#Right at this fucking second someone is being tortured to death.

[fourfuckinghorsemen]

I would say the "last of us" world managed to be bleeker and more hopeless with everything going on.. and the people were being tortured to death. It's better if humanity just evaporates with a single blow. One guy's self imposed suffering isn't worth the pain of billions.

don't have the energy to argue about this right now.

[serenuum]

having SO many mike warren thoughts i want to share but THEYRE ALL IN MY NATIVE LANGUAGE AND ITS TOO ENERGY CONSUMING TO ACTUALLY TRANSLATE ANY OF THEm like what the FCUKK

anyway its once again going insane over special agent mike warren hours happy going insane over special agent mike warren hours to everyone who celebrates < 3333

[illyrianbitch]

Where I Left My Lover

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: After a brush with death, Azriel makes a difficult decision to protect you.

Warnings: angst!!!! & bad decisions.

Word Count: 3.8k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

With a forceful push, the door to Rhysand’s office swung open as Nesta swept into the room, eyes blazed with a fury that made Azriel swallow. Cassian’s loud footsteps echoed as he followed after his mate.

"Tell me it isn't true," she demanded, her voice a low, dangerous growl.

Rhysand moved to intercept her, his hand outstretched in a futile attempt to stop her from her warpath. "Nesta, perhaps we should—"

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Nesta shoved him away with a forceful gesture, her gaze fixed on Azriel. The shadowsinger stood eerily still, even his shadows unmoving. 

"Azriel," she said, her voice trembling with anger. "Tell me it isn't true."

His gaze faltered, and suddenly he found himself unable to meet Nesta's accusing, burning stare. He looked away, his shadows curling into themselves behind him, as if retreating in shame.

Nesta's anger flared, hands clenching at her side. She breathed out sharply, the sound a mixture of frustration and rage. Whipping around to face Rhysand, she leveled a searing gaze at him.

"I expect something like this from you," she spat, her tone laced with contempt.

Rhysand's expression hardened into a withering glare, but before he could respond, Nesta turned back to Azriel. "But you?" she continued, her voice dripping with disappointment. "You're supposed to be better than this."

Azriel's jaw tightened as he grit his teeth together. From behind Nesta, he watched as Cassian approached, staring at him with a frown and furrowed brows. Azriel looked back to Nesta.

“You don’t understand-”

 "I don't care," she retorted, her tone icy. "You cannot do this. Not to Y/n."

At the mention of your name, Azriel's heart clenched, a wave of sadness washing over him like a relentless tide. He swallowed hard.

"This is for Y/n," he responded, his voice low. Flat.  "To keep her safe."

"That is not your decision to make," Nesta snarled, "You are stripping her of her right to choose, and you know deep down she wouldn't want this."

There was something about the way Nesta spoke, how she stared at him with such disappointment, that made him angry. Azriel was making the right decision. He was being selfless, yet everyone was seeing it the other way, seeing him as some monster.

Within seconds, his control slipped, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he took a step forward, his eyes flashing with a dark intensity. "She almost died!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with desperation. "She almost died because of me. I don't care what she wants. I'm doing this to keep her safe."

Cassian moved quickly, placing a firm hand on Nesta's shoulder. “Watch it,” he growled as he met Azriel's gaze.

Azriel blinked. And then he was composing himself once more, moving back into a straight posture. "I'm doing this because I love her," he said, his voice softer now, tinged with sorrow.

"No," Nesta said, her voice sharp. "This is not love. This is wrong. And if you go through with it, I'll never let you forget it."

As Nesta turned to leave, Azriel felt a pang of regret gnaw at his heart. A wave of guilt washed over him at the realization that he had disappointed someone he cared about so deeply. He truly cared about Nesta, respected her strength and conviction, and the thought of her walking away, angry and disillusioned, made him sick to his stomach. Had he lost two people today? Was he truly doing the right thing?

Yes, he reminded himself. Images of you conjured in his brain— your pale, bruised and bloody body, the way you laid limp in his arms. He thought back to how he’d relished in the screams of the soldiers who had tortured you, how he took his time carving them out for what they had done. He thought about how long you’d been in that bed, unmoving with shallow breaths, how scared he’d been that he’d lost you. You were human. You were something he could lose. And his life, his duties, had almost cost him your life.

Azriel looked up to meet Rhysands gaze, who had been standing in quiet observation, making no move to talk or intervene. Azriel had already spoken to Rhys, had gotten the same discussion from him. His gaze flickered to Cassian, who was shaking his head as he stared out of the door his mate had left through.

“Nes is right,” Cassian said, “I mean, we’ve done our fair share of questionable things, but this?”

He paused for a moment, eyes darting between his two brothers.

“It’s what needs to be done,” Azriel said.

Cassian shook his head. “No. It’s what you think needs to be done. And you’re wrong.”

Azriel let out a deep exhale, his jaw clenched. 

“Rhys,” Cass said, turning to face the High Lord. “C’mon. You know better than this. You really think this is okay?”

Rhysand held his gaze. For a moment, Cass believed he’d gotten through to his brother, that perhaps he’d realized how far this was going to go, how wrong Azriel was. But Rhysand simply straightened his posture.

“I’m not a part of this,” was all he responded.

Cass shook his head once more, poking a finger into Rhysand’s chest.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. Az has lost his goddsdamned mind. Why are you entertaining this?”

It was Azriel who moved next, walking up to Cassian and pushing him away with a small shove. He gave a snarl, shadows swirling around his forearms. Cass looked down at the hand pressed against his chest, and then up at Azriel with flared nostrils and a look of deep disappointment in his eyes.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Azriel growled, “You think this is something I want to do?”

Cassian pushed him off.

“I think you’ve lost sight of what is fear and what is reason.”

“Enough,” Rhysand commanded, walking to the two males to separate them with his extended hands. He turned to Cassian and let out a small exhale. Cass saw it, then, the sadness in his eyes. 

“In the centuries that Azriel has been a part of this family, a part of this court, he has not asked for favors. He has asked me now, and I owe it to him.”

Cassian let out a small scoff. It was a losing game. They were all stubborn— it came with their lineage, with their dna. So he settled at casting Azriel another glance and frowned.

"This is selfish, Az," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "She is not only yours. She’s family. She’s Nesta’s friend. She’s my friend—"

Something flickered in Azriel's eyes, a weariness settling over him as he grew tired of defending his actions. "Do you want her as a friend or do you want her alive?"

Cassian slightly recoiled, a small tick in his jaw. “That’s not fair.”

“Cassian,” Rhys said slowly, “Leave.”

Cassian rubbed his jaw, a heavy anger simmering beneath his skin as he shot one last glare at Azriel. "Whatever," he muttered in disappointment, "I can’t even look at you."

And with that, he turned and stalked out of the room.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The soft chirping of birds filled the air, the sounds a gentle caress against Azriel’s skin. The beauty around him stood out in stark contrast to the heavy silence that hung over him like a suffocating cloak. He’d always loved your little home, loved how secluded it was, how quiet. Everything was slower here, more timid, more calm. 

You were inside with Rhysand, now, and Azriel could hear the faint echo of your voices. It didn’t last long. Within moments it went quiet, and Az clenched his fists at his side.

The longer he lingered outside, the more he felt the pull of your presence, the echo of your touch haunting him like a ghost. Azriel fought every urge to run back inside, to hold you and kiss you again like he had moments prior. It wasn't long enough. He should have taken another minute, another hour. But he knew, deep down, it would never be enough, that it would never be the right time. The longer he spent with you, the longer he felt your touch, it broke him even more.

Azriel’s shadows pulled at him, wrapping around his ankles as if to pull him back inside. He scolded them, his wings twitching as he slightly kicked his feet. They swarmed once more. They were angry at him too. Azriel knew this. He felt it in their touch, in the way they’d whisper. He did his best to ignore it.

He wasn’t being selfish. He was putting you first.

There was a faint creak as the door opened behind him. Swiftly, he turned around, his eyes locking with Rhysand's as his brother stepped out and closed the door behind him with a deliberate slowness.

Rhysand gave Azriel a small, curt nod.  "It's done.”

Azriel's chest tightened, a lump forming in the back of his throat. "Is she-" he began, his voice catching in his throat.

“She’s alright.”

There was a heavy ache in Azriel’s chest now, something tender like an open wound. His heart felt hollow. Empty. He looked down at the ground, at the shadows at his feet, and tightly shut his eyes. 

Rhysand’s face softened. “Az,” he started, but Azriel simply shook his head. 

"Don't," he whispered hoarsely. And before Rhysand could respond, he disappeared.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel stood outside the small inn, his heart pounding in his chest as he hesitated at the threshold. He knew he shouldn't be here, shouldn't risk drawing attention to himself or risk the chance of undoing what he’d chosen to do. But the pull of his own longing had been too strong to resist. He’d lasted longer than expected, but even then, he’d been in agony. He was restless, angry, and above all else, he was lonely.

With a deep breath, he adjusted his posture, making a mental check of the glamour he’d put around himself, concealing his wings and any other identifying features of his. Even with the cover, he kept his wings tightly folded against his back, just in case something went awry.

And then he entered, casting a wary glance around the room as he made his way through the crowded floor. His hands were tucked securely in his pockets, his shadows coiled around him like protective tendrils. He’d done his best to make them blend into the black material of his clothing, told them to stay put and ripple like fabric would. 

Finding a small table in the corner, Azriel made his way over, but as he lowered himself into the seat, a nagging voice in the back of his mind warned him of the folly of his actions. This was stupid, dangerous, and entirely self-indulgent. Dangerous, dangerous, his shadows echoed. He tightened his jaw. He would only be here for a few moments, he told himself, he just wanted to see you— once. That was all.

His shadows whispered louder, a small anxious buzz in his head. He needed to leave before it was too late.

But before he could make a move, he looked up and froze, his breath catching in his throat.

“Hello,” you said timidly, giving him a small smile. Azriel’s heart leapt as the sound, a sudden rush of warmth filling his veins. Your hair was shorter now than the last time he saw you, and you wore a few dainty gold chains around your neck that he’d never seen. Had you bought those recently? Made them with your friends? They looked beautiful on you. And you had so much color. You looked alive. You looked happy.

A moment passed as Azriel simply stared at you, and then he was shaking his head slightly, freeing himself of the daze he had fallen into. 

“Uh, hi- hello.” 

It was then he finally noticed the two small glasses in your hands, both filled slightly with an amber liquid. You followed his gaze, looking down at your own hands. You frowned slightly and then you extended one towards him. 

“I’m not sure why I brought this,” you admitted, “But here. This is for you.”

Azriel swallowed, gently reaching out to take the small cup from your hands. His fingers brushed against your skin ever so slightly and he nearly jumped at the contact, a tingling sensation filling his body.  Your brows furrowed as you observed his hands, your gaze tracing over the perfectly smoothed, tan skin.

He had them glamoured too, just to be safe. 

He watched as you blinked, your expression shifting with a mixture of confusion, as if you sensed something wrong. A wave of sickening guilt rolled through his stomach. His shadows circled at his feet— subtly enough that they’d blend in to the darkness of the cornered floor, but strong enough to where Azriel felt them, pawing at him like dogs to an owner.

“Thank you,” Azriel finally brought himself to say.

Your gaze instantly flickered back to his eyes. You scanned his face, taking in his features, the brown of his eyes. And then you gave him another smile, a small blush forming on your cheeks. You looked over to the empty seat in front of him. 

 "Do you mind?" 

Azriel felt a surge of flustered panic coursing through him, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to compose himself. "Oh, yes, of course, please," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He readjusted himself in his own chair.

As you settled into the seat across from him, Azriel couldn't tear his gaze away from you. He watched, mesmerized, as you took a small sip from the glass, the soft curve of your lips bringing back every memory he’d held of them.

He watched as you scanned the crowd. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to look away, to break the spell. This would only make things worse for him. But try as he might, he couldn't tear his gaze away from you, couldn't tear himself away from indulging in your presence. It took every ounce of restraint within him not to lean forward, to reach out and caress you.

You caught Azriel's gaze as he quickly averted his eyes, a small laugh escaping your lips at his sudden shyness. "I'm sorry for interrupting your quiet time," you said.

Azriel shifted in his seat. "No," he replied, a bit too quickly, his voice catching in his throat. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I mean, I don't mind."

You smiled, a warmth in your eyes that made his heart flutter– something just as painful as it was comforting.

 "This may sound silly, but it feels like I was supposed to come talk to you," you confessed, your voice soft.

A tug in his chest. “Really?" 

"Yes," you replied, your gaze drifting momentarily to the crowd before returning to him. "I'm quite good at listening. Maybe you need a good ear."

Azriel chuckled softly. You always were great at listening, even better at talking, too. It was a perfect balance. He’d always loved that about you. Your presence was so calming, so quiet compared to the loudmouths he called family, even if he loved them dearly. He missed it, how gentle you were. 

"I don't know if that's what I need.”

You tilted your head, studying him with a curious expression. "What brought you here today?" 

Azriel thought for a moment, his gaze falling to his glass as he traced a finger along its rim. He knew he couldn't hide the truth from you, not when you were always so good at reading him, so stubborn at getting what you really wanted.

After a brief pause, he finally admitted, "A girl."

Your eyes lit up with interest, a smile gracing your lips as you leaned in slightly. "Yeah?" you asked, “She somebody special?”

Azriel met your gaze, attempting to muster a smile, but a lump formed in his throat, choking back the words he struggled to say. He bounced his knee nervously under the table. “She was. I can’t seem to let her go.”

Your frown deepened at the admission, a pang of sympathy tugging at your heart. "I'm sorry," you murmured. 

But Azriel quickly shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips as he reassured you, "It's alright."

Silence enveloped you for a moment.

"She was the love of my life," Azriel said, his voice softer than he’d ever heard it. He glanced up at you, instantly finding your attentive gaze that met his own.

You remained quiet, but he knew the look on your face. Eyes wide, slight furrowed brows, a small smile. You were urging him to continue, waiting for him to finish, to be heard.

"Beautiful, kind, funny," he continued, his voice soft with reverence. "Also a great listener."

As he spoke, memories of moments shared with you flooded his mind, each beautiful and painful in their own rite, a haunting sense of longing drowning his senses. 

You gave a small breathy laugh. 

"No wonder you can't let her go," you said. There was a ting of sadness in your gentle voice. Azriel wondered what it was for. 

"Yeah," he agreed softly, his gaze drifting back to his glass.

