#Yandere theater ghost

[mikyur]

Private Ghost~

Yandere oc (Ghost) x Gn/reador

Warnings: mention of fire, slight obsession, general Yandere behavior.

You're working in your office as usual but the memories of last night won't leave your head.

Was it all real or not?

Hey little star! And to his concern, the ghost appeared in front of him, all excited.

Don't appear like that, it almost kills my heart!.

Sorry! It's just that when you're a ghost it kind of becomes a habit to scare people. He says giving an awkward smile.

Ok, ok but talking about scares, are you the one scaring people here?. You ask, already having an idea of ​​the answer.

...maybe~ He says letting out a whistle and giving a mischievous smile.

Are you serious?. You ask, looking seriously at him.

Sorry, sorry, like I said, when you become a ghost there's no way to avoid it. He tries to explain himself a little nervously.

Just try to stop it, okay? People here are already nervous about the new presentation we're going to do and a real ghost isn't going to help anything. You say letting out a tired sigh, it wasn't in your plans to deal with a real ghost now.

I'll do everything for you little star! He says excitedly and makes movements as if he were receiving orders from a general.

Little Star? Why do you call me that? It's been a while since you noticed this nickname and decided to ask about it now.

Because your beauty is so incredible that it makes you shine like a star. He says floating around you.

I don't think I'm that pretty. You say laughing.

Of course it is, I was called a star so I have the right to call whoever I want a star too!

About that, that painting near the entrance is you in the photo, isn't it?. You ask, putting your no on your chin thoughtfully.

Yes, they got my best angle, and I didn't even like taking a photo. He laughs at himself.

That painting could be called old, which leads me to think you must be old. You say with a mischievous smile on your face looking at him.

Let's not talk about age now, can you be a little star? He says laughing nervously and you decide not to talk about it then.

Okay, okay, I won't bring it up anymore then, but...it was obviously put in after the major renovation of the theater after it-

It caught fire, yes, the painting was placed after the theater was reopened, as a tribute to me...

You didn't even need to ask him the cause of his death, you already suspected it since the burn marks could still be seen even though he was a ghost now.

And you also realize that this is still a delicate subject for him, but that was also obvious, you also didn't want to be reminded of your own death.

Sorry, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, it's just that my curiosity is stronger than me sometimes.

It was nothing, you would never bother me little star! And maybe one day I'll tell you more about it. He returns with his usual smile as if nothing had happened.

Changing the subject, about the new presentation, I wanted to be able to help you, you don't just need to depend on that manager.

What do you mean?

It's just that you have me now, and I'll be more than happy to help you in any way, it's just that being a ghost makes you bored all day and I want to help you!

I see...well then I'll think of something for you to do, so you don't die of boredom~ You say trying to hold back your laughter.

?... He doesn't understand and looks at you confused.

What- oh! Are you going to make a dead joke now!? He asks, pretending to be indignant.

...Maybe~ You say feigning indifference and shrug your shoulders, laughing.

I didn't know you were so funny little star, it makes me want to discover more sides of you!

Sorry for any writing errors and for disappearing (I was lazy) 7w7

[miscwitchling]

Currently surviving mostly on Cult of the Lamb and Ghost (saw the Rite Here, Rite Now movie twice in theater!) So uh have some NariLamb I guess

Drew the blank bg version and was about to post when I realized this interaction would make more sense if it was during a Lust Ritual, where all the followers are off dancing and the Lamb takes the opportunity to pick on Nari some more. My chat said they look like tsundere and yandere and I think that might be my fave head canon now

Also, I'm still figuring out how I want to draw them, can't say I'm 100% happy yet.

[kth1]

Bangtan Cinema: Horror Night

Welcome to Bangtan Cinema: Horror Night! 🍿👻

Come watch read some haunted themes being featured at the Bangtan Cinemas! All stories based in a universe of a special horror-related movie! Isn’t that spook-tacular? So come on down, grab a couple of your friendly goons, some buttery popcorn, and enjoy 7 movies fics directed written by amazing and horrific authors!

All films fics are RATED R for mature audiences ONLY!

Zom-body to Love (COMING SOON TO A THEATER NEAR YOU) ↠ Movie Reference: Shaun of the Dead (2004) ↠ Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Female Reader ↠ Genre: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Horror, Crack, Fluff, Smut ↠ Director: @seokjinger-ale​  ──────────── ↠ Summary: Kim Seokjin lives an average, boring life. Get up, go to work, play video games, eat, sleep, repeat. The only bright spot is you, the cute teacher in the classroom across from the IT office where he works. His crush on you is massive, but he can never quite pull it together enough to ask you out. However, when the weird lady growling on the bus ends up being one of an army of the undead, Seokjin’s life becomes anything but boring. With the help of his doomsday prepper roommate, Jungkook, and a rigid determination to rescue you and keep you safe, will Seokjin finally be able to become the badass he’s always wanted to be and confess his feelings before the world ends?

45 Lampkin Ln (COMING SOON TO A THEATER NEAR YOU) ↠ Movie Reference: Halloween (1978) ↠ Pairing: Min Yoongi x Female Reader ↠ Genre: Horror, Thriller, Smut ↠ Director: @sugakookitty​  ──────────── ↠ Summary: “Drop the addy.” Ping after ping; it’s the only message coming through your line. Everyone wants to know what the move is tonight. For you, it’s babysitting the Doyle kids, but your best friend Anne has plans to throw a party at the old Myer’s house. However, one text from a guy you’re crushing on changes your mind.

This is a bad idea. Yoongi is a bad idea. Tonight, of all, is the worst for making bad decisions. But in what universe would you ever miss the opportunity to have Yoongi pull up at your party?

It Stays (CLICK TO VIEW SHOWTIMES!) ↠ Movie Reference: It Follows (2014) ↠ Pairing: Demon Jung Hoseok x Student Female Reader ↠ Genre: Thriller, Supernatural, Horror, Angst, Smut ↠ Director: @jjkeverlast​  ──────────── ↠ Summary: After some unexpected events at your campus, you're determined to find out what exactly has been lurking behind these walls, or more so who.

Familiar Hauntings (CLICK TO VIEW SHOWTIMES!) ↠ Movie Reference: The Conjuring (2013) ↠ Pairing: Demonologist Kim Namjoon x Clairvoyant Female Reader ↠ Genre: Established Relationship, Thriller, Horror, Supernatural, Angst ↠ Director: @joonscypher​  ──────────── ↠ Summary: You and Namjoon have worked hard to become expert paranormal investigators. You’ve successfully investigated and exorcised a number of demons and ghosts all over the world and your followers believe in you enough to keep you confident and going. That’s why when you get a call about a family with a teenage daughter experiencing traumatizing hauntings, you and your team don’t think twice about going to help. 

It isn’t until you get there do you realize that you may be in over your heads when you come face to face with a powerful yet familiar evil. It’s going to take more effort than you ever thought you’d need to get rid of this sinister force before it destroys everyone in it’s sight, including you and everyone you care about.

Cathexis (CLICK TO VIEW SHOWTIMES!) ↠ Movie Reference: Firestarter (1984) ↠ Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader ↠ Genre: Firestarter AU, Slight Yandere, Thriller ↠ Director: @jkeuphoriadreamland​ ​ ​──────────── ↠ Summary: Possessing a power that was genetically passed onto him, Jimin has to face life’s struggles managing this burden alone. He finds himself back in a town he vaguely recalls , where he hopes to find some semblance of peace, but what he doesn’t expect is to come face to face with his past.

Welcome to Woodsboro (CLICK TO VIEW SHOWTIMES!) ↠ Movie Reference: Scream (1996, 1997, 2000, 2011, 2022) ↠ Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader ↠ Genre: Established Relationship, Thriller, Fluff, Smut ↠ Director: @kth1​ ​ ──────────── ↠ Summary: One generation's tragedy is the next one's joke as two horror enthusiasts set out to visit California's most infamous murder site, Woodsboro. Decorated like a festival throughout the town is nonother than the haunting and creepy mask of Ghostface. As an area with a history of a gruesome and terrorizing past, there is nothing better for fanatics from all around to show up on the anniversary of the very first murder that set off decades of repetitive fear.

A Grave Mistake (COMING SOON TO A THEATER NEAR YOU) ↠ Movie Reference: Ready or Not (2019) ↠ Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Newly Wed Female Reader ↠ Genre: Wedding AU, Established Relationship, Thriller, Horror, Angst, Smut ↠ Director: @jeonjcngkook​ ​ ──────────── ↠ Summary: Valentino couture mixed with violence and gore is not how you assumed your wedding day would end. As you come together to celebrate your union in front of both your friends and family with the pledge to love each other for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, sealed with a kiss. But you don't realise that 'until death do you part' is taken quite very literally in the form of a childhood playground game. are you really ready to love and honour each other as promised?

© All rights reserved under all respective authors tagged within this post - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of these works without author’s direct consent. Ownership belongs to each author tied to their original works.

[theinsomniacnerd]

MUSICALS AND VOCALOID SONGS AS BSD!!

So! As a theater kid in my local highschool, I've thought of this for a good while now along with being a daily Project Sekai player.

The musical I see Bsd fit the most would be honestly Heathers. But if we are just being funny, all three Heathers are Ranpo, Mushitaro and Poe, Veronica is Atsushi, JD is Akutagawa, Martha is Kyoka. Kurt and Ram, I'm not entirely sure yet but I'll think about it soon.

Now! For Vocaloid. Love me, Love me, Love me would really fit Akutagawa due to wanting Dazai's approval and that song literally talk about that so for all of you who thought it was a yandere song, you are sadly and sorely mistaken. Young Girl A or Universal Cat Drowning would also fit Akutagawa but I chose Atsushi for this! He would also fit QUEEN and I feel like for the two of them would Identity.

Now for Dazai and Chuuya. Dazai would probably be a Kanaria song, like KING, Envy Baby, EYE or maybe Wowoka like Rolling Girl but I would chose Envy Baby for him meanwhile Chuuya would be KING and their duet song would be the KING x Envy Baby mix that Kanaria did.

Now for Fukumori! This one was a toughy since for Mori, I had I'm Sorry I'm Sorry or You Are A Useless Child but I ended up going with Novocaine from Ghost and Pals. I was tempted to give the song connected to Novocaine, Hyperdontia to Fukuzawa but it didn't seem to fit and as much as I wanted to put Nyan cat [yes it's a vocaloid song] for him, I went with Unknown Mother Goose and the song for the two of them would be Therefore You and Me.

Fyolai song would honestly be Villain, Fyodor's would be Shadow Shadow and Nikolai's would be EYE. [honorable mention to Sigma who would have Casino or Blackjack.]

And Ranpoe. I'm sorry but Ranpo would be Appetite of a People Pleaser, I don't care, this fits him. Poe would Goodbye Declaration surprisingly! And the song for the two of them would be either Love Ka or World is Mine.

That's all for today, till we meet again Somniacs.

[fancyfeathers]

So I drew a little something for my And Then There Were None (Yandere William James Moriarty /w Author Darling) series, I said in these posts (1,2,3) that William’s darling is a part of a author’s club with many of her friends, all writing horror novels…

So I drew sketches of what I picture they look like and where they are from and what sorts of books they write…

Alex Pendel

(Manhattan) New York City, New York

Crime Thillers

A mysterious person for many reasons, from an new money family who has the city of New York in the palm of their hand, they loved to London to stay with some family to get new ideas for their novels and to also avoid their overbearing parents who want them to follow in their footsteps, and sometimes they think they might, think about it, the biggest city in the world in the palm of your hand… sounds fun even if done by not the most ethical means…

They have a habit of not following gender stereotypes for the times, often ostracizing themselves from the rest of society, but they don’t really care, the books still fly off the shelves and their pockets are deep.

Lady Charlotte Basset

York, England

Ghost Stories

The eldest child, an heiress, of a noble family, she has more money than she knows what to do it. She moved to London to find direction with her life but instead found strange happiness in her family’s estate there, so she wrote about it and it sold in the blink of an eye. When not at her desk or at the writer’s club, she is often seen taking her friends out on the town to spoil them or out with one of her tho her brothers, gambling and drinking.

She often takes her friends to visit haunted sites all around London so she can get inspiration for her books and scare off suitors with the gossip of the seances she holds in her own estate.

