of that familiar glade. 

This time, it was anything but peaceful. Eris fought against three warriors dressed in dark clothes, their faces concealed by darkness. Azriel recognized the fighting style more than the clothing, and it was for good reason Eris didn’t bother to use his powers. 

In a split second, Azriel shadow-walked to be behind the Autumn court soldiers, disarming one with ease while Eris held his own against the second. Azriel’s blade slid into the side of the throat and was pulled through the front, removing the attacker’s ability to scream as his life faded to a bloody end. 

The third spun from Eris to Azriel. He opened his mouth, but behind him, Eris flicked a dagger from his waist, the blade glinting before Azriel saw the male’s head jerk forward. When he fell, the handle of the blade stuck at a perfect right angle from the base of the male’s skull.

As Azriel had drawn Eris’ attention, his moment’s glance to throw the blade had left his left side unguarded. The remaining autumn warrior took advantage of the opening, and launched himself at the lord. His hand closed around the lord’s throat, and Eris was knocked toward Azriel, but Azriel was faster than the other warrior had perhaps anticipated.

In the span of moments, Azriel had removed the male’s hand from Eris’ throat, disarmed him, and bound him hand and feet with a cord he kept coiled in his boot for moments like this. His shadows had been dispatched to guard the borders of the glade.

Eris rubbed his neck as he offered a wad of cloth to Azriel, who crouched beside the bound warrior. Azriel took the fabric and shoved it into his mouth until he was satisfied the male wouldn’t be able to remove it.

“You need to kill him,” Eris said quietly. 

“I know,” Azriel said. The male’s eyes settled on Azriel as if he had only just now recognized the winged warrior. He began to scream through the fabric. Azriel’s remaining shadows spun around the warrior, examining him.

“Why do you scream?” Eris asked, crouching beside Azriel. “You chose to attack me. Your death was predetermined.”

The male’s eyes flicked to Azriel, then back to Eris, then back to Azriel again as his screaming increased in volume.

Eris snorted. “You truly think the death he will give you is worse than the death I could?”

Azriel couldn’t help but watch the Lord of Autumn as Eris stood. 

“A word, Azriel.��� Eris looked down his nose at the screaming soldier. Azriel stood. They walked some distance away before Eris paused and looked over his shoulder at their prisoner.

“We have to kill him,” Eris said. “He recognized you.”

“That’s not surprising,” Azriel said. “Why did they come after you in the first place?”

Eris sighed. “I did something I shouldn’t have, and got caught doing it. Whether my father sent them or they took it upon themselves, I don’t know.”

Azriel paused. “What, exactly, were you doing?” If Eris was spying for Hybern, if he had used Azriel somehow…

Eris sighed. “I slept with one of their brothers.”

Oh. Oh. Prythian was generally safe for males like Eris. And Azriel. But some families held old ways of thinking that would incense hatred beyond caring that Eris was the son of a High Lord. It was that which kept Azriel hiding. He lacked the protection offered to Eris. Currently, he lacked even the protection of his brothers. 

So Azriel just nodded. When Azriel didn’t say anything, Eris sighed.

“How did you come here?”

“My shadows sent me. They were concerned.”

“Have they been watching me?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel admitted. “Sometimes they follow their own whims.”

Eris nodded. “I can handle him.”

“Do you want to?” What was one more body on Azriel’s tally? He’d killed nearly thirty yesterday, getting away from the Hybern guard who had started asking too many of the right questions. What was one more, in the face of the river of blood which had flowed from his hands?

“Not really,” Eris sighed. 

“You sound weary,” Azriel dared. After six years he was more than used to the ebb and flow of fights and battles, yet his heart still pounded in his chest.

“I am.”

“I’ll do it. Stay here.”

Eris said nothing in return but bowed his head.

Azriel crossed back to the bound warrior, who had started trying to roll and scramble away from them with whatever faculty he retained. Azriel placed a booted heel against the man’s collarbone, his toes grounded to the earth as he stood above the male.

“I’m going to take out the gag. Then you’re going to tell me who sent you, and what they wanted. If you don’t, I’ll torture you. This is your one chance. Do you understand?”

The male nodded, eyes glinting with starlight and terror. Azriel bent to remove the gag, whispering, “Scream, and I’ll gag you with something much more unpleasant than this fabric.”

He ripped it from the male’s mouth, and to his credit, the male said nothing.

“Who sent you?”

“No one. We came with him,” the male tipped his head at one of the bodies. “His brother died, and when they found his body on the battlefield, that bastard’s scent was all over him.”

“Eris’?” Azriel questioned. 

The male nodded. “They were… intimate.” He said it with a snarl, as though Azriel would not know and was being deceived. 

“You wanted to kill him.”

“Yes. For that, yes. It’s not–”

“Enough,” Eris’ voice sounded behind Azriel.

Azriel glared at him. “If it’s enough, kill him yourself.”

Eris shrugged. “Fine.”

The male opened his mouth to start screaming again, but Eris flicked his slender fingers. Azriel stepped back quickly as a reddish glow started emanating from the male’s throat and smoke began to billow from his mouth. 

Eris was burning him. Burning him from the inside out. The light of life in the male’s eyes was steadily replaced by the glow of that slow burning fire until the male was nothing more than ash in the wind.

Eris turned to Azriel. “Thank you for coming.”

Azriel nodded. Why was he so hesitant to leave? The second the male was dead, he should have walked away. Dawn was nearing again. He would need to be back before the High Lord woke in case he had further questions after last night’s debrief. Six years and ten months of this. Azriel wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take.

“Thank you for finding Cassian for me.” 

Eris smiled at that, not even looking as he lit the other two bodies on fire. “You saved my life.”

“You gave me the chance to see him. It had been a long time. It means more than I think you realize.”

Eris shook his head. “I imagine if I had a brother I trusted I would do just about anything in my power to see him.”

Azriel chuckled at that. “No friends among family?”

Eris sighed ruefully. “I’m afraid not.”

“Me neither. Except–”

They finished the sentence together, “my mother.”

“If you didn’t send for me,” Azriel crossed his arms, “Why did you trust I wasn’t there with them?”

Eris tipped his head back to stare at the sky. “My father has railed against your… proclivities in sexual partners. How he knew, I have no idea. I’ve never even heard whispers of you from anywhere else. I knew, if my father was somehow right, your presence was either on orders or to help me. I was willing to bet you wouldn’t kill me for something we share.”

“Beron knows about me?”

“Somehow. I think he had someone tailing you for a time, after Mor.”

Azriel bristled. He had been careful at 19, but apparently not careful enough. It was likely the best explanation. “You have no idea? Truly?”

Eris shrugs. “I was young when he brought it up. The timing seems right. I never put much thought into it.”

“So you assumed I was safe because of that.”

“No,” Eris laughed, quietly, but unmistakably amused. “No, I mostly assumed you were safe because the last time you saved my life you told me not to undo all of your hard work.”

“What happened then?” Azriel was demanding. He felt as though he was truly seeing the Autumn Lord, seeing him open and unguarded for the first time. Maybe now he could get answers.

Eris seemed to be willing to indulge him. “A winter court soldier didn’t realize who I was until I was on my way out of his tent. He tried to kill me.”

“It seems to me like you’re sleeping with the wrong people,” Azriel commented. Eris finally turned to face him, levelling him with a molten stare Azriel found himself drawn into. “And who are the right people?”

“People who have as much to lose as you do.”

“Like you?” Eris challenged. 

Azriel shrugged. “Are you offering?”

Eris smirked, turning to face Azriel. Dawn was growing, and the red light of morning lighting the leaves around him gave him the appearance of a body of molten fire. “If you ever wish to take me to bed, Shadowsinger, show up. I have spells on the glade. It will let me know you’re here.”

Azriel laughed. “Chances are slim, Vanserra.”

“But not zero.” Eris raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in a slightly mocking reflection of Azriel’s own stance. 

“No.” Azriel admitted. “Not zero.”

[tozettastone]

I don't know if I'm actually keeping this one — there's some stuff I don't like about it and I will at least cut and rearrange it I think. And other reasons.

But it's an excerpt from a draft of a hypothetical future meeting between Maddie and Deidara, featuring Hidan. Contains references to violence.

---

"You're supposed to be dead!" Deidara yelled. He was getting closer by the second.

Hidan glanced over his shoulder at his approach, but he didn't actually turn to face Deidara.

Maddie made a valiant effort to shrink into Hidan's shadow, even though she was nearly the same height as him now.

"Can you please just stay between us?" she hissed.

"You aren't seriously scared of Deidara," Hidan said in half-offended bafflement, turning again as though another look at Deidara's baby-faced, short, featherweight person would reveal a more intimidating appearance if he only looked again and squinted harder. Evidently it didn't, because he just looked back at Maddie again. "You're not even scared of me!"

"He wants to kill me!"

"If he wanted to kill you this whole property would be on fire." Hidan rolled his eyes. "That's the only thing he's good for."

"He left me vomiting through a hole in my oesophagus!" she cried, high and aggrieved. And since her voice had never recovered, it cracked into a hoarse growl halfway through the sentence. "And he didn't pay me!"

"Ooh. Ouch," said Hidan, but he was smiling widely. He totally ignored that Deidara had tried to screw her out of scores of thousands of ryo and instead addressed the part that interested him: "That's a bad one. That bubbling where the open wound meets the acid. It's like it never ends."

That was exactly what it had been like, too. The bubbling had made thin watery bile go a lot further, and the acid washing over her cut throat had felt like it was going to keep going forever.

Maddie clenched her jaw. She had to figure out how to make Hidan see why she was upset — even though she knew it was kind of a lost cause, because Hidan really only cared about stuff he cared about, and was constitutionally incapable of the intellectual empathy that would permit him to understand that his closest people cared about other things.

Her eyes narrowed. She switched tactics. "But they just left me there! They didn't even watch. It didn't matter to him at all. Isn't that cruel?"

...And so now she sounded like a jilted one night stand who felt they'd had something special, which wasn't really how Maddie aspired to sound about getting her throat cut while she vomited and cried in the dirt. This did get through to Hidan a lot better than any of her preceding comments, though.

Unfortunately, the way in which it got through to him was not particularly agreeable to Maddie. Hidan still didn't turn to look at Deidara. His eyes were wide and intense and his lips shone wetly when he licked them.

"Do you want me to do it properly?" he crooned. "I promise I'll take good care of you. Hey, hey, you have more than one heart right now, don't you? We could..."

Blessedly, this train of conversation was cut short by Deidara actually arriving within conversational distance, a blur of fluttering gold and red and black, which forestalled any absolutely horrifying realisations Maddie might have been forced to face about how far she'd go for human contact right now.

Exactly as Hidan had predicted, Deidara didn't immediately try to hurt anyone. But he did look absolutely incandescent with fury.

"I knew there was something going on, hm! What the hell is it?" Deidara at last came to a stop, scowling fiercely at both of them. "Why's she so important? Is she another one? Like you? What? Your — sister or something?"

Hidan finally pulled a face and turned away from Maddie.

"Sister?" He looked at himself, and then looked at Maddie. "Seriously? You think she looks like me?"

Unlike Hidan, Deidara had at least two brain cells to rub together, and Maddie got to watch them working in real time as the weird emphasis on the word 'me' made him squint harder at her.

"Are you... related to Kakuzu?" he said finally. "Kakuzu has a family? What, a grand... niece?" He rubbed his chin. "I did think it was weird that Kakuzu knew a girl, hm!"

"No," Maddie said repressively, even as Hidan crowed, "A kid, even!"

Annoyed, she leaned in and tugged on his hair. "Hidan!"

"Ow! Madeline, that hurts, you know!" He twisted and pulled her hair back.

She put up with it stoically. It was just hair. "If he'd wanted him to know he'd have told him."

Deidara looked like, firstly, all his questions had been answered, and secondly, like he had many more, worse questions. It took him a second to compute.

"How can Kakuzu have a kid!" he bellowed, at a volume that made it hard to imagine why he'd come so close to them to talk. "There are things that are and aren't possible in this world!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Maddie said defensively, even though she herself had had some pretty incredulous thoughts about Murakami Ami's taste in men.

Maddie felt sure she would never fall prey to any such longing: personally, she liked seeing other people vulnerable, and to feel perfectly in control. If someone like Kakuzu had shown the slightest sexual interest in Maddie, she'd have fled the fucking country.

Hidan made an interested little hum in his throat, watching Deidara's face just as closely as Maddie was.

Deidara stared at her, aghast. "It's Kakuzu! What kind of person would...?"

Silently, Maddie pointed at Hidan.