Silence settled between you once more, the air heavy with every unspoken thought and emotion that Azriel felt. He wasn’t sure why he did it, why he let it slip. But before he could stop himself,  Azriel looked up, his gaze searching yours as he asked, "Have you ever felt that way?" 

You paused, caught off guard by the sudden turn in the conversation. For a moment, you opened your mouth to respond, but the words eluded you, leaving you with a furrowed brow and a frown of uncertainty.

You slumped slightly in your chair, a heaviness settling over you as you admitted, "No, I haven't." 

Azriel's heart sank at your response, a pang of disappointment coursing through him despite his efforts to suppress it. He had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that there might have been a glimmer of memory within you, somewhere deep in your bones that recognized him. 

He didn’t know why he pressed further, didn’t know why he couldn’t stop himself from talking. He felt his shadows slowly rising from his feet, now surrounding his thighs. He pushed them back. 

"Have you ever been in love?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

A part of him dared to hope yet again, to cling to the possibility that you feel the same yearning, the same ache that he’d felt for years. But even as he spoke the words, another part of him recoiled in shame, knowing that he had no right to ask, no right to expect anything from you. He had dug his own grave. This was his doing. This was his choice— and he was being selfish. He was being so utterly selfish as he sat there before you. 

Still, the longing lingered, a flicker of hope that refused to be extinguished, even in the face of his own self-imposed exile. But as he watched you, the sadness etched in your features, he knew that his hopes had been in vain.

Your gaze met his, troubled and uncertain, and you hesitated before answering, "I— No. I don't think I have."

Azriel felt a wave of sadness wash over him at your response, a deep ache settling in his chest. His heart was burning now, a pain that made him queasy, made him want to cry and scream at the same time. He decided this was worst than any torture– having to sit across from you as a stranger, as someone who was unable to touch you, hold you, tell you how beautiful you looked, and listen to you say you’d never been in love. Because you had been. You were deeply in love, so in love it scared you both. 

A hot anger filled him. He mourned his old life. He mourned his future with you. You were something real. He had something real. But his past, his duty, his life, it had prevented him from keeping it all, from indulging in a life much simpler than his own, one where he could sit across from you in a run-down inn and watch drunken village males make bets with one another. 

But it was still his fault. He had done this. And you sat before him, a look of frustration on your face, as if you could feel something was off. Shame filled him. He needed to leave. 

Quickly he brought his cup to his lips and chugged the remainder of his drink, the burn of alcohol a bitter sensation that he welcomed with open arms. 

"Thank you for the company," Azriel said as he pushed himself up from the table.

Your gaze followed him, a flicker of concern in your eyes as you watched him rise. "You're leaving?" you asked with a frown.

Azriel nodded, his movements stiff as he straightened his posture. "It was very nice meeting you," he replied, his voice strained as he turned to go.

But before he could take another step, you spoke again, your words stopping him in his tracks. "Wait," you said, the chair sliding on the floor as you stood.

Azriel turned back to face you, his heart pounding in his chest as he awaited your next words. It was getting harder to breathe now, his heartbeat shuddering in his ears. He needed to leave. 

"I hope that one day I'll experience a love like that," you said, pausing for a moment. With a soft, but hesitant, smile, you continued, "That one day, someone will love me like you loved her."

A flicker of surprise crossed Azriel's features. His mouth fell open slightly as he took a sharp inhale. And then he was swallowing heavily, blinking away the pressure building up behind his eyes. 

“You will,” he responded, his voice a slight croak. He cleared his throat, looking to the floor for a second. Then, his gaze was holding yours for a lingering moment. "Goodbye, Y/n.”

You watched his retreating figure with a small smile on your lips. But then, like a sudden bolt of lightning, a realization struck you. You frowned.

Your feet moved of their own accord, propelling you forward faster than your mind could process. You dashed to the entrance, flinging open the door as sunlight flooded your vision, momentarily blinding you.

"Wait! How did you know my—" you began, the words catching in your throat as you stepped outside, your eyes scanning the area in search of Azriel's retreating form. But to your dismay, there was no one there, no trace of him to be found, only the empty street stretched out before you, bathed in the golden glow of the afternoon sun.

Your voice trailed off into a whisper as you finished your sentence, "name.”

Your name.

How did he know your name?

Frowning, you brought a hand to your chest, feeling a small burning fluttering sensation in your ribs. With a sigh, you bit the inside of your cheek. You turned around and made your way back inside, your heart now heavy with a sensation you didn’t quite know how to name.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

a/n: since in death & his reaper azriel forgot about reader, i obvs had to balance the scales and write one where the reader forgets az. we luv angst!!! hope y’all enjoyed 🫶🏻

[evilminji]

Behold! o/ The Face Of Benevolent Evil!

Mr. Principle! A professional hero and educator!

Also possibly some sort of stoat hybrid! Certainly a chimera of Japanese fauna! With the Quirk High Specs, he is one of, if not THE, smartest beings on the planet of which he resides! With a background perfectly justifying a decent into hatred and villiany, he instead chose to channel his incredible world shaking intellect into the shaping of future generations!

He likes to fuck with people!

For FUNSIES~☆!

What can he say? It keeps a man young and mentally stimulated! Plus the hysterical screaming of his staff and students is HILARIOUS. He can even argue it makes for good reaction training! Unforseen situations, children! React!!! *psychotic chortling*

Mmmmm, yes. We all have our trauma responses. Ways we deal with them. He should probably find other means... but he won't! Tea and tormenting the student body make for good future heroes, you know! They adapt!

But! You may ask! Why am I introducing you to this... *polite yet somehow deeply threatening smile* c-completely sane and normal individual!? Esteemed educator that he is! Ha ha...

A good and not at a under threat question!

Villains? Are fuuuuuckin STUPID!

Doesn't matter how many PHDs you possess! In fact! That makes it WORSE! You moron! You absolute fool! No traveling circus would have you, you sub-rate CLOWN of a jingle jangle dunce jester! You have a god damn PHD! Possibly MULTIPLE PHD!

And you thought "ooooh I should go into cwiiiiime~☆"?

Do you hear yourself when you talk? DO YOU?! Ooooh boohoo. They won't let you study what you WANT to study. It's called an ETHICS BOARD. And YEAH, NO SHIT! Maybe get over it and keep you fucked up fantasies to your SELF.

Or? If you REALLY can't hold it in? Lay the ground work like EVERYONE FUCKING ELSE! You're not special! Everyone wants to play god! It's FUN! They let you have the COOL toys! But you have to EARN that shit! Not jump straight from graduation to "fucked up superscience"!

And? If it's NOT the Ethics Board? But just some bureaucrat on a power trip? You don't have to fucking STAY. This? This RIGHT HERE? Is why I-Island fucking EXSISTS.

APPLY.

They are SO MANY countries you could move too. SO MANY other labs. You actual DUMBASS.

But NO! You decided to commit to a fucked up underground Villian Lab. As though HUNTING THOSE isn't the PERSONAL fucking passion project of THE SMARTEST BEING IN JAPAN. Frankly? You deserve this. You deserve this and our school doesn't know you. Never heard of you. You whoms't?

Coulda changed the world. But instead all you did was piss of The Fuzzy White Demon Lord of UA. Rest in pieces. *click*

*sound of doors smashing open*

*violent Raid Upon Your Labs noises*

But! You may ask? What's IN the Lab?

What MAKES this a DP crossover?

I like your question asking spirit! Good one! And the answer? You know what's better then ONE(1) Nedzu? A second one that you can ACTUALLY control this time! After all! You could consider Mr. Principle a prototype. A proof of concept, if you will. If you were able to make ANOTHER.....

Well, you would set off EVERY. SINGLE. ALARM. Nedzu has set up!

All of them!

Because he don't PLAY THAT.

He has long last trauma from the labs and is the SOLE FUCKING SURVIVOR. There WERE others. They Did Not make it. And their slow agonizing deaths are carved into his brain for the rest of his life. Truely "The living shall envy the dead"; it was a place that made hell seem merciful.

When he declare Never Again?

He fucking MEANT Never Again. He will BURN your empires to ash, with you in them. No More Labs.

So :) You can IMAGINE :) HOW HAPPY HE IS :)

That someone out there is trying to RECREATE his SUPER traumatic childhood, on ANOTHER CHILD. Ha ha! Gonna be a second Nedzu huh? Planning to torture HIM like you did me, HUH? Shove him in a cage and treat him like an animal? Force him to watch as the others die? Collars and whips and cattle prods? Mazes?!

Nedzu may lose his shit.

Juuuuust a little bit.

But if anyone there knows what good for them? They saw NOTHING. What's a little PTSD flashback between friends? Now what is the baby?

Smashcut to said baby!

Because it was a TEAM effort, Danny was successful in "Nuh Uh!"ing out of Rulership. But NOT out of governance. Since he DID help. He's a Councilman now. It's? Not as bad as it could be, honestly. Since it's opened the Zone up to a more democratic system.

Still held by "kick the ass of the person you wanna replace" but still!

Babysteps.

Thing is? There was apparently this weird? Leak? Like a couple hundred years ago, in this one area, that was never addressed. Everyone just moved their doors and stuff. Treated it like the floors flooded. But now that they HAVE someone to complain too?

They all want their territories back.

"Go fix it!" What are we? Janitors?

Danny looses the rock, paper, scissors competition. He's pretty sure Boxy cheated. But like? Dude has a kid to go home too, so Danny doesn't fight him to hard on this. Uuuuuugh. Just remember the Spider-Man motto. Great power~ blah blah blaaaah~

And? Wow is it fucked out there.

The whole PLANET has to be limnal as FUCK. Yikes.

Problem is? When he and his team (Because YES, he HAS learned from his mistakes, Jazz.) get close to the... frankly the Zone here looks like distorted spiderwebbing. With him leading the charge, obviously.

....something happens.

It's... it's not a portal. Wrong color. It's like someone USED the weird spiderwebbing effect to... to reach INTO the Zone? But they are severally Limnal. Clawed hands, blue tint. But that's not the problem.

No, the problem.

The Horror.

The thing that his team can only watch on in agonized terror as it plays out... is that hand? It shoots out of nowhere. Ghostlike in the Zone. Meaning it must be living. And PLUNGES directly into Danny's chest to wrap around his core.

Time seems to slow.

He can't even scream in pain. At the violation. His team, acquaintances, yes, but friendly ones. Can not even cry out in horror, as they watch their friend and team lead be butchered before them. Before that uncaring hand is ripping back. Perfect ice and starlight in its uncaring grip.

For a terrible moment... he is in two places at once.

Then he is crushed in a burning grip. Like molten bars. Watching his own body dissolve into nothing in an instant, pain and horror still etched upon his face. The beginnings of screams ripping from his team as they jerk away from the nightmarish threat.

Then he can not think at all.

He... he TRIES. Knows he has been captured. Is certainly not the sort to give up easily. But... he's so tired. His body feels? Weird. Not wrong, per say. It's HIS. But... small and weird. Like he's shape shifted into a new form and hasn't adjusted yet.

....

.......

...........

He's getting really sick of all the goop against his whiskers and in his ears. It feels WEIRD against his fu- WAIT a second... did those assholes shove him into an animal? Why?! To contain him? Ha! Jokes on them! He's DONE THIS before!

For FUN!

He once spent a whole ass summer as a tiny dragon just 'CAUSE!

Unfortunately, said assholes notice him waking up. Dump him in a glorified hamster cage. But like.... a SHITTY "I don't care about the pet I bought" hamster cage. Dude. And he's naked.

Is that Japanese? Ooooh! It IS! Thank you, Tucker's Weeb phase.

......actually, never mind. Lotta dehumanizing language there, my guys. What is this? The GIW international? You couldn't even give me PANTS? Swear to God, call me an "it" ONE more time and the next time I have to go? I am going to aim through the bars at your-! *alarms going off*

....wasn't me.

I mean, be all means, ha ha and get fucked, but? Wasn't me. Oh hey! Some one exploded the doo-

AND? In Lab 4?

Nedzu finds a child with fluffy, ungroomed black and white fur, and the curious yet cautious eyes of a survivor. They are the most magnificent green, pale and luminous they glow in the laboratories lighting. Paws too big for his small frame, delicate ears on the swivel, equally large. Yet to grow into either. Adolescent, at best.

He watches the child take him in. Note his features and the chaos behind him. The injured scientist under his feet. Come to him conclusion. Nedzu will not rush him. Now that he... he stand the chance to be the hero he himself never had. It is a strange feeling. At once cathartic and unbearably painful.

He is given the equivalent of a cheerful grin, as the lad points the the lock on the cage. Is asked if he happened to bring a spare pair of pants. He can not help his amused chortle as he makes quick work of the lock. The unbearable RELIEF he feels.

He... he was not too late.

These monsters had no chance to crush the boy's light. To make a monster of him, like they did with him. He survived his laboratory, his hell. But not all of him left that terrible place. He knows that. Some innocence, some goodness, died alone in the dark. But here? He insured there would be no chance.

With amusement, he watches the boy turn the lab upside down until he finds spare scrubs. Triumphant, he then considers his own, tiny claws. Dismisses them. Attempts to hop up on a chair to retrieve something sharp. It? Is unbearably cute. To watch him rip and shred, problem solve. His little mind churning away. Whiskers twitching as his eyes dart around, considering his options.

Nedzu offers one of his spare knives.

Watches him light up.

Adorable~

@legitimatesatanspawn @hdgnj @nerdpoe @babbling-babull @lolottes

[save-the-villainous-cat]

I know you’ve done at least two “hero tortured in front of the villain who can’t do anything because their relationship is a secret” but may I kindly request the opposite? Superhero, fed up with the hero’s “I almost got them but they slipped away at the last second” shenanigans, captures the villain themself and subsequently tortures them in front of the hero, who must sit there and do nothing but watch as their lover suffers “in the name of justice”.

It was the kind of feeling that pressed the hero’s ribcage together. That kind of feeling when they looked at a person and simply knew the bad news they’d deliver. That horrible feeling when they got the call they’d tried to avoid all day.

The hero took in a deep breath and tried to remember their training. They tried to remember the rules they had to follow to avoid a panic attack. Usually, they weren’t someone to lose their cool that quickly but right now, they were sure they had to throw up.

“You look quite pale,” the superhero mumbled. They cocked their head curiously but the hero couldn’t even bring their eyes to look away from the villain’s broken form on the ground.

Hell, there was so much blood.

And they weren’t moving anymore.

“Are you done now?” the hero asked. “I have work to get back to.”

The superhero balanced the pipe they’d used to beat the villain with on two fingers, almost as if they were part of the circus and tried to impress the hero.

