#so be it -- your nightmare is only beginning'

[fancyfeathers]

Okay so I see a lot of Yandere!Batfam with a darling who is one of the children in the family but what I don’t see is Yandere!Batfam with two darlings, a single mother with a daughter.

Based on this quick post I made (link)

Like just picture the mother!darling being a rich sweetheart of Bruce Wayne’s at one point, perhaps even being his fiancé bit was the engagement was called off by her because of his work as Batman. She did not want her husband keeping secrets from her, and then imagine if they had a child one day, what sort of life would it be for them?

Well that question certainly comes to life when she finds out she is pregnant just days after leaving Bruce. She has far too much pride to go back to him and scared what life her baby would live with their father being in danger every night. She gives birth and raises her daughter herself, beginning to travel in the world for her work, leaving Gotham just as Bruce takes in Dick Grayson.

Years go by and she raises her own child and Bruce takes in his own children. Of course they hear about each other in the press but really have not paid much mind until she is back in Gotham, attending a charity event at a hotel. Her daughter is up in their hotel room, asleep or so she hopes anyway, and she is sipping on a glass of champagne while making meaningless small talk and then like as if out of a scene from a movie both she and Bruce spot each other from across the room. Conversation between the two is unavoidable especially with Dick trying to push the two together but it is sour quickly with her quietly chewing him out for choosing his vigilante identity over her and-

“Ma’am, your daughter just woke up, a nightmare.”

The conversation is cut short by one of the hotel staff speaking out to her while holding a little girl’s hand who is standing there in her nightgown, eyes full of tears while she clutches her stuffed animal. Bruce just watches as his ex-fiancé takes care of her daughter, his daughter, excusing herself from the party to put her back to bed. Then when the end of the party comes and people have started to leave he finds her again and asks her the question…

“Is she mine? Your daughter…”

“…Yes… she is… I-I am sorry Bruce, I have to go.”

She runs off upstairs and he is just left there starstruck and with his own kids not too far away and listening into their conversation. So when they all arrive back at the manor Bruce is due to give an explanation about the woman who is the mother of Bruce’s daughter, Damian’s half sister, and who might as well be the little sister of the rest of the lot.

So with a bit of planning the kids come up with a way to add a few people into their family, a mother and a little sister…

Dick goes to visit them at the hotel, calling beforehand and asking her to meet husband in the hotel lounge to talk. He tries to convince her to come back, her daughter needs to know who her father and brothers are, and Bruce misses her and she cannot deny that she love Bruce at one point and-

That plan goes up in flames as she runs upstairs, rejecting Dick’s idea.

Then that falls to plan B with Jason.

This wasn’t actually intended to be a plan, just Jason keeping an eye on the little girl from afar to make sure nothing happened to her while she was out with her nanny, after all Gotham is a dangerous place. She and her nanny were just supposed to be out running errands before they leave Gotham but she just happened to be separated from the nanny and alone in the dangerous streets. It is only a matter of time before someone tries to snatch her up, the daughter of a rich woman, she would be perfect to hold for ransom. Luckily Jason, or rather, Red Hood is there in time to save her, telling her to go in the corner and cover her eyes while he deals with them. He hushes her as he wraps her up in his jacket, telling her to keep her eyes shut as he carries her out of there, he doesn’t want her to see the pools of blood he is walking through as he is carrying his little sister out of there.

Then when he returns to Wayne Manor with her, Damian looks after her while Jason explains what happened to Bruce. It isn’t safe for them, she could have been killed or worse if it wasn’t for him. Eventually Bruce caves and agrees to their plan of getting them both back.

Bruce goes to go see his ex-fiancé who is in a state of panic because her daughter is missing. Bruce sits her down and tells her daughter is safe and taken care of at Wayne Manor but there is a problem, her daughter’s kidnapping will be seen as child neglect if Bruce chose to file for custody of his daughter. If that was not enough to get her cave in he shows her a file of blackmail Tim had gathered on her which also shows old not look good to the court, so he asks her one thing with only one answer to it…

“Will you marry me?”

“…fine…”

Then not to far down the line there is a white wedding that should have happened years ago, and as Bruce and his wife exchange rings, say I do, and kiss, their children watch…

Her daughter is not a fool, she knows something wrong, she just has no way of telling anyone as Dick holds her on his hip as if she weighs nothing, and Jason fixes her flower girl dress for the pictures that Tim is already taking and has been throughout the ceremony.

[tetzoro]

˖˙ ꔫ — A STARRY SKY AND HOPEFUL EYE

꒰ synopsis ꒱ : nightly routines revolve around keeping watch with zoro, but today is extra special as you get to start his birthday off right with an intimate moment and a special gift.

꒰ contents ꒱ : zoro roronoa x reader ; alcohol mention. elements of hurt/comfort, tooth rotting fluff + filled with love. — WC : 1133

happy birthday zoro ♥︎

“I'm here, don’t be afraid. I won't let anything happen to you.” A familiar, gravelly tone pierces through the thick fog of fear that was slowly consuming you. Zoro’s voice was every bit of him as ever — strong, driven, confident, protective.

It serves as a reassuring melody that tugs on your delicate heartstrings, commanding the attention that you so readily give. A gentle reminder that you’re secure in his arms and safely tucked away from the winds of change and everything else that the Sunny is drifting past.