Deidara's big blue eyes followed her gesture. For a split second, his face froze. Then his eyes narrowed. He lifted his chin sharply, sending his long pale hair bouncing around his face. Offered this opportunity of a graceful retreat, Deidara saw it, assessed it, and then totally rejected it in favour of a doomed frontal assault: "Nobody would — do that — with Kakuzu!"

"Ha," said Hidan, a great big huff of laughter. "Sure they would. And maybe if you survive 'til your balls drop, you'll get it."

"Don't be disgusting," hissed Deidara, reddening. He blushed easier than Hidan, despite not being quite as pale. He probably had more shame. Wouldn't have been hard. "Besides, you can't tell me Kakuzu's a... a family type! Hm!" He spat the words 'family type,' as if they'd personally offended him.

"He's not," said Maddie flatly.

"Aw, lucky you have an affectionate uncle," Hidan said smoothly, hooking her in with the pole of his scythe, so she had to either submit to the crushing one-armed hug coming her way or get sliced in half. Knowing Hidan, he probably considered both options great fun. "Someone has to teach kids about the important stuff."

She submitted to the hug. At least Hidan was large and warm. She could feel his heart beating through his ribcage. It was slow and steady, unconcerned. Her hearts, on the other hand, beat off-cycle, fast, little rabbits thumping away in the soft cage of her lungs.

She breathed slowly out, watching Deidara with wary eyes.

"The important stuff. And that's... Hidan," he repeated slowly. Maddie could almost see him processing this. At length, he pulled a disgusted face. "Wow. I'm almost sorry I asked."

[thornybubbles]

Random Gemstone Themed Yandere Prompts with the Jobros.

Warnings: Typical yandere horror stuff, abusive behavior, possible harm towards reader, disturbing situations, good guys gone yandere, anti-comfort, and canon typical violence. Remember that you alone are responsible for what you choose to read. 

---------

Speedwagon: Prompt 17 -- Unakite- does the yandere have a point of no return or will they eventually realize how dire the consequences of their actions?

As far as yanderes go, Robert is pretty tame. His point of no return would only happen if you were ever harmed in any way. His greatest fear is if you get hurt or worse. Having his greatest fear realized would unlock a side of good ol’ Speedwagon that not even his closest friends have ever seen. Remember, he was a violent thug before he got involved with Jonathan and his quest to put an end to Dio. If anyone was ever dumb enough to put their hands on you he would revert back to his thuggish nature, only worse. It’s not a side of him he ever wanted you to see, but he’ll happily sacrifice his reputation if it means protecting you. 

As far as realizing the consequences of his actions, he’s pretty lucid. He knows that breaking into your home to watch over you as you slept is not only unsettling and inappropriate, but highly illegal. He knows that following you around to keep an eye on you is borderline stalkerish behavior. He doesn’t care though. In his eyes, it's all perfectly justified. He’s extra careful to make sure you never catch him in the act of doing these things, but rest assured that if you ever did he wouldn’t bother lying to you. He’d come right out and tell you exactly why he was doing it. 

“I don’t mean to be overstepping any boundaries, but the world’s gettin’ a lot more dangerous lately. More so than usual. Someone’s gotta look out for you in these dark times and I figure that someone may as well be ol’ Speedwagon.” 

You’ll find it difficult to look into those big, sad, brown eyes and find any fault with him. Speedwagon a stalker? Absurd! Because of this mindset that you have about him, he’ll never really experience any consequences. You’ll just have him walk alongside you instead of trailing behind you in the shadows. 

Caesar: Prompt 9 -- Diamond- what does the yandere want from their ideal darling?

With Caesar it’s all about romance. He’s no stranger to having ladies swooning over his words and actions, but just once he’d like to have someone make the first move or at least offer him something in the way of a challenge. He occasionally finds himself bored when he’s the one doing all the wooing. He flirts and flirts, but nobody ever seems to flirt back. More than even that, he’d like it if his darling didn’t just turn into a blushing mess the moment he put on the charm. Make him work for it!

If he finds you attractive, he’ll flirt the moment he lays eyes on you (though it’s mostly to annoy Joseph… at first). Maybe he goes for the traditional kiss on the back of the hand and instead of just standing there looking up at him all smitten and red-faced, you grab him by the wrist and yank him close. 

“Nuts to that old fashioned stuff! If you’re gonna kiss me, then just kiss me!” you say. 

And then maybe you pull him in for a kiss right on the lips. If you do something bold like that, you’ll completely throw him for a loop. He’ll stand there, feeling like his face is in flames and his heart is going to beat out of his chest. That brazen action of yours may have been the very thing that caused his yandere side to come bubbling up to the surface. You can’t just… you can’t just do that and walk away from him! You just can’t! You better expect him to pursue you now. As far as Caesar is concerned, you and him are practically engaged, so you may as well get used to him being around. 

Kakyoin: Prompt 14 -- Moonstone- are there things that the yandere will hide from darling at all costs?

Noriaki definitely has a dark side. We’ve seen just how bad it can get with his first introduction while he was under the influence of one of DIO’s flesh buds. Even when he is his normal self, Noriaki has a vindictive and violent side. It’s this part of him that he doesn’t want you to see. Ever. He wants you to view him as the polite, somewhat shy boy who always manages to make you swoon without even trying. He wants you to love him, not fear him. 

His dark side is reserved for people who deserve it. Like anyone that tries to interfere with his relationship with you. Let’s say some guy tries to sway you away from him while he’s standing right there: 

“Hey there, hot stuff! Why don’t you come hang out with a real man, like me, instead of this skinny dweeb?” he says as he reaches over and flicks Noriyaki on the forehead, laughing boisterously at the redhead’s displeased expression. 

Suddenly, the guy stops laughing. 

“S-sorry… about th-that…” he stammers with a strange look on his face. “I-I was out of l-line…” 

He then staggers away, staring blankly into the horizon. 

“That was weird.” you say, disturbed by the whole interaction. 

“Probably on drugs or something.” Noriaki comments, disinterested. 

Moments later there is the sound of shrieking tires followed by the sound of a car ramming into a human body. 

“That guy just walked into traffic!” someone shouts. 

You turn your head, but Noriaki is quick to shield your view. 

“You don’t want to see that!” he says as he ushers you away. “Let’s just get out of here before the rubberneckers show up.” 

Not wanting to get caught up in a crowd wanting to see blood and guts, you agree and allow Noriaki to lead you away. Nori’s expression is grim and you wonder if he saw the accident as it happened. It worries you. The last thing Nori needed was more trauma to have nightmares about. Egypt certainly took a toll on him. He still refuses to tell you anything about why he ran away or what he was up to during the time he was gone. All that you know is that whatever happened, it nearly killed him. You lean into him and he holds you close, seemingly grateful for you for just being by his side. 

As you leave the scene, Noriaki calls back Hierophant Green. The Stand slithers out of whatever is left of the lowlife’s body and returns to his master. Noriaki wants to smile in satisfaction, but he refrains. He’s very glad that you can’t see Stands, or else you would be horrified by what he’d just done. 

Okuyasu: Prompt 16 -- Rhodonite- does the yandere want kids and would they force darling into having them?

 (This is assuming that reader can have kids in the first place)

Does Okuyasu want to have kids? OH MY GOD, YES!!! Poor Okuyasu’s family life suffered so badly after his father became one of DIO’s followers. He longs to have a normal family again, or at least as normal as he can have while being a Stand user. Okuyasu sees having kids with you as a means of getting back the family that was taken from him. You can bet that he’ll be a great dad, if not a little over-protective. Okay, maybe more than a little…

As much as he wants a family, he will NEVER force it on you. If you aren’t interested in having kids, he’ll be a little disappointed, but he’ll settle for it just being the two of you alone. 

“I’m… I’m gonna be a dad? Really? Y-you’re not messing with me are you? You really mean it? We’re gonna have a kid?!” he’ll say when you tell him you’re expecting. 

Once you confirm to him that he will indeed be a dad he sinks to his knees and bursts into happy tears. After about ten minutes of that, he’ll dry up and shout, “I gotta go tell Josuke, Koichi, and everybody else in the whole neighborhood!!!” 

Before you can stop him he’s on his way out the door. He returns a moment later, grabs you (gently, of course), plants a long kiss on your lips, then runs out the door again. You stare at the door. He didn’t bother to close it behind him. You shake your head and allow yourself a small smile as you close the door. You love Okuyasu, but now that you were both going to be parents, you were going to have to have a long talk with him about his over-protectiveness. 

Bucciarati: Prompt 8 -- Chrysoprase- how does the yandere deal with heartbreak?

Honestly? Not very well. He should have expected this to happen and he blames himself. It was only a matter of time before you discovered his career as a Mafioso. It’s only natural that such a thing would scare you away. It was bad enough that you wanted to leave him, but the way you looked at him with fear and suspicion as you broke things off absolutely destroyed him. He tried to explain himself, tried to explain what his true intentions were: to destroy the illegal drug trade from the inside out, but it meant nothing to you. You wanted nothing to do with such a lifestyle. It was too dangerous for you and far too frightening. He understands why you want to leave. He really does.

But he doesn’t care. 

He should never have pursued you in the first place. He should never have let himself get involved with a normal citizen that had no connections to either Italy’s underworld or the equally hidden world of Stands and their users. You were right about it being too dangerous for you but he was far too obsessed to let you go. He should have never let himself fall for you so deeply…

It’s far too late now. Not only is he overwhelmingly in love with you, but even if you leave him, you’ll still be a target for his enemies. You’ve already been seen together far too often, so surely some of his enemies know of your connection to him. They will use you to get to him. Most of them will be Stand users, too. You aren’t a Stand user. You will have no way to defend yourself. If you go now, you’ll be putting yourself in harm’s way. You’ll be alone, without him by your side and his enemies would take advantage of that. So, that’s why he has to spirit you away and hide you somewhere that no one will find you. That’s what he tells himself. He deludes himself into thinking that he’s doing it for your own good, but deep down he knows that he just wants to keep you from leaving. And you really are in danger now, so this is mutually beneficial! Even if you don’t love him anymore, he’ll keep you safe… whether you like it or not. 

“Glare at me if you wish. Call me all manner names and swear at me if it makes you feel better. Scream until your throat bleeds. None of it will make any difference. I won’t allow you to put yourself in danger.” he tells you as he unzips your limbs. 

Anasui: Prompt 6 -- Carnelian- how does the yandere deal with their darlings strong will?

Ah yes, one of JJBA’s canon yanderes… 

Your strong will may very well have been one of the many things that attracted Anasui to you but, if your strong will leads you to push him away, when you’re so obviously meant for each other, then he’s going to be a lot less happy about it. He feels that he learned his lesson with Jolyne (he hasn’t). If you push him away the first time he puts on the charm, he’ll apologize and dial it back a bit. He doesn’t want to come on too strong, not like he did with Jolyne. So he’ll restrain himself and bide his time. You’ll come around eventually. All he has to do is find a way to endear himself to you while secretly scaring off (or getting rid of) any possible competition. It has to be different this time… he can’t take any more heartache. 

If you still refuse him, though, he might go “full yandere”. Believe me, you don’t want that. He’s only ever done that once before and that’s how he ended up in prison in the first place. Being cheated on and then rejected by Jolyne… he can’t take anymore heartache. So if you keep refusing him, he’ll realize that he’ll never earn your love. So he’ll just have to make you love him! This will lead to a psychotic break in him that will change his way of dealing with you. He’ll grow cold and sadistic. No more simping. His patience has run out. He’ll just have to kidnap you and teach you how to love him. He’ll have to punish you when you get it wrong. He won’t permanently damage you, but if he has to break you for you to learn your lesson then he will without hesitation. 

If you keep resisting even then, well it’s obvious to him that there must be something wrong with you. Maybe if he takes you apart he can find out what it is inside of you that makes you keep refusing him and remove it. He just hopes that he can put you back together again when he’s done…

“I’ve accepted the fact that I’m completely unlovable,” he’ll say in tearful rage, “but I will never accept being unloved!” 

Gyro: Prompt 12 -- Kunzite- is the yandere’s motivations love, lust or something else?

All three. Love and lust go with the territory in a romantic relationship, but Gyro also wants something constant in his life that is only for him and no one else. Gyro spent much of his life living up to his father’s strict expectations and dealing with responsibilities that were foisted upon him at an early age. He found himself taking on more responsibilities when trying to earn amnesty for young Marco. Then he agreed to help Johnny during the race and teach him the art of Spin. Nearly everything that Gyro did was for someone else’s benefit. He can’t remember a time when he did anything for himself and himself only. 