But the hero wasn’t impressed by their ability to balance a pipe that still had blood dropping down its metal nor were they impressed by how little the superhero cared about making a person being suffer like this.

“You don’t look like you enjoyed this. I did you a favour.”

“I don’t really think beating a prisoner has anything to do with justice.” The hero tried to keep their voice up but they could feel the lump in their throat. They could feel the tears and the pain in their nose that announced them.

They’d kissed the villain this morning softly. They had told them they’d have to be at work a little longer. And the villain had promised to take everything slow, after all, they were still recovering from a horrible cold.

“They’re a villain and you failed to do your job.” The hero couldn’t do this. They couldn’t look at the villain.

Something in their chest seemed to crack. Something deep down was breaking into pieces. The hero wanted to strangle the superhero right here, right now. They wanted to run up to their lover and call the medics.

Was the villain still alive? God, the hero couldn’t do this. They clenched their jaw, desperate for some stability.

The villain must’ve been weak and the superhero must’ve realised that they were struggling. It was sick to think about it, sick to imagine their lover who was supposed to be in bed, being punched over and over again by the hero’s boss.

“I apologise if any of my work didn’t satisfy you,” the hero said. “But this isn’t appropriate.”

Broken fingers. One ankle was definitely cracked too. The superhero had broken most of the villain’s ribs as well. If even one of them was piercing the villain’s lungs…The hero didn’t want to think about that.

The villain’s whole respiratory system must’ve been fucked.

“This is mercy,” the superhero said. “I could’ve done worse things to them.”

They put a hand on the hero’s shoulder but the hero didn’t think there was anything worse than this. Death would’ve been more merciful. Death for the both of them.

“I could’ve done worse things to you,” the superhero clarified and the hero realised this wasn’t the villain’s punishment. It was theirs. It was the hero’s fault. The superhero rather beat up a villain than one of their own.

But their actions were clear. If the hero allowed themselves to slip up one more time, it was them who’d be fighting for their life.

This was a warning, a demonstration of power. It was intimidation. It was cruel.

“I understand,” the hero said. Their eyes found the villain again. The bleeding villain who didn’t move at all. The same villain who had promised not to go out today. The same villain who would’ve probably done it anyway to buy some flowers for the hero. The hero couldn’t think about it. They couldn’t think about the villain’s smile. About lazy kisses in the morning or how gentle they were when the hero was covered in injuries.

“That’s a good puppy.” The superhero squeezed their shoulder hard enough to leave bruises before they walked towards the door. “Oh, another thing…see these cameras?”

The hero followed the superhero’s index finger with their eyes. Four in total. Each corner. Perfect view of the entire room.

“If you talk to them, if you touch them, I’ll know. Your job is to observe them. Nothing else, got it?” the superhero asked and the hero only nodded weakly. “Once they wake up, we’ll be ready for round two.”

The hero really needed to throw up.

[chaoticace2005]

Why Sir Pentious got redeemed:

1. He was killed so his soul got re-evaluated (if so what happens to all other Sinners who die?)

2. He got redeemed a millisecond before Adam killed him, the intent of sacrificing himself being enough to get into heaven

3. He was destined to be redeemed when he put his pride away and confessed to Cherri

4. Being in Heaven or Hell is based on whether or not you believe you’re a good person. At that moment his opinion of himself shifted enough to qualify for Heaven.

5. He racked up enough good points to be redeemed, as did Angel, the only reason he’s there and Angel isn’t is because Valentino owns Angel’s soul.

6. Susan owned Sir Pentious’ soul, keeping him tied to Hell. She died at that very moment though, releasing him.

7. Susan is a bad bitch and can’t die. But she saw how stupid he was about to be and was like “I give up”, releasing him.

8. The universe knew that Adam was going to die and there always has to be one Alex Brightman in Heaven. They couldn’t take Fizzarolli because they don’t want to deal with Asmodeus, so they defied their own rules and took Sir Pentious.

9. He didn’t get redeemed. His design was just re-used and this is a totally different Winner, the story just ended like this to give us hope

10. He didn’t get redeemed, this is Charlie’s hope of what did happen because she can’t accept his death

11. All of Hazbin is a story being told by Frank, and he added his boss going to Heaven because that’s what he believes happened (either a conspiracy theory or that’s what the Hazbin crew told him.)

12. Using a war machine to kill people was the last sin he needed to repent for, the fact he was redeemed before Adam’s blast is just luck.

13. Adam’s blast beamed Sir Pentious up to Heaven

14. Adam’s blast is actually a de-Sinner, usually it kills people but because Sir Pentious didn’t have a lot of Sin-juice he was reborn

15. He chose that moment to convert to a born again Christian. He was born again.

16. He sneezed and an angel blessed him

17. This was another “fuck you” from the universe: he kissed the girl he liked and made a family only for it all to be taken away

18. It’s a Good Place situation where he thinks he’s in Heaven but it’s really not and this is just extra torture.

19. He’s in purgatory and this is what he’s dreaming.

20. It’s a test by the higher ups in Heaven “OH you think heaven is good for Sinners? Wrong!” Then they chose a guy who was starting to find happiness in Hell to prove their point that Sinners can’t find joy in Heaven

21. His death was so anticlimactic the universe felt like it had to give him a second chance.

22. Vox is a heavenly official in disguise (the TV is just a mask.) And told him back in episode 2 to kill himself, Sir Pentious sacrificing himself fulfilled that wish, so the universe redeemed him for fulfilling Vox’s challenge

23. Lilith ex-machina came in last minute like a girl boss and saved his ass. Her powers transcend time.

24. That’s Sir Pentious’ clone, which Pentious had programmed to be released the second he died (there may be tons of Alex Brightmans in the world, but there can only be one Sir Pentious.)

25. Charlie learns how to redeem Sinners in the future. She also learns to time travel, so she grabs Sir Pentious at that last second before he died, helps him get redeemed and then chucks him back into the timeline because screw the consequences.

26. Alex Brightman got amnesia and said “H-huh?! Where-where am I?!” during recording. Everyone though he just ad-libbed a line and tried to make it fit in.

27. The Eggs are secretly gods. They blessed and saved Pentious before Adam could kill them.

28. Emily saw what he was about to do and pulled a lever. It was the right lever.

29. Last minute someone realized the play on words with Pentious’ name (Sir Repentious) and added this scene in

30. Alex Brightman was originally not going to return to the show, so Pentious and Adam died. Later things changed and he could return, but most filming had already been done so they took him aside and filmed that final scene separately and added it in.

[kotton-kandy953]

━ 𝚂𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙴

➛ yandere!male headcannons × fem/gn!reader

title page┆word count: 0.5k┆warnings: second-person pronouns, slight anime spoilers (what he did before joining the ada), manipulation, methods of murder (bludgeoning, burning), murder, obsessive tendencies, suicide mentions, torture, toxic relationships, yandere themes┆a/n: this took me way too fucking long to write. writers block suckkkss

general ! yandere ! osamu dazai hc’s x g/n ! reader

❝ can I at least die knowing that you loved me as much as I love you? ❞

Osamu Dazai would be an overall unpredictable, manipulative, and possessive yandere; knowing exactly how to control you emotionally and physically.

Due to Dazai’s eccentric and unpredictable personality, you never know what he’s thinking in that suicidal brain of his. Especially whether or not his romantic advances toward you are genuine.

Dazai relentlessly flirting with certain people around him is completely normal, but there’s something about you that has especially captivated him. Was it the way you reacted to his romantic advances or… no, it was something completely different, right?

Its a well known fact that Dazai is quite literally obsessed with the concept of suicide. More specifically, committing double suicide with his lover. It’s not uncommon for him to constantly pester you with the idea, desperately pleading for you to hear him out on the offer. But as a person that values your life (I hope) you always decline his… kind offers…

Manipulation is easy for someone as smart and as skilled of a detective that Dazai is. It won’t take long for him to have you wrapped around his finger; but first he wants to come off as a friend. If you work for the ADA maybe even a close coworker, an annoying one, but still. He needs your trust in order to have your love.

Just think of it, maybe his manipulation could drive you into agreeing to do a double suicide with him? Now wouldn’t that just be beautiful? to him

Moving on, I do believe Dazai would kill for you. As a matter of fact, he would get rid of literally anyone for you, himself included; nevertheless, he would never even attempt to harm you.

But of course, an ex-mafia member wouldn’t mind getting his hands dirty for you, his darling. When he murders someone he deems a “threat”, it definitely isn’t pretty.

Long-suffering torture is the only way he’ll deal with them. Like watching them bleed out after being bludgeoned to death, or burned to death in an abandoned building, maybe even as simple as stabbing. No matter how gruesome or messy he has to get, Dazai will do to get them away from you, his love.

When Dazai has finally kidnapped you, he won’t be very strict when it comes to escaping. As a matter of fact, he’ll try to make you fell as comfortable as possible when with him. Providing you with shelter, food, a place to sleep… Despite kidnapping you against your will, Dazai doesn’t want you to hate him. Even if you never love him back, a simple case of Stockholm Syndrome will have to do. Because you’re never escaping him.

And if you ever do manage that feat, or at least try to, he’ll always find you and drag you right back to where you belong; right next to him. Right next to him forever.

THIS IS THE MOST IVE EVER WRITTEN FOR HEADCANNONS???? OMG!?? <333

back to title page

[ravencincaide]

Precious flowers get picked first

Summary: Being in charge was not an easy feat for Chuuya  especially when his subordinates reached a new level of failure. A mission a glorified monkey would be able to accomplish. Yet here they were, humiliated in front of the entire Yokohama by a little brat. Still if you kept up with that attitude then Chuuya would just have to make the move himself. Before anyone else managed to pluck his flower from him. 

Pairing: Ability user fem!reader x Boss Chuuya!

Inspired request from anon: “Placed in a universe where Chuuya is the port mafia's boss and the reader is someone who made a mistake and caught the eye of the port mafia. Maybe they got involved with some mess and ended up being a port mafia's target?” 

Warnings: Cursing, blood, an intrigued, possessive and annoyed Chuuya

Enjoy~

“ So let me get this straight” the executives words were spoken slowly, condescendingly, as if addressed to a child or a barely competent idiot who sputtered pure gibberish “- you butchered the fuckin’ mission; got your asses kicked, pick pocketed and left naked at the bank of Yokohama river to waddle all the way to the base by a fucking brat?!” 

Chuuya’s piercing eyes studied the dozen men in his office. He ran his gaze over each and every one of them; their blank faces, fear filled eyes and a slight shift in their body language that loudly screamed ‘failure’. The disheveled appearance of the more experienced members and the fish-out-of-water expressions from the new recruits only added to the awkward atmosphere. They all looked like they would have preferred anything- even death- to the predicament of delivering such a humiliating report, in person, to their boss. To stare Chuuya in the face and admit that they not only failed in their assignment but did so in the most shameful fashion- a disgrace so spectacular that death was the least of their worries. In fact they all looked like they would have preferred the encounter with the grim reaper instead of this. 

For a second, Chuuya shared that sentiment. Frustrated sigh escaped his lips; a gloved hand reached up and pressed against the bridge of his nose between his eyes in a futile attempt to combat the oncoming headache at the realization that he had yet another mess to clean up. Why bother with subordinates if they were this fucking incompetent? Why be a boss if he spent more time in the field than ever before? 

Fucking morons. 

Chuuya’s free hand rested on his desk, a nervous finger tapped away against the mahogany wood right beside his top hat, a freshly poured and forgotten glass of wine and an unlit cigarette propped up against the ashtray. A ritual to mourn the lost. The initial plan was the lost comrades- now he had the mafia’s tarnished reputation to lament for. An incident that would make Port Mafia the laughing stock of the entire district; an invitation for other organizations to challenge them. To challenge the current world order, the long since established status-quo. 

“..A girl” 

Chuuya’s eyes instantly shifted to the youngest recruit who’s pitiful voice echoed around the office. The man ducked his head; finding the carpet-clad floor uncharacteristically interesting as he repeated himself an octave louder “ It was a girl” 

“ So you had the fucking time to check the brat out instead of roundin’ her up?”

Several men flickered their gazes between each other; the closest to a lewd grin they’d dare express in front of their boss. It was as if they took Chuuya’s question as an invitation to share their observation- perhaps if they appealed to the man rather than the boss then their punishment would decrease from certain murder to manageable- albeit torturous existence.  

“ Well she was really pretty, like a serene pretty and her voice was-—” Chuuya’s fist made contact with the table; the crack of protest from the splintered wood- like the fracture of bones- silenced the office. The red power surrounded him like an ominous warning; it dared the next person to open their fucking mouth, and  become very acquainted with gravity.  

“ A little girl beat a dozen mafia and you’re fucking raving about her appearance? Get out of my sight before you regret it” Chuuya’s voice was a dangerous hiss that came out in between deep breaths. When none of the men moved he launched an ashtrash at their heads; the heavy glass hitting the youngest subordinates in the forehead. It split the skull in half, spilled its dark red insides all over the boy's face and Chuuya’s office. Not sufficiently to kill but damned near close. 

The final warning. 

A warning no one questioned as the men shuffled out of the office; some of them lingered just long enough to gasp out an apology and a ‘thank you’ for his mercy. A sharp look made them rush out and shut the door firmly behind themselves. It left Chuuya in dead silence for once during this entire damned day. Surely no one would be stupid enough to disturb him more on this godforsaken night. 

Chuuya took several calm breaths. Regained his composure, calmed the spiraled bloodlust into a manageable humm in the back of his skull. Then he stood up from his desk and made sure to take the glass of wine with him. He took a sip of it, the sweetness of it shifted the murderous bloodlust into a different emotion-  a different type of lust. For a moment Chuuya lingered by his desk, torn between going back to the icy luxurious apartment in the city or to remain in the stuffy spare room of his office. He glanced at the paperwork; eyes lingered on the late evening newspapers that depicted his underlings humiliation. 

Then he groaned audibly. 

He would need to gather his executives first thing tomorrow. Silence the publicist- deal with anyone who dared question Port Mafia's authority. Sign new deals; shut Dazai the fuck up before the damage could spread to irreversible proportions. 

With quick steps Chuuya headed towards the door in the corner of his office partially hidden by a dark curtain. Past it was a simple room with a bed, a dresser and another door which led towards the bathroom with a shower. He walked past those and towards the tiny glass table with a lamp in the corner by the only window.  He flickered it on. The lamp flared and lit up, the strong rays chased back the darkness of the room. In doing so, it illuminated a handful of pictures on the wall. 

Your pictures.