But it held a serene tenderness that would only surface when the two of you were alone and under the stars, sailing across the open sea where the only witness to your love was the pearly moon that dreamily hung overhead.

You hum softly as you begin to fully wake, feeling the words rumble from his chest and caress your back, soothing all of your fleeting worries away. Zoro had a gift when it came to chasing away demons, a renowned hunter that would protect you from anything that dare brought you harm.

“‘m sorry.” You pivot a little, readjusting yourself to nestle into him better. “I didn't mean to fall asleep.”

“What did I say about apologizing?” He roughly gruffs out, a direct juxtaposition to the careful way he was cradling you. “Another nightmare?”

“They come and they go.” The fear of the dream subsides as you take in the night that beautifully envelops you both. 

The stars begin to unveil themselves, gleams of hope scattered across the inky black sky. The sun had long since gone to rest but the night prevails as the two of you keep a watchful eye.

The vibrant colors that once bathed the sky in orange and pink hues were now stripped back without the comfort of the sun. 

Keeping watch was a task you and Zoro would often face together. The norm was that each person would take two hours to complete their shift but overtime, yours had blended together. From the birth of midnight into the early cusps of the morning, this little cozy corner of the world was yours.

Countless times you’ve found solace in each other’s quiet wakes. Words would come far and few in between in favor of soaking up the comforting presence that bloomed whenever you were together. 

Even still, the whispered exchanges were something that never failed to fill you with warmth in spite of the desolate chill of night.

“Get some rest. I'll make sure they don’t come back.” Zoro’s lips faintly brush against your temple in an attempt to ease your troubled mind. Everyone fell victim to the darkness that plagues dreams and he knew all too well the toll they could take.

“I wanna stay up with you.” The looming winter breeze glazes over your face, kissing along your skin in such a way that has you huddling to the source of warmth that surrounds you. “It's your birthday so I want to savor as much time with you as I can before the others wake up.” A pause. “Besides, I got you a little present.”

Zoro shifts a little so he has a clear view of your face, sharp gaze set on you. Mirth swims in his steely eye as he makes contact, lips twitching heavenward.

“A present, huh? Is that why you locked yourself in the crows nest yesterday?” It was true, you had shooed everyone away from the room under the guise of training. But Zoro knew better — you’d never deny him the chance to train with you but he didn’t push it, opting to train on the deck instead.

“Maybe….” You trail off, smiling sheepishly before sliding off of his lap to reach for the gift you had stowed away earlier. The shimmering moon provided enough light for you to see, casting a luminous glow that blankets you both in a loving embrace, glittering with an ethereal magic that only the depths of night could merit.

“You gonna show me or what?” He smirks, his face closer to yours as you settle back in front of him. You nuzzle his nose with the tip of your own, an act of affection he’s grown used to over the time you’ve been together.

Silently, you hand him the small box and your heart thumps viciously against your chest. He opens the tiny, yet neat packaging and is quiet for a moment as he examines what lays within. 

In the box was a carefully leather braided bracelet with a singular bead woven in.

“You like it?” You falter for a moment. Before he can answer, you begin to nervously ramble. “I tucked my vivre card in the bead. That way if we’re ever apart, we can always find each other again.”

There's another pause and the only thing you can hear is your heart screaming for relief as it pounds against the cage of your ribs. Like clockwork, it eases back down as Zoro's face glimmers with an expression you hardly see, one that’s reserved for you during your most intimate moments.

“Hell yeah I like it.” Zoro's cheeks blossom into a soft pink, calloused thumb gliding over the textured leather. His voice becomes nothing but a fresh breath of air. “This is special.”

“It’s…” The word ‘nothing’ escapes you because it couldn’t be further from the truth. It means everything to you. Plus, he’d only chastise you for downplaying such a thing. “Good, I'm glad you do.”

“Put it on me.” Zoro demands, pulling you up into his lap. You hold onto his hand and gently wrap the bracelet around, the pads of your fingers trailing along his skin and he has to hold back a shudder. With a few simple motions, you tighten it so it’s secure and snug but not too much. 

The sunless sky shines again as Zoro smiles at the gift, the light warming you from the inside out and chasing away the chill of night.

“Thank you.” Zoro wraps his arm around your waist, nuzzling his face against your cheek and leaving a kiss there in his wake.

“Of course.” Tension rolls off of your shoulders with the acceptance he so readily gives you. All day, anxiety flooded your veins and took the breath from your lungs as you tried your best to make the perfect gift for him. You even went as far as — “Oh! I almost forgot. I got you something in case you didn’t like it.”

Zoro makes a noise of protest but it almost immediately dies out as he sees you pull his favorite brand of sake out from where you hid it — comically wrapped up in a pink bow.

“Well I'd never say no to this.” He lets out a puff of amusement, taking the bottle from your hand and opening it with ease. “What do you say? Up to share a little drink with the birthday boy?”

“Duh.” A giggle spills from your lips as you watch him hide his smirk with the neck of the bottle, taking a healthy swig. Some of the sake drips down from the corner of his mouth in which you easily scoop it up with your finger, bringing it to your own lips to clean it off. 

He leans in to give you a sweet, sake infused kiss. The slight burn of the alcohol dies down as his eager tongue swipes along your bottom lip, soothing the flames away and drenching you in adoration.

In a few hours, the rest of the crew would wake and who knows what they had planned for Zoro. But right now, with the stars as your only witnesses, this moment was for just the two of you. 