Rene Drew

Marseille, France

Gothic Horror

A young man with a rather charming personality, from a family who based their fortune in the wine and alcohol industry. He found himself originally writing poetry that shatter the illusion of humanity in a poignant wayby holding a mirror up to us and saying: look at what we truly are, and look at what we pretend to be, but that does not sell. Sohe transferred his story morals behind charming yet broken villains, who literally and figuratively hide behind the facade they create for the themselves.

He dresses more casually most of the time, especially compared to his colleagues. He is often found at the writer’s club or the theater, and if not there who knows where he might be, could have left the country for all they know or he could show up in the drawing room of his friend’s place in the middle of the night with a deck of cards, a smoke, and a bottle of wine as a gift for them.

Evelyn Jay

London, England

Body Horror

A young heiress from an old money family, titleless, and the youngest member of the club. She is a seemingly innocent and sweet young lady but the human mind can be a very dark place. She often asks when they are at the club, questions that truly terrify you, for example…

“Would hunting another person still be considered hunting an animal because humans are animals?”

“If you were being burnt alive would the smoke or flames kill you first?”

“I think there is a murderer in my neighborhood, I keep on seeing trances of blood by the park… do you think they are burying their victims there?”

She always had the sweetest smile and is honestly quite kind, if not a bit creepy. She was the one to notice the strange happenings and patterns around the disappearance of William’s darling when she is kidnapped and even figured it out before anyone else, she just didn’t say anything, it was fun to watch.

[mango-bango-bby]

I want to request for 🥀 with dabi and I want the movie to be The Boy!! The movie, if you haven’t seen it, the movie basically follows this woman who is supposed to be a nanny for this boy but when she arrives it turns out it’s not a boy it’s just a doll. She then slowly starts to believe it’s haunted. But when her abusive ex shows up it turns out it’s not a ghost but the boy is now grown up and had been living in the walls to whole time! Ahhhh I just love that movie and I think it’s perfect for dabi

♡ The Boy ♡

(A/N: I rememberer seeing that movie in theaters 😭😭 Even back then I had a type cause I remember thinking that Brahms was attractive 😔 I can definitely see this movie with Dabi so I hope you like it!! )

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, this is literally just the movie The Boy but with Dabi 💖, mentions of abusive exes, blood, murder to reader’s ex, horror/horror themes

Summary: You’re hired as a nanny only to realize you have to watch over a doll (Yan!Dabi x GN!reader)

Halloween Event ➸ ♡

Masterlist ➸ ♡

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You stare up at the large portrait on the wall of the house your supposed to be working at as a nanny. The portrait consists of a family. Three boys and one girl, along with the mother and father. A young boy with white hair, a young girl with white and red hair with glasses, a baby with half of his hair white and half red, and finally a young boy with white hair and bright blue eyes. The one with the blue eyes seems to be the only one not smiling in the portrait.

“I’m so sorry about the wait” A woman speaks, this must be Rei. “No, no, it’s no problem” you smile, shaking the hand she held out. “Are these the children I’ll be looking after” you say, looking back up towards the picture only to be met with a laugh.

“No all of them are grown by now” The man next to her says. That must be Enji, you think. “You’ll only be looking after one of them” Rei says, leading you down the long hallways of the mansion. The large house was in the middle of no where, the nearest town being a thirty minute drive away. They even had food delivered to the front door so they didn’t have to go into town for groceries.

Enji opens up the door, the room is brightly colored and is obviously a kids room. “This is Touya” Rei says, turning to you but not holding a child. No, she’s holding a doll. You can’t even find it in yourself to laugh at the situation. They were dead serious you could tell. They were really paying you to look after a doll.

The doll is clearly designed after the boy on the portrait. The white hair, bright eyes, and pale skin matches the picture. It wasn’t long after they introduced you to Touya that they left, leaving you alone in this large house with him.

♡ ♡ ♡

You find yourself staring back up at the portrait, much like you had when you first arrived here. You’ve only been living here for about a week and a half. You feel as if you’re going crazy in this large house by yourself. You kept misplacing things. You set something down only to come back and it be gone. You would hear things, knowing you were alone.

You were curious. Was Touya a real child at one point? Or was he always just a doll. You go up the large stairs, looking through the books in the library until you find what you’re looking for. It looks like a scrap book.

You open the book, the binding falling apart from how many times it’s been opened. The photos are all normal, three of the children from the portrait are in there. It takes a while before you finally see a picture of Touya. The photos are cute, him playing with his sibling, or just normal portrait pictures.

You frown when you reach the last page. It was a photo of Touya. Below the picture of the young boy is a date of birth as well as a date of death. It seems he died in a fire.

It makes sense to you now. The doll was a form of comfort for the loss of a child. You sympathize with the Todoroki’s. You can’t imagine losing a child, especially to something as horrible as an accidental fire.

You close the book, turning as fast as you can at what sounds like footsteps. Almost like a child running. You try to convince yourself it’s nothing. But as it keeps going you shut the door to the library, taking in a shaky breath.

You jump a bit at your phone ringing. “Hello?” You whisper into your phone, only to be met with static. You wait only to hear nothing. You do hear something though, it sounds like breathing. You hang up, letting out a small shriek as a small piece of paper slips its way under the door.

Won’t you come out and play, Y/n?

It reads. It looks like children’s handwriting. “Who are you?” You mumble. You think you’re insane by now. There was a small part of your brain that thought maybe the doll was haunted but this was insane. Another small piece of paper under the door goes towards you.

Touya but I want to be called Dabi

It reads. You grab a lamp in your hands ready to hit whoever was on the other side of the door if it wasn’t a ghost. You quickly swing the door opens ready to fight off the intruder. There’s nothing there though. Except for the doll sitting on the floor in front of you, along with a pen next to it and a stack of paper.

It was real. He was here. “Dabi, huh...” you mumble, picking up the doll in your hands.

♡ ♡ ♡

It’s been a week since you found out about this “ghost”. And honestly, you believe it! You’ve been taking care of this doll as if it was a real child. You wanted to care for him. You believed this ghost was here. You mean, the doll moved on it’s own! You believed Dabi’s ghost was still here.

You look up at the door at the sound of someone knocking. You pick up the doll into your arms. Walking to the large front doors. You think it’s the groceries as they were delivered to the door.

“O-oh, hi Ren” you mumble, holding the doll closer to you at the sight of your ex-boyfriend. He was the reason you wanted to take this stupid job in the first place! You wanted to leave to escape him! “Look, I know the way we left things were rough but I want to fix things” He said, stepping inside the home despite not being invited in.

You walk backwards, holding onto Dabi’s doll close to you as if for comfort. “Is this the kid you’re babysitting?” Ren asks, reaching out and grabbing the doll from you despite your tight grip on it. Ren pauses for a moment at the sight of the porcelain face that stares back at him.

“Are they.. paying you to look after a fucking doll?” He asks, watching you take the doll back into your arms. “Um, yeah” you mumble, trying to back up even more. The energy is uneven in here. There’s this underlying feeling of someone watching you two. Perhaps it’s Dabi’s ghost, you’re not sure.

“Well, that makes this a lot easier” Ren says, taking a step towards you. You glance behind you as your back hits the wall. Fuck, you were cornered. “I want you to come back home with me” He says, not noticing the way you glance around nervously as if you wanted someone to save you.

“But what about y’know- my j-job?” You ask nervously, only hoping he’ll change his mind. Of course, he doesn’t, only bursting out into laughter at your words. “It’s a doll, they’ll never know” he says calmly. You back up against the wall even more, your breathing becoming uneven as he reaches out to you.

“Don’t touch me!” You cry out, noticing the look of anger on Ren’s face. He pauses though. Loud thumps emanating from the walls. “Dabi?” You mumble, looking over at the walls where the thumps are coming from. Eventually they stop. Not until a mirror in the hallway shatters.

From inside the mirror a man steps out. Ratty clothes, messy white hair is visible behind a mask. The mask is porcelain almost as if it was the face of a doll. You ex doesn’t even have time to think before he’s tackled to the ground by this man, you let out a piercing scream as you watch your ex be stabbed by a piece of stray glass.

You feel tears stream down your face as the man stands up, taking a step toward you. “Please don’t hurt me” You mumble, he only stays silent. “Y/n...” the man says in a raspy voice as if he hasn’t spoken in years. You watch as he slowly takes off the mask. Parts of his face weren’t burnt, a dark purplish brown burnt skin connected to his healthy skin only by silver staples.

“Dabi?”

“Yes, Y/n?”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ Thank you for reading, darling!!

[vanillafalvoredcoffee]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

MY MASTERLIST <3

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

First section: Mutual talk

Pink and black

Ghostie stuff

There's two types of Ghost! Yonaka...

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Second section: Requested stuff by my mutuals

Yandere Senri × Kianna ♡

Yandere Senri × Kianna part 2 ♡

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Third section: Moodboards (+ Headcannons)

[Words in italics = Headcannons] [Words in bold = Moodboards]

Alice The Witch of performance 🎭

Height Headcannons

Fuyuko ❄

Chiyoko >:3

Bernardus (˶ᵔ ᵔ˶)🍷

Lyphiós ( • ᴖ • ｡ )

Euphrosynos ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ (This one is not finished yet T^T)

Thymoménos (¬⤙¬ ) (This too :[ )

Sister Rosa 🌹

Miss Katherine ᝰ🖋

Kaiya Komori :]

Ema, Ko, Yuutsu, Hachi, Nunez

Child! Beatrice 🩰

Ghost! Yonaka

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Forth section: Role-play

Reunion (Kianna and Yonaka RP) Part 1 Status : Finished

Reunion (Kianna and Yonaka RP) Part 2 Status : Unfinished

The Theater (Bernardus and Belszavordi) Status : Finished

An Angel broke in (Miss Katherine and Kianna) Status : Discontinued (Can't find it lol)

New friend (Miss Katherine and Percy) Status : Finished

Cross universes (Yonaka and Hirmenogaldus) Status : Finished

Studying (Yonaka and Kianna) Status : Finished (can't find this either)

Tea party (Yonaka and Kianna) Status : Finished

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Fifth section: Info about my OCs and maybe others as well

Aliana's (Younger Yonaka) imaginary friends :)

Baby Yonaka Headcannons (not really a headcannon so I put it here!)

Yonaka Non-human AUs (compilation)

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Sixth section: My writing

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

[lovelyprincessn64]

Halloween request event

Come one and Come all today is spook mouth all day and night and this year I want to give everyone a special event for a holiday of horror and nostalgia.

Welcome to the Halloween party to request for any horror of your choice and to your heart desires and here are the choices:

Creepypastas and pokepastas

Crospe Groom Vincent Valentine anniversary

Spooky Mouth

Horror games and movies pules tv shows

Day of the dead

Celebrating the FNAF movie

Characters cosplaying

Halloween party

Trick or treat

Prompts of your choice (it has to be spooky theme)

AUs

Pumpkin patch

folklore

Monsters

Suff form your childhood or nostalgia

Retro

Fan made monster high skullector dolls

Fanasy horror

Dead in the night

20. Any thing horror related

21. Gruesome faith

22. Yandere nightmare

23. Fan art of fan made horror games

24. Lots of blood and gore

25. Gothic style

26. Fall / autumn

27. Vacation to nightmare

28. Apocalypse

29. Dark desire

30. Monster fright

31. Hypnos lullaby tribute

32. Friday the 13th

33. Candy

34. Horror anime shows

35. Japan Halloween theme

36. Your ocs

37. Black and white horror Style

38. Tim Burton

39. Disney's Halloween theme movies

40. Bloody movie theater

41. Bloody snacks

42. mcdonald's boo buckets

43. Halloween specials

44. Vincent Valentine's birthday

45. L's Birthday

46. Bakery hell

47. Pumpkin spice latte

48. treehouse of horror

49. Childhood trauma

51. Tails's birthday and Tankman birthday

52. Monster Mash

53. sweetest of dreams

54. Night of the nuns

55. Ladies night

56. Sweet as sugar

57. Cafe nights

58. Fortunes of misfortunes

59. Last night at the Christmas party

60. Everless night

61. Final Call of a final girl

62. Death by Grimace Shake

63. Cupcakes

64. Eddsworld

65. R.I.P in pieces

66. Nightmare night

67. Five nights of fun

68. Victims of blood lust

69. vocaloid of terror

70. Dawn of the box office

71. Build a bitch

72. Doomsday

73. Winterwonder HorrorLand

74. Magician of mischievous

75. Tales of Horror Korean

76. Psychotic pharaoh

75. Animal crossing Halloween stuff

76. Cookie Run

77. Grave mistake

78. Lost CN episodes

79. Haunting Hour

80. Chills

81. Deadly sorrow

82. Night of the Woods

83. Come learn with Pibby

84. Fran bow

85. Garden of nightmares

86.🌡Blood n Honey 🍯

87. Random Encounters

88. Reflections

89. Deepest of regrets

90. Hell on kitty

91. Wii Deleted You

92. Jerry's basement

93. Toy Story Black Friday incident

94. Mario Madness

95. Baked alive

94. Dead Bart

95. Saturday of asphyxiation

96. Wonderland Massacre

97. Untold loneliness

98. Mr. Prinz's Pokemon Dusk & Pokémon Dawn also Pokémon Nightfall even Pokémon Nocturne including Pokémon Aurora along with Klaus and Dave even the dark Chronicles.