 The ones stolen from city archives- copied from security cameras. Most were fuzzy with the exception of the largest one in the middle which he had stolen- purchased- from your old family photographer. A picture unfitting the family album- or engagement-proposal photo. It was most certainly Chuuya favorite. This was the one where you showed your true character. Large curious eyes half lidded in boredom behind long lashes, lips pulled up into a displeased frown and arms stubbornly crossed over your chest. A huge red flower in your hair, just barely held in place with hair pins. 

“ You’re losing your touch, flower” Chuuya murmured as he stared at your picture. “Such a mistake to be seen; so careless. Tsk tsk tsk” 

A twirl of his wine, its sweet aroma filled Chuuya’s senses. He took a sip of it- salvaged it in the moments it took to walk up to your picture. A gloved finger trailed out your features; from your hair, to the outline of your face, over your neck then up to the frown on your lips. He ran his thumb over them, as if to brush out the sullen look. His own lips itched up into a humorless smile.  

“ hmm  m’precious, keep showing off, keep being a such stubborn naughty girl and I might just need to fetch you myself” Chuuya’s grip tightened over the photograph, scrunched it in between his fingertips as his expression twisted into something obsessively morbid. Indeed you, alive and in front of him, would be magnificently better than a mere photograph. A precious little flower who would not escape his grasp; a pretty flower he would not let others-  let any other man-  touch ever again.

After all, Chuuya was the boss of the strongest underground organization, the leader of Port Mafia. And what kind of boss would he be if he let someone else pick his precious flower first? 

Author Note: Finally this fic is out! It took me longer than I wanted it to and I hope this piece fulfilled the anon's request (if you're still around of course! So so sorry it took me so long!).

And for the rest of my gorgeous reader I hoped it peeked your interest enough that you'd wanna read a (possible) part two ;)

Liked this fic and want more? check out Raven's masterlist!

©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

[armandclocksitall]

Object of Your Pursuit (Chapter 1)

Armand x gn! Reader (no y/n used)

Warnings: descriptions of death, suicide ideation

Armand strode into the bar. He knew he would gain nothing from being here. No human food or drink could ever quench him, but he chose to be here to escape his own thoughts of what went down just a few days prior. A 77 year long relationship torn apart in a matter of days by the first person who ever saw him for who he was. The 500 year old vampire had never been found out so fast, had never been found out ever even by himself. Louis was right, Daniel Molloy truly was as fascinating as he made him out to be.

Daniel, his fledgling. Armand never intended to make another vampire, but Daniel was different. And now he was being tracked down by him.

He sat in the corner of the crowded room as he thought about how things would play out. Maybe he’d just let Daniel kill him; 500 years was a long enough life. He never found anyone who had any interest in sticking around so why wait around any longer?

Armand was there for hours watching the people pile in and out of the building, the chatter never dying down. A rowdy bachelor party that would grow to regret their decision to drink so much the night before, a girl crying in the bathroom being comforted by her best friend over a breakup that truly will benefit her down the road, a man face down at a table, dead to the world having drank himself into unconsciousness rather than face the things that scare him, different people with different lives yet not at all breaking any molds.

They were all so boring. He winced at the word– boring. Maybe the most hurtful of insults he ever received from the man he loved. Armand was the only one who remembers that night so vividly, by his own fault of course. He can’t even claim that he thought what he was doing was right, he knew of the monumental fuck ups he committed and how they’d likely come back to bite him but he still did them. Lied to Louis, took credit for Lestat’s actions, tortured Daniel, manipulated people time and time again for his own benefit. He couldn’t tell if he was sorry for doing it or just sorry he was caught but now he sit here alone and still like a statue waiting to figure out his next steps.

The doors of the bar slammed open again, a gust of wind blowing through the bar giving a slight break from the man-made humidity indoors. A group of college students filing in talking of their upcoming exams, truly nothing groundbreaking. Complaints of a professor, what pages to study, blah blah and more never ending blah.

But finally something caught the ancient one’s eye, one of the students looked just as agonizingly bored as he felt. He entered their mind for only a second before feeling the thoughts wash over him.

They were thinking of a clock, counting the seconds until they were away from this group, this town, the school, everything. Nothing was keeping their interest and they were sick to death of it.

Sick to death, Armand thought to himself. It had been a time since he last hunted and a burnt out student would be quite easy prey, already halfway lured into wanting some long awaited rest. Normally he enjoyed a bit of a challenge but at his age, finding someone to drain wasn’t exactly difficult. He had sat there for hours with the senseless musings of humanity droning through his mind, he deserved an easy end to his night.

He stared at them, willing them to turn and lock eyes.

“Come to me.” The words were smooth as they slithered their way into the ear of his prey. “Come to me.” The words he projected into Lestat’s mind so many years ago.

The student turned feeling his breath on their neck, the words so clearly spoken and meant for them. They expected him to be just an arms length away as they turned but were intrigued to find the apparent speaker of the command across the bar with an intense stare.

They broke from their group, a muttered excuse of needing to go that was paid no attention. Slowly, they made their way through the crowded room brushing shoulders with people who each smelled of a different type of alcohol that burned their nose. Their eyes never leaving the fire like irises of the vampire, they approached his table and stared down at him.

“Mind if I sit?”

Armand wordlessly nodded his head at the chair in front of him. They sat and absentmindedly swished their half empty drink around in its cup. Their eyes met again waiting for the other to strike up a conversation. Armand straightened in his seat realizing they had no intention of speaking first.

“You’re bored.”

“Yeah?” they looked at him puzzled, “It’s a Thursday night at a bar in a college town, what’s interesting about that?”

“Not just tonight. You’re bored in general,” he said with a face devoid of emotion. This wasn’t an assumption. He just knew.

“Maybe, but you’re certainly not adding any entertainment factor,” they spoke, ready to walk away from this strange man completely.

“I can offer you something that might add to it though. It might interest you to–”

They cut him off, “I’m not gonna hook up with you.”

“That wasn’t what I was offering, though I’m flattered you at least thought about it,” his stoney face finally broke into a smirk. “What I was going to say is that it might interest you to at least listen to and consider my proposal.”

The student growing from bored to frustrated at his conversational pacing motioned for him to continue.

“I have a, let’s say ‘hobby’, of tracking people down. It keeps things interesting for me at my advanced age,” he chuckled to himself. “Would you be interested perhaps in being my object of pursuit tonight?”

“Your object of pursuit?” they laughed at his wording while rolling their eyes, “I already told you I’m not interested in hooking up with you.”

“Like I told you, that’s not my intention.”

“Then what exactly is your intention and why the hell would I wanna be apart of any of this?”

“I could offer you whatever amount of money you needed to live comfortably, more than comfortably, for the rest of your life. All you would have to do is make it to a location of my choosing before sunrise,” he reasoned as if this was an everyday occurrence for him.

“You’d give me money for you to hunt me down?,” they asked incredulously. “But only if I make it to wherever by morning; and what exactly happens if I don’t make it there?”

Armand raised an eyebrow at them, making it out like the answer was quite obvious. His eyes felt like razor blades cutting into them from across the table.

Every joke they could’ve made in that moment suddenly fled from their mind realizing exactly what he was inferring. “You’ll kill me.”

“Only if I catch you.”

The stuffy bar felt cold and suffocating in an instant, like all the air was sucked out of the room and all that was left was the two of them in a standoff waiting for the next move; the younger of the two discovering just how much danger they were in.

The thought sobered them immediately. They were sat across from a killer. The way he spoke of this plan it seemed this was far from his first time making the proposal. His words popped in their head. “At my advanced age,” their eyes scanned his face in confusion. He couldn’t be more than thirty years old, but his eyes are what gave it away; he was much much older than he seemed. The glowing irises clued them in that who– what was sitting across from them was not entirely human. It terrified them to their core that they didn’t immediately jump away from the horror that was this man but he was right, they were bored out of their absolute mind of life. This offer ended in two possible outcomes; they make it to where he tells them to go and they live out their life in the lap of luxury or they die. And they felt sick to their stomach that they actually found excitement in it all; years of the mundane ended, the first sense of twisted joy they’ve felt in recent memory and its the offer of being hunted like a wild animal by this creature.

Armand watched the gears turn in their head, watched as they rolled the idea and all its potential. He slipped into their mind to see their thoughts race a thousand miles per hour until everything became clear. They would accept.

“Where do I need to go?”

He smiled warmly at them as if he wasn’t planning their death as they spoke. “There’s a church about 5 miles west of here called Saint Mary’s, no vehicles allowed; it takes the fun out of it for me.”

5 miles. He expected them to not even make it five miles before he killed them. The realization was grim but they shook his hand before standing, “I take it I’m not allowed to tell my friends I could potentially be gruesomely murdered tonight?”

“It would certainly complicate things for me, but it’s nothing I couldn’t handle quite quickly. I’ll even give you a five minute head start,” he said smugly before making a shooing motion with his hand, “the clock’s already started.”

They approached their friends rigidly saying their quick farewells for the night, a half assed excuse made about needing to wake up early the next morning. As they exited the bar they threw a single look over their shoulder, noticing his eyes never left them for a second; a shiver wracked their body as they headed into the cool atmosphere of a quickly emptying street.

They pulled up the address and directions to the church on their phone with shakey hands, their heart was pounding but despite the lump in their throat they couldn’t bring the tears to their eyes. Adrenaline was coursing through their veins and yet they weren’t upset at the prospect of dying. The student squared their shoulders and began a quick pace towards their location.

A five minute head start, Armand thought it was hilarious. He could give them an hour head start and would still catch them. Obviously he wouldn’t but he was at least generous enough to wait twenty before standing from his chair and making his way to the street. A dreadfully bored college student is easy prey but even if he wanted a simple hunt he’s never had an issue with playing with his food.

Within minutes he was caught up to the student, staying far enough away and concealed to the shadows that they wouldn’t notice. He expected slight terror, maybe some sniveling at the prospect of death, a full sprint even; adrenaline makes humans do funny things. But no, none of that when he showed up, not any of those things. He had noticed they were bored but he never predicted they would react so– odd? The two were in a park, about three miles from the church, they had made it a good distance in the time he had given them. There was no panic, they were listening to music through a pair of headphones. It was two o’clock in the morning in a park lit only by the occasional street lamp, they weren’t worried about a vampire brutally murdering them; they didn’t even seem to worry that being so unaware of their surroundings at such a time could get them killed by a random stranger.

Armand scoffed to himself. Were they not taking this seriously at all? They were at a bridge that overlooked a small stream when they stopped. He looked into their thoughts, preparing himself to be offended by this human’s apparent stupidity. They were stopping to admire how the lights bounced off the water– while a murderous creature was after them, while he was after them. The next thought is what caught him off guard though. They were thinking about how if they died tonight they left behind no real regrets; they had nothing to quite look forward to in their future. He saw they had a general disinterest in life but never suspected them to be suicidal, though most humans even when suicidal have some sense of yearning for life; this simply did not appear in the student’s head. There was no sense of hopelessness; just apathy, a preparedness for death should it come to them.

It hit him at that moment, they felt the same way he did following his separation from Louis. A feeble minded human potentially understanding the depth of vampiric loneliness? He shook the thought from his head walking away from the scene, he was simply overthinking things. This night would only end one way; he would feed on and kill them and move on with his life once again.

It was another hour before they finally approached the church. They hadn’t seen him the entire night and considered that maybe it was just some weird scare tactic. Maybe they weren’t actually being hunted for sport by some otherworldly creature disguising himself as man. They wandered up the street seeing steeple up ahead, just a few hundred feet before they were guaranteed safety. For a moment, hope swelled in their chest; they could actually succeed at something. That moment all but vanished seeing a figure standing in the shadowed doorway; it was him. The air left their body knowing this would be the end. Their feet began to drag as they walked towards the man. How did he get here so fast?

Armand’s eyes followed the student. He saw the minuscule glint in their eye thinking they had made it disappear in an instant. It would’ve brought him joy in any other situation, but for some reason now it just made him feel a bit guilty.

“So I didn’t make it in time,” they shrugged apathetically.

“No. You didn’t.”

The two were at a standstill across from one another. The older of them looking at the other with a sense of curiosity.

“You aren’t going to beg for your life?”

They shrugged, “I knew the terms of the deal, I didn’t get here before you did. I’m gonna die, that was what you said would happen.”

Armand was met with a wave of conflicting emotions; it was so rare for him to spare a human life, and never if it didn’t benefit him somehow. Allowing them to live offered him no advantage by any stretch of the imagination and yet he found himself moving aside and motioning for the student to pass him. They stared at him in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“I haven’t touched the door yet so I suppose I’m not technically here.”

They held his stare as they walked past him and placed their palm on the door. “Does this mean you won’t kill me?”

He nodded already parting ways with the student, waving his hand dismissively, “I’ll see to it that the money is wired into your account, I’ve already got all your details so don’t worry about it.”

They stood there on the steps to the church speechless. What had changed since the beginning of the night? Before they had left the bar he seemed more than ready to kill them without so much as a second thought. They didn’t want to die but it left them with an overwhelming sense of frustration; who the hell was he? What the hell was his problem? They had half a mind to chase him down and demand these answers but by the time they had processed what had just happened he had disappeared into the darkness of the night without a single trace.

The following night, Armand was on the hunt again; tonight’s menu was a drunkard with an ego even bigger than his bar tab. He had no issue with this one, the man learned very quickly that this was to be taken seriously and was currently sprinting to his destination after Armand played a few mind tricks on him to raise the adrenaline. The vampire was waiting for a single mistake before he finally stepped in and was granted that wish as he watched the man trip over a curb, sprawled out over the sidewalk. Armand stepped out of the shadows next to him, making the man scramble away repeatedly failing to get to his feet.

“You were so close, a mile away and you would’ve made it,” Armand pouted mockingly. “You know the deal.”

The man was drunkenly sobbing, begging for his life as the creature before him stared him down apathetically. “Please, God, please. I don’t wanna die. If this is a message that I should clean myself up, I’ll do it. I’ll fix everything, please just don’t kill me, I’ll do anything. Just God, please!”

He sneered downwards. “God has nothing to do with this.” He spat, “You made your decision, you will die tonight by my hand.”

Terrified, the man finally made it to his feet and turned to run only to be grabbed by the collar and thrown into a nearby alley by Armand. He was effortlessly lifted by the 500 year old being, fangs sinking into his carotid.

Armand drank deeply from the man, his blood bitter with alcohol. It would have to do after the previous night’s happenings. The alcoholic’s heart slowed and he dropped his body waiting for it to come to a full stop. He was still haunted by that student unable to push them from his thoughts; who were they to occupy his own?