And Zoro couldn’t imagine a better way to start his day than having his favorite person in his lap, a bottle of sake in his hand, and the warmth of love that buries itself into his heart when he looks at the gift you made him.

thank you so much for reading ( ྀི∩˃ ᵕ ˂∩) i hope you enjoyed ! ♥︎

[dollyg1rlie]

. ݁ ˖ ࣭ ⭑𝗦𝗶𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗝𝗶𝗻𝘅 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀𝜗𝜚˚⋆

── .✦𝗔/𝗻: 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖩𝗂𝗇𝗑, 𝖤𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗂𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗐𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾, 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖽𝖺𝗒 :)

I feel like Jinx has trouble sleeping, she has a lot of energy, she always wants to move from here to here and the nightmares with Vi don't help her much either, so the only way she can sleep and rest well is to lie down hugging you while you tell her anything silly

She has a hard time trusting you in the beginning, after promising her many times, in different ways and showing her that you would not abandon her, she began to open up a little more about her past and what the voices tell her

She loves physical contact, if you are a person who likes to cuddle up, believe me Jinx is the one

Sometimes Jinx doesn't need physical contact or talk, simply by your presence close to her, she is happy and feels good (that usually happens after she tells you something about her childhood or about Vi)

She loves you to tell her about your life or tastes, she will listen to you attentively and try not to forget anything.

Speaking of which, Jinx is very forgetful, she always forgets where she leaves some tools or things she had to tell you.

She always reminds you how loved you are with small gifts or telling you how much she loves you

[toxicanonymity]

Hey Boo,

I've been seeing Joelkemons making the rounds being the best kind of dude to have around when you're crying.

Is Stepdad is having very strong feelings about all of this too? I imagine of Raider (LOML) and NW are being so soft with us, something in stepdad might respond to our hopelessly impotent rage.

I'd love to see how he reacts.

Boy howdy, tho, if I could slip into the brothel and have a big ol' Joel-pile, that shit would fix me all the way.

Thank you so much for everything you do and are.

I hope you're taking care of yourself too.

-- Cupquake <3

black tuesday

JOEL x f!READER | 1000 words

WARNINGS: 18+. Election Night. ANGST. Tears. Fears. This is intended to be a cathartic fic with some comfort but please don't read if it could be traumatic. Allusions to reproductive rights, etc. Reader is angry, esp. at men, takes it out on joel a little. Joel is supportive. Reader dacryphilia, brief smut. STEPDAD AU but you don't need to know it, and the stepcest doesn't come up.

NOTES: Sweet Cupquake, you're welcome and thank you for always being so supportive. Poor stepdad, he's normally the one needing comforting, isn't he? Yes, he has strong feelings about all this. This doesn't fit neatly in the AU timeline just roll with it. My brief post on the election is here. This will most likely be my only fic that overtly acknowledges the u.s. election. DO NOT INTERACT: TRUMP VOTERS, ANTI-CHOICE PEOPLE, MINORS.

You’re sitting on the floor of your apartment watching the news while Joel makes dinner and a huge mess in the kitchen. When the early votes are counted, we’ll see a lot more blue, they said. No, actually. Not really. You turn the volume way down so you can barely hear it. 

“Pasta’s ready,” Joel announces in a weak, sing-song voice. 

You remain on the floor. Your breathing is shallow, and it doesn’t feel real. 

Joel comes into the living room but doesn’t sit down. He stands with his arms crossed. His neck veins are bulging, his biceps are tense, his jaw clenches as he watches the screen. He’s pissed, he’s so angry watching this happen. He’s embarrassed to be a Texan. He thinks about all the women he knows. Embarrassed to be a man. 

He looks back and forth between the tv and you, and he sees your eyes are watery. He brings your glass of water from the kitchen, but you refuse it. He puts it down on the coffee table. Then, he picks up the remote control and turns off the tv. 

“Why’d you do that?” you snap. 

“It’s only makin’ ya sad,” Joel replies. “It’s still early, there’s time.” 

“Sad?? You think I’m sad?” Heat rises to your face. Your chest tightens.  

“Okay,” Joel acknowledges softly. “I can see you’re not just sad.” 

He sits down and tries to put his arm around you but you scoot over to face him. 

“All you men just go around blowing your loads everywhere and we’re the ones who have to deal with it, and you have the nerve to tell us how.” 

“I’d never tell you how to--you know that.”

“--I am so fucking tired of men talking.” 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and sits quietly next to you for a minute. It’s hard knowing there’s nothing he can do or say, but he’s not going to leave you unless you tell him to. 

He clears his throat and asks softly, “Would anything make ya feel better?”

“Only waking up from this nightmare.”

“Yeah,” he acknowledges. 

“I don’t wanna feel better,” you begin to cry. “I want it to not happen….Like, is this real life?” 

None of it feels real. Months ago, people in stupid red hats were carrying around actual sperm cups. The highest-profile rapist in the country called himself the father of fertility, and crowds of people cheered. He said “mass deportation” and people cheered more. And then half the country voted for these sick, twisted buffoons. 

“You want some space?” Joel asks. 

“No,” you protest tearfully.

He hesitantly brushes the back of your neck with his thumb. This time, you let him put his arm around you. 

You whisper, “I can’t believe this is happening.” 

“Sweetheart, it ain’t over. We got time.” 

You shake your head no, ‘cause you can feel it in your gut. 