Gyro reasons that he has every right to be selfish when it involves you. He wants your love, your affection, your heart, your soul, and anything else you have to offer. Plain and simple, he wants you. Sometimes he feels guilty for his selfishness, but the moment you throw your arms around his waist and give him a loving squeeze, all of that guilt goes right out the window. You're his and his alone, and he wants everyone to know it. It's the reason he becomes like a rabid dog when you’re around anyone but him and Johnny. Gyro knows that Johnny won’t interfere, but other people? Not so much. That damned Dio keeps throwing you smug grins like he knows something… what’s that all about? And Mountain Tim had better keep his distance or he’ll end up with more scars than just on his face! 

Expect him to do a lot of hovering whenever you’re out and about. It’s a little weird, but it seems like he’s trying to hide you with his own body sometimes, almost like he doesn’t want anyone to even look at you. For example if you go to a restaurant with booth seats, he’ll always have you slide into the booth first then slide up as close as he can get to you. 

“Gyro!” you grunt uncomfortably. “Will you give me some space? You’re practically sitting on me!” 

Of course he plays it off as a joke. 

“Hmm? Wha? Did you hear that, Johnny? It sounded like the bench was talking to me! I must be losing it…” He’ll say, pretending that you aren’t practically wedged up under his ass. 

“You already lost it.” Johnny quips, ignoring your plight completely. 

He’s not about to get involved with whatever it is that’s going on with you and Gyro. 

You groan and poke him in the ribs, inadvertently starting a tickle fight. It completely takes your mind off of his clinginess. 

If he sees you spending far too much time talking with someone while you’re in town, he’ll grind his grills together so hard they shoot sparks. Once he calms himself down a bit, he’ll saunter over and fling an arm around you. 

“Hate to break up the party, but we really need to be going.” he’ll say with a good natured smile that doesn’t at all indicate how he really feels. 

That’s odd. You thought you’d have plenty of time before your group would have to get back on the road. Oh well. Guess an early start won’t hurt. 

While he’s leading you away, he takes the time to shoot the person you were talking to a warning glare. The message is clear: Stay away, or I’ll make you pay! They distance themselves from you after that. 

You are the only thing that Gyro has that’s all for him. He’s not sharing you with anyone!

[osleeplessflowero]

//Content Warnings: Blood, Violence, Drinking//

* Notes: - Gender Neutral Reader - Determination Soul ❤️

~"Knife" To Meet'cha🔪🌹~

The chill in the night air causes you to shiver as you hold your jacket closer to your body in an attempt to keep warm. The cold isn't the only thing giving you chills, however. Your eyes dart around, an uncomfortable feeling unable to be shaken no matter how hard you try to.

You can feel it..eyes on you in the shadows. Someone watching, waiting for the right moment to strike and catch you off guard. But they won't get you..not if you have anything to say about it. You pick up your pace, briefly spotting a silhouette walking behind you. Their speed picks up as well, sending you into a panic. You sprint under the streetlights, hoping you can find a local business that's still open to hide in.

"Running is just gonna make this worse for you!" The figure calls, making you furrow your brows. You take a few turns in an attempt to cut them off, frowning further when you realize you've hit a dead end. Of course this would be your luck.. you reluctantly turn to face the group of three men standing before you.

They're tall, intimidating. People you're all too familiar with around here, people who you've been told to avoid at all costs. And now you're face to face with them.

"We heard you were the one that killed our business partner. Our boss wasn't too happy about that."

"It was in self defense, he attacked me fir-" You're cut off.

"You wanted his money. That's always what it's about." The tall figure in the middle takes a puff from his cigarette. You scrunch up your nose at the smell. "I don't see why we shouldn't get payback for him..a life for a life."

"You wouldn't kill me out here- n-not where people can see you. It's stupid-"

"Call me a fool, but you're dyin' one way or another- I don't give a damn who sees."

Your eyes widen as they begin to close in on you, cornering you. You look around, praying to someone above and asking- no, pleading for a way out of this encounter.

A knife is thrown from above, landing at your feet. You look down at it in shock, trying to see who threw it, but unable to spot anyone amongst the shadows. Not wanting to waste time, you pick up the blade.

Killer has never grown tired of the air of the city hitting his clothes, making them flow as he soars over the rooftops, doing a bit of parkour and showing off as much as he'd like. Of course he has business in this universe, assigned personally by Nightmare to kill a target and spread negativity while he's at it. A typical Tuesday, in his eyes. Nothing too out of the ordinary. A few minutes prior he managed to successfully kill his target, and now was just..well, looking for trouble.

He kneels on the edge of one of the higher buildings of the city, looking for people to kill in order to invoke fear in those around them. There's not a lot of people out due to how late it is, making the chase harder.. He huffs, annoyed that there's nothing fun to do out here. Well, other than be a super cool guy, but that's all the ti-

He spots a group of humans chasing another, raising a browbone in curiosity. Oh? Gang stuff? He wonders what the person being chased could've done in order to piss three people off at the same time. Narrowing his eyesockets, he decides to do a CHECK to see.

Now that's interesting. Seems they've got some blood on their hands.. a pity they're about to die. Or..hmm. What if he just slightly interferes? Purely out of boredom, of course. He can kill somebody else later. Summoning a random knife, he holds up his arm, carefully aiming before throwing the blade down. Call it an experiment. He certainly hasn't done one of those in ages.

You spot the knife when it lands on the ground, picking it up with a Determined expression. Now this'll be fun..

You move one of your legs back, entering a fighting stance. The man in front of you spots your weapon, and upon trying to grab it from your hands, is met with a slash across his chest from you. Your eyes illuminate with a bright shade of red, an indicator that your Soul is ready for battle. It all happens so fast, you don't even realize how quickly and swiftly you're moving.

Charge, dodge, counter, stab.

One of the men cries out when you stab him somewhere fatal, knocking him onto the ground with your foot and finishing him off.

Charge, dodge, counter, slash.

You turn your head rapidly, slashing one of the other men that attempted to sneak up on you from behind. You continue the motion until he is no longer able to stand. Backing up a bit, you look confused as to where the biggest of the three had went-

"hey, heads up!" You hear someone shout from above, jumping out of the way of a massive blow to the head. Thanks, stranger.

Tightening your grip on the knife, you lunge at the man, pushing yourself up on his shoulders and launching into the air. He lets out a gasp of shock as you rise, Killer grinning wide as you fall rapidly down, plunging the knife through his head and sending you both to the ground. Pulling the knife out, you come back to your senses..your eyes returning to their natural hue. You drop the knife instinctively, leaning over and debating throwing up or not.

"not too bad."

You look over immediately, spotting a skeleton monster leaning against one of the closest buildings. He looks over you with a smug grin, a browbone raised. "a little amateur, but pretty good nonetheless."

"..You gonna snitch?" You ask, cautious around this stranger.

"nah. i'm not a snitch." He chuckles. "i'd like my knife back, though. i like keeping track of them, y'know?" He uses magic to bring the blade back to him, cleaning the blood off of it.

"..So it was you? You gave it to me? Why?"

"well, i like to cause a little chaos from time to time..and it seemed like you could use some help, so naturally i had to chime in." He twirls the blade in his hand with ease. "you're welcome, by the way."

You roll your eyes. "Whatever..I need a drink after all that shit."

Killer hums at that. He really doesn't wanna go home right now.. there's such a chill vibe to this city. Maybe he could..stick around just a little more..

"hey, how about i join you?" He suggests, earning a brow raise from you. "two people who know a little more than they should, just getting a drink together..how's that sound, human?"

"...I..guess that's okay. It uh..it can be to thank you for saving my ass back there. What's your name?"

"killer."

You look at his knife. "Well, that's a given, I suppose."

"got me there. so..where to?" He raises his browbones with a smug smile, earning a sigh from you as you turn back to the bloody corpses on the ground.

"Hold up a second. I gotta get rid of these before somebody finds them. All I need is another case on my hands.."

He grins. "allow me to help you with that."

"How?-"

He raises the bodies with magic, leans his arm back, and throws them as far as he possibly can. "tadaaaa."

"They- they can still be found out there-"

"trust me. they aren't reaching those bodies." He grins, holding an arm out for you. "c'mon, stop worrying so much. let's go get some drinks."

"Well..alright, I guess." You take his arm, walking with him to the nearest open bar. Would've been nice to know that was there earlier.

.

.

.

Surprisingly, Killer's..pretty easy to get along with. Even before you started drinking you found the guy to be quite a charmer, for a..well, a Killer. But you can't really say anything. You've become one yourself.

"oh my god, and don't get me started on my boss. he's so strict, like all the time- i just need a break from time to time, y'know?" He takes a sip of a drink he ordered. "like..it's just a lot sometimes."

"Yeah, I get that. They just keep pressuring you and pressuring you to get stuff done..how is anybody supposed to work under that much stress?" You swirl your drink of choice around in a glass. "It just makes your progress slow."

"THANK YOU." He gestures towards you, letting out a laugh. "somebody gets that! i just..don't understand why he doesn't."

"Maybe you should try talking to him about it sometime."

"yeah, that's like jumping into a tank of sharks. no way in hell. but..well, at least i can take breaks on missions from time to time, like this one."

You nod, looking down at the counter beside you. "So..are you going to be coming back to this universe?"

"i usually don't go back to universes i've already been through unless my boss has business." He looks to you, a curious glint to his empty eyesockets. "why? would you miss me?"

You avert your eyes. "No."

"bullshiiit, you're starting to like me. i can see it on your face. c'mon, throw me a bone-"

"Was that a skeleton joke?"

"ugh, i still do it by habit sometimes. ignore that. 'sposed to be the others' thing.." He frowns, earning a laugh from you.

"Well. I guess I would miss you." You look over at him. His browbones raise in surprise, not expecting you to agree. What a pleasant surprise. "You're..interesting company, to say the least."

"aww. wait, what do you mean by-"

"If you came back, well..I wouldn't be opposed to opening the various locks on my front door for you to come hang out." You smirk, causing the skeleton to blink in surprise, before mimicking your expression.

"yeah?" "Yeah."

"well, i uh..i suppose i'll see what i can do. if you don't change your mind by then."

You both continue to converse, before Killer gets a call, frowning as he finally hangs up.

"i've gotta go. but uh..see you around?" He points finger guns in your direction, earning an eye roll from you.

"Sure. Don't fall into the tank when you get back."

He lets out a laugh, giving you a playful nudge before shortcutting away. You revert to a bored expression once he's gone, paying and walking out of the bar, thankfully not too drunk to walk home yourself.

You've killed four men in the span of a week.. you're not quite sure how you feel about that yet. Entering your apartment and greeting a pet, you walk to your room and pass out on your bed, deciding to let the guilt and fear catch up with you when you're fully sober in the morning.

[jxckchxmpi0n]

Lovely Crimes

Ethan Landry x ghostface! Reader || m.list

Summary : Even if they are a killer, that won't stop the love from dying. So why not join them. Till death do us part.

Word count : 1.1k

Tallest @chaethewriter @wafflehousewrold @demausbreaux @bob-the-tomato

Warning: screamvi spoilers violence! character death - blood, cursing, guns, knifes, mentions of virgin loser Ethan ♡

Did not proof read

It took months, but it was finally here. Killing Sam and Tara, who gave a shit about Ankia, Mindy, or Chad. They were objects that were in the way. Their expiration date was here.

Chad was dead in the movie theater lobby while the others ran away scared. Hovering over Chad's body as he fell limp will forever be the best thing. Tara screamed as she saw the ghostfaces stab her new love. He deserved it. He was a dick.

Detective baily stood center stage as he held his gun. Sam and Tara slowly backed away as they tried looking around for the ghostfaces. "Are you guys okay?" He got closer to them panicked Sam raised a knife, she doesn't know who to trust anymore.

Kirby went misses right as the first ghostface attacked. Baily raised his hands in the air, "hey its me, trust me, okay?" Tara held onto Sam's arm as hard as she could.

It was just them three now. What a living hell.

Two shadows came from behind Baily. As he tried to talk to Sam, Tara screamed out. The shadow then turned into two figures, a twisted smile showed on Baily's face.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" His arms opened wide as he looked behind him and saw the two ghostfaces as well as the shrine of everything from the attacks before.

"What the fuck!" Sam was shaking it didn't make any sense. Why was baily on the ghostface side.

"Oh- I see you look quite confused," he put his gun in his holster as he walked closer to the sisters.

"You killed him, you bitch" Quinn came out from behind the doors a knife in hand as she looked directly at Sam.

"We didn't kill anyone!" Tara screamed at Quinn as she hid behind her sister. An evil smile took place on yours and Ethans face.

"You killed their brother. You killed his son!" You waved the knife around as tears filled your eyes.

"Your brother died in a car accident." Tara's face was covered in blood but also confusion.

"No no no you sweet dumb thing. He died in woodboro at the hand of your bitch sister!" Ethan was angry he wanted to kill Tara he hated her.