He quickly disposed of the body; he threw it in a dumpster, taking no care and breaking as many bones as needed to shove the limbs under piles of garbage. It was careless but the humans would likely write it off as another unsolved murder, no real suspicions had as long as he didn’t make a habit of this. He’s sure he would’ve taken more care if his mind wasn’t reeling thinking only of them. He was wandering the streets mindlessly having no true destination in mind. The sun would be up in a few hours, he should probably figure out where he is and find his way back to his coffin before sunrise. When he looked up he found himself in a residential part of the city, a place he’d never been before but around him he caught a familiar scent.

Armand rolled his eyes. Of course he would end up mindlessly wandering here. It was the scent of them. The apartments around him were all run down; fire escapes nearly coming off the sides of the buildings, iron bars over windows, sidewalks poorly paved and overgrown with weeds. He found himself calling out to them with the same words he had used the night before, “Come to me.”

Five minutes of prodding at their mind, summoning the student, a door to his left swung open. There they stood, in a frumpy pair of pajamas looking irritated at his presence.

“Decide you actually wanna kill me?” they jeered sarcastically.

“No, I spared you last night and I intend on sticking with that decision. I was just–” he paused, “in the area.”

They shifted their weight uncomfortably from side to side before making a decision, “Well if you wanna keep talking to me can we at least bring it inside; I don’t love wearing my pj’s in the street.”

He nodded before following them into the building up to their apartment. As he entered he noticed the inside was just as worn as the outside, albeit the decor added a bit of warmth to the room. It wasn’t highbrow interior design by any stretch of the imagination but it was lived in, something that could never be recreated by anyone else. Homemade blankets were strewn across a couch that had a few holes speckled over its fabric, the television was set to some random show on low volume, pictures framed on the wall some containing humans that the student seemed to care about, other just different pieces of art that they had collected over their time in this town. It was undeniably them.

They stared at him as he surveyed the room, silence overtook them for a full minute before he spoke. “This is where you live?”

Their eyebrow raised, “Yeah? I’ve lived here since I started college.”

“Are you going to get a new apartment with the money I gave you?”

They snorted, “Why? Are you planning on dropping by?”

His face was stone. Ignoring their quip, “Well now you can afford better, wouldn’t you want to live somewhere that isn’t so–” he chose his next words carefully so as to not offend them, “neglected.”

The student blinked, having not even considered the possibility of moving. “I mean, I guess I could. But I don’t think I will if I’m being completely honest.”

“You enjoy living here? Like this?”

“Well, a nicer place wouldn’t have my favorite sandwich shop up the street.” They laughed before thinking hard, “And just because I have money doesn’t necessarily mean I wanna completely change my lifestyle. I quit my job and paid off my student loans which is great since I don’t have to worry about those things anymore, but I don’t think buying into a luxurious lifestyle is gonna make me happy.”

“But you can buy whatever you want– do whatever you want.”

“Yeah, but money isn’t gonna buy me friends who care about me. Money won’t buy a family that isn’t constantly hovering, wondering how I’m doing since I moved three states away. I moved away specifically because of how bad they hovered and it still hasn’t stopped them. The government sucks, I’m stressed all the time, I don’t know if I’m happy with what I’m majoring in at college. Turning a hobby into a degree has taken all the joy out of what I once loved and I’m not even guaranteed a job once I get that degree. Money can buy comfort but it sure as hell won’t buy me happiness!” The words tumbled out of their mouth, their breath accelerated and tears came to their eyes. They groaned, bringing their hands to their face. “I’m sorry, that was a lot. I just don’t like thinking too hard about the future.”

Armand stood there stunned. They were right, in a very human way they were completely right. He was beyond rich and yet he also couldn’t achieve the happiness he had always yearned for. For the second time he was shocked that they had understood his exact issues. Who were they? Before he could think through his request, the words were blurted from his mouth, “Could I see you again?”

Read Chapter 2 Here

[cursedkeyboard]

Funnily enough, I've never been too big of a Jason Todd fan. Not because I don't like him, he's a great character, but because DC fails over and over again to give him justice and treat him right.

The number of times alone this boy has been beaten by his adoptive father, betrayed, and forgotten are far too many, far too much.

And the constant portrayal of Jason as this volatile, violent, mindless man is tiresome, lazy in all senses of the word and overdone. I understand that Jason was unstable after he left the pit, I mean, who wouldn't? The trauma of his death alone could've sent anyone crazy, but then to experience everything else afterwards, including having to come to terms that Bruce not only did not kill his murder but also replaced him, leaving Jason to grieve what was once his and what he should've gotten, of course he'd be less than okay.

Again, I'm not the biggest Jason Todd fan but I do wish more people would see just how much good Jason has in his heart, how kind and gentle he can be once his walls are down, when he's no longer constantly analyzing your actions and wondering why would you bother talking to him, getting closer to him.

In my opinion, a man who is so gentle with children, who constantly gives second, third, and fourth chances to people who don't deserve it, who despite it all still wants to make a change and protect the city that failed him, couldn't possibly be anything but the most caring partner. Not just partner, no, also brother and friend.

We all know what he did to Tim and Damian, there are reasons, such as his mental instability at the time and rage, and though those are not excuses, I believe Jason would still drop everything to go save his family. He might complain, he might brood, but family is something important to him even when just looking at them hurts him. He lost his loving mother, stepmother, far too early and it's not hard to imagine that even with all the pain and grief inside his torn heart, the little boy inside Jason still craves the warmth of a family.

Just look at the way he treats his friends, at the way he helps them through situations no one else would, how caring and attentive he is. Jason is gentle, sure, he is rough and mean and he's got blood on his hands, but Jason is made of love.

Jason was made to be loved.

So I think, whether platonic or romantically, Jason would treat you so well. He'd scold you for not wearing warm clothes during winter, "We're in Gotham, you fucking moron, you wanna freeze to death?", all while wrapping you with his jacket or scarf. He'd make sure you're eating at least something every day, and if not, he would immediately put you under his arm, maybe over his shoulder, and take you to the nearest food chain he could find, "I don't want to hear you complaining about headaches when all you had today was a cup of coffee and gum.".

Lord, he'd be torn between freaking out and being extremely annoyed that you got hurt, be it at work, a fight, or just out of clumsiness. But no matter what, his hands would always be so, so gentle when touching you. The tip of his fingers brushing under the injury, as light as a breeze, his other hand holding the back of your neck, or your bicep, perhaps even your hand just to make sure you're there, with him.

Jason would both hush you gently, "I know, sweetheart, we're almost done.", and also tease because he's a little shit at heart, "If you had a little more awareness than a ten year old this wouldn't have happened, idiot."

And physical touches? Oh, love, Jason is a sucker for intimacy.

I know for a fact he wouldn't be comfortable for a long time with anyone in his personal space due to the torture he went through. The trauma would make his skin crawl any time someone got too close or brushed past him, he'd hate it so much because it makes him weak but also because he can't let anyone try to hug him without feeling sick to his stomach.

And with you it's no different. It would take a long time, a lot of trust being built up, conflict and confessions, maybe he'd even open up to you with his head on your lap as you brushed his hair softly, a big, big step for him after years of not letting anyone close. He'd tell you about the Joker, about having hope in Bruce, about his biological mother. And he'd feel vulnerable like a child when you wipe his tears gently without a word.

Once he starts craving your touch, though, regardless if you two have a platonic or romantic relationship, Jason is putty in your hands. Forehead kisses when you part ways, cuddling on the couch while he reads and you're on your phone, thighs touching when sitting close, even a little bit of hand holding when he's stressed and needs to play with your fingers.

He's like a big cat that's constantly making his way onto your chest, stealing your breath and making biscuits on your skin, making sure you're giving him sufficient pats every day.

It's a little part of him that he's barely able to properly allow space for. There's still so much hurt in Jason, so much confusion and desperation, hatred and upset, that he'd probably still close off sometimes, try acting tough so you'd see how fucked up he is, how he's not truly worth of your love.

And yet.

And yet all it'd take for him to go soft and pliant in your hands would be a single touch, cupping his cheeks, brushing his skin softly with your thumbs, right under his pretty emerald eyes, making sure his gaze is on you and only you. Just like that, he'd slump his shoulders and bring you into his arms, breathing a sigh of relief and squeezing you close, your heartbeats synching.

He wouldn't remember when he started feeling safest in your arms but it'd feel like it was since forever. Like there was no one else but you.

Jason was made to be loved, though he is a little broken and a little tainted, lost like a child and hateful like a sinner, your love might just be his salvation, something he's greedy for, selfish for, even when he's so hesitant of somehow hurting you.

[hobisstar]

What are you hiding from love?| Yandere!Jk x Reader

Summary: Being in a relationship with Jungkook you’ve always noticed the signs, the red flags if you will. Being so in love with him you ignored them, until the people you loved dearly started disappearing one by one.

Warnings: Murder, Jungkook victim blaming ( like he will say i killed you because you are too stupid or whatever), Possessiveness, Mentions of Smut, Controlling, Locking up YN.

Taglist: vante 🫶🏾

A/N: This is made to be scary! That is all. I honestly dont like mixing smut with yandere because i read yandere fics to be spooked not horny lol.

5 years,

5 long years, of nothing but love and trust but more than that. Of course honesty, right?

Well on yn’s end there was definitely honesty. Jungkook’s? Not so much. You see there is this dark secret that jungkook has been hiding since they met 6 years ago…

It’s so deadly that it could possibly end their relationship if she found out about it.

She was so beautiful, so calm and gentle with him, he loved that side of her. Hes never seen her angry, sad, or even hurt. He never wants to see that side of her.

Jungkook doesn’t want to be the reason he sees that side of her.

Like now, There are siting on their shared bed, in their shared bedroom, in their shared apartment. Telling the truth, would risk him loosing all of this. He cant have that.

Jungkook looked at her then smiled, “ You are so beautiful you know?” He smiled, kissing the top of her head. YN blushed lightly staring up at him.

YN was quite literally everyone’s dream girl. Maybe that was the problem to Jungkook.

She was too good to everyone including himself and he hated. He knows she has a bad side but he never gets to see it so when he knows someone else gets to experience that mean side of her, he’s instantly jealous.

Who got his baby so pissed that she called you a dumb cunt? A fucking bitch? Who dares piss off his queen?

He will deal with them, with torture. Slow, painful, evil, demented, twisted death.

That was the other side of him he need to never be shown to his lover. It scared him that in any means possible she found out about his… hobby.

Nevertheless, Jungkook admires yn. How she can keep it together in every situation. Worships her to be exact.

“Stop calling be beautiful and get ready for work, handsome.” Yn responded while patting his back.

Right, work. Besides his hobby, he works at a flower shop while yn works at a cafe during the weekend. It’s enough to keep food on their table, to the rent, gas but also enough for simply living. Jungkook owns the flower shop so, he makes a whole lot of money.

There are so many things that yn doesn’t know about Jungkooks basically second life. How deadly it is.

jk: I miss you, baby~

I hate this fucking job

What are you doing?

Is bam stilling your attention from my text?

Babbbbbbbbyyyyy

yn

yn

yn

yn answer the phone

yn: sorry baby! I was feeding bam and fixing me something to eat!

I left my phone in the bathroom

yn: j, you just got to work babes 🤨, how do you miss me already?

You didn’t even clock in yet SILLY!

jk: I can’t miss you now?

Since when did you feel like that?

yn: Jeon I never once said you couldn’t, don’t say that.

jk: but you where implying that…

yn: Jeon Jungkook, clock in, put your phone down, see you when you get home 😕🩷

jk: smh, why that face? Why that reply?

He waited for a reply but he never received one, instead he heard someone clear his throat. He looked up and saw it was a woman probably in her 30s, staring at him like he was a snack.

“Hi! JK right? I came in here a few days ago looking for some flowers for my sisters birthday! I doubt you remember me but I want to come back to get some for myself!” The lady bit her lip and looked Jungkook up then down and Jungkook thought he could be sick.

He forced a half smile, “ Yeah yeah, I don’t remember you. You can get them for yourself, I don’t remember the flower you got last time.” He looked back down at the book he was original decorating with different flower pictures but got bored so he texted his lover.

“oh.. I was hoping you could pick them for me, fresh ones. I know you all do that-,” “ we do but not this early.” He interrupted still looking down, knowing he is hurting the poor woman’s feelings for not even recognizing her or remembering the flower or even falling for her shitty attempt to flirt.

“Okay, ah well I’ll go grab them and pay for them.” She said waiting for a respond or even a nod but she didn’t even get that. She walked over there and grabbed them then returning to the register. While she put her things on the counter, she saw a glimpse of Jungkooks Lock Screen which so happens to be a picture of yn and bam sleeping on the couch. “ Your sister?” She asked, hoping she was right. “ My wife actually and our son.” He scanned the flowers and roughly wrapped them. Roses, it’s be sad if he left a thorn on them. He turned around and slightly cut the stem but enough to keep the thorn nice and sharp.

Jungkook turned back around and handed them to her. As soon as the woman grabbed them she gasped, in pain he assumed. He pretended to be concerned but when he saw the palm of her hand leaking red liquid, he smiled on inside.

“ Oh! Im so sorry! I thought I got all the thorns, out…” he looked up at her then saying “ I guess one snuck away.” giving her the most creepiest blank face the woman has ever seen. She then realized he left the thorn on on purpose. He even sharpened it. “ I can fix that for you-,” “ No! I-It’s fine! Thank you so much! See you!” She some what screamed and hurried out the store frightened.

“ too bad..” Jungkook mumbled and chuckled continuing to put pictures in the decorating book.

“Bam! You just keep growing!” Yn said as she walked into the kitchen smiling while seeing him staring at the spare room. It’s Jungkooks office. “ What’s the matter? You know your dad doesn’t like you going in there.Not even me.” She stooped to his level and petted his back but only received a whimper in return.

Yn stared at the door. It’s taunting her with its unlocked door handle. She looked at the time, it was only 5 pm, Jungkook wouldn’t be home for a few more hours.

“ A peak wouldn’t hurt us right?” Looking at Bam and he barked as if he understood her.

Yn stood up and opened the door walking in. It was a nice little tidy office.

It would be comforting even if it wasn’t so cold. She has to remember to turn on the air for this room once exiting.

She turned around seeing if Bam followed her inside but he was at his bowl slurping up some water.

Looking at the closet door she opened it up and turned on the light. “since when did he make this a dark room?” The red light was a little hard to see in but her eyes soon adjusted quickly.

Spooky wasn’t the feeling that she was feeling but more so unsettled. Yn looked at the photos on the table and quite literally almost vomited.