Joel sits in silence for a moment, and you can’t see it, but he’s tearing up because he can feel you burning and he’s powerless. 

He holds you and strokes your back while you bury your face in his chest. He discreetly checks his new york times app and tries not to react out loud- it’s only getting worse. 

After a few minutes of silence, he whispers your name, and you respond, “mm?”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. 

You look up to see his cheeks wet, his hair messy. Your heart swells with affection. Affection and… gratitude? God, the bar is in hell. But to be fair, you really love him. You’re grateful for the man he is, not the one he isn’t. 

Desire begins to stir in your chest.

Joel presses a kiss onto your forehead, then lifts your chin, and you look at each other. He brushes away a tear from your cheek. With his own cheeks still wet, he swallows, and the emotional bob of his Adam’s apple sends a rush of arousal to your core. You put your hand on the back of his neck and pull him toward you for a kiss. 

Affection and relief floods your body. It’s temporary, of course, but you let yourself have this. You let the nightmare fade into a spicy dream. 

You straddle him and he pulls you close and moans into your mouth. You kiss him desperately and feel him harden under you. He hesitates and mutters, “sorry,” trying to read the room. He pushes your thighs back, trying to put some distance between you and his hard-on. 

“Stop,” you reply, then latch onto his mouth again. He breaks away and says, “Just don’t want ya to feel like I–” 

“Shut up,” you tell him, then scoot yourself closer, your crotch firmly planted on the warm, stiffening shape in his sweatpants. You grind your hips into him. He kisses you back with increased fervor, and moans into your mouth. Kissing passionately, your loins throb warmly together and your hips move in rhythm. 

You reach between the two of you and slide your hand down his sweatpants. You palm his leaking manhood. Pressing it against his tummy, you gently move the skin on his shaft, and  He groans.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and thrusts against your hand. 

You stand up to urgently take off your pj pants. 

His man-guilt is still eating at him. Squeezing his aching hard shaft, he lets out a moan, then weakly offers, “Are you sure you wanna…”

In response, you straddle him, hot and dripping against his bare arousal.  You slide against him, throbbing and ready. Then, as you slide his tip to your entrance, you warn him, “Get it while it’s on the table.” You sink down on him and he shudders. Then he thrusts upward and moans as he bottoms out.  

“My legs’ll be closed for business soon,”  you explain. 

He closes his eyes and breathes deep as your body accommodates his.  “Fair enough,” he answers thoughtfully, then opens his eyes. “Wait. Even if my face is the customer?” 

------

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NOTES: I actually wrote three Stepdad things, and chronologically, this is no. 2 of 3. The others aren't posted yet. The first one is a standalone pregnancy scare, nothing about the election (would've been before it). And the second one is a post-election talk about contraception.

My brief post on the election is here.

Thank you for reading. Please remember to take care of yourselves <33

[dipperscavern]

about to go to bed, but this post got me thinking… cregan x reader w strange interests.,… walk with me here

people have always been a bit… unaccepting, when it comes to you and the things you like. they’ll enjoy your personality well enough, laugh with you at feasts, treat you courteously at gatherings, but decide they don’t enjoy your company the moment you show a different part of yourself.

one that takes a special interest in poisonous plants, knows how to prepare a body after death, collects bones and feathers, charts astrology… and your pets are usually quite successful in labeling you as completely mad.

you understand to some extent. different is strange, and people reject the things they don’t understand. such is the games of highborns (a rather cruel dance, really.) but you found you couldn’t find it within yourself to try and change. after all, comparison is the thief of joy, as your beloved old maester would say.

you were alright with solidarity, if being alone meant being yourself — but the old gods have always been said to have a sense of humor.

it seems cregan stark is not so off put by such oddities. quite the opposite, in fact.

your pet spider doesn’t repulse him, like it does the others. while he would’ve been most content to allow you the sole responsibility of spider-handling, it didn’t take much convincing on your part. only a simple statement of reassurance, a small smile, a warmth of your cheeks at his interest, and cregan finds himself sat on the bed as you retrieve your eight-legged friend.

whatever doubts he harbors instantly vanish as you sit across from him, un-cupping your hands to reveal a much bigger spider than he previously thought. tarantula, he’s heard the maesters say (with horror.)

while one holds the maesters’ worst nightmare, your other hand reaches for his. he takes note of your warmth, the softness of your hands in comparison to his own. people usually don’t touch him without permission, and, perhaps strangely, he wishes you to never hesitate when doing so.

he uncurls his palm for you, and before you transfer the creature, you softly ask for him to “please don’t scare him.” — and cregan’s heart skips a beat, because he knows at that very moment, he would heed your every request. anything you ask of him, it is yours.

perhaps this revelation would produce a greater affect on lord stark if he wasn’t so encapsulated with staying still while your creature begins to crawl from your palm to his own.

its great work to not tense himself or pull away when it happens, but you watch him so intensely, waiting to pull your creature to safety at any indicator. so he stills. you ground him, even if unaware.

once your creature is fully in his palm, it seems comfortable. sitting itself, abdomen flush to cregan’s palm to encompass the warmth he offers. you sit like that in silence for a moment, cregan observing it’s markings, and you waiting for the warden of the north’s assessment of you and your creature.

after some time, cregan speaks, tone different from the usual one of lord stark.

“Does he have a name?”

you can’t help but smile at his words, and he can’t help the way your expression makes one of his own tug at his lips. “Bones.”