99. Cult Of The Lamb (some parts of it),

100. Splatoween Splatfest

101. Printer problems

102. The Phantom of the Opera

103. Soap opera genre

104. Dream yard of doom

105. Buried alive

106. Spider tea party time

107. Afterlife with Archie

108. The Walking Dead

109. Lost Silver

110. Evil Among Us

111. Rainbow Factory

112. What have I done

113. Old Chateau

114. Zardy's maze

115.Japan Halloween style

116. Ghosting you since 96

117. The bite of 87

118. Horrific Thanksgiving

119. Self aware genre

200. Earthbound Halloween hack

201. sonic channel

202. Balena Productions (some of it)

203. Tails gets trolled Halloween mod

204. Little Red Riding Hood zombie BBQ

205. Creepy dolls

206. Blood and Feathers

207. meatcanyon (but no requests of his real people videos including the controversial Super Bowl incident)

208. happy birthday balvenie

209. Karamari Hospital

210. Halloween shit post

211. Unown King

212. Cursed Cat Alastor

213. Lady/ man in the mirror

214. The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy

215. Resident Evil

216. Spooky Redraws

217. The House of the Dead

218. Haunted Mansion

219. October birthdays

220. illbleed (it's a horror game)

221. Night of the consumers

222. Flesh Birds

223. Dino Crisis

224. Witch way

225. Eaten alive

226. Spookycore

227. No Escape

228. Goth Amy

229. Jack the Pumpkin King

230. Dear brother

231. Ben 10 Zombozo

232. Living Dead Boy / Girl

233. Monster Hunters

234. Nuns murder

235. The man that killed Halloween

236. After Dark

237. Little dark age

238. Calling All The Monsters

239. Turn the lights off

240. Thriller

241. Bloody Mary

242. Dead by Daylight

243. Spooky skeletons

244. Monsters under the bed

245. Charlie Brown Halloween special

246. Death comes at midnight

247. Black cats

248. Hocus Pocus

249. Radio demon

250. Overdue

251. Haunted by screams

252. Pandora's Box

253. Starve Eggman / starved characters

254. Ghostbusters (No 2016 version)

255. Nowhere to Run

256. Bloodpop

257. Plants vs Zombies

258. Main course

259. Genocide

260. Last Escape

261. Kill la kill anniversary

262. Shitno

263. Carnitrix

264. Blood stain ritual of the night

265. Suicide mickey.avi

266. Rain of Terror

267. Castlevania

268. Nightmare invasion

269. Deceased

270. City of the Dead

271. Scent of night

272. Look out!

273. Wind's Wreck

274. Children of the Night

275. Burger and Frights

276. Headless Horseman

277. Unborn's lullaby

278. There's always another night

279. Nebula

280. Reversion

281. Haunted by Screams

282. Living in the Dark

283. Moonlight Menschen

284. Hazbin hotel

285. One night at flumpty's 

286. Crimson head

287. I am not me

288. Silent Hill

289. Jack O'Lantern

290. Gorefield

291. Tofu Survivor

292. Grim Reaper

293. Grave robber

294. Scared Stupid

295. Mr. X

296. Don't feed it at midnight

297. Red Mist

298. Boogeyman

299. Ghost zone

300. What's your favorite scary movie

301. Thalassophobia

302. Mr. L

303. Death is part of life

304. Abandoned by Disney

305. He needs to eat

306. Why I'll never play a Mario game again

307. Appleyes

308. Body Gore

309. Black Ops Zombies

310. Dead space

311. Sleep experiment

312. Every copy is personalized

314. Sonic Generations beta

315. No mercy

316. Eyeless Jack

317. Slender Man

318. Ben drowned

319. Godzilla NES

320. Misfortune.gb

321. Glitchy red

322. Strangle red

323. I am Mr mix

324. Happiness for sale

325. Rap rat

326. Escape from Marywood

327. 1999

328. Rotten yellow

329. Zombreon

330. Pokemon Dead channel

331. Creepy Jigglypuff

332. Disabled can't sing (it's based off of a Pokemon Creepypasta about a Wigglytuff name disabled that cannot sing or use any Pokemon moves)

333. Please hurry

334. Sonic. exe

335. Bio crisis

336. Lisa Trevor

337. Circle you game

338. I hate you

339. Left unchecked

340. National Noodle Day

341. Boyfriend day

342. Abandoned loneliness

343. Pasta night

344. Bad ending friends

345. Evil art

346. Possessed Dawn

347. No you're not the one

348. I am not a clone

349. Goosebumps

350. Triple trouble

351. Sally.exe

352. Purple guy

353. King of five nights at Freddy's

354. Not everything as it seems

355. The murder of me

356. I'm pretty sure it's haunted

357. Luna game

358. Polybius

359. Lemon monster

360. Ed Edd n Eddy's boo haw haw

361. Las plagas

362. Ghost train

363. Resident Evil scrapped creatures

364. The Batman that laughs

365. Gregory's Horror Show

366. Deep fear

367. Faceless

368. Slendytubbies

369. Helluva boss

370. Carnival of Lost Souls

371. Vampire heart Draculaura

372. Why do ghouls fall in love

373. Sugar skeletons

374. Blood drive

375. Darkstalkers

376. Little red psycho Hood

377. #DRCL midnight children manga

378. Blood wash

379. She sways in her velvet dress

380. Keep going

381. Broken finger paradise

382. Horror tales patrick

383. Just gold

384. Survive the night

385. Hex Girls

386. Scooby-Doo Zombie Island (sequel to the movie not allowed)

387. Virus

388. Higurashi: when they cry

389. Hinamizawa syndrome

390. It's alive

391. Happy Fella

392. Harvest festival 64

393. Bonnie's Bakery

394. Morning coffee

395. Close at 2

396. Mouthwashing

397. Dr jekyll and Mr hyde

398. Fruit witches

399. Scoop room

400. YouTuber lumpy touch

401. Sleep paralysis

402. That's not my neighbour

403. Scarlet milk

404. Fundamental paper education

405. Zodick the Hellhog

406. Noh mask

407. Okiku doll

408. Aka Manto

409. Jinmenken

410. Oiwa

411. Nure-onna

412. Rokurokubi

413. Gashadokuro

414. Kunekune

415. Fanarts of The Batman Vs Dracula 2005

416. Scissor Twilight

417. Corrosion Isabella

418. Jenny Green Teeth

419. Cartoontrix

420. Jack Skeleton as tooth fairy

421. Silly Billy fnf

422. Hotdiggedydemon shed.mov

423. Oozers from adventure time

424. WB Splatter Spike or WB Splatter Tom or both / come up with your own suggestion

425. 1945 Tom

426. Ikenie No Yoru (translation it means: Night of the Sacrifice and it's a horror Wii game exclusive to Japan)

427. Tom the Postgirl

428. Childish Life Prolgue

429. Marry in Red

430. Lily's Well

431. Rainbow Factory

432. Elements of insanity

433. Pumpkin soup

434. Character of your choice as a pumpkin head

435. Howliday 

436. Mummy Majesties

437. MLP infection au

438. MLP candy mare

439. Zodiac of October

440. Gorefield of October

441. PortaBoy+

442. The Queen Of The Zombie Bees

443. Dead rising

444. Mlp Creepypastas

445. Gore N’ Kawaii

446. Count Mickey Dragul (some info: Count Mickey Dragul is a Disney horror / vampire wedcomic made and creative by twisted-wind as for the comic It's basically a vampire AU of mickey mouse)

447. I used to be a hero

448. By the ghosts of what I've done

449. There is no soul

450. Soulless

451. Bound by pain and flame

452. Trapped inside this nightmare

453. Cries of the lost souls

454. In the shadows of the night

455. The lives I couldn’t save

456. A hero’s heart not fully gone, in search of saving life

457. Stocked full of zombies that are craving brains

458. Evil beyond imagination

459. Creepy doll from kingdom hearts 3

460. Chucky doll

461. Unknown from dead by daylight

462. Glen / Glenda

463. Candy gore

464. Sick of candy

465. Suburban gothic

466. Doom Asylum

467. Dark Nautical

468. Southern Gothic 

469. Pastel Goth

470. New England Gothic

Disclaimer: be sure to read the rules before requesting please be thankful and understandable and civil thank you for reading and understanding.

Note: unlike normal requests you have to request horror theme or if your not interested you can always send a normal one.

Have fun ~🎃🎁

[yandere-wishes]

was Nerdy Prudes Must Die Any good?

I'll be 100% honest. I didn't like it, at all. Don't get me wrong the cast was amazing. Their voices were great too. But the plot and execution (and excessive amount of cursing) kinda just didn't cut it for me. I know a lot of people really like it and love the theater group behind it. But personally, I'm not really a fan.

Genie score 2/10 I'm giving it a 2 cause the Ghost gave major yandere vibes. That's it lol.

[after-witch]

Standing Still [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader] [Just a Scrap of Time sequel]

Title: Standing Still [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]  [Just a Scrap of Time sequel]

Synopsis: 

Your family threw you out into the world, helpless and hungry. It was only because of Scaramouche that you didn’t die on the streets. And now he has you, holed up in forced opulence, insistent that he’s going to marry you. But what of your family? And yourself? Follow-up to Just a Scrap of Time.

Word Count: 5802

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of starvation/neglect, forced marriage

You needed time to settle in. That’s what he told you. Or rather, what he told the servant woman who’d been preening over you for the good part of an hour. She relayed the advice so kindly, so nonchalantly, that you would have taken it to heart if you were here under different circumstances. 

“Settling in” was for nervous soon-to-be brides who had arrived from home on carefully carried litters, women who needed time to adjust to their new surroundings and fortunes;  the idea was not for you, a kidnapped villager of no repute, with guards posted at the door lest you try to escape again. You were escorted everywhere, even just a few doors down to his room, and watched constantly--by him, by the guards, and by the servant woman who barely left your side.

She spoke little to you, and her nervous airs kept you on edge. She took care of all your daily necessities, despite the protests you’d given that you could care for yourself, that you didn’t need to be dressed, her unfamiliar fingers always grazing your skin.

Though, when Scaramouche had disposed of all the clothes you packed from home, the simple things you’d been accustomed to wearing all your life, you quickly realized that being dressed by someone else truly was a necessity. The robes he’d given you as replacements were fine, layers of patterned fabrics that made you feel like some priceless doll. Fit to sit on the shelf of the governor’s mansion.

Is that how Scaramouche saw you? As a doll on his shelf?

If only you were something to be placed on a shelf and left there to grow dust. As it was, he expected you to interact with him; to please him, not just with your presence but your words and even your looks.

Today, the servant woman--you try to forget her name, because you want to escape this place, and remembering it is only a burden--dresses you in a robe made with deep reds and blues so dark that they look black in the low light of your room. It’s not a meal time, and the change in your surprisingly routine schedule has you feeling shaken.

Layers go on, one by one, until you feel draped in fabric that feels sinful to own, much less wear. When she pulls out a box of cosmetics,  you sigh. The brushes are soft and almost tickle your skin. She doesn’t apply too much, and you’re grateful for that. The first time, she’d gone overboard, and you flinched when your… you still didn’t know what to call him, exactly. Your captor? Your benefactor, against your well? Whatever he is, he didn’t like your face so well-covered in paint, and he let her know it, voice low. So it’s only a dash here and there, to color your cheeks, to give your lips a hint of pinkness.

She leaves, and he enters. Ah. No wonder you were dressed up. You can just make out the guards at the door leaving their posts as the screen slides closed. He likes his privacy, at least when it comes to you.

You try not to stare at him as he approaches the low table that you stand in front it, but it’s hard to avoid it. He rings when he walks, soft tinkling bells that feel more at home in a theater than in the temporary, pompous residence of a Harbringer. He’s surprisingly ostentatious.