“ what… what is that?” Stammering as her eyes scanned over the photos laid out on the table.

Pictures of people being hurt, harmed. There were far more worse ones that she doesn’t even want to even mention. Gazing up on the line looking at the ones drying where pictures of, her.

This wouldn’t be weird if it wasn’t of her sleeping, in the shower, getting dressed, even at work.

“Did jungkook take these?… no way…”

Yn was flabbergasted,

Was her boyfriend of 5 years, a serial killer? A psychopath? A fucking weirdo? I mean she saw the signs but thought she was tripping.

Days where he would come home with blood and dirt on his hands and clothes. He would always say it was his and it came from the thorns he dealt with at work.

“yn! I’m home!” Jungkook shouted. As he walked in and smiled when he saw Bam sitting on the couch peacefully sleeping.

It’s where yn and bam usually cuddle so, where is she at?

“Did she leave you by yourself?” He asked Bam who was waking up from sleep. Walking towards the kitchen he saw dinner was made and a note on the fridge door.

“ Welcome home babes! Sorry I couldn’t be home to greet you, I went out to go get a few things but my sister called and said she wanted to have a little sibling time! Ha. Be back by 11 pm! Dinners fixed but do warm it up, then shower and get some sleep! See you later,

Love, Yn <3”

“Ah, I guess she did leave us by ourselves tonight Bam.” He chuckled and took off his jacket. He felt weird though.

Since when did her sister want to hang out so late? This is the first he ever heard of it. Pondering, he grabbed his phone and called yn’s sister.

“Hello? Jungkook?” She answered confused as ever at this late ass call. “Hey, sorry to call so late. is yn with you?” Jungkook asked but his full attention was on his office door.

“What? No she’s not. Why?” Without missing a beat Jungkook hung up the phone right after. He dialed yn’s number. What he wasn’t expecting was to hear her phone sitting right on the couch next to Bam. He watched it ring and sighed. Maybe she just went out and forgot it on accident, no need to panic.

For some reason in the back of his mind he felt as though she found out. She went into his forbidden office. Jungkook chuckled, “ she would never disobey me.” He warmed his food up then sat at the table but he couldn’t eat.

Nor could the feeling of her going in his office go away. He stood up and walked to the door and opened it.

At first he didn’t notice anything out of place until he realized it was warm in the room. He never turns the air on in this room. Jungkook looked around about to leave until something so obvious caught his eyes.

The red light illuminating on the other side of the closet door. With quick steps, he opened the door well threw it open. Nothing was touched but the light alone was a clear sign that someone was in there.

He mentally and physically cursed himself.

“ She knows, she fucking knows.” He calmly stated but boy was he heated.

“ I need to fucking find her…now.”

To be continued…

[eden-3000]

I'm in the mood for some angst🤭

in the first war, Remus gets captured by the werewolves/death eaters and is brutally tortured for info till sirius (/+order) come to rescue him??

you can decide the aftermath- if u wanna keep moony alive, sirius caring for him or 🫢

FUCK YEAH. I LOVE ANGST! (I´m also still not quite satifsied with how this turned out, but I feel like it´s the best I can do. Sorry)

Wordcount: 1229

Sirius was shaking.

It had been weeks since they had any news from Remus and now this. A Patronus in the form of a dog. All they could hear from its mouth were gutwrenching screams, Remus begging them over and over to stop, telling them that he didn't know anything.

The thing was, that he did. Sirius knew he did. Remus could end it if only he told them something - a location, names, anything! But of course, the gorgeous bastard didn't.

"We need to help him. We need to do something." Moody considered. "We can't risk them capturing someone else." Sirius' fist hit the table, glasses and mugs tipping dangerously to the side. Tears of frustration and fear blurred his vision. He hated crying. Especially in front of people - people that weren't Remus.

"FUCK 'SOMEONE ELSE'! You sent him there, you bring him back! You bring him back to me right now or I swear I will make you scream louder than that!"

For a split second, the Auror looked impressed. But not long before he regained control over his features. James put a hand on Sirius' arm, trying to hold him back. "It sounds like he didn't talk yet. Do you really want to give them the chance to change that?", he tried calmly, but Sirius could clearly hear the worry in his voice, James just had the self-control he himself lacked.

"Potter has a point there", Alice Longbottom said. Her husband - just like many others - agreed. Remus was beloved. The teachers, the girls, their Girls - that being Lily, Mary, Marlene and Dorcas, who regularly invited him to sleepovers - and now the entire Order.

"We need to get him out. He's still almost a child, Alastor", Minnie - Merlin bless her soul - added sternly. "You're all taking a great risk for one man."

"He's Remus!" Sirius' voice was still louder than strictly necessary, but he wasn't yelling anymore. Moody sighed. "This meeting is over for me. What you do in your free time is none of my concern." With that, he stepped into the fireplace, with a hand full of floopowder and disappeared.

~

Their plan failed miserably the moment they tried to get in. James had successfully used his invisibility cloak to stun one of the werewolves and bring him back to question where they held the prisoners. However, as soon as they started moving forward they walked right into two men. Those two were handled quickly - but the one walking around the corner after them was quicker. He ran off before any of them could act. Seconds later they could hear an alarm, then multiple pairs of feet coming toward them.

James tried to pull him away, together with the others, but Sirius resisted. He could still hear Remus´screams.

Fuck! Fuck!FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK! Sirius started shaking again. He needed to find him. He couldn't lose his Moony. He couldn't leave without him

"I can't!"

He turned and ran towards the cells, the calls of his friends behind him, James close on his heels. "I will kill you if we die here, you know that, right." "Feel free, Prongs."

They were closer to the prison rooms than he'd thought and therefore didn't come across too many people. From there on finding Remus was not a problem. The cries were loud enough for them to hear through the dirty hallway. They both moved without thinking until the whines were getting so clear it was as if he could taste the pain.

Sirius didn't even need his wand, he just let the door turn to ashes with a flick of his hand, magic practically vibrating in his body like lightning. The sounds abruptly stopped as both Remus and the torturer looked at them in disbelief.

James quickly stunned the man while Sirius made his way to the wall Remus was chained to.

He looked awful. His skin was dry and pale, parts of his body were burnt, in others he found new scars. "It's okay. We're gonna get you out of here", Sirius promised, looking for the release of the cuffs.

"Hurry up!", James urged from the door. "I can't find the stupid release!" His hands were shaking. He could hardly think. Remus needed help. He needed to get out of here. And it was Sirius who was holding him back. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfu-

"Si... Sir'us." Remus' voice was hoarse, barely audible, but Sirius understood. "It's okay. It's gonna be fine, Moons, it'll be fine." He wasn't sure whether he was trying to convince himself or his boyfriend - either way, it didn't work.

"Fuck. Prongs!" James was there in an instant, one hand on his shoulder, gently pulling him back. "It's fine. I got it. You catch him when it opens." Sirius nodded, his eyes fixed on Remus'. He looked so tired like he was about to give up.

Sirius continued to whisper encouraging things to Remus. All the things they were gonna do when they got out of here. Then the chains loosened and Remus fell forward into his arms. Sirius took half a step back to steady him.

"I've got you. I've got you, Moony." He winced as Sirius' hands gripped his sides to keep him upright. Aperantly the wounds went deeper than he could see. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry", he whispered over and over again into his ear as James worked on the footcuffs.

"´m fine", Remus murmured and Sirius couldn´t help but laugh. "Of course you´d say that."

"He's out! Let's go." "Can you walk?", he asked Remus, who was almost completely leaning onto him and slowly shook his head. "Gotta carry him then." "Leviocorpus." With Remus flying between the two of them they made their way up and out of the tunnels.

~

It took longer than they'd hoped until they made it back to the quarters, where Madame Pomfrey was waiting for them. She had already prepared everything and so they lay him down on the free table.

She immediately shooed them out of the room to focus on her work. James and Sirius waited outside in the hall, where they met with the others. "Is everyone alright?", James asked, tugging Lily into his arms. "Yeah, we´re fine. Everyone made it out. How´s Remus?" She took a look towards Sirius who was walking up and down in front of the door, biting his nails. No one had ever seen him do something like that.

"He´s alive", James started quietly. "But he´s not looking good. They... I think they tortured him with every torture method there is."

"Why are you all talking like he´s dying?", Sirius snapped. "He´s fine! He just needs to heal a bit. We´ve seen him look worse after some full moons!"

James looked at him with pity. He hated it. He hated every one of them. Remus wasn´t dead. He wouldn´t do that to him. And yet...

Sirius felt like he was going to throw up. At some point during the next two hours, someone made tea, someone else tried to get Sirius to eat something. He touched neither.

Then the doors opened and Sirius half expected Remus to stand there and grin at them, asking why they were making such long faces. Those stupid werewolves wouldn´t get to him. They couldn´t hurt him. He was so much stronger than that.

It wasn´t Remus.

It was Madame Pomfrey, eyes swollen red, nose running.

"I lost him."

[robiinurheart33]

Haha wouldn’t it be so weird if when soap was taken and brainwashed he was constantly being compared to this soldier named “ghost” haha

Anyways explicit descriptions of psychological torture and violent intrusive thoughts under the cut

He would be beaten and berated constantly. why wasn’t he stronger than ghost, why wasn’t he faster, more skilled, better, stealthier, healthier.

Ghost could’ve done better in worse conditions.

Ghost has done better in worse conditions.

Why was soap not better even after all this?

It drove him up the wall, the way he would wonder who he was, seething and bleeding by the lip. After all that he’s gone though, all that he’s endured, everything.

Why wasn’t be better? Why can he never, ever be better?

They drove his sanity to the ground, spat and kicked at it until there was nothing but a shell of who he once was, and rebuilt it to fit their ideals. Soap couldn’t remember who he was before this, before the experiments. He couldn’t think, do, say anything without being ordered to do so by someone else.

Some days, soap would pull on the thin stripe down his scalp, eager to find some semblance of control over himself, even if it were pain. He would always get punished.

“It was the only thing he can and will recognise him by.”

“Ghost likes that on you.”

It made him hate the Mohawk even more.

He hates Ghost. He was sick of it. He was done waiting. He was done being compared to. He was done with being second to him. He wanted to pull him apart limb from limb, feel the hot blood spill over his teeth and he rips his throat apart, hear the sickening crunch of his neck being twisted, feel the smooth muscle of his skin ripple and tremble in fear of the one that he was supposedly supposed to be stronger than. Soap will never, ever get anything else in his life but the pure, white-hot rage of revenge. He maybe thinks this had lingered on since he was younger, before everything. It felt like an old friend, more so than his other emotions.

His first mission.

He will be better. He will be better. He will be the best. He will be good. This might be his only shot. This is. He will be the best. He will succeed. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail.

He runs into ghost.

At first, he didn’t know who he was. Soap was in a room with a few others, guns up and masks drawn, ready to shoot anyone who tries to come into the room. They had been infiltrated, and soap wasn’t told more than that. He didn’t really need to know more. Shoot the hostiles, keep people safe. Suddenly, bullets start to rain from outside the door, and soon enough, more and more bodies start hitting the floor. Soap does not panic. He hides behind a bookshelf, waiting.

A big ass motherfucker in a skull mask walks into the room and it looks like the shadows are warping to his presence. Soap does not panic. He reaches for the knife strapped to his thigh, flicking it up and holding it ready. He waits patiently until he stalks near the bookshelf, tightening his grip on the knife. They make eye contact, and through the skull mask stained with blood, he can see jet black eyes staring at him in shock. Death incarnate. Soap does not panic.

“Joh-”

Soap quickly slips out of his hiding spot, wrapping a forearm over his neck and attempting to jab the knife right into his socket. He feels a hand grip tightly onto his forearm, and he goes weightless. All the air escapes his lungs as his back slams against the floor, his head spinning. He screams at himself to get up, fight, be better, before he hears the familiar crackle of a radio.

“Ghost, how copy?”

Ghost.

This is Ghost.

Ghost just fucking flipped him.

Soap does not panic. He does not panic but he feels a chill go down his spine as he sees red, scrambling back up onto his feet. The adrenaline starts to kick in now, and he lunges at him, ripping the radio off his vest and slamming it on the floor. He’s not completely sure why he did that, but in all fairness soap feels like he’s losing his goddamn mind, if his captors haven’t done so already. He punches Ghost, wincing slightly as his knuckle hit the cheekbone corner of his stupid skull mask. Soap starts to reach for his gun before Ghost punches back, hitting the mask clean off his face, pushing his back to the floor, one hand on his wrists. Soap starts to get really agitated now. After everything that he’s gone through, he’s still not good enough to beat ghost. He still hasn’t improved. He hasn’t gone anywhere. He makes eye contact with Ghost and is slightly taken aback when he is reflected with an equally crazed stare.

“Johnny.”

What the fuck?

Soap doesn’t say anything. Ghost’s eyes are brown, not black. Why hasn’t be killed him yet? Why isn’t Soap struggling? Ghost has blonde eyelashes.

“Where have you been?” To soap’s absolute horror, those brown eyes start to become glossy. He flinches back as if he’s been hit, and grits his teeth. No shit, he’s been here the whole time, where else is he supposed to be?

Soap surges forward and headbutts him in hopes of him letting go. He doesn’t, and it makes soap all the more dizzier, more frustrated. Why isn’t he fucking dead already? He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to get his mind right.

“Johnny. Johnny.” Can he just shut the fuck up? It’s getting increasingly hard to concentrate for some reason. Shit. He feels overly exposed without the mask, feeling his body temperature rising steadily.

“Stop calling me that!” he growls out, twisting out of his grip and punching his across the face. The twisted skull mask looks almost comical out of place, but he can still see those eyes. Ghost’s hand comes to cup his cheek, and soap flinches back. His eyes look like Soap just mauled his puppy right in front of him. It makes him freeze in place, head awkwardly hovering between the floor and Ghost.

Images of blood spilling and needles, dirt and coffins fill his head, the sound of a neck snapping, gagging, screams and whimpers. Hands on him, eyes on him, never letting go. Stay. Soap snaps back into place, grabbing the mask and twisting it up, covering Ghost’s eyes. He quickly gets his other hand free and pushes ghost off him, sprinting out of the room.

“Wait-!” Is all he hears before flying down the corridor, back to safety, back to where it’s familiar, where he always is, where he always will be.

Loyalty has always been Soap’s best trait.