“Bones?” he repeats, face relaxing in his surprise. his words don’t contain any malice, only a question in its tone.

you nod tentatively, as if awaiting judgement. “When found in the kitchens, a cook tried killing him with a chicken bone.”

his gaze momentarily flickers to the spider as he nods his head, a sort of understanding passing between the wolf and the arachnid. something else is there, too. a fondness for you unfurling in his chest — how you can find beauty in such things; things deemed unwanted by most people.

cregan’s gaze finds you again, and you look at the spider in his hands with such reverence it makes his lips part in silent adoration.

you’ve captured him, he thinks. he’s damned.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Yuji Itadori saving you oh so smoothly

The streets are eerily quiet, as if they know what’s coming before you do. Yuji walks slightly ahead of you, his expression fixed and determined, the usual warmth in his eyes replaced by something colder, sharper. Those past hours felt like a trip to hell and back for you, always on the brink of dying on your own until you finally met up with Yuji again.

You’ve known he was strong - of course you have. But watching him now, every step controlled and precise, his presence almost blinding, it’s as if you’re truly seeing him for the first time.

A distant crash shatters the silence. You tense, instinctively backing up, and Yuji’s hand reaches out before you even realize he’s moved. His fingers brush against your arm, grounding you, steady and reassuring.

“Stay close,” he says softly, though there’s a tension in his voice that only heightens your anxiety.

You nod, trying to ignore the way your heart skips several beats. You know what he’s up against, what you’re up against, and no amount of reassurance can fully quiet that stinging pulse of fear in the back of your mind.

Suddenly, a figure steps into view, emerging from the darkness like a nightmare come to life. The curse...you recognize him instantly. One of those curse brothers, his aura radiating nothing but hatred. His eyes narrow on you first, a cruel grin spreading across his face as he takes a slow, menacing step forward.

Fuck.

“Another human,” he sneers, his voice sending a chill down your spine.

“This one looks… weak.”

Before you can even think, Yuji moves. One moment he’s beside you, and the next, he’s a blur, positioning himself firmly between you and the curse. He raises his fists, the muscles in his arms firm.

And slowly but surely your blank mind begins to realize. Yuji isn’t just protecting you. He’s prepared to face down this monster without hesitation, without even a hint of fear. It’s like he’s invincible.

All of that, because of you?

“Touch her, and you’ll regret it,” he says, voice low, fierce.

Your breath catches. Yuji’s never sounded like that before, all hard edges and steel, like the kind of threat that doesn’t leave room for doubt. He’s usually all sunshine and grins, the kind of guy who’d rather be talking or eating than fighting. But here, now, he’s deadly serious.

The curse lunges, a flash of claws and teeth aimed straight for Yuji’s throat, and you flinch, instincts screaming at you to run or fight or do something. But Yuji doesn’t move an inch, like he’s not even remotely fazed by the creature’s size or speed.

He sidesteps at the last second, fists striking with a precision and strength that takes your breath away. Every blow lands with a bone-crunching force, and you see the curse stagger, disoriented. Yuji doesn’t let up, his movements fluid and powerful, as though he’s been doing this his whole life.

Your mind can barely keep up with the sight in front of you. Yuji has always been strong, yes. But seeing him like this, in action, is something else entirely. There’s a raw, unfiltered power in every motion, in the way he weaves around his opponent, dodging attacks that seem impossible to evade. You can hardly look away, stunned by the sheer firce of his strength while it seems like his gaze never truly leaves yours.

The curse notices you again. With a sudden, vicious shift, it changes course, its gaze locking on you with renewed intensity. Yuji’s head snaps up, and in that instant, he’s between you and the curse again, his stance unwavering.

“I said,” he growls, “leave her alone.”

His voice echoes in the empty street, a command that seems to pierce right through the creature’s dark aura.

The curse snarls, frustrated, and lashes out wildly. But Yuji is faster, stronger. His fist collides with the curse’s head, sending it reeling back. He doesn’t stop, pushing forward, a relentless series of punches that leave no room for a straight. His strength is like nothing you’ve ever seen: powerful, devastating, and yet so controlled. Every strike seems to vibrate through the air, echoing with his unyielding will to protect.

Finally, the curse falls, dissolving into nothing more than a dark, fading mist. The street is silent once again, but this time, the silence feels heavy, charged with the aftershocks of battle while Yuji hold you tightly in order to protect you from the shockwave that rushes over the destroyed streets.

You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until you’re exhaling, a shaky sigh that fills the stillness. Yuji turns back to you, his intense expression melting into one of gentle concern.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice soft, as if he hadn’t just taken down a curse with his bare hands.

You nod, unsure how to put everything you’re feeling into words with your mind still being all over the place. Yuji Itadori just saved you and he looked ridiculousy good doing so. Is that his arm wrapped around your waist?

“I… I didn’t realize you were that strong,” you manage, your voice barely a whisper.

He scratches the back of his head, a slight blush creeping over his cheeks.

“I had to be,” he says simply, meeting your gaze with a quiet, earnest determination that sends warmth flooding through you.

“I wasn’t about to let anything happen to you.”

It’s so simple, so genuine. Yuji’s strength, his resolve - it’s not just for himself.

It’s for you.

And standing there, looking into his bright, unwavering eyes, you realize that with Yuji by your side, maybe you’re a little braver than you thought you could be.