“Well?”

He stares at you.

“I…” you begin, voice dry from little use all morning. “I don’t know what you want me to do.” You stare down at the flooring, at the layers of your robe ghosting the ground.

He huffs. Then sits. So you sit too, lowering yourself slowly, still unused to the cumbersome outfits.

The mere act of sitting seems to please him somewhat, and you feel a slight bit of tension unwind in your chest. It’s difficult to gauge his moods and his wants, and you know just enough about him to realize that gauging his temperament is essential for your survival.

He waits until you serve him tea. You learned that much by now. When both your cups are steaming and ready, he takes a sip. Then he speaks, eyes lidded, glancing up at you. Sizing you up in some way, you suppose.

“Your face is better done,” he says, finally, before he pauses with a thoughtful expression. “Though I prefer it bare.”

“I do too,” you say, without thinking. Your voice is unguarded and you realize it’s the first time you’ve spoken to him in such a manner since the night he took you.

There’s something curious on his face now, a little hint of a smile in the corner. Not the awful smirks you’ve seen him wear when he’s about to go on a tirade, but something almost natural, almost kind.

“Good,” he repeats. “You won’t have to wear that… paint much at all. Just for public occasions. When you entertain my guests and such. And of course, at our wedding.”

Your hand flinches, and you set down the cup you’ve yet to drink from. Your mind had whirled quickly, starting to form a response to the idea that you would be entertaining his guests--who? And why?--before his last words hit you.

“Wedding?”

The smile at the corner of his lips twitches. “Yes. I don’t see the point in such ridiculous ceremonies, not really… but it’s expected.”

He continues drinking his tea as his words hit you like solid weights against your chest. He really means to go through with it, then. It’s not enough to keep you prisoner, he really intends to have you marry him.

You rest one hand against your thigh and squeeze the fine fabric gathered there until you can’t stand the sensation anymore.

“You don’t…” you begin, but the words fizzle from your lips. You’re afraid to finish them, but perhaps you’d never get another chance to express yourself on the matter again. “I don’t,” you say finally. “I don’t want to marry you.”

“Why? You’d rather go back to your dying village? Pull weeds from the forest and eat them? Starve while your brother gets his fill?”

There’s a sneer in his voice that makes your stomach curdle. At the mention of your brother, you feel your cheeks grow hot in indignation. He’s never made his disdain for your village (and everyone in it) a secret, but something about the way he openly brings up their treatment of you makes you feel sick.

Your mind flashes to the food you ate earlier in the day, to the food regularly laid out on the tables you share with him. Every meal is a feast that would have stretched for days back home. No, you didn’t miss the hunger. The starvation. You didn’t miss the bitter sting of your stomach as your brother was allowed to take heaping portions of the meager offerings, while you were lucky to get a sliver of meat a day.

“Of course I don’t miss eating weeds,” you murmur, hand curling around the warm tea cup. “Of course I don’t miss my brother--that is, of course I don’t miss when he would do that.”

It’s strange, the way he makes you open up to him, even when your mind is screaming at you to keep your lips tight and say nothing to the man who kept you a prisoner. But he has a way of making you feel unguarded. Of making you want to unburden yourself. Perhaps it’s because of the first time you met, the way you spilled out everything at his feet, starving and dirty.

“There must be someone more suitable for you,” you say, voice almost a whisper. Perhaps if you can keep yourself from being emotional, he might be apt to listen. He hated hysterics, and you’ve already learned that crying gets you nowhere with him.

“More suitable?” He replies. There’s something like a snap in his voice that makes your jaw clench. “Is that what your irrational behavior is about?  You think I can find a better bride?” He gestures at the room around him, as if to emphasize its opulence,  its importance, and his own place within it.

It’s not that. But it is, isn’t it? In a way. If you set aside the obvious sense you have of the reputation he has--you don’t miss the way the guards and servants seem on constant edge when he is near--you must admit that yes, you do feel out of place in these surroundings.

And yet… so does he, in a way that is difficult to pin down.  Your robes feel just as much a costume as his own. His grip on the porcelain cup feels as wavering and newborn as yours, used to cradling cracked stoneware.

“I’m no one.” You stare down at your lap, at the delicate patterns embroidered on the fabric. “I’m nothing.” You realize, then, that you’re not saying these words to dissuade him. You’re saying them to confirm them to yourself. 

He might have taken you here, and put you in fine clothes, and fed you fine foods, but you’re still that same worthless person who dug into farmer’s waste for scraps of food. Who begged on her hands and knees when her flesh turned thin, revealing bones underneath. Who was of so little value to her family that they sent her away to suffer this fate.

“I don’t understand what you see in me.” The confession stings, and hated, hot tears come to your eyes.

There’s a silence that stretches between you, and the silence aches.

“Perhaps you will soon enough.”

He leaves without anything further. The woman servant reenters, and begins a low hum of impersonal chatter. She drones, asking if you’d like her to bring out your embroidery screen, or perhaps you’d prefer to arrange flowers for your evening meal later on.

You couldn't feel more alone.

**

That night, you dream about your father.

The woods are fuzzy and dark, familiar yet blurred by fading memories and the nature of dreams. Your follow your father with love and trust, as you always did as a child. He points out animal tracks. He points out berries that are juicy and sweet, and berries that will kill you with a handful.

And then he stops. You’re deep in the wood, far from home, and he stops.

“I’m leaving you here,” he says, voice cold. “For the wolves.”

You cry out and try to follow him as he walks away, but your feet are rooted to the ground. You can’t move. “Why, papa?” You ask, voice soft and weeping. “Why? Why?” You scream for him, and he doesn’t even turn around.

Something grabs your ankle, biting and tight, pulling--you fall.

Then wake up in your bed in a hot, sticky sweat. In an instant, the woman is at your side.

“Are you all right, my lady?”

You press your hands to your face and weep.

**

“Your servant told me you woke up crying.”

A pang of irritation blossoms in your chest. Of course, her concern last night and again this morning, probing you as she dressed you, was not for you--but so she could dutifully report everything to the man that employed her.

“Are you ill?” His voice is sharper, and you realize that you didn’t answer him.

“No,” you say, voice low. Not with any physical sickness, anyway.

“Are you becoming hysterical again?”

At that, you feel a familiar sense of shame blossom in your chest.

“No,” you answer, and this time your voice feels pointed.

He says nothing further as the pair of you pick at your afternoon meal.

He doesn’t ask any further. But the ache from your dream is still there, persistent, and you want more than anything to get it out of you.

He doesn’t ask. So… you offer it up instead.

“I had a bad dream.” You pause, and glance up to make sure that he’s listening. “About my father.”

Does his posture tense, or is it your imagination?

“I see,” he says, and there’s just enough genuine interest in his voice to keep you going.

You offer a bitter smile and recount the dream. The blur of the forest. The feeling of trust and love in your father. And then the abandonment. Your screams.

“He just left me there. He didn’t even turn around.” Your voice cracks at the end of your tale, and you swallow thickly.

Scaramouche hums thoughtfully.

“Dreams are meaningless,” he offers. “Don’t bother yourself about them. Especially about your so-called family.”

The bite in his voice is sharp, and you feel it reflected in the stinging that’s been inside you all morning. Before you can answer, someone enters the room in a rustle of noise.

“What is it?” Scaramouche snaps, and the man practically jumps in response.

“My-my lord, I’m sorry for the intrusion, but we finally received word from--”

“Fine.” Scaramouche stands, glancing down at you with an unreadable expression, and leaves you at the table.

When he’s gone, you find yourself eating. More than you want to, maybe, with your stomach feeling so out of sorts. But it fills you, and being filled makes you feel good, if only for a moment.  You try not to think about how the food on this table for a single afternoon meal is more than your family ate over the course of a week.

 **

That night, you dream about your mother.

You’re standing in the doorway of your home, in her arms. She’s so warm, despite the chill in the house, despite the threadbare clothing she wears. You’re in your fine night robes, and a prickle of shame squirms down your stomach when you see her staring at them.

"Mother--” you begin, voice dreamy and far away. “I miss you.” And you do, you really do, seeing her face even in this distant dream makes you long for her to squeeze you, to pet your hair as you fall asleep.

But she pushes you out of her arms, away from the threshold of the door. The inside is blocked by her body, and you can see that she looks fuller now. Happier. More alive.

“We have so much more food now that you’re gone,” she says, all matter-of-fact.

“You aren’t worth the hardship you bring.”

This time, you wake silently.

You turn over and scream into the soft, down pillow underneath you.

You don’t fall back asleep.

**

Your eyes are rimmed with dark shadows that can’t be covered even with the finest layer of cosmetics. Why now? Why are the dreams coming now, when you were taken here all those days ago? You tried not to think of your family. It hurt too much. You love them. You hate them. You want to see them. You wish they’d disappear.

“Are your ears quite functional?”

A sharp tone of voice pulls you away from your tired thoughts. He’s been talking about something. You stopped listening a while ago.

When he sees that you’re finally paying attention, he continues. “I’ve been attempting to prepare you for our upcoming nuptials. I won’t have you embarrassing me for this public display.”

You should feel horrified at his words. Or outraged. Or angry.  You should feel some sort of righteous indignation prickling at your chest, fury that he’s forcing you to marry him against your will.

Instead, you say nothing. You feel nothing other than a deep aching sadness. Why should you feel anger, anyway? Your feelings didn’t matter. You were… nothing. Like your mother said in your dream. Like she told you, not in words, when she pushed you out of her life twice. You weren’t worth the hardship you bring.

At your silence and dull expression, he sighs. Annoyed. And then there’s that thoughtful expression again, one you’ve come to know lately. It’s a welcome chance from his sneers and snaps.

“You had another dream.”

You nod, almost unaware of the gesture.

“Tell me.”

There’s nothing teasing in his expression or his voice. Like the ghost of the smile on the edge of his lips, like the shared sense that he was in costume just as much as you, it feels real. And it’s that reality that pushes you forward, making your recount the dream about your mother.

When you’re done, he looks perturbed. “I told you to stop bothering yourself with dreams.”

“It’s not just the dream,” you tell him, and you get the strangest feeling that you might have been friends with him, you think, if you had met under different circumstances. You want to be open with him and it hurts to think about why that might be.

“It’s everything,” you say. “Everything.” There’s so much unsaid, but it’s too heavy a burden to lay out. You want to sleep, more than anything. The only thing keeping you from curling up is his presence in front of you, imposing himself.

He hums. It’s a thoughtful sound, and there’s something in it that is heavy and static, like the air before a storm. You lean forward, expecting. What will he say? Or do?

Yet all he does now is wave his hand at a servant, who rushes close to pull away the empty dishes on the table. He takes his leave and reminds the servant woman at the door that he’s visiting your room later on tonight.

Why does it hurt that he left you alone?

**

You’re getting married in two days. Your thoughts blur as you stare up at the ceiling. Foggy, distant feelings press in on  you. You don’t want to do this.  You don’t want to marry him.

And yet…. and yet.

Your belly was full. You were warm. Your clothes were not tattered.  You had a bed and comforts. If the person who gave this all to you wasn’t… him, you might even find yourself enjoying it. No, not even that. If he hadn’t stolen you away, dragging you from your family to this place, you think  you could have certainly enjoyed it. If he had cultivated friendship and extended his hand to you, not pulled you onto a hilltop and demanded you wed him.

Were you dragged away from your family? The thought comes to you, unbidden. You were running from them. They were going to abandon you, so you wanted to abandon them first, to lessen the sting of a second parting. In a way, Scaramouche interceded, leaving you in a grey place. You weren’t dragged away from them, nor did you get the chance to run away on your own.

His pull was like an improper bout of wind, insistent--putting you off course.

But was this course the wrong one, after all?

At some point, you fall asleep.

That night, you dream of your brother.

Instead of the once-familiar surroundings of your village and its forest, you’re here, amidst the finery of your prison. Your brother sits across from you, the carefully lacquered table between you. He stands out in a terrible way. His clothes are faded and worn, repaired a thousand times over. You’re wearing the fine robes you’re carefully dressed in day after day, comfortable and burdensome all at once.

Between you is dish upon dish of food. Vibrant and filling and familiar. You reach for a dish, and your brother’s hand slaps yours away. He serves himself first, placing an empty serving dish on the table when he’s done.