But you, you wanted to kill her more. Throughout this entire time being with the group, she saw how Tara put that hand on her boyfriends shoulder, the long eye contact. She was the cause of the number of fights you and Ethan had.

"Can we just kill her already?" You fell on the couch in his dad's house as it was time to plan act three.

"What, no, we have to wait."  he sat next to you as Quinn walked into the room.

"I'm with y/n on this one she slut shame me every God damn day!"

You smiled, "Well Quinn she's not wrong"  Ethan couldn't help but laugh at the remark to his sister.

"Oh can it virgin loser"  Quinn then stormed off into her room. Leaving a very flustered boy and a confused yet intrigued girlfriend.

The carpenter sister got spilt up as Quinn and her father went after Sam and Ethan and you went after Tara. Her screams could be heard through the entire building, and your knife dug into her arm as you trapped her in a corner.

"I always fucking hated you Tara, you and your dumb little boyfriend deserve to die" Ethan stood behind you watching in awe as his beautiful girlfriend stood covered in blood.

"Baby this is a bad time but you just look so hot" he grabbed your sides pulling you into him. His lips met yours as the taste of salty sweat and iron fill your mouth.

Tara stood holding her arm the best she could. "You guys are sick" her voice cracked her emotions taking the best of her.

Just then a bang echoed through the rooms, you'd be lying if you said it didn't make you jump. Ethan was the first to run away, the thought of his dad or sister hurt made him panic.

As you watched Ethan run away, Tara saw glass from the broken case. Quietly she picked it up, this was her chance. "Listen don't-" just as you turned back she sprang up and slammed you down to the floor. "You fucking bitch" pushing her off you grabbed your knife, before you could make any move your eyes went wide.

Dropping the knife, Tara held a smrik on her face. "This, this is for Chad. You psycho bitch" looking down her hands gripped the glass and twisted it. Your screams filled her ears. "This is for Anika." Blood spilled from your mouth as she pushed it in further.

Pushing you off of her, she got up and watched as blood came rushing out of the wound and your mouth.

Tara ran into the theater room to find baily and Quinn dead. Sam sat on the edge of the stage, the adrenaline dying. She smiled once she saw Tara but frowned when she saw blood all over her.

"It's not mine, not all of it, at least." She sat down, leaning on her sister. "Is it finally over?"

Sam tried to comfort her sister a small nod as she hugged her. "I hope it is,"

What they didn't know was that Ethan was still alive. Partly, his mouth was covered in blood from Sam, stabbing him in the throat. But that was the least of your worries. He needed to find you.

Slowly, he crawled to the room he last saw you. His heart sank as he saw you laying down blood covering the floor. He couldn't speak. It hurt him too much. Your eyes were closed, but the sound of him near you made you open your eyes.

"Baby," your voice was whispered. His eyes filled with tears as he saw your grow pale. Please don't leave me, he thought. "We tried okay but fuck baby I can't stay awake" your breathing became labored. No y/n please don't die I need you he was crying. He was crying harder than he ever had. You are the love of his life he needs you.

"Ethan, I love you so so much." You grabbed his face, brushing the curly haired you loved so much smiling at him. Your eyes faded. You weren't there anymore. He choked on his cries, his throat burned as he cried for you. He was angry. He wanted to kill them still!

He grabbed your knife, not before kissing your forehead and closing your eyes. He ran into the theater room, ready to charge at the sister, their face filled with fear as they didn't have any more weapons. "I'm gonna kill you!"

Just as he reached them, a figure appeared holding a film camera "smile for the camera mother fucker" the lens crashed into Ethans head and he tripped on a wire. His body went limp as he hit the ground. He was dead and as were you.

[thoughtswordsandnonsense]

Hi! Could you write a story where the reader and Azriel are on a mission and the reader gets hurt and Azriel takes care of her? Thank you!

Hi, thank you so much for the request! Sorry it took me so long to get to it. Trigger warning for blood & violence! This is the first time in a long time that I've written a reader insert so I'm sorry if it's not good.

It was supposed to be a simple mission that shouldn’t take nearly as long as it has. You and Azriel had been asked to interrogate the High Lord of the Autumn, Lord Beron. Rhysand was hesitant to send you, his little sister, but thought sending Azriel with you as your guard would help keep things from getting messy. 

You had arrived in the Autumn court three days ago and had promptly been ignored by the Autumn King himself who happened to be too busy to see to you. Your room was promptly changed on the third night. “No, she’s to stay with me,” Azriel argued with the guards, putting you behind him as his gloved hand inched toward his knife. “She’s to be moved under the King's orders. If you want to speak with him any time soon I recommend backing down.” The taller of the guards spoke. Lifting your hand, you gently place it on Azriel's leather-clad arm and his sharp gaze lands on you. “I’ll be okay Az, the sooner we can speak with Beron the sooner we can go home. I can handle myself, you know that.” He takes a few deep breaths before looking you in the eye a gloved hand coming to cradle your face. “Be careful.” He whispers, low enough for only you to hear. “I’ll be safe.” You assure him and his hand drops as he moves away from you. Promptly you step in front of Azriel and nod to the guards, they flank you and lead you to your new room. You knew Az sent his shadows to follow as they circled your ankles like excited puppies. Once the guards let you to your room his shadows fell back and you promptly changed into a thin red nightgown and went to sleep. 

It was still dark when your door creaked open, eyes shooting open as you fought the drowsiness of sleep, two large figures approached your bed as you sat upright, “What are you doing?” You croak out as one of them pulls you from your bed, cold hands encircling your left upper arm as your bare feet hit the chilled floor. Your nightgown hardly reaches your mid-thigh providing no warmth at all to the now freezing room. “You’ll be coming with us.” The guard on your spits at you as the other guard comes to your right and grips your other arm, dragging you through the halls as you thrash, though their grip only tightens. They’d leave your upper arms bruised for the days to come. You cuss and try to draw attention to yourself, hoping somehow Azriel can hear you but one of the guards clamps a hand over your mouth, seeming thoroughly annoyed with how much of a fight you’re giving them. The slight chill down your back let you know Azriel's shadows had started following you providing a small comfort until suddenly they were no longer there. 

It feels like forever that they drag you down hallway after hallway, down flights of stairs until you’re finally dropped knees first onto cobblestone flooring, causing a bite of pain in both legs. You push yourself upright and onto your feet and access the new area, cells line both sides and there are a few torches lit around you, providing a small amount of light as the door behind you shuts with a loud bang. The guards who were carrying you step in front of the door, seemingly the only exit to the chilled dungeon.

“You and I need to have a little chat,” Beron says, leaning up against a stone pillar not even a few steps away from you. “I intended to speak with you in the morning.” You spit and he chuckles. “Yes well, I’m not too fond of your pesky little Shadow Singer so now is when will talk darling.” He strides over to you, his hand sliding under your chin to force you to look up at his menacing eyes. His hands are warm on your chin as he grips it more tightly. “Why has Rhysand sent you both to my kingdom yet again? I’ve specifically said only you were to come if he insisted on having me questioned.” “My High Lord wanted Azriel with me, he felt like a solo mission to see you was a bad idea. Considering the last time someone from our court came here alone they came back a step away from death's door.” He scoffs as he releases your face, taking a step back as you wrap your arms around yourself tightly to fight the cold seeping into your bones. “Maybe your High Lord should stop insulting me and listen to instructions when I tell him who to send or who is allowed to enter my kingdom.” He shrugs, looking indifferent as you back away from him trying to get as much distance between yourself and Beron as possible without getting too close to his guards. He smirks as he watches your cautious movements, he moves and grabs two wooden chairs putting them in front of each other with little space in between. He sits in one and ushers a lazed hand to the other, “Come sit and we can discuss whatever nonsense your precious High Lord would like to accuse me of this time.” You shake your head no and he rolls his eyes. He waves a hand and one of the guards moves, you try and move away from the guard but he gains on you easily, pinning your arms to the small of your back and roughly guiding you into the chair. Only letting go so he can force you down by your shoulders, another bite of pain lances from your neck and down into your arms as you sit. His rough hands don’t leave your shoulders as Beron starts again. “What does Rhysand want now?” Your jaw clenches as you glare at him. “Your soldiers have been spotted on our border repeatedly in the past few weeks. Why are they there?” “Simple training exercise dear. Had he bothered to open the letter I sent he would’ve known that.” “He did respond, he told you to and I quote ‘fuck right off and knock off whatever bullshit you’re doing.” “Ah yes that, frankly I don’t care for the disrespect so I didn’t count it as a proper answer, maybe I should send him a message to learn to respect me or there will be consequences.”  He mulls and you fight back a flinch at his words, levelling a glare at him as he cockily smirks at you. “Who better to send that message through than his precious little sister.” 

 He stands in front of you as the guard moves his hands to your wrists again, pressing them harshly into the back of the wooden chair. You fight against his hold as sharp pain lances through the side of your face, once, twice a third. You lose count as your head swims and at some point, blood drips from your nose and lip, the assault on your face stops and you suck in a sharp breath before pain explodes in your chest, Beron's foot hits your left side and suddenly it's hard to breathe. You cough and sputter the metallic taste of blood pools in your mouth. Roughly, Beron grabs tightly onto your hair as he whispers in your ear “Tell your precious Rhy’s that if he continues to disrespect me I will make him regret it.” He lets go and stands, leaving the room as he yells over his shoulder. “Do what you want with her boys, just don’t kill her.” The door slams shut and you’re now left with the two guards. 

The one who has been quietly at the door now approaches but just as he nears you the room falls into complete darkness, you can’t see anything, but the pressure on your wrist is suddenly gone and you try to move out of the chair, falling onto the floor and hitting your head on the chair that Beron was just sitting on. A cold wisp against your face tells you Azriel is close, it brushes your hair out of the way and comfortingly strokes your cheek. Light filters back into the room and you faintly make out Azriel’s form, blue siphons catching your eyes as he quickly approaches you and crouches in front of your crumpled form. “Where are you hurt, Little one?” You groan, the usually endearing pet name doing nothing to calm you. His black-gloved hand comes to wipe blood from your face and you wince, shying away from his touch. “Hurts.” You yelp and he sighs, moving to pick you up bridal style and you cry out as sharp pain shoots through your chest, at least a few ribs being broken. Azriel slows his motions as you whimper, every small move causing extreme pain. Your arms lay limply against him as he moves, sending shadows out to clear your exit path. His lips kiss your forehead as he whispers “Let’s get you home.” 

The moment he starts up the stairs the pain becomes so blinding that your vision darkens. “Az.” You whisper and his concerned eyes meet yours as you fall into darkness. 

Soft blankets are the first thing you register, the next being a warm body circling yours and you quickly fight against their hold, heart racing as you try to escape. Pain lances through your side and head as you do so, warm arms pull you closer and pin your hands against their naked golden-brown chest. Soft words finally break through your panic. “You’re okay, you’re home. Shh I’ve got you little one, it’s just me.” Azriel’s warm and calming voice registers as you cease your attack on him, looking up you’re met with his concerned hazel eyes. “Az?” You choke out as he lets go of your hands and moves to pull you back into him. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.” Your eyes water as you fist his shirt, trying to steady your breath as he holds you against him. His hands reassuringly rub your back, trying to soothe you as your heart rate calms down. “Rhy’s, I need to speak with him-” You rush out. “No, already taken care of, you need to rest.” His hold on you tightens slightly to keep you from getting up. “But Beron’s soldiers-” He cuts you off. “Being taken care of as we speak. Now will you please just let me take care of you?” You nod a simple yes and he moves, laying your back against the bed as he moves off the bed to grab salve from the nightstand. “I need to take a look at your ribs, Madja said they would take longer to heal, this should help.” You bite your lip and move to lift your shirt just under your breast. Wincing as your fingers brush over the large collection of bruising. Az moves to your side of the bed and dips two of his scared fingers into the pot and moves them down to your skin. You hiss as the cold cream touches you. “It’ll be over soon I promise. Just be a good girl and let me take care of you alright?” He offers you a small smile as you nod and move to stare at the ceiling instead of him. His leathery hand moves quickly and softly against your bruised flesh as the pain begins to dull to a slight throb. “How bad?” You whisper and Azriel sighs. “3 broken ribs, a fracture to your skull and cheek and your nose was broken. Madja managed to heal your nose and cheek, your ribs will take longer and she was worried about your head. She said  you should be fully recovered in a few weeks and to expect some pain and dizziness.” He squeezes your hand and you sigh. 