"Hey, I can carry you home if you want? Your body still feels pretty weak-"

"N-N-NO!"

Well, maybe after that deep blush leaves your cheeks and your knees start working properly again.

[mins-fins]

˖﹙💌﹚DARLIN'

｡｡｡ silly little mark lee, well of course you're in love with him!

P ─  mark lee x m!rdr. G ─ fluff, university au, sleepover, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, self indulgent. W ─ swearing, mentions of drinking, depressive nightmares. WC ─ 2.1k.

mark is afraid he has some sort of psychic connection with you, he turns and creates contact with the wooden post of a bed frame.

he replies in a grunt, head beginning to pound with an indecipherable extent of pain. he bites back a wince, teeth about to sink into his tongue as a typical response, eyes struggling open as he observes his surroundings.

jeno has an arm thrown over his back, his snoring elevated as his proximity is much too adjacent, his nose scrunches up in irritation, the touch irking him. he’s just barely able to throw the arm off of him without causing a disturbance, fortunately jeno’s a heavy sleeper.

he’s unaware of why he’s awaken exactly, or how he even ended up on the floor with tangled blankets surrounding the circle of.. everyone. of course chenle decided to take the bed, he’s selfish like that (well mark guesses it’s his huge ass house after all, yet he left them to sleep on blankets? or did they fall asleep on the floor without realizing? he can’t remember). jisung’s crazily long legs tangle with donghyuck’s, no use in attempting any escape that way.

jeno rolls over and unconsciously begins cuddling jaemin, well of course, how cute.

renjun is the only one who appears comfortable enough, graciously embezzling everybody else’s blankets in order to create his own makeshift sleeping bag.

he squints, as if striving to capture a semblance of sight in the darkness, the door is cracked open, a crack of light permeating the small space. his back emits a tiny crack, he ignores it as he somehow stands on his two feet.

mark wobbles in the manner of a child taking their first steps, much too groggy, hands coming to rub at his eyes despite light being naught. he blinks down at his feet, narrowly avoiding his foot coming in contact with donghyuck’s heat, he trips over the uneven carpeting and stumbles himself out of the frankly claustrophobic room.

mark didn’t fret, he easily noticed the lack of your presence, he recalls you falling asleep right beside him, even with the muddled memories of the past few hours. he finally did wince once his eyes met the piercing lights of the extensive hallway, what was the point of even keeping them on?

either way, that happens to contain the least of mark’s concerns, he thinks he has a good idea of why you suddenly disappeared from the group you had fallen asleep with. he knows you well enough to scope out a definite answer.

and it’s exactly how it appears in his mind, you just so happen to be downstairs, fidgeting with a cup that contains nothing. mark blinks, catching your attention immediately. “y/n?”

“can you believe even his water tastes expensive?”

the question is passive, mark’s aware of the kinds that exist with you. it’s a cover up for something more, a bit of concern hidden behind the usually playful gleam of your eyes.

he’ll entertain you for a moment.

“really?”

you hum, clearly put off by the lack of an immediate inquiry,

because for as much as mark’s knowledge of you presides, your knowledge of him exists in the same boat. he surmises it’s a bit of a double edged sword, but then again, he guesses your friendship is an example of that very phenomenon.

yet the fondness he retains could never be replicated with one other person. “yeah, typical rich people bullshit”.

there remains a collection of cups clattered in the kitchen sink, unwashed, reeking alcohol just barely fluttering its way up into the air. mark has half a mind to scrunch his nose, and if the dishes were the main focus, he would’ve fully grimaced.

good thing they aren’t the main focus.

he slips by your side easily, yearning to grab ahold of your hand, but afraid of irking you when you already appear so skittish. he somehow crams the desire downward, instead gazing upon your trembling fingertips. “why’d you get up?”

he just barely deciphers the underlying whine in addition to the clearly desperate question, his eyes probably gleam with rashness, as if he’s your lover complaining about your decision to get out of bed.

well it is always warmer with you around, though mark lee cannot admit that to any person, not even you yourself.

you contemplate, mark notices the shift of your expression. a drop to his stomach, if you do feel the need to lie, then it’s possibly something worse than what he originally thought, unlike your typical streak of insomnia, it has to be something.. more.

and he’s just the slightest bit afraid.

“water”.

“really?”

your right eye twitches, mark fears the impending irritation upcoming. “yeah” you breath, averting your gaze as your fingertips circle the curvatures of this fancy looking glass, the reflection of your dark eyes visible in the silica sand.

he sucks his teeth.

the resounding action offends you, if the corresponding look mark glimpses once you whip your head is enough. “what?”

“what?”

your face falls flat. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“why are you lying?” mark rebuts, attempting his best shot at forbearance despite how bothered he is by your indignation. “it’s just me..”

your go to response is a dry chuckle. “i know that, it’s not like i’m scared of you or anything, it’s just..”

it’s just..

nothing.

because mark knows you won’t tell him, the pertinacity of your character consistently permeates no matter what, and mark loves you, so so much, but he can’t help his elevated apprehension. his fingers drum onto the porcelain counter before him, contemplation behind his eyes.