You reach for another dish. He slaps it away. Again and again.  You’re left hungry while he inhales bite after bite. Your stomach begins to hurt from hunger and when you look down,  you are no longer in your fine robes, but the threadbare clothing you’d worn before. You shiver and your body seems to shrivel, getting smaller, hungrier, colder. You’re going to starve to death. Your brother is eating all of your food and you’re going to starve to death.

You glance up to see your parents watching, doing nothing.

When you wake up, you don’t cry or scream. You only curl up on the bed, feeling empty, but not from hunger.

Someone is watching you.

It’s not the servant woman, but Scaramouche. The sight of him in your room at night makes you flinch, and you make a sound, some sort of weak cry of protest--what is he doing here, when you are in your night clothes?

He is sitting on the edge of the bed, despite your weak murmurs. He takes your hand and his skin feels hot. His grip is tight and unyielding.

“Tell me your dream.”

There’s an intensity in his eyes that should scare you. But the lingering feeling of helplessness from your dream overtakes everything else.

You want to tell him. You can feel his presence like gravity, pulling you towards him. He listened to your other dreams, didn’t he? He fed you and clothed you and back then, back when  you were a dirty starving nobody on the ground, gave you gold--didn’t he?

So you tell him your dream, unburdening yourself in a great big heap.

By the end of your recounting, your hand is gripping his just as hard.

“Everyone… just takes,” you spit. “Everyone takes and takes and takes from me. My brother. My mother. Even…” You close your eyes tightly. “Even my father.” You lick your dry lips. “And when they’ve taken enough, when I have nothing left to give, they just throw me out.”

You find yourself scooting upwards on the bed, leaning closer to him, the silk of your robes pressed against his arm.

“Why do they do that?” You don’t know if you’re asking him or yourself. “Am I not worth anything? Am I just not worth anything?”

You’re keenly aware of that heavy static feeling in the air again as he speaks.

“Why do you think I brought you here?”

You glance at him, and the sense of his and your own unnaturalness in this setting seems amplified by the moonlight. You look like dolls.

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“Because,” he says, leaning in, voice edged. “I want you.  I wanted you enough to have you, and now I do. And I will never let you go.”

His words are frightening in their intensity and and their finality. He has you. He’s not letting you go. Your wedding is tomorrow.

There’s nothing more to say, and you don’t. You let his words wash over you, with all of their meanings pulling you in different directions. He wants you--someone wants you. He’s keeping you here against your will. He cares enough to listen to your dreams. He posts guards at your door so that you can’t leave.

He’s not letting you go.

Gradually, his grip on  your hand lessens, and you let yours fall slack until he pulls away entirely.

As he leaves, you clear your throat, and he pauses without turning around.

“Thank you…” you start, voice unsure. “Thank you for listening to me, I mean.”

Oh, and there’s that strange, heavy, static feeling. Like a storm is on the way. His steps are calm and measured. Before he slides the screen shut, you hear his words, clear and firm.

“Thank me after our wedding.”

**

The ceremony is a blur. Faces you don’t know, impersonal and judging, left so little an impression on your wandering mind that you can barely distinguish one from the next. Both of you are guided through the rituals of the ceremony, which feels cold and carefully planned; and you suppose it was. After all, did he not say he cared little for such ceremonies? This was a gesture for his reputation and nothing more.

It’s not until the guests leave, that Scaramouche--your husband, now, in all its legally binding meaning--leads you into an empty room normally reserved for entertaining that you begin to come down from the fuzzy distant feelings that built during the ceremony.

It feels nicer, the two of you alone. It feels like you can speak more freely. It feels like he is less of a doll and more of a person. You feel that way, too.

He regards your wedding ensemble with a look that sends something shooting down  your stomach.

“You didn’t embarrass me today,” he says, and it’s a compliment despite the slight snark in his tone. “I’ve selected a wedding present for you. I think it’s only proper.”

You wonder for half a moment what he might give you, when there’s a bustle of noise at the far end of the room.

It takes a few moments for you to register what you’re seeing. It takes a few moments for familiar things to slide into place, click-click-click.

It’s your family. Followed by several guards bringing up the rear. They take their place at the back of the room as your family walks inside, hesitant, almost stumbling.

Your mother, eyes wide at her surroundings, taking in the fine drapery and ornaments. Your father, protective, holding onto her arm. And your brother behind them, looking tired but above all, wary.

Your legs buckle. The heavy, luxurious wedding robes bunch as your strength fails. Scaramouche catches you by the arm and pulls you up, eyes searching your face.

“What’s…what is this?” You ask, afraid to look at anything but him.

“I told you. It’s your wedding present.” His voice is smug. Like he’s gifted you a string of precious jewels or some exotic trinket from another nation.

Instead, he’s presented you with your family. Your mind struggles to comprehend the meaning of it all. Was this a gift--reuniting you with your family, a good-natured family reunion? Was it a calculated insult, bringing in the family that you’ve been having nightmares about for days on end? You didn’t know whether your chest hurt because you ached to see them or because you ached to see them gone.

Still holding your arm, your husband leans in. “What would you like me to do with them, wife?”

His voice is low, but loud enough for your family to hear. A deliberate choice.

Your throat feels so dry that it burns when you swallow.

“What do you mean?”

The heaviness of the robes feels like nothing compared to the thick tension that creeps across the room. It’s a storm cloud. One you’ve felt before in his presence, but now its looming felt deeper, stronger, at your doorstep.

“They abandoned you. They left you for dead. You would have been dead, if not for my generosity.” His calm recounting of your deepest pains leaves your mouth gaping. “And then when you returned to them, sharing your sudden fortune, they took… and took… and took.” Every word is a stone pressing on your chest. “And when you had nothing left, what did they do?”

You can’t look away from his eyes, piercing. You feel pinned down. You’re suddenly aware of everything in the room, as if you were looking down on the scene from above. Your fine clothes. Your carefully dressed hair. The delicate scented oils dabbed on your skin. The tapestries and painted screens and a table laid out with fod, waiting to be eaten. And you, a beautiful bride dressed in finery that surpassed the wealth of your entire village a thousand times over. Standing in front of a family that abandoned you, worn clothes and thinned faces.

“They abandoned me again,” you answer, voice hoarse. The last word comes out with a bitterness that surprises even you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your father flinch.

Scaramouche lets go of your arm slowly, letting you stand upright as you regain your bearings.

“Then tell me what to do with them, wife. And it shall be done.”

In an instant, your mother throws herself on the ground, arms splayed in supplication.

“Mercy!” She cries, and her voice sounds so unlike her. Wild and terrified. “Please, my lord, be merciful!”

Is your husband’s reputation so terrible? You wonder. But you know the answer, by the glances you’ve seen others give around him.

You root through your thoughts and feelings, pulling them out like trinkets. How do you feel? How should you feel? You feel… scared for them. They look so small now. Even your father, who has leaned down to put an arm around your mother, looks so small. Only your brother remains standing, staring at the ground. You wonder if he eats your parents’ share every night and try to shake away the bitter thought, but can’t find the will to do it.

“Let… them go home,” you say, uncertain. Is that not what you should say? Let them go. Let them leave and never bother you again?

“Let them go,” Scaramouche repeats, incredulous. “Only that? After what they did to you? Do they not deserve to be punished?”

Your lips open feebly, to protest--you think--when your mother’s head jerks up. She interrupts any thoughts you may have had.

“We only did what was best!” She says, voice crackling with defensiveness. “We had to survive somehow, and she… well, we couldn’t feed another mouth. And we helped,” she continues, tone rising in pitch, licking her cracked lips. “We helped bring you two together.” Her mouth edges up in a shaky smile, and her voice softens to become more even. Honey-like. “And of course, we would be happy to serve the two of you here, to help our daughter, whatever it is that you need.” She lowers her gaze to the ground.

“Yes!” Your father adds. The piercing decisiveness in his voice seems to bounce around the room. You don’t know what you want him to say exactly, but you know that the next words that come out of his mouth will hurt forever.

“Or if that wouldn’t please you, we could simply vanish forever. We would only ask for some compensation to get on with our lives. Elsewhere, of course.”

Your father should have said something else. He should have apologized; no, groveled at your feet. He should have said he was wrong to throw you away and then insist you marry the man standing next to you. He should have said that he’d rather die than leave you here with him.

But he didn’t. Neither did your mother. Or your brother, standing silent.

They want shelter and to be fed. Of course they do. They want money, to live and thrive. Who doesn’t?

But the food they ask for, the shelter they seek, would be borne from your blood, your submission, your captivity. Just as they’d taken the money you gained because you were starving and pitiful and someone--your husband, now, mercy, he is your husband--threw a bag of gold at your dirty feet. Did they have no shame? No love for you? They were willing to sacrifice you three times over if it meant they would be satiated.

Only your brother hasn’t spoken. In the tense moments of silence, he finally looks up to the floor. At you. And yes, yes there is guilt in his eyes. But something else too. Envy. Of the clothes on your back and the table laden with food and the very room you’re standing in. He wants what you have, and hasn’t that always been the case?

You hate him for it.  You hate them for it. Your chest aches from the realization of what you want to do to them. No, not just want. What you must do to them.

You look to the man who has made you his wife. Who has told you, in actions and words, that you will want for nothing because he has everything he wants. Including you. And he won’t let you go, because he wants you. He won’t abandon you.

And if you had to sacrifice your freedom to him in order to keep this certainty--wasn’t it worth the price?

It’s as if the world has slowed to a crawl. Your thoughts, your emotions, feel as if they’ve been building all your life for this moment. You straighten yourself, remembering what one of the wedding attendants whispered about posture.

“Husband,” you say. And you see his eyes widen ever so slightly. You see his lips curl in a smile, only a little. Just enough for you to see, and you know the expression was meant for you and you alone. It’s this realization that gives you that final push forward.

“I have made my decision.”

You glance at your family, and you see yourself in their eyes. Your hurt. Your hunger.  Your fear of the future and the unknown.

Then you look back to Scaramouche, to the anticipation etched on his face.

“I want you to show them the same courtesy they showed me.” You pause, letting your words take root in their eyes. “I want them to wander, as I wandered. I want them to hunger, as I hungered.”

Your voice tightens, and though you know you should feel cold, it’s quite the opposite. You feel hot. Electric. Burning up with rage and revenge and resentment. The words that come next feel righteous, borne out of a character from a story, some high-handed woman borne to gilded bowls and jewels.

“I want them to know no shelter or food or comfort, but what they can beg for. I want them to walk for the rest of their days, separated and alone, knowing that this is what they wanted for me. And now… they shall have it for themselves.”

The air is so still. No one makes a sound.

Then, Scaramouche waves his hands and the guards spring to life. The wild sounds are muddled, and you block out whatever pleas for mercy or cries of anger come  your way. Your equilibrium only steadies itself when they are gone. The only sign that they were ever there are dirt marks from their shoes.

The silence is sudden and shocking and… pleasant.

Scaramouche’s arms pull you closer, intimate. Your cheeks burn, and you don’t know if it’s from the events that just occurred or his closeness.

“A fine choice,” he murmurs. He brings a hand up to your chin, grasping it between his fingers.

He kisses you. His grip on your chin is tight and unyielding, and the kiss is not the soft kiss of romance novels but sharp and hungry and possessive.

You take it anyway, parting your mouth more to let him do with you as he will. You lean into his body, you lean into his touch. You know that in doing so, you are accepting the road that he’s laid before you. You don't know where you're going on that road. But you know you're going to let him take you there. 

[headcanons-blog]

hiiiii! I saw your post and thought you might want this, but sfw/nsfw hcs for Sunny Day Jack? can be yandere, idm at all (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧

make sure to drink some water and take time to love yourself, you deserve it c:

//Omg you are so sweet!! Thank you so much!! I put some yandere vibes here because ya know,,, it's canon that he's hella manipulative,,,//

tw: smut, manipulation, slight mental and emotional abuse, general yandere boy stuff

Sunny Day Jack:

SFW:

Jack is an extremely lovesick person... ghost... entity?

He's most likely taller than you. He loves to lean down and give you quick cheek and nose smooches. He thinks it's cute how flustered it makes you, especially when he does it in public.

Dates are a little difficult for you two, since you can't speak to him in public without looking like a crazy person, but you two always find something fun to do together.

Mall dates are fun though! You take him to all the stores to show him what the latest trends are. He also helps you pick out clothes or things for around the house! Going to a movie theater is fun too! You don't have to talk much, and the best part? Jack gets in for free!

Has a huge sweet tooth assuming he can even eat and he prides himself in being a fairly decent baker. He's always trying to become better and he'll constantly ask you to sample his latest baking experiment.