“Also Rhy’s knows about us.” He says softly and you groan, scrubbing your face with your free hand. “Please tell me he took it well.” “He put me in charge of nursing you back to full health.” You look to Az confused lowering your hand back to the bed. “He said it’s my ‘punishment’ because you’re a terrible patient.” You give a small laugh at him though it results in you wincing and closing your eyes in pain. “I’m not that bad.” “I can think of a few ways to keep you in bed anyways, I’m not too concerned about it.” Az shoots back as heat rushes to your cheeks. “Oh yeah, and what’s that?” His lips kiss your hand, then your wrist and up your arm until he gets to your neck, softly biting the spot that makes your toes curl.  You let out a breathy moan as he moves to kiss your lips, soft against your own. He pulls back slightly “Something along those lines, I’m sure I can find a few ways to keep you in my bed.” You smirk at him. “I think I’m okay with that version of bed rest.” He chuckles and moves away from you. “Get some rest sweetheart.” You grab at his hand, pulling him back towards you. “Can you hold me?” You ask softly and he smiles down at you, kissing your forehead. “Of course.” He moves around you and onto his side of the bed, pulling you carefully into his side as he drapes one of his wings over the both of you. “Sleep now Little one, I’ll be here when you wake.”

[imdeadinsidesiriuslydead]

Shut Up! | Bart Allen x villain!reader

Bart Allen x fem! Reader

Based off this imagine I made.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: Violence. Blood(tiny). Smutty! Just go ahead and read the imagine if you don’t want spoilers. Slight smut. Maybe I’ll write a part 2 with full on smut😏

notes: female reader. Villain reader. Villain name never mentioned. Race or appearance of reader never mentioned.

a/n: dude I was minding my business when this scenario popped into my head and now I just have to share it with the world. Enjoy!

———

Being chained up to a chair with his feet being bound together isn’t how Bart thought he’d spend his Friday night.

He wasn’t even supposed to be in Gotham. He protects Central City with Wally. Kinda. Wally doesn’t really like Bart as a sidekick. He was more of Max Mercury’s sidekick.

Max was probably worried out of his mind. He just really hoped Max wouldn’t show up or try to look for him, or else he’d find something he doesn’t need to know.

Bart has a secret. A secret crush on a certain Batman villain. Ever since he had to fight her with the young justice team, he was smitten.

His favorite pass time is running to Gotham city and foiling her plan before heading off to go hang out with Tim.

She would always catch him, she always did. And he would always let her. He loved it. A game of cat and mouse.

He loved watching her smile in victory as she caught him. He loved watching her integrate him. And he especially loved annoying her.

Like right now. He could vibrate his molecules and get out of the ropes, but what’s the fun in that?

She had caught him by freezing the ground and him falling into a trap she had made. She than knocked him out and tied him to a chair.

She stood in front of him with a scowl. She didn’t enjoy this game as much as he did. Her mask had been removed, giving Bart a few look at her face. She stared him down before smiling.

“Butch you can leave.” You said to your guard standing by the door. He left and closed the door, leaving the room in a dark cast.

The lights from outside the windows cast shadows across your features. The only other light was a small one back behind Bart, giving him the tiniest bit light to see your face.

“Impulse.” You stated “why do you always pop up and ruin everything?” You asked, no malice in your tone, Bart noted. Only curiosity.

“Well when you’re about to do something bad it’s kinda my job to come stop you.” Bart said as he smiled at you.

“Hmm” you hummed as you moved to a table full of weapons.

You grabbed a knife and turned to face him. Bart watched as you walked up to him slowly before leaning down to be at his eye level.

“You know,” you started with a sly smile “usually, I’d let you off with a warning. Maybe a slap on the wrist.” You whispered to him as you raised the knife to his face.

“but today you didn’t just mess up my plan. No.” You whispered with fake sorrow. You dragged the knife against his jaw, causing Bart to let out a breath. “You messed up the Bane’s plan too.”

Bart sucked in a breath. He didn’t know that. Obviously, he could put run Bane, but that didn’t change the fact that he was scared of him.

“Yea so, now I have to teach you a real lesson Impulse. Either with me or Bane. Take your pick.”

“Oh I’d much rather be punished by you.” Bart said as he wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

Your smile turned to an annoyed look. “Suit yourself.” You dug the knife at his neck, not hard enough to break skin but hard enough to hurt.

Bart winced in pain, but another idea popped into his head. Acting like his name, he impulsively took action.

“So what do you do when you’re not trying to kill me?” He asked teasingly. The smirk on his face prevalent.

Your face slipped for a minute before the walls were back up again. “Is that really what you’re asking right now?” You asked dumbfounded.

“Well,” he started staring you right in the eyes, you could finally see the color of them. A nice golden brown. “I figured since your bodyguard wasn’t in here anymore, we could get to know each other a little more.” He smiled seductively.

Your blush was very noticeable, especially since your mask was off. “But- stop trying to distract me from your punishment.” You said sternly, though Bart was not convinced.

“Well I normally wouldn’t let someone tie me up the first official date, but you’re a special exception.” Bart winked. “So, at least tell me about yourself, since I’m being so nice.” He looked at you with faux innocence. You won’t lie, the look on his face was turning you on. You had to figure out a way to have him keep the look on his face.

You quickly remember that Bane would have your head if you didn’t take care of Impulse. Your need for survival trumped the need between your legs.

“That’s a vague question.” You say as you resume moving your knife against his neck, watching the goosebumps that it leaves in its wake.

“Huh?” Bart asked.

“Thats a vague question. Be specific. What did you want to know?” You ask as your knife slowly pierces the skin of his neck.

He hisses at the pain, before almost chocking on air. You moved your head towards his neck and licked the blood off of his neck. Bart stares at you, completely turned on and kinda scared.

You watched as the cut immediately healed itself, leaving no scar. You notice his shocked staring and laugh.

“How about a deal? Every question I answer, you have to answer one of mine. Deal?” You asked as you made the same innocent look he had given you earlier.

He nodded dumbly and you smiled.

“So too fast too furious, what’s your question?” You asked him.

“What’s your name?” He asked, his smile returning.

Your knife continued on its path across his neck going up to his jaw line.

“Y/N” you said as your knife gently touched his jaw line. He breathed out, liking the sensation of it gently touching him. “Your turn.” He tells you.

“Why do you heal so fast?” You asked as he breathed deeply. You were genuinely curious.

“Super fast metabolism.” he breathed as your knife made its way to the end of his suit by his neck.

Your knife gently teared the spandex, revealing more skin to slice at. His skin was incredibly soft. Slightly tan with freckles all over the part of his now exposed shoulder.

“Why are you working for Bane?” He asked. You weren’t really a villain in his eyes. More of an anti hero. You didn’t really harm people. You helped bad guys though, but you didn’t seemed fond of that.

“Cause I have to.” You said, still mesmerized by the goosebumps you were creating on his supple skin.

He figured he can ask you about it another day. Right now he didn’t want anything to stop you from dragging the knife all over him.

“Why do you always come to Gotham? I thought you and the flash protect Central City. That’s like two states away.” You say you start to cut the skin of his shoulder gently.

He breathes out a whine as it hurts. You try not to focus on the way that noise made you feel.

“What do you think sweetheart? Why am I here?” You might have been intimidated by his words if you weren’t meant to be torturing him.

You grabbed him by the hair and pushed his head back fast. He whined again and stared at you in shock.

“I asked you a question, speedy!” You say, giving him a dangerous look.

He stares at you in shock and overwhelmed lust. You smirk and decide to sit on his lap instead of kneeling on the floor.

You let go of his hair and go back you his shoulder. Watching the blood drip down a little. You saw the cut had healed and just to turn him on more, you lean down and lick the blood up his shoulder. You lick a little higher than where the blood stopped just to mess with him.

“Because I wanted to see you.” He states. Blushing madly.

You look up at him, and look through his goggles into his eyes. You saw shame and embarrassment. He’s telling the truth.

You won’t lie, that statement might have made your day, hell, your week. You try to hide the smile on your face but miserably fail. You had a lot of body image issues growing up and were bullied heavily, it was nice to find out someone actually wanted to see you, not just for a business deal.

“Your turn.” You tell him, still a little giddy.

“Why do you always kidnap me?” He asked with a handsome smile.

“You always try to stop me. So why not just stop you before you can?” You say as you pick your knife back up and continue your assault of his skin.

your hand pulls down the fabric a bit that had been cut on his shoulder, revealing part of his chest.

Bart sucks in a breath. Waiting for your next move.

“Why aren’t you actually hurting me?” Bart asked. You looked up at Impulse.

“Do you want me to actually hurt you?” You whisper as your kinda gently trails down from his shoulder.

“No.” He said as the cool knife hits his chest.

“I’m not gonna hurt cause I don’t want to.” You say turning back to work.

“But won’t the henchmen outside notice I’m not hurt?” Bart asked.

“What do you mean?” You asks as you slice a tiny shallow part of his right pec.

Bart makes a small whimper at the sensation, as another better idea pops into his head.

“Like don’t people who are tortured usually scream and make noise?” He asks in a seductive voice.

Your knife stopped moving again and you look at him and see his eyes blown out with lust. Your mind made a decision before you could stop yourself. You leaned down and licked up the blood before dragging your tongue up his shoulder to his neck, before sucking on the skin of his neck.

Bart moaned as he leaned more into your touch. The noise he made went straight to your core.

You pulled back, a tiny bit of blood on the corner of your mouth. Your hands went into Impulses hair and you gently tugged, causing him to leg out another whine. You moved your sitting position so that your legs were straddling his.

“Yea. I suppose they do. You wanna help me make this sound real?” You ask as your hand move onto his face, pushing his goggles up so you can see his eyes.

“Yes.” Bart says as he felt his dick harden against your thigh.

“Good boy.” You say before leaning in to kiss Bart.

——

anyone want a part 2?

Edit: Part 2 here

[vamqyr3]

Hey can I request any jealous ghost or yandere ghost headcanons with smut. Please?

↳ SIMON “GHOST” RILEY // COMING DOWN. ❀

CW// OBSESSION, STALKING, VIOLENCE, ORAL, ECT.

NOTES// obsessive!anything has to be my fav to write. Anyways.

He’s got a staring problem, it’s chronic. He knows all too well, he’s too tentative, far too particular. Ghost knows better than to stare, he knows your feet shift before you turn to look around your shoulder. He knows your attention is pointed where your torso is, you have a blind spot to your left and the right eye is worse than the other. He knows better than to look while you look back. It’s rude. It’s obvious.

He’s often thought of your face upon meeting him. Most think him monstrous, horrible, evil. He’d hoped you’d be scared too, see what evils had been protecting you thus far. Know the power and capacity of that man, the weight of his shadow on your brow bone, his bulking figure on the eye. To know someone’s getting the job done.

It wouldn't be too hard to notice him in every corner of a room. You’d just purposely moved from the bar to the rooftop, he’s still sat in a chair farthest left of you. You’d twitch under the attention, stress under his eyes and grow anxious. But he’d love it, knowing your finally aware of him.

Already in a relationship? No issue. He’d hate to have to kill, he’d hate to see you cry, get all messy just cause of him. Me might not, he might enjoy cheering you up, understanding what no one else cloud. Maybe he’d get angry, chastise you for ever having used your mouth to talk to anyone else. He just might choke you on him, use it, finally, for some good. Train you good and well to only use two words, ‘Please’ and ‘Yes’

It would come easily, first. Texts from unsaved numbers on your lovers phone, disappearances on the hour. Then, to arguments, to fighting and rumors. A photo of your ex and another.

Your marital relationship with Si was art. He aged like fine wine, soon becoming nothing more than a doting husband. He’d drool at the sight of you, never let you do any bit of work. The house is in his name, only one car for him to drive, a house in the woods, food provided by him. He’d let you do damn near anything to him.

He has a few scattered trust issues. Spiraling into control and commitment. He’d always kiss your hands and eyes, kneel and beg mercy during any argument. But he’s began monitoring your nutritional intake, jutting motion detectors in the four corners of the room. But you get it, occupational hazard.

More often than not he’s gone into lengths upon lengths of detail whilst rutting into you. Describing his strength, power, might over the ones around you. How easily the hands ringing your hips have broken a man. How beautiful you look, how he’d wanted to ruin your pretty little eyes every moment they weren’t on him. What horrible things he had thought in a hooded black jacket staring you down at the bar.

Corruption, Ghost would enjoy ruining you. Using you an earshot away from your peers. Affirming your safety, how he would never let any other see you how he did. How he had needed you so badly, he couldn’t even wait a moments rest, and while there is still breath in his breast, he would kill any other man before they saw you bare before him.