“it’s obvious something’s wrong”.

and from your corresponding look, you’re practically placing a curse on mark’s whole entire bloodline. he supposes certain things never really do change, even if that includes obstinacy.

mark adjusts his bracelet, stepping closer as he swipes one of your fallen eyelashes from your cheek. “you could make a wish..”

he’s stalling, stalling much more than you typically do, but he can’t exactly help it, if you don’t want to confess the deepest anxieties which make you awake at night, does he really have any right to dig deeper despite his clear intrigue? you’ve never been that kind of person, his intention is to always seek your comfortability, even if it slowly kills him inside.

you stare, tilting your head and blinking at his pointer where a fallen piece of your eyelash rests. “do you really believe in that shit?”

“i enjoy tradition”.

that earns a shy smile, you’re very aware of that one, it seems that you simply relish in the manner of mark’s reply. you remain silent, again focused on your very eyelash resting atop his fingertip. “okay, i made my wish”.

mark is staggered for a moment. “what? what do you mean?”

“i made the wish in my head”.

mark uncharacteristically pouts, now that is unfair. “you can’t just do that!”

you shrug. “it’s a secret”.

the whisper causes the click of his tongue, he presses his pointer finger to his thumb in a gentle action of getting rid of your eyelash. “fine, keep your secrets..”

he doesn’t exactly realize the double sided nature of that reply, and despite his disquietude in your displayed fits of seclusion, he keeps silent on the issue he has nothing of a bearable thought on.

still, your amusement prevails.

“you know, i think—”

well mark has no time to dwell on the end of his sentence, because you step forward and pull him into a staggering embrace. it isn’t staggering in an emotional manner, you typically enjoy hugs, it’s simply.. unexpected.

your arms practically cradling his upper body, you tuck the side of your face into his neck, as if striving for a degree of comfort only he could grant you. you take in a deep breath, yet you keep silent either way.

while he is stunned, his arms consciously squeezing around your waist, well now how can he not worry? you don’t just hug out of nowhere, especially if mark is talking first.

“hey, is everything okay?”

nothing of a verbal reply, you merely nod.

how you two end up on the couch? mark barely remembers.

there isn’t a lack of space, mark is sure this one is actually a pull out, but you two decide to squeeze onto it anyway, something of a natural warmth emanating from the embrace you so dearly cherish. mark doesn’t mind, it’d be worse if you were just avoiding him.

so really, this is the best case scenario.

“you know, you have to tell me when.. this happens”.

this could equate to several things, sleepwalking, nightmares, spontaneous depressive episodes, on an especially terrible level it could be all three, but he’s simply throwing darts at a board and hoping one of them sticks. “what is this?”

“whatever has you awake tonight”.

you have that puzzled expression on your face, an expression mark questions more than anything, now replicating it on his own features. you then quickly avert your eyes, which is difficult considering you find yourself pressed into him. “i know it’s just— i don’t know, i’m scared..”

and of course, honesty includes the scratching of your nails against any surface in immediate reach. mark can’t exactly stare elsewhere, you appear to fear even the slightest corners of this huge room. “of?”

you don’t answer that one.

so mark won’t press further, that’s enough of divulging for tonight he supposes..

“you don’t want a blanket?”

“it’s warm enough” in tandem with your response, you nuzzle into the side of mark’s neck. he can’t exactly disagree, and you obviously observe that part. “besides, we know you aren’t getting up any time soon”.

“you’re technically crushing me so what could i even do?” he inquires, lips taking an upturn at the glare you pair with a glare as your soundless reply. he winces at the pinch you decide as your go to, nose scrunched up in irritation.

“i could kill you”.

“sure”.

though you’re typically numbing, mark doesn’t want to let go, it’s as if you encapsulate the feeling of alleviation with just your arms around him alone. you two are lying together on a couch you could only ever dream of buying, somewhat chilly yet aided by the mellowness of your embrace.

usually the close proximity would irk mark, the affection would be so.. out of place if it wasn’t you. he guesses that the ‘favoritism’ donghyuck goes on about isn’t all a fallacy, but he isn’t all for admitting that.

mark gazes upward at the ceiling, crinkling his nose at the shade it’s painted. your reticence endures, not yet asleep, mark can still feel your fingertips scratching at the seams of his oversized shirt, you never sleep easily.

it occurs to mark that you probably have a few more things left to mutter, your tense, fingers trembling against the ends of this couch. “what’s on your mind?” he whispers, lips pursued.

you contemplate, clear distinguishing naught. for the first time in a while, you ponder with confusion written all over your features, a battle of your conscience and your heart, anxiety manifesting in the picking of your nails.

“don’t know why i let myself get scared of things like this anymore..”

“well you aren’t used to it” he runs a finger through your hair, an act which typically calms you down. “everyone is scared of something, it doesn’t just go away with age unfortunately”.

you manage to hide your smile, but mark can make it out the stretch pleading for you to just stop being stubborn for once. you again glance away, conflicted. “fucking hate nightmares”.

you then look up, and mark wants to fall. you stare into his eyes, mark maintains eye contact though he knows it’ll be bad for his heart, yet he does so anyway, egotism carrying his movements.

mark really wants to kiss you, it would be a perfect moment too. you stare with such a gentle manner, as if mark laid his life out for you instead of just offering a regular seam of comfort, and he wants to die a little.

well he could do that, and he does,

just not on the lips.. not yet..

he leans forward, lips pressing to your forehead. your eyes flutter closed, and whilst you don’t verbally react, mark is aware of how you feel.