Loves to pick you up! You've seen how beefy this dude is, he can pick you up no matter what size you are. Speaking of which...

Not gonna lie, I think he likes someone who's thicc. Packing thicc thighs? This dude will fucking MELT. He loves how soft you are!

Loves to snuggle! He really likes holding you in his arms because he feels like he's protecting you but he likes to be held sometimes too! His favorite is laying his head on your lap.

Pro tip, if you run your fingers through his hair, this man will be putty in your hands. Lay his head down on your lap and just go to town. You'll almost hear him purring.

He always kisses you better if you get hurt, and it is really cute. It doesn't matter if it's as little as a papercut, he will kiss that booboo to make the pain go away.

Gets extremely jealous and paranoid. He thinks everyone poses as a threat and he constantly worries someone will take you away from him.

He subtly manipulates you to isolate you from other people. Always telling you that he'll "never leave you" and "you don't need them when you have me," and even "aren't I enough?"

NSFW:

He's 100% the dominant one in the bedroom. He loves having complete control over you.

He's very gentle with you, maybe even too gentle. You have to practically beg him to go harder or be rougher, which if he's being honest, thinks is pretty sexy. He loves feeling needed by you.

Jack loves to tie you up. He thinks it's extremely sexy how the ropes and ribbons leave imprints on your skin, and he loves to have you at his mercy to do as he pleases.

Willing to try anything at least once. All he wants is to please you after all.

A bit of an exhibitionist. He takes full advantage of being invisible to everyone but you. It'll start with gentle, wandering touches, just to watch you blush and squirm a bit. After a while it'll turn into full blown sex.

Alone in the backroom of your work? Jack will be fucking you hard against your boss's desk. In a dressing room trying on clothes? He'll pick you up and fuck you against the mirror on the wall. Talking with Shaun a friend over the counter in your kitchen? Best believe this boy will be sitting on the floor with his face between your legs.

Speaking of which, please sit on this dudes face. He just loves how soft and plushy your thighs feel around his head.

Jealousy sex is very prevalent in your relationship. He gets so jealous so easily, and when he becomes jealous, the dirty talk becomes very possessive.

"You're mine, Sunshine. Look at how well you're taking me, we fit so perfectly together. No one else can make you feel the way I do."

[mikyur]

The ghost of the theater~

Yandere oc x Gn Reader

Warnings: watching the reader, slight obsession, mention of death, general Yandere behavior.

You find yourself in an office room of a theater, your office and your theater, your uncle recently died and in his will he made you the new owner of his precious theater.

At first you didn't want to accept such a responsibility, but remembering the few times you visited him you realized how much he loved that place.

And with that you agreed to take care of and manage the famous theater of your dear and only uncle and make this place even more famous, it's a shame that not everything is a bed of roses and soon problems began to arise.

And the problem was that thanks to his uncle's death, the theater's audience fell, as if only his presence made that place work, and without him it's as if everything had lost its life. And you didn't know what to do to reverse it.

And now what do we do? .You ask the manager, one of the men your uncle trusted most and who you knew was willing to do whatever it took to keep this place afloat.

Well, I was thinking of something that might bring the audience back, I just don't know if you'll agree . He speaks a little anxiously.

Right now I'm accepting anything.

I was thinking about doing a presentation on the story 'The Duke's Madness'.

And why do you think I wouldn't accept that?. You ask genuinely confused.

Don't you know the story and what happens when some theater tries to recreate it?.

No, I don't know. At your response he sighs and adjusts his glasses before looking at you again and speaking.

The story tells about a duke who, after going through humiliation and being rejected by his childhood friend and love of his life, makes a deal with a demon and with that he gains powers and with With these powers he attracts women to his forest mansion and these women become his wives forever.

Wow... this story is very interesting, but I suppose there's more, right?.

Of course there is more, but I'm not going to tell you, you'll have to look for the ending on your own, but the most important thing here is that there is a legend about this story, which says that all the theaters that tried to recreate it disasters happened.

Disasters?.

Yes, some have tried but bad things have always happened to them, like actors getting hurt in rehearsals, some employees getting sick and even deaths.

... serious?...

Well, that's what they say, but I don't particularly believe that, just as I don't believe the rumors that there's a ghost here.

Wait, they say there are ghosts here?

Yes, have you never heard? Kind of strange since you've already been here for three days. He speaks and adjusts his glasses back on his face.

No, I didn't know any of that. You said trying to absorb all the information suddenly given to you.

Anyway, I don't believe in these things and I really hope you don't either.

No, I don't believe it, so do you believe that this story will really help us to build the theater again?

It's what I expect.

...ok then, you can start preparing everything for the play because that's the story we're going to show at the reopening!. You don't know where it came from but you feel a sudden enthusiasm and hope that everyone else has the same enthusiasm to make the presentation.

Right now. He says this to you and leaves to start his work.

Ghosts are... they don't exist You tell yourself and start doing your own work.

Time passes and once again you are the last person to leave the theater, as a boss your job ends up being the longest, and yet another night you are walking to the main door to go back to your home.

But unlike other nights, this time you felt cold, a slight current of cold air passed you from behind, which is strange since everything was closed so there was no way wind passed through there, and even stranger and scarier was the sound of a person singing a beautiful melody on the speakers You hadn't left them on, there was no reason for anyone to leave them on, and who was singing?

Gathering your courage you decided to go after the voice, which was definitely in the stage area, it was probably an actor singing, he or she must be training, that's definitely it, it has to be That's what you thought going to the place of the melody.

But when we got there, another surprise was that there was no one on stage and the music had stopped, you sighed with relief, it must have been all in your tired head and almost turning around to leave. You see a person on one of the benches in the middle of the stage, and your fear returned a little but, overcome by curiosity, you went there to see who it was and ask them to leave the place since it was closed.

Look, I'm sorry but the theater is closed so I ask you to leave. You speak approaching the person.

I know it's closed, but I can't leave. You got close and saw that the person was extremely white and their clothes were very beautiful, almost as if they were from some ancient story.

As? You can not exit?

I can't, I'm stuck here.

What do you mean you're stuck there? Sorry girl but you better leave soon before I call the police.

How rude of me She finally leaves the place she was sitting in front of me and leans down to make a gesture of introduction, one of those very old ones that you only see in movies about castles and such. I'm Levi, but you can call me the ghost of the theater.

What?. You couldn't have heard right, right?

It's a pleasure to meet you, the most beautiful person who has ever stepped foot here and I must warn you right away that I am not a girl. He then says laughing a little at the end.

This can't be true. This person who you now know is actually a boy cannot be a ghost, ghosts don't exist!

This is the purest truth, as true as its beauty.

You remain silent, not knowing what to do or say, and then he sees that you are in trouble and decides to take your hand, or I mean, he tried to take you but you only felt a slight tingling and a cold feeling.

It saw? I'm not a living being like you, but I was before and used to be on that stage.

You... were an actor?

Yes, I loved this place, and I precisely died here, ironic, right?. And again he laughs, but I feel a little melancholy coming from him.

So that's why you're here?

Yes, I can't leave and I don't want to leave, and I must confess I'm surprised that you're still here talking to me instead of running away.

My uncle always said that we should be afraid of the living and not the dead, and you don't scare me.

Your uncle was an amazing guy, it's a shame he already had to go, I will miss him.

I will miss him too. You say thoughtfully, remembering the moments you spent with your uncle.

Well at least you're here and I know you'll take good care of my house. He says and reads with a smile.

How are you sure I'll take good care of it here?.

'Cause I feel it, and I trust a pretty face.

You blush a little at his speech and look away from his smile.

In any case, I have the impression that you purposely lured me here.

Yes, yes I did it, you are really smart!

Why?.

Because I wanted to be able to talk to you, since you arrived I have been watching you and I wanted to finally talk to you face to face.

Have you been watching me?. You ask surprised.

Yes! All the time, without stopping looking at you for even a second.

Wow...that's kinda...creepy?.

Scary? I don't think looking at something beautiful all the time is scary. He says thoughtfully and then looks back at you with a smile.

Ok...but from now on you can stop staring at me from the shadows, if you want to talk to me you can come to me, ok?.

He didn't say anything and just disappeared from view, as if he had never been here.

Levi?. You call him to make sure this wasn't all in your head.

I promise not to stare at you from the shadows anymore, little star~

I hear his voice as if it came from the wind and it gives you chills.

Will he really stop? Did this really happen? You ask yourself this, returning to the entrance so you can go home.

Sorry for any writing errors 7w7

[writingraven]

✿ Trope List ✿

warnings: brief mentions of sexual scenarios

can also be used as AU List

Romance

* abduction

* accidental pregnancy

* age gap

* blind date

* body heat

* enemies to lovers

* fake relationship

* fatal attraction

* first love

* first sight

* fling

* friends to lovers

* friends with benefits

* forbidden love

* forced proximity

* hurt/comfort

* long distance

* love triangle

* love potion

* marriage of convenience

* match maker

* one night stand

* opposites attract

* paranormal romance

* partners in crime

* protector

* rescue

* retelling

* reunited lovers

* revenge

* secret romance

* sex pollen

* similarities attract

* slow burn

* soulmates

* toxic

* unrequited love

* yandere

Plot

* abduction

* amnesia

* apocalypse

* battle royale

* bet

* betrayal

* blackmail

* body swap

* classes clash

* cursed

* dystopia

* fairytale

* mistaken identity

* pregnancy

* promise

* rags to riches

* redemption

* return from the dead

* revenge

* road trip

* royalty

* second chance

* stranded

* superpowers

* time travel

* villain wins

* workplace

Setting

* antique shop

* aquarium

* asylum

* bakery

* ball

* bar

* beach

* boarding school

* book store

* brothel

* business

* camp

* castle

* circus

* city

* clothing shop

* coffee shop

* college

* diner

* farm

* flower shop

* gala

* garden

* high school

* ice cream shop

* library

* museum

* office

* pet shop

* prison

* record shop

* restaurant

* sea

* space

* tattoo shop

* theater

* therapy

* utopia

* vacation

Character

* actor

* alien

* angel

* artist

* assassin

* athlete

* author

* babysitter

* bad boy / bad girl

* band member

* bartender

* best friend’s ______

* biker

* billionaire

* body guard

* boss

* bully

* celebrity

* chef

* cowboy

* coworker

* demon

* detective

* demon

* enemy

* ex

* first responder

* fugitive

* ghost

* king

* mafia

* maid

* mechanic

* model

* monster

* neighbor

* nurse

* orphan

* paranormal

* pen pal

* pirate

* priest

* prince

* princess

* queen

* rival

* rockstar

* royalty

* scarred

* scientist

* secret admirer

* serial killer

* sex worker

* sibling’s best friend

* spy

* stalker

* sugar daddy

* tragic past

* ugly duckling

* vampire

* viking

* virgin

* werewolf

Theme

* fantasy

* historical

* horror

* mafia

* medical

* medieval

* military

* modern

* mundane

* paranormal

* pirates

* royalty

* victorian

* western

Horror

* abandoned

* ancient evil

* body horror

* cosmic horror

* cultist

* cursed

* extreme horror

* ghost

* gore

* gothic

* haunting

* hear no evil

* humans are monsters

* infection

* isolation

* lingering dread

* monsters

* mythic

* occult

* parasite

* possession

* psychic abilities

* psychological horror

* quiet horror

* realistic

* revulsion

* see no evil

* speak no evil

* supernatural

* surreal horror

* terror

[ddarker-dreams]

Deep Sea II. Yan Scaramouche x F Reader

>Rating: Mature. >Warnings: Mild yandere themes, amnesia, violence (not against Reader).  >Word count: 4.5k. >Deep Sea Index.

CHAPTER II // WROUGHT FROM THE SEABED 

Your earliest memories are not of collecting chirping crickets during the warm Inazuman summers, hearing ghost stories about trickster tanuki turned to stone in Chinju Forest, nor playing ohajiki late into the evening with the neighborhood children until your mom called you in for supper.

What you can remember, however, is painful enough that you sometimes wish you couldn’t.

Coarse sand rubbing your skin raw. Seawater filling your nostrils, your lungs, your soul. Ocean waves crashing down, manipulating your limp body to and fro as if it were a rag doll. Even when you were on solid ground, you had no energy to lift yourself. So you laid there and waited for whatever to claim you first — the ocean’s waves or death. You had no preference between the two. All you wished for was that whichever it’d be, it would come fast and be done with.