[dradrianmilk]

I really like fics that show how hob reacts with normal human people in everyday life outside of dream being there and we get to see how wildly fucked up and obsessive this guy is because the only metric we usually have as readers is DREAM and quite literally anyone is seen as a Mentally Healthy Person To Be In A Relationship With when compared with that fucker specifically. I love to death hob being the "reasonable" of the two but i also like to see it compared to a normal ass dude who isnt buying an engagement ring immediately on the way home from a first date and thinking hes being very chill waiting until the second date to propose instead of following his date home to then propose right there in the door. Because what we have is dream who that would seem mild in comparison to just proposing before the appetizer then when rejected either sending someone to the Torture Void for Ten Million Thousand Years or altering the makeup of the universe to make it so theyre the only person on the planet now so uhh yeah ENJOY MY PRESENCE MORTAL!!! Hob inviting a new partner to a really sketchy hiking vacation in the mountains after a month of dating pairs great with a guy who will not only go with but will also intentionally burn the map so "apologies for that but i assure you i know the way back" and hob to go "oh hes made me dependent on him to not get eaten by wolves thats pretty romantic". I feel most other ships with hob besides dreamling or Hobrinthian would come with an automatic Dark!Hob ao3 tag bc hes insane and WOULD murder the barista for writing a heart for the "o" in "Morpheus" on his cup.

[pterodactylterrace]

Why exactly did they decide to make Aegon SA the maid? In the books he never assaults anyone. He is known to have a “large carnal appetite” but it’s never mentioned that these women were forced in anyway. The closest we get is when we hear that he won the virginities of two maidens at an auction in flea bottom. Which, by my understanding, means he paid extra to be a whore’s first customer. It wasn’t some sweet innocent girl like we see in the show. The girls already worked in the brothel learning their trade. They don’t just yoink girls off the street and out their virginity up for sale.

So why include it in the show? Was it because they realized Aegon wasn’t nearly as horrible as Rhaenyra, so they had to do something?

Rhaenyra has 3 bastards that everyone knows about, but can’t say anything. Just committing open treason and no one is allowed to point it out.

She had beef with a literal 2 year old. She had multiple tantrums at her little brothers second name day hunt. Also looked right at him and compared the death squeals of a boar to the crying to children.

Suspected of killing her first husband. In the show, she shows Laenor mercy, but has no problem killing off one of his servants because they needed a body. You don’t understand! She reconnected with her uncle by fucking him on the beach at his late wife’s funeral! She just HAD to marry Daemon instead! Who cares that Laenor was in the process of recommitting himself to their marriage when she sprung this idea on him? He gets to live penniless with his boyfriend in Pentos or something! All he had to do was give up his family, his inheritance, his power, his place at court and all his wealth, along with the life of one of his father’s servants. Sure, he could have kept all those things, but then Daemon would get all broody about how he can’t openly fuck his niece!

Her second eldest is adamant he doesn’t want the Driftwood throne. She forces him to fight for it anyway rather than just quietly sending word that Luke is willing to allow Vaemond to inherit in his place.

Suggesting Aemond be tortured to learn where he heard her sons being called bastards after Luke just slashed out his eye. Not to mention that snobby “Thank you, father” that was totally inappropriate, unnecessary and sent Alicent over the edge.

In comparison, Aegon is a teenage boy who… likes drinking and jerking it. The worst thing he has done was mock his brother with a pig. Alicent corrects this behavior, and from what I can tell, the two boys were friendly towards each other after the time jump. Aemond and Aegon are chatting before dinner. Aemond stands to defend Aegon when Jace acts like he may try something. When Aemond gets punched by Jace and then pushes him to the ground, Aegon grabs Luke before he can do anythjng. Clearly they have grown close.

We see the twins at the fighting pit where Aegon allegedly goes often. How can they know that, though? Earlier in that episode Otto asks his personal guard (either Erryk or Arryk. Their names sound the same and they have the same face, I don’t know who is who) where he is and his guard admits that Aegon exploits his authority to order him away and then evades him. He admits he doesn’t have a clue what he gets up to. Then, later we see a boy with blonde hair and purple eyes, and it’s Aegon’s. No doubt in anyone’s mind. Clearly Aegon is knowingly breeding child fighters for the pit. Weird how he wasn’t there, though.

Matter of fact, the white worm just found him drunk off his ass and stashed him in the sept. That’s what he was getting up to. Getting drunk and likely paying for sex.

Now let’s analyze the scene where Alicent confronts Aegon.

Alicent is IRATE and Aegon is half asleep. Looks like he hasn’t moved in a while, tbh. Aegon asks if something happened. Don’t you think he would know if he did something? His mother reminds him about Dyana, and he seems very nonchalant about it. Not the kind of reaction you would expect from someone that just forced himself on a struggling servants. He saw it as just a bit of fun. His reaction just seems… off.

Now, we know GRRM likes to repeat plot points. One in the original series was Cersei only laying with Robert when he was drunk so she could finish him off some other way, and he wouldn’t remember. Aegon is a known drunk. There were no witnesses. Who’s to say Dyana isn’t a spy or a mole sent to fuck shit up?

She is in season 2. Why bring back an SA victim in season 2 if she doesn’t have more to add to the story? Sure, there could be a revenge arc, but from my understanding, Dyana is at a brothel in season 2. Now, did she wind up there after the Aegon incident (hard to believe considering she was given a pouch of coin to start a new life and she only made it to the end of the palace driveway) OR she went back to where she came from. Back to her mistress, the White Worm. We see she employs young women in her service. Who’s to say they didn’t make the whole thing up to try and sway more people towards Rhaenyra’s cause? Nothing makes a man look worse than SA.

So all the horrible things Aegon has done so far, has been hearsay. We don’t see anything other than him bullying Aemond when they were kids. So either the writers had to do something totally awful with his character, or it wouldn’t be such a landslide siding for Rhaenyra.

You know if they hadn’t decided to assassinate his character, it would be much closer to a 50/50 split. They also had to whitewash the hell out of Rhaenyra to make her more likable. In the books, SHE orders Vaemond’s death and feeds him to her dragon. So in the same episode they blackwashed Aegon and whitewashed Rhaenyra so the audience would root for her. Then they had the balls to say WITH THEIR WHOLE CHEST that they aren’t biased in their writing.

[misguidedasgardian]

Wildcats (XXXII)

XXXII. Prosper season

MASTERLIST

Summary: Tomorrow never comes until it's too late.. 

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, injures, hostile takeover, threats, Lucille, someone brains getting bashed in, DEATH OF A SECONDARY CHARACTER, BLOOD, GORE, MOCKING, everything Negan related, kidnapping, LOVES I’M SERIOUS, PROCEED WITH CAUTION

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: Another song for a title jejejeje ANYWAYS… I pondered over this over and over about how to go about it… I hope I did it justice. 

The three of you looked at the scene, standing still, not daring to move

“What do we do?”, you asked them, “what the hell do we do!?”, you started to feel your own heart beating inside your chest, fear making an appearance.

“We get the hell out of here”, said Alexander, “now”

“We can’t leave!”, Rosita fought back, “We can’t leave our home! Carl! and the others!”

“They are gonna be fine, but we, are the capable ones, we are the experienced fighters, the threats”, he said quickly, ”we are the ones that get killed”

“He makes a good point”, you whispered.

“YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO, THAT HOUSE, THAT HOUSE AND THAT OTHER HOUSE! MOVE IT PEOPLE”, Negan, on the street, pointed at yours, Rosita’s and the other house that belonged to your group.

“They’re coming for us”, you whispered, you didn’t even have to ask if they were carrying, they took out their guns from their holsters, ready for anything.

“We stand our ground here”, said Alexander

“They already have hostages”, you whispered, “is not very…”, you interrupted yourself when you saw Arat herself, with that shit eating grin leading a group of goons into your house, “OH FUCK NO!”, you said, ready to get out and intercept her.

“No! wait!”, Rosita grabbed you before you could leave, you looked back at her with a plead in your eyes

“That’s the woman who tortured me”, you said seriously, Rosita and Alex exchanged looks

“Let’s fuck her up”, she said then. You just smirked at her.

But the door slamming open downstairs make all of your heads perk up

“We kill them first”, Rosita said, so you all three nodded, in agreements, and put the safety off of your weapons

Alexander blew the head of the first savior that appeared up the stairs. 

Rosita the second

“UH! LOOKS LIKE THE PARTY IS GETTING STARTED!”, Negan shouted, the gunshots resounded all over the house

It was like being in a movie, you had a grave voice as a commentator as you tried to prevent the saviors from coming into your house, you felt like that time at Terminus, it was you or them and right now, you couldn’t afford to be the one to doubt right now, if someone was going to come across you you were likely to kill them, and that was it. They were inside your home, your house, so no, it was non negotiable.

You managed to eliminate those who had entered through the front door, but more were coming, sot he three of you decided to sneak out the back door, and you moved right next door to your house, it was going to be a cold day in hell before you let that woman even touch something that belonged to you or your family. 

With the help of Alex you climbed right onto the small roof over the first floor leading to the windows of the second floor, and you climbed through there

Oh you could already hear her. She was giving commands as she register the first floor. You didn’t even wait for Alex and Rosita, but you heard gunshots outside, so you guessed they were on their own fight, but you had to get to Arat, for yourself, nobody could do that to you and come out winning, no way in hell.

You were in the last step of the stairs, and then you saw her, with her smug face signaling his goons to follow her, then she raised her face and saw you, oh you saw it, even if it lasted a second, you saw the fear. 

”What the fuck did I say?”, you asked, “that I was going to put my fucking axe through your thick skull”, you will come to be scared of this side of you, the one that not only was alright with killing people, but was enjoying to defeat your enemies, “and here you are, trying to get into my fucking house!?”, you threw your ax at her, as she was trying to get to her feet, she stumbled back the last steps and tried to get away from you as the ax got stuck in the wall where her head had been.

You ran down, grabbed your ax that was stuck to the wall and turned to face her. She had a knife in her hand, but that was not going to help her much. She came at you with it, but you blocked her easily, it was like you had been taken by a foreign entity, you didn’t even recognize yourself as you returned every swing.

The door was open and that’s why she flies back and trough it when you kicked her in her stomach 

“Get the hell out of my house!”, you screamed. You grabbed your ax with both hands as you were above her and swung it from above your head down, but as you were ready to end her, you heard like 5 automatics being unlocked. And five saviors were pointing them at you.

Arat stood to her feet, wiping the blood of her mouth

“You think this has a happy ending for you”, she asked you, grabbing your face as another man grabbed your weapons, “it doesn’t, you are not the heroes here”, she said with a mocking grin. 

”Although it's been fun to watch, end this now, or I’ll be forced to start killing your people now”, you heard

They grabbed you, making sure they took away your gun, for like the third time is that you lost one of your guns, and of course they took your ax, throwing it in the grass right there, at least they didn’t took it for themselves, and pulled you towards the round up, making sure to rough you up as much as they could, grabbing you tightly and pushing you around. 

You huffed when they pushed you to your knees, you didn’t want to fight it unnecessarily, but, you couldn’t help but to feel that usual glint of humiliation, to be treated like this, to be this helpless.

Once you were on the ground, Rosita by your side… there was an awful silence, like the calm before the storm. You felt his gaze on you, but you were so shocked, coming to terms with what was happening, that you didn’t even manage to look at him, your eyes were trailed on the street in front of you.

He whistled then, a sound that chilled you to the very bone, you didn’t even know why, he walked slowly, he was taunting you, he walked in front of you, and the around you, making his abt scratch the floor, as he passed behind you, it made your skin crawl, a tingle down your spine made you twist on the floor, making him chuckle

“Oh darling”, he teased, “are you afraid of me?”, he leaned in, until he could whisper in your ear, “you should be”

“You rapacious rat bastard”, you accused, and he just laughed, “we gave you sanctuary”

“Well, it's not like we needed it”, he said, hissing theatrically. “I already have a Sanctuary”

“If you could come in at any second, why do all of this?”, you asked him. He just looked down at you

“You won’t believe the valuable information I gathered these past weeks”, he said, now he spoke seriously, “How you work as a team, how you think… specially, how you think”, you frowned as you looked at him, “you gave me much to think darlin’, you did”, he said, “now!”, you jumped as he suddenly raised his voice, “I don’t want the others to think I play favorites, so, be a doll, and stay there looking pretty alright?”, He walked away from you, teasing, looking at the different people he had on his knees

You were nothing impressive, barely people that got a couple of weeks of training with Alex and Rosita, definitely no threats.

You looked around to find your people, Gabriel, and Tyresse, you cursed them in your mind, for you could tell they didn’t fight it, they just took it, and went willingly when armed guys entered their houses and made them kneel.

“People of Alexandria!”, he shouted, “For those who don’t know me… I’m Negan”, he said, he swung his barbed wire bat threateningly, “Deanna here did knew me better though, thought she could strike a deal with me, close and personal”, he teased with a wide smile, “but that’s not how it works”

“You told me we had more time”, she accused, and this was a bit above your paygrade, but… you really wanted to know what went down there.

You heard gunshots in the distance, coming from Olivia’s place down the street, you looked at Negan, but he was only smiling widely, a bit later, two men brought in Carl, alone, they haven't even touched him, but they treated him roughly and made him kneel right on the other side of the street in front of you. his eyes immediately found yours

“are you ok?”, you mouthed, and he barely nodded

“I will let Olivia stay in the house with Judith”, hearing the little girl’s name coming out from his mouth made your stomach turn, “for you to see how reasonable I can be”, he said with a smile. 

But that didn’t make you feel any better

“That’s all of them boss”, muttered a guy you haven't seen before, so Negan seemed to look for someone amongst you, you saw his dark eyes scanning the place, then he finally turned to the both of you

“Where’s Alexander?”, he asked, you looked around and realized, he wasn’t anywhere, they brought in Rosita, but not him

“He got away”, said Rosita with a smirk, but Negan was not amused at all. 

“Find him!”, he said, and a group of Simon's men ran to fulfill the order, you looked at Rosita and she nodded at you, you smiled back

He was going to indeed fuck them up

“This is not funny”, muttered Negan, “this shit ain’t funny at all, in fact, it's gonna cost you!”, he said, out loud.

Alex was right, he presented a threat to this, and it's a good thing he escaped, he could do so much from the outside, especially if he manages to get to the container filled with guns. 

“Before we can truly start this… we need to wait for the rest of you”, your eyes could not leave his form, he truly scared you, he was unpredictable, “they should be back shortly”, your eyes opened wide… oh the rest of them? Daryl? Rick? Michonne?