[hotgirlgraps]

Battered

Streetfighter!hook

Synopsis: Hook isn’t just a ring name in AEW but you figure that out when it’s too late to stop him

Warnings: depictions of blood and injury, angst, cursing, violence

A/N: I caught the O’Malley vs Sterling fight in the break room and just couldn’t stop thinking about hook as an underground streetfighter for some reason lmao (and yes I know the boxers aren’t streetfighters but this is just where my mind went)

The low hood shadowed the thick, velvet scar crossing through the arch of his eyebrow, along with the puffed out lower left side of his lip that had an identical cut to match, but not as well as he intended.

“Where do these scars keep coming from?” You asked as you gently ran your thumb over one of the cuts.

“You know I’m a pro wrestler.” He muttered as he pulls his head away, trying to hide the wince from the pain that the slightest touch caused.

“You haven’t stepped in the ring in over a month, Tyler.” You deadpan, and he can practically feel your suspicions slicing through him, but he tries not to acknowledge that.

“I did some practice in the gym the other day and the dude got me.” He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll heal.”

But you didn’t believe him, and it wasn’t just due to the fresh scars that decorated his face either. Tyler was a horrible liar. He’d always been. He can never look you in the eyes when he fabricated the truth, which was exactly why he was staring down at his busted knuckles instead.

You took a moment to think, but you didn’t even need to. The truth was staring you right in the face and you were tired of pretending that it wasn’t.

“You’re streetfighting, aren’t you?”

You watched his shoulders immediately tense up, his teeth locking down behind his lips making his jaw bone throb. You rolled your eyes and looked away, unable to keep staring at those wounds on your boyfriend’s face.

“So when were you planning on telling me? After I have to see you in a hospital bed with a concussion? Or were you gonna just wait until you were in a coma and I had to find out for myself that you’ve been lying to me for who knows how long!”

“Stop.” He muttered, picking his head back up. “Just try to understand-“

“We talked about this so many times, Tyler! I told you exactly how I felt about you doing this! It’s dangerous! I’ve seen my dad get his skull cracked in half and you know that! Why do you want to do this shit?!”

“I love it.” He shrugs easily. “I love the thrill and the adrenaline. I love knocking bitch ass punks out cold. I love the hype. I was meant to do this, Y/N. I know I was.”

You felt your heart sink in your chest. Clearly seeing the passion bursting through those dark eyes when he told you what it means to him, but it kills you inside knowing that he’s chosen something so dangerous. Possibly deadly, and he doesn’t seem to give that any regard whatsoever.

“It’s not the way it was when your dad broke into it. It’s rough, but people aren’t built like they used to be. I haven’t gotten seriously hurt yet, and I’ve been doing this for-“ he pauses, dropping his eyes to the floor before he says, “about six months now.”

“Six months?!” You snapped, “are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Obviously im not.” He eyes you again. “I’m being dead serious because this is something I love. It’s a part of my life now, just like you are and I guess I’m just telling you so you’ll accept it, cause I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

You felt tears stinging your eyes but you forced them back. Tyler watched your eyes well up and had to advert his attention elsewhere so he didn’t have to see those tears slip down your cheeks.

“Look” he sighs, “I’ll bring you to one of my fights. You can see for yourself that you don’t have to worry about me. Nobody’s ever come close to knocking me out. Yeah I have a couple bruises and shit but that’s just how the shit goes. I hold my own out there and I dominate everyone that comes for me. I’m the last person you ever have to worry about.”

Well, that lead to you standing in the midst of a bunch of drunk, wild people in a rundown underground basement. You couldn’t help but to bite your nails down to the nub as you intensely watched two guys aggressively throwing still jabs to each other’s jaws.

It was already hard to breathe in the smoky haze but even worse when Tyler was announced. The crowd roared when he came out, fists taped up and wearing gear similar to what he wears in AEW, but he didn’t look like that Hook.

Everyone chanted his name, some people holding fifty and hundred dollar bills in the air as they bet on his win. You didn’t even realize he was such a crowd favorite, but that just cemented the fact that he’d been living this whole double life you knew nothing about for six months.

He stepped up and adjusted the tape wrapped tightly around his wrists to cover the tender flesh on his knuckles. The scars so deep that the second they make contact with anything, they’re pouring blood.

The man he was up against had a good three inches of height on him, but he had much more muscle mass than the man did. There was no intimidation on the surface. Hook appeared just as calm, cool and collected as he always did in AEW, but you quickly realized as soon as the first punch was thrown that this was completely different.

All you heard was hook chants and the sounds of knuckle crashing into bone. One stiff jab in particular caused Hook to stumble back, dazed a bit but all it did was piss him off, and then you realized just why everyone was betting on him.

Fury bursted out of him as he threw his fists straight into the eye sockets, the jaw and the teeth of his opponent. He was a quick shooter. His opponent tried to block the shots to the face so Hook strikes them to the ribs instead, landing an uppercut when his opponent folded over.

But as soon as you thought the fight was going to come to a quick end, hook’s opponent reared his shoulder into his gut and slammed him down to the floor. The impact of your boyfriend’s spine crashing against the concrete make your stomach churn. You felt nauseas, hands trembling as you watched him getting punched everywhere that was visible.

He was trapped beneath his opponent, his knees digging into Hook’s rib cage preventing him from breaking free and all he could do was block those deadly punches as best as he could.

The chants only got louder and louder and it gave him more momentum. The crowd, but especially knowing you were out there in it.

In a desperate attempt to gain some leverage, when the next punch was thrown, hook caught it with his left hand, his right hand connecting directly into the teeth of his opponent, cracking one right down the center.

Blood oozed from the man’s mouth, leaving droplets all over Hook’s chest. He quickly reversed the roles and rolled himself on top of his battered opponent, his knees digging into the shoulders to keep the man from having any defense. With the man trapped underneath, Hook’s fists flew at a deadly speed, pounding into the man’s face until there was blood pouring out of every crevice on his skin.

He wasn’t satisfied until his opponent was limp. One good stiff jab to the jaw button followed by three clocks to the bridge of the nose and his opponent’s eyes rolled back, his entire body giving up any source of fight he could’ve possibly mustered.

The crowd erupted in wild screams when hook got off of him. He wiped the smeared blood from his bottom lip with the back of his hand, tainting the white tape with crimson to match his opponent’s blood all over his body and the floor.

He raised both arms up, eliciting more screams from the crowd before he scanned his eyes all around that smoky room, finding you within seconds. You had mixed reactions and he could see that, but all he was worried about was making sure he showed you that this is what he’s best at. This is what he loves. This is what he wants.

He made his way towards you, red welts all over his chest and neck and tinges of blood everywhere you could see. He pushed through the people in front of you until he was standing inches apart, his bloody, slick hand cupping your cheek before he crashed his lips with yours.

He was so amped up and you could feel that in the kiss. The passionate force behind his lips colliding with yours left you breathless when he pulled back.

He dropped his hand from your cheek to your hip and noticed the blood smearing across your skin that he left there.

As if he was reading your mind, he pulled you into his chest, arms wrapping tightly around you, blood staining on your clothes but neither he or you cared. You hugged him back, holding onto him for dear life he felt like. Your body was still shaking and nerves still wracking around within you but you couldn’t deny the fact that he really did dominate out there, just like he said. And it was clear more than ever that this was something he loves. Something he wouldn’t give up.

“You’re a badass.” You mumbled into his slick chest, feeling his arms tighten around you. “But listen to me, Senerchia, cause I’m only gonna say this once. You better not die on me, or I’ll bring you back to life and kill you myself.”

He pulls back and looks down at you, his eyes wide and wild and hair even more so, but a slight smirk tipping up his lips distracted you from all that. All the blood smeared on his skin and the welts that were soon bruises. That smile out-shown all of it.

“Never gotta worry about that, baby. I’m never leaving you.”

He placed another kiss to your lips briefly, leaving the taste of salty sweat and metallic in your mouth before he grabbed your hand and pulled you through the crowd, avoiding the people around trying to congratulate him and get him to sign things because all he was worried about was getting you home.

“Where are we going? I thought there were more fights? You don’t wanna stay and watch?”

“Nah” he smirks as the cold, New York air greets you both. “I got a lot of adrenaline pumping right now, im not wasting it.”

[bellelvrs]

Hello! I have an idea, what if reader tries to break up with homelander and he doesn’t take that too well. Like he’s smashing stuff, “ you can’t break up with me”, etc. it’s perfectly okay if you don’t do this 😁 it’s just a thought.

A/N - SORRY THIS IS LATE THE OLD COPY GOT ACCIDENTALLY DELETED!! Thank you for this idea though, I was super inspired by this prompt! LOVE the idea of writing Homelander as the psychotic monster he is, and how he interacts with those around them. Especially those he loves ;)

UNTIL DEATH / HOMELANDER

summary - never break up with Homelander.

warnings - swearing, abusive behavior, dub/non con (no explicit nsfw), violence

a/n - gn reader, 1298 words

Careful eyes glared at the monster who lay ever so comfortably in your lap. Hair like a golden crop of hay, so sleek and prim, yet dark streaks seemed to spread. You wondered if the color was natural.

‘Y/n.’ Homelander murmured, half of his face buried in your thighs.

Numbness had infected and settled into your body. You couldn’t even touch him. No thoughts, no words could be conjured up in this grey feeling. This abyss you seemed to be helplessly falling through. All due to your idiocy. You idiot. How could you not kno-

‘Yes?’ Your eyes averted to the wall ahead of you.

‘Y’know that gala Vought’s hosting this weekend for all the charity programs and their reps?’

‘Mm,’ after all these years with him, you had learned how to steady your heart beat, ‘what about it?’

Nonetheless, the anticipation induced a nauseating anxiety. Your heart gradually began to race, a cold sweat accumulated on your brow.

Homelander often did not scare you. Yes, he was very much an intimidating figure, but beneath that facade of the perfect American hero was a soft, sad boy.

Things were different now. You caught a glimpse of reality after reveling in the paradise he brought into your life. The home, the money, the protection, the love. Something you used to only dream of. Those days spent in that studio on the borders of the Eastside. No family, no job. Just hope and youth. You wished to be a supe, one that could rewrite time. One that could right all the wrongs, replace the rushed choices of young adulthood. Or maybe one that could pop heads.

That might be easier.

‘I want you to come with me.’ Homelander said, fixing his position so he could look at you.

‘I-um…why?’ You knew why.

‘I just think it’s time I introduce you to The Seven. The media. My team already got some PR stunts planned, I ordered some designer for you to show up in and all that bullshit.’ His gaze felt like a blade piercing into your skin. Intense, sharp. ‘I want to show you off.’

It was time.

‘I-‘

A beat.

‘No.’ You shook your head, wriggling out from under him. He sat up, blatant confusion painted on his face.

‘No?’

You stood up, head hanging low, palm on forehead. Before you could let any more words slip, you had to think. Process what you had to say. Every sentence must be presented with perfection, in fear that repercussions would be fatal.

‘Look, I just, I can’t.’ You said, stumbling over your words.

With the entire apartment dimly lit, it only seemed to enhance how menacing his presence was. It was almost as if a dark, crimson aura fit the outline of his silhouette. The radiance of the cityscape danced against the definition of every muscle and bone. Shadows fell from the features of his face. He stood and approached you, causing you to instinctively draw back.

‘What do you mean you can’t?’ He sneered with a puzzled grin.

‘Homelander, we need to talk-‘

‘I don’t get why you’re making this more difficult than it should be,’

The sound of his gloved fist flexing rang through your ears like a siren.

‘I mean I’ve already prepared everything…I’ve done all the dirty work and now you want to back out?’ Homelander chuckled, hands on his hips.

‘I don’t want to fucking go. Can you just let me spea-‘

‘Jesus, y/n, just say yes. It’s one night, you don’t even have to do anything hard, so stop being a brat.’

Homelander turned to face the city, blocking it’s illumination. You cursed under your breath, slamming your hand on the kitchen counter beside you. He wasn’t used to rejection, especially from you.

‘Why are you being like this?’ For once, he spoke softly.

He’s just a sensitive little boy. That’s all he is. All he will ever be.

Life was so precious, and you had just started to live it. The thrill of first class living, the luxuries and connections it offered. The way he came to you with open arms, the strongest, most loving superhero the world had ever met. Everything, every last detail, item and action, was for you. All for you.

But at what cost?

‘I saw the Flight 37 video.’

Both of you struggled within the silence. Air caught in your lungs, every breath grasping for more than your body could take. Homelander, seemingly serene, massaged his temples and let out a laugh. A laugh. Something sinister hid behind that face. That pristine, calculated, manufactured face. Nothing about him was natural or real. An artificial man molded from lies.

‘Y/n, come on-‘

‘At first I didn’t believe it to be you. I denied that you could do such a thing.’ Heavy tears trapped at the rim of your eye line.