There is no fate worse than an eternal wait.

You’d later learn that the place you washed ashore is called Amakane Island.

Misato said she thought you were a corpse at first. Perhaps you were, until she lifted you from the dense shoal and dragged you back to the okiya. You wouldn’t have guessed it from how dainty her figure looked, but her strength was built up from the years of wearing heavy kimonos. She laid your weak body down upon her futon and promised to help.

While you faded in and out of consciousness, ailed by an illness no physician could diagnose, she balanced training and aiding your recovery. In the rare times you were well enough to speak, she’d ask if you had family or friends she could contact. You didn’t believe you did.

Who you are, where you came from, what you had been doing; it was like this knowledge had been scrubbed clean from your mind.

The most you knew was your name — the single thread that connected whatever your past life was to the present.

Over time, your health and vitality returned. You didn’t have to rely on Misato for everything. Her strict lifestyle became of great interest to you. She rose every morning at seven, attended classes dedicated to the traditional arts, went to multiple appointments and performances, then would return at midnight or later.

“This,” she told you, “Is the life of a maiko. One who wishes to someday become a geisha.”

By the time you fully recovered, an idea rose to the forefront of your mind. You couldn't continue to use Misato’s kindness and sit around twiddling your thumbs while she worked so earnestly. Having no home or known family to return to, you asked if it was possible for you to train alongside her as well. You wanted to repay her kindness and forge a path of your own. Her veneer of grace faltered then, and for the first time since you met her, she looked her age. Young and vulnerable, like you promised a toy she always wanted yet never thought she could afford.

“I’ll need to introduce you to our okiya’s okā-san then. She’ll be the one to decide whether or not you can train here.”

Misato allowed you to borrow her kimono for your interview. She warned you of its weight and that you’d adjust to it over the coming months as you built up muscle. By the time she finished fastening it in place, you were perplexed, and asked if that was it.

It felt light as a feather to you.

“She’s too old, okā-san,” Ishioka Shizue decided at the conclusion of your first performance. “And we don’t know where she comes from either. She could still be in debt to another okiya for all we know; it’s not a risk worth taking.”

Ishioka Keiko smiled at you. “Have you trained elsewhere, child?”

“I haven’t.”

“Hmm…” Keiko placed a hand to her chin. “She’s either an actress worthy of a kabuki theater’s stage, or telling us the truth.”

Ishioka had no rebuttal.

“You said your name is [First], correct?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Your singing is pure and rings clear like a bell,” Keiko said. “From today onward, when you perform, you will take the name Suzuko.”

When you rested next to Misato in your new room, she expressed disbelief. To be given the suffix ko by the okā-san was considered a great honor — a piece of her legacy handed down to the next.

“Kujou, Kamisato, Kaedehara… we don’t have surnames to distinguish our lineage like other Inazumans,” Misato explained. “Our source of pride is our geimyô. You’ll have a great many expectations to live up to with a name like that, nee-chan. It won’t be easy.”

And so it wasn’t.

Flower arrangement, dance, singing, tea ceremony, knowledge of classic Inazuman poems and plays, Tenryou dialect, learning the shamisen, the koto; you were submerged into a new world. Shinju-an accepted nothing but excellence. Ishioka Shizue never minced her words or handed out undeserved praise.

“How did you balance this and tending to me?” You asked Misato one night, while you combed through her long, silky black hair. “I think I would’ve understood if you suffocated me with a pillow to be done with it.”

She didn’t correct your macabre language like you expected her to. Instead, her gaze became downcast, and her smile possessed an odd sense of melancholy.

“I realized it was the long-awaited answer to my prayers.”

Misato closed her eyes and continued, “I’ve prayed to the Narukami Ogosho and every other Inazuman god to have a family. It didn’t matter to me what it looked like, or if it wasn’t perfect, so long as I could experience that joy myself. The joy of belonging somewhere.”

The comb you held in your hand clattered noisily to the floor.

She turned around, and before she could ask what was wrong, you wrapped your arms around her in a tight embrace.

“That’s right,” you whispered. “How could I have forgotten…?”

“Hm?”

The reflection of two young girls forms in the fractured mirror of your subconscious. One who explored the abyssal depths, and the other, who guided those on solid land.

“Something tells me… that I’ve always longed to have a sister. I suppose we both had our prayers answered.”

“Would it be selfish of me to ask for more from the gods, then?”

You shook your head. “That’s why they’re gods. They should be used to us always asking for me as if they hadn’t just finished fulfilling our previous requests.”

“In that case, I’ll allow my heart to wish for more,” Misato decided. “I wish to graduate alongside my new sister. We’ll laugh together, cry together, and ultimately, become geisha together. I wish that… and to always have you by my side.”

“I’ll be here so long as you don’t get tired of me.”

“The day where the Raiden Shogun finishes pursuing eternity will come sooner than that.”

You’ve both been inseparable since.

-

Thoma takes his time counting Mora aloud.

After confirming it’s the correct amount, he tucks it into a velvet pouch, then gives it to you.

“Lord Ayato wanted me to extend his gratitude for coming on such short notice today,” Thoma places his hands on his hips and sighs. “I can’t believe he forgot about such an important meeting for the Yashiro Commission… I worry about him sometimes. Well, I suppose it’s to be expected, with how busy he is.”

There are some who fan the flames of rumor about Thoma for his status as an outsider, but you hold him in high regard. He’s everything you appreciate in a person: hardworking and easy to talk to.

“We’re always honored to work alongside the Kamisato Clan,” you say. Misato remains quiet and stands behind you, yet follows the conversation enough to not be rude.

Thoma tosses an extra coin your way that you catch with ease.

“Treat yourself to something nice, alright? You deserve it after all that hard work.”

Rejecting his generosity has never worked, so you accept it with a quiet thank you and tuck the coin away. The money you make from attending appointments is expected to go back to the okiya while you’re a maiko. The okiya pays for everything, from your elaborate kimono and kanzashi to your various lessons, which amasses a sizable debt. You’re a few years shy from paying yours off.

“Oh, before I forget,” Thoma waves you down, “Are you sure you’ll be good heading back to the city on your own? I heard it’s been getting dangerous lately. I have a few more things to wrap up, but if you can wait a bit, I’m happy to accompany you back.”

Misato looks at you to answer.

“Tempting as that is, Misato has an appointment in Konda Village that she can’t miss. We always keep to the main roads — it’ll be just fine.”

“Alright, alright. Stay safe you two. Lord Ayato would never let me live it down otherwise.”

You both bow your head and dismiss yourself from the Kamisato Estate.

It’s a picturesque day. Blue skies overhead, white puffy clouds, the weather mild and humidity nonexistent. You find yourself humming the final song you performed with a pep in your step. Misato lurks a few paces behind, ruminating over matters you’re sure she’ll speak up on eventually.

You wonder what you should do with your extra allowance. Maybe you could leave a heftier offering at the Grand Narukami Shrine and see if your next drawn fortune reflects it, or try the latest inventions at Tomoki’s food cart. He owes you a discount after having you test mochi filled with cream from Fontaine. You told him that just because he can, doesn’t mean he should.

“—Nee-chan.”

The time before that was dango speared onto a piping hot stick to keep it warm. From what you’ve heard, complaints were filed with the Commissioner's Office for that one…

“[First].”

“Huh? What? Oh,” you spot the riverbed and roll up your sleeves, much to Misato’s muted horror. She’s probably thinking about the work she’ll put into fixing the wrinkles. “Alright, come here and let me get you over.”

“It’s not that.”

You lower your arms. “I’m not carrying you across this time?”

“I was going to ask if we could take a quick break,” her eyes stay on the ground. “I’m feeling faint.”

There’s no good place to sit without the risk of dirtying your kimono, so Misato remains standing and quiet. It’s difficult to tell due to the oshiroi makeup she wears, but in the areas where the powder is thinnest, you notice the paleness of her skin. She’s overdoing it. You’d pretend not to notice when she tiptoes across the tatami floor in the middle of the night, leaving to practice her dancing for hours on end. You always tell yourself that you stayed silent out of consideration for her feelings. Deep down, you know it’s a different story.

“I messed up again.”

Misato’s voice is meeker than a mouse. It was during a dance that required both twirling and the maneuvering of a fan — she lost her balance and stumbled. You paused strumming the koto long enough for her to regain herself. No one pointed it out and she finished the performance strong. Still, for a perfectionist like Misato, you knew that wouldn’t be a comfort.

“That’s all I ever do,” she continues, “Is make mistake after mistake. It doesn't matter how hard I try, how many hours I practice until my feet go numb and bleed. Why can’t I do it right? What if I… can never do it right? Then you’ll graduate without me, and—”

“I won’t let that happen,” you reassure her, your hands firm on her trembling shoulders.

She laughs, the tone bitter and sardonic. “I’ve trained since childhood and you’ve already begun to surpass me. It’s only a matter of time.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth. How powerless it is to not know how to comfort someone. Do you risk upsetting her by saying that you understand? Reveal that you intend to sabotage your chances at graduation until she can catch up with you? That would do nothing but make her lose face.

That’s when you hear it.

The crunch of twigs and leaves. There were no footsteps prior to the sound — whoever was approaching knew how to conceal their presence until they made that mistake. You lift your arm and hide a confused Misato behind it. Now that your attention is piqued, you realize that you’ve been surrounded. Five… no, six men of medium to tall builds have fanned out to cut each potential escape route.

“Keen senses, for a girl who spends her day frolicking and flirting.” A deep voice speaks up from the thickets. He steps out into your line of sight and you freeze. That loose-fitting outfit, style of hat, and katana sheathed upon his hip… this must be a nobushi. Wandering ronin who live without a master to serve and have fallen into banditry.

“Hand over anything valuable you’ve got,” he demands. Slowly, as not to incite suspicion, you reach into your obi and secure the velvet pouch Thoma paid you with. You fling it toward the ground in front of him and hear the coins clink around inside. He picks it up, weighs it in his palms, and hums.

“Good. Now get the other one to do the same.”

Misato’s breathing turns frantic when his attention shifts to her. You force yourself to think, to act, to do whatever it takes to keep this situation from escalating.

“She doesn’t have anything,” you manage to force out. “I was the one carrying all of our money. Please believe me.”

The subsequent silence is tortuous.

“We should frisk her, boss,” one of the men still hiding in the shadows suggests.

Before his leader can approve, he takes a step toward Misato. You turn on your heel in his direction to keep her behind you. Beneath the wide brimmed visor of his hat, you see his eyes narrow, as if scrutinizing the unfolding scene before him. Without warning, he launches himself forward. He unsheathes the katana on his waist — the metal glinting and sharp enough to slice through bone — and you brace yourself for an unceremonious end.

The hairs on the back of your neck rise.

You hear it before you can see it. This sensation that permeates in the air — you’ve felt it somewhere. When you walked through the dancing pink petals near Inazuma City, which Misato called “sakura blooms”. The static electricity emanating near the clusters sent your hair flying in all directions and had you laughing until a fed up Misato dragged you away.

It’s similar to that, but infinitely stronger; and concentrated as well.

The nobushi fall to the ground one after another like they were nothing more than pesky flies, swatted away by an invisible force. The man who rushed at you is the first to collapse, his muscles spasming wildly and no longer under his control. Foam bubbles out from his gaping mouth which never had the chance to release a proper scream.

“Misato, don’t look!” You yell over at her. She squeezes her eyes shut at your instruction and reaches out, blindly grasping for your hand amidst the chaos. You take it and intertwine your fingers.

“For all the money that place generates, they can’t even bother hiring guards for their workers? What an embarrassment.”

This is a voice that you recognize, although you wish you didn’t.

From behind the initial nobushi who approached you, a silhouette appears, the distinct design of the hat with billowing veils coming into sight. You never once sensed his presence until he decided to reveal himself. The nobushi, who easily towers over Scaramouche by a foot, is the last to tumble onto the ground in a fit of involuntary twitching. Scaramouche walks over him, his countenance almost bored at the horrors unfolding before him.

He presses his geta against the fallen nobushi’s neck and frowns. “Still holding onto life? I suppose I did have to stop the other dross from killing that foolish woman, but still… your constitution isn’t half bad. Is that how these troupes choose leaders now? By picking whoever’s head is the hardest?”

A sickening crack resonates in the air as Scaramouche applies more pressure to the nobushi’s neck.

“Stop!” You exclaim, causing his head to snap in your direction. Misato covers her ears with her hands and sinks onto the ground. Sensing you’ve spoken out of turn, you try again in a softer tone, “I mean… please, there’s no need to go that far.”