No no no no

“Yeah, you should leave before they get here”, said Carl, he was defiant as always, “they will kill you all”, he snapped

“Carl!”, you called, “stop”, Negan chuckled darkly, as did many of their men

“Really kid? threats?”, he asked

“You think you know us but you don’t”, he kept going, “you don’t really know how dangerous we are”

“Carl please!”, you said again. Alexander was right, you were the threats and so far… you had been fine, but Negan did not need to be reminded there was a clear difference between your group and the natives of Alexandria, not right now.

“Don’t be rude darling”, said Negan, “the kid and I are talkin”

Negan then looked around with a smile on his face

“Oh is that what this is? Are you waiting for the valiant heroes to come back and save you? for the badass group that your leader accepted into your home to rescue all from the big bad wolf?”, he laughed, he laughed in the faces of all the hopeful people, “oh if you think this has a happy ending, you haven’t been paying much attention!”, he was like one of those charismatic presenters of those TV contests and if you weren’t at his mercy, with a gun pointing to the back of your head, you’d be really entertained 

The sky was turning gray, the new day threatening to show up, but you still had a couple of hours left… of darkness.

Headlights interrupted you, coming from the gates, and the rumbles of a couple of engines cut through the silence that had been settled above the lot of you.

“Damn! Was that cool or what? we timed it almost perfectly!”, Negan said with a wide smile, the gates opened to let four other vehicles in, two of them were vans, then there was the RV, Alexandria’s RV, and then a big truck. They came down the street until they were in front of the first vehicles. The vans parked backwards so the back was towards you. 

Several men surrounded the vehicles, and helped them unload whatever was in the van. Soon, you realized, they were the rest of your family.

Simon led the gloomy committee, as he made his men drag your family from the vehicles. You gasped when you saw Daryl, they just threw him on the street, he was not wearing the long sleeve shirt had this morning, he had his vest but nothing more, and he was shaking, covered by a thick blanket, and down his right arm was blood, shiny, new blood, he was wounded

His eyes found your own and you wanted to cry

The others seemed well, although, you could tell, there were some people missing… Maggie, Glenn, Beth, Carol, Morgan, they were nowhere to be seen.

Oh gods, where they dead?

You tried to get to Daryl but someone grabbed you roughly -again- making you whine in pain, throwing you back into the ground. 

You then looked for the eyes of Rick, who just looked like he just came down to the same realization as you. He was looking at Negan like he was the evil incarnated, and you realized that just now he was coming to the realization you had about an hour ago.

That Smith was Negan… That you were completely screwed, and at the mercy of the enemy that you had let inside your walls. 

The rest of them, Abraham, Sasha, Aaron, Eugene, Michonne, looked… like they had been through hell, and you could read the shock in their faces like an open book

Abraham, and Michonne looked more composed, showing nothing in their stone cold faces. But… the rest of them were completely frightened

“Great!, now that everyone’s here…!”, it was like Smith was on crack, “or at least… some of you”, shit shit shit, you looked frantically at Rick, who found your eyesight and nodded softly, trying to calm you down, you now were the one losing it, and quickly. 

“We can come to an agreement…”

“Nope!”, said Negan, swinging his bat into the air, “No, Rick, you don’t speak for Alexandria, and don’t think you’d notice… but you are not in a position to negotiate anything right now”, he said, he was very theatrical, he was. “Now, where were we?”, he asked, he turned and looked at you, you looked back at him wide-eyed, “oh yeah… first impressions, paying the price of someone escaping… yes… let’s wrap that up”, he said 

This couldn’t be good

“But…!”, with his sudden change of tone he always made you jump, “before we can begin, I need you all to turn to the same page as us… you need to understand… how things are going to be from now on… we… are the saviors, and now, you are under our wings”, he said with a taunting smile, “you will scavenge for me, you will work for me, and you will provide for me… in turn… we… will save you”

“From what?”, asked Abraham. But it only took one look from Negan for you to realize what he meant… from himself and his group.

“From the dead ones, of course”, he said, frowning, but with a wide smile on his face. “For you to understand who I am… and who we are… We want to make things clear from the get go… so I’m going to beat the hell out of one of you… fine people”, he said, you heard gasps and quiet ‘no’s’, and people moving on their own very spots, but everyone was frozen to death, “it should have been three…”, he said then, “I told Deanna to give me three names, preferably of the new group, from the Rick’s Pricks….”, you looked at Deanna and she looked possibly defeated, looking at Negan with a hate in her eyes

And for the first time, you understood what Mayor meant…

When a good man goes to war, even the devil clenches his buttcheeks… or something like that 

If looks could kill, Negan would definitely be dead

“... But she wouldn’t give even one of them up!”, said Negan, “and thennnn…”, he turned back to you, “this fine lady here made a really good point”, he said, and you couldn’t believe what good point you could have made. “You will not bend… oh no… the usual package won’t work with you, will it? you are survivors, fighters, you will fight and fight and fight me… so… let’s begin”

It was deadly quiet… you shared concerned looks as you found the one of Daryl, who looked like he wanted to spring to you, you mouthed to him, “I’m alright”, and you had faith that everything was going to be alright. 

“There is one person here, that will be the pea under my mattress, the little bitch stone inside my boot, this person… and that person… needs to die, for you all to realize how serious about this I am, and how I am able to fulfill my threats, I really want you all to know me”, he said. 

Negan walked… slowly, taunting you, he walked in front of all of you.

You felt Daryl’s gaze on you so you returned the stare

Whatever was going to happen, you couldn’t wait any longer, the wait, the uncertainty, was driving you mad, you wanted to go to him, to hold him, you could tell he was having a horrible time, his eyes… his face was sickly pale, he was shaking, he had a bullet wound on his shoulder, you could tell, he had been badly injured.

Behind him, you saw the bastard with Daryl’s own crossbow, pointing it at him, waiting for any excuse to kill him. Looking at him with such contempt, just like Arat looked at you, what the hell did you do to these people for them to hate you that much?

Without knowing it you gave a piece of your mind to the leader of the organization, and because of that he was going to take it out on your family.

He whistled once more, and he stopped right as he pointed his bat at you.

“NO!”, screamed Daryl. And Negan laughed

“Speak again and I will bash her pretty little brains in”, he said severely, “Relax Daryl-boy”, he said, recuperating his smile, “I wouldn’t dare to touch the golden girl here, oh no”, he said, then looking at Rick, he made a quick turn around, so quick that it made your head spin.

“Any takers?”, he asked.

You looked around once more and everyone was just petrified, you had seen freakishly scary leaders and what they could make his followers do, but not the locals, these people, were just now coming hard to this reality.

You saw it in Atlanta in the hospital, in Terminus, with the claimers, and with the biker gang in the road, and with the wolves.

The monsters this new sick world had created

But many of these people had never seen anything like this before.

But as you looked around more closely, the circle has kind of limited into your group, and Alexandrian’s inner circle, they didn’t bother with the old ladies and gentlemen, no, you didn't even saw Jesse anywhere

He was going to take his pick from the very top group.

“So nobody thinks they deserve to be taken by Lucille?”, he asked, swinging his bat again, did he name it? that was its name? you were confused. 

You were just coming to the realization that one of you was going to die tonight, that this Negan psycho was going to beat one of you to death. 

“You don’t have to kill anybody”, said Michonne quickly, “we understand”, she said severely, “we work for you now”, Negan just looked at her, the smile never wiped from his face.

“No, you see I don’t see that you understand, this woman here, tried to cut the corner, didn’t take me seriously, and that’s why I think I should bash someone’s head in, and I really wanted it to be Alexander”, he said out loud, “but… he ran like a cowards so another one must pay…”

The rage was leaving your body, like foam after being showered, what took your body instead was something you hadn't seen in a while… fear. It felt like a cold shower, numbing your shaking extremities. Maybe it was you, maybe it was and he said that to make you think you weren’t the chosen one, he knew you had brought in Alexander and you were close to Rick and Daryl, he was going to kill you. 

He swung his abt, with time, with purpose and determination towards Tyresse, and you heard, in fractions of a second, screams and gasps, but the bat missed his head by mere inches and you knew he hadn't missed on purpose, he was trying to scare you all.

It worked

Everyone was whimpering, and Tyresse had started crying, Sasha had screamed and she was now crying.

This couldn’t be happening. As you saw around, and looked at each and everyone one of the faces of the men and women there, tough as nails, waiting to shoot you int he head, or beat you to death, or held you captive, or torture you.

You started to think about all the things that happened between your both groups, what you did in the sanctuary, how you beat a couple of them up… how they beat you up… how you just tried to kill one of them because of your rage.

Did you bring this on your group?

Perhaps you should have done a deal with them from the beginning.

Perhaps things should have been different. 

Negan took himself to the other side of the round, this time, nearing the ones who showed up later to the party. He stopped right in front of Daryl, and then he turned to look at you. He played with the bat on his hand, that’s when the tears started falling from your eyes, silently, but you were just preparing for the worst.

The second best after Alex could be Daryl, he was like a wild horse of the great Northamerican wilderness, untamable, and Negan knew it.

“You know what?”, he said then, “I want to start our relationship on the right foot”, he said, taking long, slow steps, like he was marching right back to the center of the circle, “this ugly duckling colluded against your group Rick…”, he said, “he a two-faced prick, and you know what? nobody likes a person you cannot trust”, he said simply, “that will always be there… whispering behind your back, looking to tumble the first domino, and… I just hate snitches”, he said.

It was one second.

Only one

One moment Negan was looking at Rick, with his back turned to the cars with the lights on, and the next? 

You saw a trail of blood flying, passing right in front of the lights and for a fraction of a second, it shone like glitter.

That was before you heard the screaming

“NO!”

When you managed to focus your gaze, half of Spencer’s face was completely destroyed, and a piercing scream cut through the night.

It was Deanna

You had never heard something so soul piercing, it made you shake as you fell on your side.

Negan was still on position, with his bat over his shoulder tainted with red

“Anybody moves… they’re next”, he said simply, and you heard several safeties being taken out. 

“No! NO!”, Deanna whined, as Negan bashed Spencer’s head in, again, and again, and again.

His movements were dramatic, exaggerated, blood, and pieces of guts flew in every direction, some even landed on Deanna.

His own mother

Spencer was an asshole, but killing him in front of his own mother?

This was sick

You wanted to throw up, but at the same time, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Spencer’s shape, there was no longer a head to look at at, it was only a bloody pile as Negan kept coming at it, again and again

Like he wanted to make it clear to you

That he wasn’t playing around. 

“Wow!”, he said, finally turning back, leaving the rest of Spencer alone, “I love some nightly workout, keep my juices flowing, can’t wait to get back home to all my wives!”, he said, “two weeks was it? three? too damn long if you ask me! I gonna screw them all”

The only thing you heard was Deanna’s screeches, as she twisted in pain, clutching at her own chest, not being able to move as she -as everyone- was being held at gunpoint.

This was sick

Negan stood there, like he just didn’t kill a person in the most sadistic way possible, cracking jokes and talking about screwing women.

“Spencer let us in the middle of the night, he surrendered his own community to us”, he said, this time, he was not smiling, “I don’t want to have him on my team and I don’t want you to have him on yours”, he said.

You finally managed to turn and look back at Rick, his eyes were red, and trailed on Spencer still, he couldn’t believe what was happening, neither could you, this was so surreal

“I really hope i made myself clear because i just love doing that”, he said, “so does lucille”

“We get it!”, said Michonne, “we do”

“I’m glad”, Negan said, “because I truly believe this could be the beginning of a very nice relationship”, he said, “I’m not an idiot, I know that you went out there, you know about the hilltop, I don’t want you to get ideas…”

“We are not getting anything”, Tyresse assured him… he was trying to keep it together, for the group. Finally he had snapped out of his tightening fear, and you were somewhat relieved. 

“I love this”, he admired, “I love that you are understanding, and I want you to see how reasonable I can be”, he said, “that’s why, nobody else needs to die tonight…”

You could feel relieved but Negan proved to be so unstable and unpredictable you didn’t know if this was good or bad.

“I said I wanted three for Lucille, I only took one, but I think… I’m not gonna kill any more of you, because that just won’t work with you people, right?”, his smile was unsettling, and he directed it straight at you, because of what you said, “I’ll just take the right people, and each time you do something wrong, I’ll kill them, right in the comfort of my home”, that seemed to snap Rick out of his stupor, 

“No…”, said Rick shakily, “take me, only me…”, Negan chuckled

“Ever the righteous hero! I love that, but that’s not gonna cut it, not really”, he said, “I need you here leading the efforts to get things for me Rick”, he said, then, he started walking around, watching at each and everyone of you, “though pickins though”, he said pensively, “I noticed that some people are missing”, Rick looked around nervously, “tough mission out there?”, he asked, and Rick barely nodded, “If I find them in a certain community I might rethink what I just said… Rick…”, he threatened.

So the rest of them were on the Hilltop? all of them?

“Damn… I wanted to ask Maggie to come back with me”, he said, “well… lets wrap this up I want to go back home already”

He pointed, at two people, and his goons grabbed them, you heard screams, but you couldn’t look, you were looking at Daryl

It was your turn to scream as he pointed the bat at him

“NO!”, you screamed, trying to get up, “don’t touch him!”, two saviors grabbed you as three others, including Dwight, grabbed Daryl and loaded him in the same van he had come in, “GIVE HIM BACK!”, you tried to fight them, you did, but they were stronger than you, you were tired, and you had been through so much in the last hours, you weren’t even a threat to them right now.

So you could do nothing as you saw how they took the love of your life, and your friends.

They throw you back into the ground when they realize you were no threat to them.

“Oh darling, I’d take you too”, Negan said, “but I need you here, I need you here to convince your friends to cooperate, because if they don’t… you know what’s gonna happen to your Daryl, right?”, he asked, and you nodded, “I’ll treat him good”, he assured you, as you met his gaze, “if he wants it, I’ll make him a soldier and he will live like a King…”

You knew Daryl was never going to go for that

“... don’t you worry”, he said, “I’ll be back in a couple of days, I’ll leave you so you’ll… gather your thoughts”, he walked away from you to address the rest again, “and I want you to know, I still like to very much kill Alexander, so if you see him… tell him I have his girl, because he is a coward and a deserter, let’s move out!”

You felt them around you, walking around, getting in their cars, and driving off, but you felt nothing, as your eyes were set on the gates.

They took Daryl.

“Deanna? Deanna!”, you heard around you, but you couldn’t make your eyes work, you couldn’t make your body react.

“You were right Rick”

“Deanna! we are gonna get some help! you are gonna be alright”

“Rick… you were right”, she said. 

Sorry for taking so long... I really wanted to make it intense but then I'm not sure I accomplished what I wanted

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