‘But I know that face,’ Your lip trembled, ‘I know what you can…be like. And-and I can’t turn a blind eye to something so horrible, Homelander. It just makes me think, what if else have you done? What other fucked up things, huh?’

Not a single sound left him.

‘I mean, murdering kids? Seriously? You let all those innocents die?’

Homelander clicked his jaw, ‘What are you gonna do y/n?’

Brow furrowed, you felt your blood go ablaze.

‘Hm?’ He turned his head to the side, not completely making eye contact with you.

‘I’m leaving you, you vile, sadistic son of a bit-‘

Shattered glass fall onto the ground like raindrops. A heated ray of light tears through the walls and the couch as if they were thin sheets of paper. Furniture incinerated into oblivion.

A shock of adrenaline runs through every limb in your body. Frantically, you rummage through every drawer in search of a weapon. There’s no use, but it seems right in the moment. A chef knife glistens, catching your eye. In good condition, but child’s play against a man like Homelander.

He turns to face you with a predacious stare. His chest is heaving with rage, eyes still aglow.

‘I swear to god, if you come near me you fucking psychopath!’ You blurt, presenting the knife.

‘Don’t talk to me like that you little bitch!’ Homelander growls, pointing a finger as he quickly makes his way toward you.

Panic drowns your sanity as you attempt to escape from the kitchen. Before you could even lift yourself to jump over the counter, he grabs the back of your neck and aggressively pulls you away.

‘Let me go! Let me go!’ You screech, a guttural, terrified scream following.

‘Oh no,’ Homelander flipped you around, pushing you against the edge of the counter before delicately wrapping his entire hand around your neck. Your body slightly lifted from the ground.

‘No, no, no.’ Homelanders face twitched with anger, ‘You aren’t going anywhere. You are mine.’

A few pathetic whimpers left your throat. Struggling against his weight only made his grip become tighter.

‘Oh look at you. Tsk, tsk.’ Homelander teased. ‘Tell me, who showed you the video? Did your slutty ass fuck some lousy pap for it?’

Trembling aggressively, you could only release grunts of pain and fear. His growing erection pushed into your hip as he held you against the counter.

‘Such a puny little thing. Admit it, you need me.’ At this point, Homelander only spoke to himself. Rather than talking to you, he admired how you squirmed and cried. Pain looked beautiful on you.

‘The only time we will ever be separate is when you’re dead in the ground.’

That smile. That wicked, crazed smile.

‘And I’ll decide when that happens.’

Homelander pressed a desperate, hungry kiss onto your puffed lips, sitting you down on the cold marble to spread your legs.

[setagaya-division]

ARB Birthday Special: Elliot Shimizu

~~ August 8th ~~

"The love for all living creatures is the most noble attribute of man."

Login Lines:

*Pants* "I'm late!" *Pants* "Oh no... I promised my boss I'd be there in five minutes! I hope whatever he wanted isn't serious! ...Still, I wonder what the 'emergency' is? ...Finally, I'm here! ...Wait, why is it so dark in here? Where is everyone?

"SURPRISE!!"

"Ahhh!! What the?! What's going on?! ...'Happy Birthday, Elliot'? ...It's my birthday?! Oh jeez, I forgot... again!"

Voice Lines:

"That surprise party was like something out of a dream. To think that I, who often felt like a shadow in the lives of others, would be the center of such a heartfelt celebration. It's... it's a strange warmth that fills my chest, a happiness that's both foreign and intoxicating. For once, I feel seen, acknowledged. I... I don't know how to feel about it, exactly. It's not... bad. Actually, it feels pretty good."

"18. I can't believe it. The number feels so... heavy on my tongue. It's a milestone that marks adulthood. ...Yet inside, I don't really feel any different. There's an expectation that with this age comes a certain maturity, a sense of having grown or changed. But as I look in the mirror, the same old Elliot stares back. It's... it's a really sobering thought, realizing that perhaps I haven't evolved as much as I should have over the past year."

"As the day progresses, a familiar ache settles in my chest. Two years have passed, and the mysteries of our pasts, mine and my siblings, they still remain just that: mysteries. The fragments of memories I hold are like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, scattered and incomplete. The truth about who we are, about who I am, seems just out of reach. But the search for answers is a path I'm committed to walking, no matter how daunting it may seem."

"Nee-san. ...Thank you. I'm glad you took time out to wish me a 'happy birthday'. ...Yeah, truthfully, it was my co-workers at the vet who reminded me. ...No, don't feel bad, Mina-san. Sometimes, like you, my birthday... it just feels like another day. ...Thank you, Nee-san. Like you, I'm glad I got to know you too."

"What's this? ...Oh, a journal? For... writing down my conversations with animals with? ...Gee, thanks Mina-san. Still though, I feel even if I do this, I don't think anyone will believe me. Half the time I don't even believe myself when I say I'm talking to animals. ...Yeah, you're right. Thank you, Nee-san. Thank you, really and truly."

"Yorii-kun. ...How does it feel to be 18? I don't know. I've only been 18 for one day. I imagine it feels no different than 17, I guess. Give me some time, and I'll explain it. ...Responsibilities? You mean, like making sure you're awake for school? Making sure we have food in the fridge? *Sighs* ...I'd say 'don't ever change, Yorii-kun', but... never mind."

"So, what exactly is this? A... murder mystery jigsaw puzzle?! Yorii, you know I dislike anything that revolves around violence and/or murder! ...Oh, so it's suppose to be used to solve a murder? Still, I don't know if that's any better. ...I guess I can give it a try, but still... if this gives me nightmares, I won't be happy. ...Right. Thank you, Yorii-kun."

Mina Lines:

"Happy birthday, Elliot-kun. ...Did you forget today was your birthday? ...I see. I guess I can't throw stones. I'm not even sure my birthday could be considered a 'birth' date. It just seems like it's another day. ...Thank you, Elliot. I know I don't say this often, but... I really am glad I have you as my sibling."

"By the way, here's a birthday gift. I had to rush to get one cause I couldn't out during the day. ...It's a journal, ya' know, for writing down your personal thoughts and such. But... I also figured you could use it when you want to record your conversations with any animals you pass by. ...It doesn't matter if anyone believes your gift, Elliot. I know it's real, and so do you. If the people out there don't believe, that's their problem. ...Your welcome. And happy birthday, once more."

Yorii Lines:

"Hey, Big Bro! Happy birthday! So, how does it feel to be 18, huh? A legalized adult? ...Hey, don't knock 18, bro! Like I said, you're an adult now. Which means you've got all kinds of important responsibilities! ...Uhh, yeah, kinda. *Laughs awkwardly* ...Me? Change? Ha, in your dreams, bro!"

"Anyway, here's my gift to you! ...It's a murder mystery jigsaw puzzle! ...Hold on before you go crazy, Big Bro! It's not horror-filled. It's more like that board game you and Kanra-chan's older sister like to play. Cluedo or something. ...Just try it out, and I promise you'll like it. ...Ha, we all know you'd have nightmares, regardless. But I promise you'll like it! ...No problem, bro! Happy birthday again!"

[shadowsandshapes]

FFTB | CH 13: Shit Hitting all Kinds of Fans (Dabi/F!Reader)

Summary: This was it. There was no going back. You had to be brave -- you had to be bold if you wanted to make it out of this alive and reunite with Dabi. Contains: Explicit Language, Canon-Typical Violence, A Series Of Very Unfortunate Events, Power Fantasy Elements, Fluff

[3k]

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When something changes – a routine or a significant detail – you tend to notice. 

It’s a survival instinct. Hard-wired into your brain from having lived the life of a villain for so long. The smallest things can mean the difference between perseverance and death. Call it a healthy dose of paranoia – but when you meet Overhaul in the laboratory and the medical personnel is absent, you put your guard up. Chisaki sits at one of the desks – his features illuminated only by the stark light emitting from one of the digital monitors to his side. The deep shadows on the man’s face obscure his intent but you’re certain that, whatever this was about, it was bad news. Eyes, calm and intense, perked up when you appeared in the doorway. Focussing entirely on your presence as you enter his lair. Their fierce gleam spelled danger and you realized in that instance that you were in big trouble. A tenseness settled in his shoulders as he folded his gloved hands in front of him.

Bracing for whatever is to follow, you closed the door behind you.

“There you are,” Overhaul started. His tone was friendly enough but you knew better than to be fooled by the formality. You sensed it. The tension in his voice. “I have a job for you…”

“That right?”

“Luck’s a pretty nice thing to have, yeah?” he mused out loud. “Having things go your way when you need it the most — now that’s a power I would like to have. You’re sick, you know? These Quirks…they’re not natural. I can cure you, girl. Set you free. This disease has been worshipped by society for far too long. It’s time for the dawning of a new age. Don’t you agree?”

You had heard this mindless diatribe before. 

Overhaul couldn’t resist raving about his ideals whenever he got the chance. Returning humans to a pure form. How fucking ridiculous. The entire idea reeked of eugenics, a practice that made your skin crawl. Humanity shouldn’t pick and choose what traits were desirable and which weren’t. Quirks were no exception. There was no optimal form for people. There are just people – as they exist now and will be in the future. Messing with that was asking for trouble and dehumanizing to those who didn’t fit the mold. Chisaki indulged in this slippery slope regardless.

What you couldn’t figure out is why he was sprouting his nonsense at you right now…

Measuring the distance between you, Overhaul narrowed his eyes. You were not approaching. Playing it smart and cautious. Clearly, you had been paying attention in class. Getting close to him was a quick way to get deconstructed after all. Clever girl. Shigaraki had taught you to be wary of him, did he? That wouldn’t do. Chisaki took control of the matter himself, rising from his seat to close the gap. Waiting for any sign of hostility, you allowed him to circle around, letting him get in range. 

Overhaul was a hair away from touching you now – his imposing presence bearing down on you in full force. You held your ground and kept your chin up. 

Whatever he was going to do, you were ready.

“I wonder –” Chisaki said, reaching out a gloved hand that you eyed with suspicion. “– if your abilities will be as easily isolated as Eri’s.”

‘Will be’ – so that’s what he was after. A crystallized, distilled version of your abilities. An endless, consumable supply of luck to bolster his allies and further his cause. A means to an end. That’s all you were.

Unfortunately for him, Overhaul had unknowingly fucked himself the moment he’d gotten within punching range. You were many things. Petty, viscous and overly confidant — among other things. A bitch? Sometimes, yeah. But never, ever a coward. Showing his true colors was a mistake he would come to regret.

Chisaki didn’t expect you to grab him by the fluff of his jacket – and he most certainly didn’t expect you to punch his lights out with your right hook. For Eri.

The cartilage in his nose cracked beneath the leather of his plague mask, popping out of place by the sheer force of the blow. His head jerked back violently in an attempt to recover from the hit, a stream of blood sprouting from his nostrils. Its stinging warmth ran down his lips, seeping from beneath the bottom edge of his mask onto his chin. You reeled back your fist, knuckles aching. With crimson-strained fingers flexing and curling again, you went for a second punch. The grip you had on his fur-lined jacket helped you yank him forward. You only had one chance to knock him out. He wouldn’t be caught off-guard for much longer. The shock would soon wear off and a broken nose was nothing to Overhaul – he could simply fix it and move on.

But it’s a little difficult to use your Quirk when you’re passed out from a good beating, isn’t it?

Chisaki crumbled, landing on his knees as you released your grip. You were ready to release the burning breath you’d been holding hostage in your lungs – but it wasn’t over yet. He groaned out in pain. Very much conscious and aware still.

“Goddamnit,” you cursed. If he decided to get back up – you were done for. A boot to the face was all you had left to try. So you kicked, as hard as you possibly could, and buried your heel against his face. The man let out a pained cry as his head snapped back at the impact. He fell to the ground, slumping against his desk. Motionless. “Stay. down,” you seethed, breathless.

That furious plea was spoken more like a prayer than a warning. You weren’t dumb enough to take on Overhaul by yourself. Just because he wasn’t responding right now, didn’t mean you were off the hook just yet. His best strategy would be to play dead and take you by surprise. You wouldn’t let that happen.

Not bothering to wait and see if Overhaul was truly knocked out, you hightailed it out of the clinic. The door slammed behind you as you made a beeline for where you’d last seen your companions. Your heart clenched and raced with every hurried step. This was bad. You moved through the maze of underground hallways at an increasingly fast pace until you were all but sprinting, desperate to find your friends and make sure the Eight Bullets hadn’t ambushed them. If Chisaki planned on making you into one of his fucked up little patients, Toga and Twice might be in trouble. You didn’t even realize you had started running until the burning sensation in your lungs overwhelmed your breath and your calves started cramping. Still, you forged on, determined to rendezvous with your LOV companions.