Scaramouche clicks his tongue yet does as you ask and removes his foot.

“What? Are you going to ask me to resurrect them next?”

You swallow a growing lump in your throat. “Wait, you mean they’re…?”

“You’re by all means welcome to check, but since I’m feeling generous today, I’ll save you the trouble,” Scaramouche kicks the nobushi onto his back and appraises his lifeless features. The blood vessels in his neck and face have taken an unnatural, violet hue, as have his parted lips. It isn’t a pleasant sight, yet you don’t find yourself as sickened as you think you should be.

“Misato, it’s over with,” you bend down to meet her on the ground. “Let’s not stay here too long, okay? We should head back to the city before it gets dark and leave this behind. Here, take deep breaths. In… and out… now in, then out…”

It takes a few minutes, but Misato is able to regain a fraction of her composure with your assistance. You lead her away from the scene by her shoulders, carving out a path so she wouldn’t have to see the bodies littered on the ground. All the while, Scaramouche observes your interaction, his arms crossed over his chest.

You turn around once you’ve led Misato far enough away and bow your head.

“Thank you for saving us, Lord Scaramouche.”

“Scaramouche…?” Misato mumbles. You assume she finds the name bizarre like you do and think little of it.

“You wouldn’t have required saving if you hadn’t pulled that little stunt,” he strides over in your direction as if the situation were no more ordinary than an evening stroll. You can’t fight the scowl that takes refuge on your face — this man is as unpleasant to deal with as he was a month ago. Here you were deluding yourself into thinking your meeting was a one-time ordeal. Did the negative fortune from weeks prior still stand? A trip to the Grand Narukami Shrine might be in order.

Wait, did he just imply that this massacre was somehow your fault…?

“What ‘little stunt’ might that be?” Your smile is eerily wide and strained.

“This generation of maiko sure is charming, the masters at Shinju-an have outdone themselves,” Scaramouche bends down and takes the Mora pouch from the deceased nobushi. “Your stance. These things were trained as samurai once, if you can believe it.”

Another kick to the unresponsive body.

“When you took an offensive posture, their swordsmen instinct took over. You went from being a robbery victim to a potential threat.”

“A threat?” You laugh at the insinuation and motion to your elaborate yet restrictive outfit. “In this? I’d sooner bore them to death by reciting the fifty-four manuscripts of Genji monogatari.”

“You’d make for such a lovely thing to look at if not for that mouth of yours.”

“I could say the same applies to you.”

He rolls his eyes yet continues, “There are such things as hidden blades, you know. Those who possess Visions are capable of summoning weapons from nothing as well. Any fighter would’ve come to this conclusion after the posture you took.”

“Well, I don’t have hidden weapons on my person nor a Vision.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” Scaramouche’s eyes flitter to Misato and then back to you, a grin splitting his face in two. “Think what you will. I’ve already told you, haven’t I? That you wouldn’t believe me.”

Each step that he takes closer to you is accentuated by chiming bells. Unlike those attached to Misato’s okobo shoes and the maiko in the hanamachi district, this sound grates your ears and incenses you further. That self-satisfied gait, gaudy clothing, how he looks down his nose at everyone… you’ve never had the displeasure of knowing anyone like him in your time on Narukami Island. You can feel your temper slipping like sand through your fingers.

Scaramouche extends the bag in front of you and waves it. “If you were willing to die for this meager amount, you must want it back, no? It’d be a shame to return to your owner empty-handed.”

“Why, you—!”

“Thank you very much for your unprecedented generosity, Lord Scaramouche,” Misato gingerly takes the bag from his grasp and does a complete ninety-degree bow. She juts her head, motioning for you to do the same. When you refuse, she puts her hand on your back, and applies pressure until you give in. “Please forgive my companion. It’s been a long day and I’m afraid she lost herself — I’ll see to it that she’s properly reprimanded later.”

By the time you both rise, the interest on Scaramouche’s face fades into apathy.

“Personally, I think she’s beyond help.”

You part your lips at the provocation then close them. Now that you’ve taken a step back from the situation, you realize an ugly truth; he enjoys riling you up. You’ll need to remain mindful of that pitfall and start sidestepping it.

“We should get going,” Misato whispers. “I’m already going to be late for my appointment in Konda Village.”

“You still intend on attending that? Wouldn’t it be better to get some rest after all that just happened? If we explain the situation to Ishioka-sensei, I’m certain she’d understand.”

“Konda Densuke is one of the ochaya’s oldest and most respected clients. It’d send a poor message to cancel an appointment on his birthday.”

You still your tongue. Misato has returned to the pragmatic young lady you’ve come to know and rely on; it’s difficult to believe that she was the one frozen up minutes ago. Witnessing such violence would make any normal individual’s knees weak.

“What a lucky coincidence — I happen to be heading toward the city myself.”

“We’d be honored by your presence, Lord Scaramouche,” Misato picks up on his implicit message and extends an invite. After sparing you a final glance, he strides in front, leading the way to Byakko Plain without further comment.

Now that you’re facing him from the back, you notice the character upon his veil: aku, or evil. What possessed him to wear clothing with such ominous inscriptions? The longer you stare at him, the more convinced you become that he’s an actor who has forgotten to break character. Method acting, perhaps?  

You come to a split in the path that leads to Konda Village on the right, and Inazuma City on the left.

“This is where I’ll part ways, then,” Misato bows to Scaramouche then turns her attention to you. That look in her eyes is the signature glint she gets whenever she’s pleading for you to not do anything foolish. You smile and nod to reassure her.

This area has a heavier doushin presence since it’s closer to the city — you needn’t worry about bandits here. Once her figure fades into the horizon, you make way for the city.

“Giving me the silent treatment, are you?”

“If you speak to me, my lord, I’m more than happy to respond.”

“Hm,” Scaramouche slows down to walk alongside you. “Would you act differently if I was polite, then? I’ve never seen the value in such things.”

If he insisted on treating you like a toy, then you would refuse to be an exciting one. Boredom would catch up sooner or later and you’d be free from his presence. Don’t make free entertainment out of yourself, you think.

“If I could choose, I’d pick friendliness over being polite.”

“Then you’ve chosen the wrong country to live in.”

“Even so,” you spot the shallow beaches of Amakane Island and frown, “The happenstance of our birth doesn’t determine the trajectory of our lives; we do.”

“Doesn’t it though? Can an arrow change its path once it’s been released from the bow?”

“If I didn’t like the target I was destined for, then yes. I’d call down a storm to change my direction.”

“I can’t tell if you’re an idealist or a fool.”

You smile at him. “How about both? Are the two not one in the same?”

“That might be the first intelligent thing you’ve said all day,” Scaramouche replies. You choose not to linger on the backhanded compliment and carry on. The cobblestone path winding into Hanamizaka, the mediatory area connecting Byakko Plains and the commercial Tenryou district, comes into sight. Excited evening chatter mixes with the creaks and groans of the archaic water wheel.

You spot a head of strawberry blonde hair coming your way — the Queen of the Summer Festival herself, Naganohara Yoimiya.

“Oh, if it isn’t [First]! And… uh… an actor? Is there a play scheduled for tonight that I didn’t know about?”

You knew you couldn’t be the only one to make this connection. In your peripherals, you see Scaramouche’s eye twitch.

“Ishioka was just asking me about you. She thought we were off playing together again and came prepared to scold me,” Yoimiya shivers at the memory. “I stuck to the code and said I didn’t know anything. Which, now that I think about it, I guess I didn’t. Anyway, you better head back before she puts you in solitary confinement for a month again.”

“I believe I have a solid excuse to get out of it this time.”

Your iemoto might be relentless, but even she would have to grant leniency for almost dying during a robbery… you think.

“Good luck with that then.”

Yoimiya bounds off into the direction you came from, likely to test new fireworks if you were to guess. Otherwise, she’d earn the wrath of the Tenryou Commission and get lectured by Kujou Sara again…

“As you can see, friendliness grants you many allies,” you motion to your retreating energetic companion.

He raises an eyebrow. “All I see is that simpletons tend to attract each other.”

“Then I suppose we’ll repel, my lord?”

Scaramouche mutters something beneath his breath that you don’t catch.

“Delightful as your company is, I have business to attend to elsewhere,” Scaramouche detaches himself from your side and you immediately find yourself breathing easier. Then, peering over his shoulder, he adds, “I look forward to seeing your performance later.”

While he retreats into the crowd, a sole question takes root and proliferates in your mind.

How did he know you were scheduled for tonight’s ozashiki?

[f1nalboys]

Sidney, Tatum, Randy, Dewey, Mindy, and Chad

(heres the link to my masterlist for billy, stu, mickey, richie, and roman)

GENERAL

-scream character hc’s

-scream characters top two acnh villagers

-kinktober ‘21 (various)

-scream characters bedrooms

-ghost hunting

-twitter au masterlist

RANDY MEEKS

-simple pleasures masterlist

-jealous!randy x reader (req)

-randy meeks kissing HC’s (req)

-virgin!randy, first time, nsfw (req)

-general nsfw hc’s (req)

-top 3 to lose your virginity to

-monster (randy x gn!reader, angst)

-monster - semi continuation, aftermath, angst (req)

-first date (randy x gn!reader)

-drunken mistake (randy x gn!reader)

-training fem!reader to work at movie rental store (req)

-randy x reader hooking up in movie theater, nsfw

-randy with a s/o who has tourettes (req)

-anniversary (randy x fem!afab!reader) (req)

-cuck (randy x fem!afab!reader x stu, nsfw) part 1

-cuck (randy x fem!afab!reader, nsfw) part 2

-like real people do (randy x gn!reader)

-randy degrading reader at video store, nsfw (req)

-randy helping gn!reader find an obscure horror movie (req)

-randy falling for film class classmate (req)

-first time with masc!afab!reader (req)

-three’s company (ghostface!randy)

-together? (ghostface!randy x ghostface!reader) part one

-kissing prompt 50

-working together (ghostface!randy x ghostface!sidney)

-you owe me ; incel!randy x fem!afab!reader, nsfw (req)

-say thank you ; incel!randy x gn!afab!reader (nsfw)

-rain, yandere prompt (req)

-k, p, v nsfw headcanons (req)

-t, r, i, o nsfw headcanons (req)

-at the movies ; randy x fem!afab!reader, nsfw (req)

-glasses ; randy x gn!reader, nsfw (req)

-overstimming randy (req)

-happy birthday

-i know its over (angst)

-in video ; nsfw

-premature ; randy x gn!reader ; nsfw

-first time randy ft voyuer billy and stu ; randy x gn!reader ; nsfw (req)

-vibrating tongue ring ; randy x gn!reader ; nsfw (req)

-movie night ; randy x fem!afab!reader; nsfw

SIDNEY PRESCOTT

-general sfw and nsfw hc’s (req)

-tatum x sidney x fem!afab!reader (req)

-nsfw alphabet

-tatum x fem!afab!reader x sidney part 2, nsfw (req)

-working together (ghostface!randy x ghostface!sidney)

-present ; milf!sidney x gn!afab!reader, nsfw (req)

TATUM RILEY

-general sfw and nsfw hc’s (req)

-vr (tatum x gn!reader)

-tatum x sidney x fem!afab!reader (req)

-tatum x fem!afab!reader x sidney part 2, nsfw (req)

DEWEY RILEY

-gun safety (dewey x gn!reader)

-dry humping, gn!reader (req)

-i’ll do anything; dewey x gn!reader (req)

MINDY MEEKS-MARTIN

CHAD MEEKS-MARTIN

-come inside ; chad x fem!afab!reader ; nsfw

[down-in-devildom]

My Hero Academia Masterlist

Class 1-A

Bakugo Katsuki

Community Theater - Jealous!Bakugo x GN!reader

Summer’s Night - Fae!Bakugo x GN!reader

Midoriya Izuku

Coffee - Creepy Personal Assistant!Midoriya x GN!reader 18+

Bully’s Orders - Bullied!Midoriya x GN!reader 18+

Corn Fields - Yandere!Midoriya x GN!reader

Always and Forever - Ghost!Midoriya x GN!reader

A Letter to You - Platonic!Midoriya x GN!reader

Kirishima Eijiro

Sunglasses - Kirishima x GN!reader

Todoroki Shoto

Secretive Smile  - Yandere!Todoroki x GN!reader

Dabi

In the Corner Booth - Dabi x GN!reader 18+