That’s when the ground above you trembled. Skidding to a stop to observe your surroundings, you dug your heels into the tiled floor. If the ceiling was coming down, you needed to be ready. For a moment, you simply listened to the silence, feeling the tremors shake the foundations of the Shie Hassakai compound. Eventually, you managed to pick up on the distant rumble of a fight, high above ground. The heroes had finally decided to make their move. Lucky you. Their timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

Just then, your phone came alive with yet another text message from Dabi.

Unknown Number TnT are on the move Meet u at the extraction Showtime baby ♡

10:12 ✓✓

T and T, huh? A fitting name for the explosive combination of Toga and Twice when they decided to get serious. From your limited understanding of the situation, you knew they had a score to settle with Overhaul for what he did to Magne. Those two knuckleheads were nothing if not creative. No matter what they decided to do – this was gonna be spectacular. You smiled, pocketing your phone. They were safe. Better than safe: your friends were actively putting the plan into motion. Operation Trojan Horse was on.

Let the shit hit the fan.

It took no time at all for the situation to escalate. You were at least partially to blame for that fact.

The Heroes were quick to infiltrate the stronghold and meticulously combed through the area. From their movements, you could only discern they were looking for the little girl. Good for her. You had to admit, it was somewhat frightening to witness the full power of their forces coming down on the Shie Hassaikai. The raid at the casino was nothing compared to this one. The sheer amount of Pros supporting the operation was staggering. Every corner you turned, you bumped into Yakuza holding a parameter against a Hero and their police backup. A valiant effort. 

But you were here to fuck that up for them.

Making the members of Overhaul’s organization eat shit was child’s play for someone with your abilities. A little push here, a bump of your shoulder there and the Luck drained from their bodies. It was nothing short of cathartic to watch them stumble and fall to the Heroes after spending days biting your tongue around them. You never understood why villains tended to be depicted as cackling maniacs – but you were getting a taste for it now. 

There was no funnier sight than watching your enemies make fools of themselves.

You made your way through the compound, dodging the cops and making life miserable for every thug in your path. There was a skip in your step as you threw a 10-sided die, imbued with some extra special Luck, down the hallway toward a group of punks. It rolled to a stop, landing on a perfect ten beneath the heel of your victim. Funny how something so tiny can tip the balance of an entire fight. Specifically, the balance of that one unfortunate fellow who slipped on its surface and crashed through the makeshift barricade. Directly into a pair of shiny handcuffs and police custody. Thanks to Shigaraki, you had an entire bag of these little bitches. No one was safe from your vengeance, delivered neatly in dice-format. You had no idea how Tomura had procured a shitload of colorful dice with varying shapes and sizes – it was probably a nerd thing – but you couldn’t deny they were coming in real handy right now.

The little triangle ones that went up to four were your favorites. They hurt like a motherfucker to step on. Or get lodged in your eye – as one Yakuza had discovered the hard way when he tried to charge at you. Here you thought the number four was supposed to be unlucky. Turns out you just weren’t using it right. Misfortune was just as powerful as luck. You loved improvised weaponry but you had never imagined that dice would take the cake as the most satisfying ones. It was fitting, you supposed. 

An instrument of chance turned into a weapon suited you perfectly.

Before you even realized it, you had made your way to the surface and located one of the many exits. The anticipation of finally reuniting with Dabi had you feeling elated. After all the shit you’d been through, you couldn’t wait to see him again. You glanced back at the hallway you had emerged from. Toga and Twice were still down there. But they still had a job to do. Dabi had made it explicitly clear that all you had to do was cause as much trouble as possible and avoid getting arrested. They would handle the rest. You had to trust your friends would be able to do this without you. This was their fight more than yours anyway. Magne was a comrade. More than that – to Toga and Twice she was family. And you don’t fuck with family. You’d already gotten to punch Overhaul’s lights out for Eri, you couldn’t ask for more.

So, you turned to climb the ladder in front of you with a worried but determined heart. Worried for your friends, your family – but determined to let them have their moment. Once more the ground trembled above you as the fight between the Heroes and Shie Hassaikai raged on. The carnage had undoubtedly spilled onto the street, meaning you were likely walking into a warzone. As you ascended onto the street above, you took a moment to adjust to the brightness of daylight. 

Sure enough, your predictions had been correct – hold up, was that a FUCKING dragon? 

There, just a few feet away from the manhole cover you were currently peeking out from, was the transformed image of Ryuko Tatsuma, the Dragoon Hero. Her tail swooped across the battlefield, knocking over her attackers like little bowling pins. They scattered in all directions, flying into walls and smacking onto the pavement with a heavy thud. You cringed at the sound of their bones cracking when they landed. Fucking strike – good for her. The Heroes really pulled out all the stops for this raid. Damnit. If she stepped on you, you’d be done for. No amount of Luck would save you from that crushingly painful demise. 

Yeah, you weren’t messing with that. You waited, patiently, for a lull in the action to make your next move. To make your escape, all you needed was a few precious seconds of downtime to make it out of the street. If you timed it right, no one would even know you were there. Another tremor acted as your savior. It was violent, more intense than the previous ones. Whatever had caused it must have been big because every Hero staggered as the ripples hit the ground. You threw off the manhole cover and made a break for it. A quick glance down the street took your breath away. A plume of dust and smoke as high as a building emerged from a nearby crossing. That tremor. It had been a collapse of the underground tunnel network. Something or someone had come out. A creature stood over the pit, its many arms bulging with adrenaline. If it hadn’t been for the remnants of purple-ish fur and green fabric clinging to its body, you never would have guessed its identity. The fact that you did recognize him sent a tingle down your spine. That thing was none other than Overhaul. 

You thanked your Lucky stars you had managed to knock him out earlier. If that was what he was capable of, you’d gotten out in the nick of time. That being said, if the timing was right, Dabi should be nearby. You hauled ass towards the rendezvous point, eager to see him again.

Sure enough, a sea of blue flame blazed across the pavement. Its roaring intensity crackled with the cinders of whatever debris got caught in its path. You recognized that inferno anywhere. Droves of civilians fled the scene, their panicked screams fading into the background as they raced past one by one. The chaos and destruction caused by the people you had aligned yourself with didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. Your time with the League had changed you. In the past, you would have fought tooth and nail to be accepted by society. But they had cast you out. That bitterness was never going to go away. Dabi had shown you that. He had taught you it was okay to be imperfect. The right people will love you. Regardless of how destructive and terrifying you were. So fuck society and their moral high ground. Fuck being told you’re dangerous just because you’re different. Now you wanted to see it all burn. 

You didn’t hesitate, walking directly towards the carnage. There was no more fear in your heart. No more pain. Because Dabi was waiting for you and once you were reunited, everything would fall into place again. You would be complete.

When he saw you, his azure eyes lit up. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. You walked towards him with such purpose. Such pride. No doubt for a job well done. He knew you could do it. The flame in the palm of his hand flickered and faded as you approached him. Dabi caught your body against him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“Missed me?” he asked, seeing the answer in your eyes already.

“Nah –” You kissed him, swallowing his amused laughter at your persistent attitude.

“You’re a liar, sweet thing,” Dabi said. The phrase, once used as an insult, now carried a deep fondness. The way he said it made your heart clench. “I know you must have been desperate to see me again. All that time without me to keep you warm? Must’ve been tough.” He was teasing – but there was truth to his words.

“So what if I was, huh? Got a problem with that, hotshot?”

Dabi’s hands squeezed your hips, pulling you in closer until you were standing chest-to-chest. His eyes honed in on yours. Their brilliant blue hues glinted with adoration and just the smallest hint of fuck-you. “Just tell me you love me…”

“I love you.” You said it without hesitation, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and Dabi cracked a smile. Fuck – it was that easy for you, huh? You could just say it. No problems whatsoever. It was harder for him – but you were easy to love. Saying those three little words was a breeze when it was to you.

“Love you too, babe.”

A disgusted snarl sounded out behind Dabi as Shigaraki emerged from an alley. “Get a room you two. We’re not done here. After the Heroes deal with Overhaul, we’re gonna intercept the transport. Dabi – I need you to hotwire a car.”

Right.

Dabi glanced at you in his arms. You looked back and gave a nod. There would be plenty of time for a heartwarming reunion later. First things first: finally getting an eye for an eye. 

Or rather – an arm for an arm.

A/N: THE BOY IS HERE (: and everyone (Shigaraki) is disgusted by your lovey-dovey shit ehe

Taglist: @kelin-is-writing @dynamars @dabislittlemouse @simpysheep @ohnoitsthatonekid @tonysttank @dabislittlesluttyprincess @when-you-are-just-done @dabislittlebeaniebaby @themythicaldisaster

PSA: tags will be paused after this post because I'm mass-releasing the rest of the chapters and I don't wanna spam the precious babies (:

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[prose-for-hire]

okay i’ve figured out how i can make it work as a prompt, so angelus is the big bad of the moment and the scoobies are after him however he gets a spell or something put on him from some other baddie and he gets amnesia and he doesn’t remember he’s a vampire or the angel side of his memory just completely lost/afraid/almost human like and while running from the scoobies somehow gets into readers place of living cause in the depth of his mind he remembered it and reader obviously scared doesn’t know what to do

A/N: Warning for violence against reader, typical Angelus stuff and swearing but a bit of maybe fluff/angst too. Popped it under the cut cos it felt a little long. Hope this is okay love !! 💖

Love Bites:

Another night alone. Ever since your fiancé had succumbed to the curse and become the big bad, formerly known as Angel, you had been inconsolable. You hadn't felt up to patrolling with the others, in fact you had barely seen them all week. You were older than them and insisted you had some really urgent work deadline that was too important for them to understand.

You had dimmed the lights, watching some rerun on the tv and settled in to cuddle up with your broken heart. You heard a noise. The lights flickered.

Okay, you were officially spooked.

You got up to look out of the window, but there was nothing there. When you turned, though, a presence had appeared from the shadows.

Him.

"Y/n?" he asked. Angelus. You jerked in horror, frantically looking around for a stake.

The only thing he could remember was you. Your face, your name, the love you had given so freely. Memories fractured in his head but one thing remained. You. Your name.

"Shit! How did you-?!"

"I don't know who I am I just know that, uh, I'm safe here" he admitted, looking at the ground.

"Yeah, well, funny, 'cause I'm not safe here. Fucking Willow and her no good spells" you cursed loudly. She was meant to have uninvited him from your house but she had barely mastered levitating pencils yet.

He rushed over to you and you braced yourself, waiting for the inevitable pain. And it, of course came, just not in the form you expected. It was purely emotional. He had pulled you into an all encompassing hug.

He needed it. Needed you. You're the only thing he knew was right. The only good thing in his world right now.

Tears welled in your eyes as you breathed in his familiar scent. What had once meant safety had then been fear when he had turned into Angelus after the night he had asked you to be his. You had blamed yourself. But this, his embrace, his love, it brought back all the good memories. It reminded you that it had all meant something once. You knew it.

What you didn't know yet was that Angelus had been cursed. On top of his other curse. The creature that had been trying to kill the slayer that week had become a bit jealous that Buffy's mind wasn't solely on him and so had removed Angelus from the game.

It left you vulnerable, your friends knew this. They were fighting hard to try and get to you, try to warn you about what had happened to Angelus. To try and get to you before anything bad happened.

When you broke from the hug, you stared at him, frown lining your face. You were on edge but hope had taken over. What a dangerous thing hope was. He didn't like the way you were looking at him with such suspicion.

Had he hurt you? Was he a bad person? Is that why he couldn't remember anything, was he blocking out what he had done to you?

"You... you really don't remember do you?" You asked softly, tracing his cheekbone with your thumb.

"Remember what?" he snapped slightly, confusion looking like it pained him.

"Your name is... Angel, uh, Angelus and you're a..."

"A what? Say it." he moved from your embrace, turning away from you knowing that he probably didn't want to hear what you were about to tell him.

"Vampire"

At the same moment, Buffy killed the demon blocking their way to you. As the demon died, the spell broke. And they could only hope they would make it across Sunnydale in time.

He turned back slowly to face you, the confused look that had knitted his brows had darkened. His eyes black with violent desire.

"Oh yeah. Thanks, now I remember. I'm a vampire. And you're mine"

He launched at you, slamming you against the wall and roughly his possessive streak that he had felt ever since he had been cursed coming to the fore. He had loved you as Angel, but as Angelus he was obsessed. Possessed with this feeling that he had to have you.

He slammed you against the wall again, boxing you in. There was no escape. You were his. He wrenched your neck to the side, danger glinting in his eye and a satisfied smirk on his changed face.

You only had one hope left. Buffy. But you weren't sure that she would make it in time before he-