“think you could go to sleep like this?”

you take in a deep breath, making yourself content on the couch with mark beside you. the hug keeps mark on his feet, he doesn’t want for you to let go, you don’t either, it’s as if you’re a perfect fit for each other.

your adjacent breathing steadily comes to a close, not sleep just yet, but mark is determined to make it happen. his hand rests on your back, warm and inviting. “thank you..”

it’s alright, it’s nothing, mark would do anything for you, the sight of your own contentment joys him to no end.

“it’s nothing..”

it isn’t, feelings can await the aftermath, he’s happy now, perhaps a bit in love as well.

[itacats]

Operation 141: The Family Business

FT: TF141 x gn!reader - Mafia AU

Warnings: mafia themes, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: In a world marked by chaos, HQ stood as a fortress of new beginnings. Here, amidst laughter and shared purpose, you found more than just shelter; you discovered a family in the 141 Mafia, one that welcomed you into a life filled with warmth and connection.

Read Part 1 Read Part 2 Read Part 3 Read Part 4 Read Part 5 Read Part 6 Read Part 7 Read Part 8 Read Part 10

Part 9: A New Home

HQ wasn’t just a building. It was a fortress of concrete and steel, standing tall against the storms of a world that had been nothing but unforgiving, furnished with the luxuries you only dreamed of having yourself. Moving into HQ was like stepping into a new life—a life far removed from the quiet chaos you had once known. The old world, with its relentless grind of bartending shifts and unpaid bills, felt like a distant memory now, cast in the shadows of the life you were building within these walls.

From the moment you arrived, everything felt different. This wasn’t just a temporary shelter, a place to crash until you got back on your feet. It was something more—a home. The members of the 141 Mafia, who had once just been regular patrons in the periphery of your job, had become your family. And with that family came new responsibilities, new roles that allowed you to grow in ways you never expected.

You found your place among them quickly, slipping into the rhythm of HQ like a missing puzzle piece finally falling into place to complete the picture. The mornings were filled with reports and operational planning, tasks that might have felt mundane or tedious to anyone else, but to you, they were something more. They were a way to contribute, a way to stay grounded and involved. Every document you organized, every briefing you prepared, felt like a small victory, a way to reclaim the control that had once been stripped from your life.

Price had given you these tasks initially as a way to ease you into this new world, but it quickly became apparent that you were thriving in a way none of them had anticipated. Your meticulous nature, your attention to detail, made the team run smoother. Reports that had once been a chore for the others became a well-oiled machine under your watch. But more than that, you brought a sense of warmth, a sense of belonging that had been missing from the cold, mission-driven atmosphere of HQ.

You could feel the change in the air as the days passed. The bonds within the team grew stronger, more palpable, like an invisible thread connecting each of you in ways that went beyond the professional. You weren’t just another cog in the machine; you were the glue holding it all together, in ways both big and small.

Ghost, the most enigmatic of them all, was the first to let his guard down. His silent, stoic presence had always commanded the room, but you saw the cracks beneath the surface. Late at night, when the halls of HQ were quiet and the weight of the world felt distant, Ghost would sit with you, his mask still in place, but his voice soft and unguarded. He began to confide in you in ways he had never confided in anyone else, sharing fragments of nightmares that haunted him, memories he had buried deep. It wasn’t just the act of confiding—it was trust. A trust that ran deeper than words.

And in return, you gave him something he hadn’t realized he needed—laughter. Your sharp, snappy jokes, the ones that came so easily to you, began to melt the icy walls Ghost had built around himself. There were moments, fleeting but precious, when you would catch the faintest glimmer of a smile beneath his mask, a rare flicker of light in his otherwise shadowed existence. The laughter wasn’t forced; it was real, genuine, something that came naturally between the two of you.

Soap, on the other hand, had always been the loud one, the joker, the heart of the team. But even he had his limits, and you found yourself breaking through them without even trying. With you around, Soap found a new kind of ease—a lightness that hadn’t been there before. Your quick wit matched his perfectly, and soon, his laughter became a constant presence in the halls of HQ. It was infectious, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still room for joy. Soap often teased you, calling you his “partner in crime,” but there was something deeper behind the playful banter. He had found someone who could meet him on his level, and that bond only grew stronger with time.

Gaz, ever the meticulous and thoughtful one, appreciated your attention to detail more than anyone else. He admired the way you approached every task with precision, every operation with a sharp eye for detail. You had a way of anticipating what needed to be done before anyone else even thought about it. It didn’t go unnoticed, especially by Gaz, who often found himself relying on you more than he’d like to admit. But it wasn’t just about efficiency—it was about the quiet understanding you shared. He respected you, not just for what you did, but for who you were, and that respect grew into a friendship built on mutual admiration.

Then there was Price. The leader, the one who carried the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. For Price, HQ had always been a place of work, of missions, of responsibilities. But with you there, it became something more. You brought a sense of family, a warmth that had been missing for far too long. Price, who had spent his life leading, found comfort in your presence. You made the daily grind feel less like a mission and more like a purpose, a reason to keep going beyond the next objective. There was a quiet bond between you, an unspoken understanding that didn’t need words. In your presence, Price found a sense of peace, a reminder that even in a life filled with danger, there were moments of calm, moments of connection.

Each member of the team grew fonder of you in their own way. You weren’t just a part of the team—you were the heart of it. You were the steady presence that kept them grounded, the laughter that broke through the tension, the meticulous hand that ensured everything ran smoothly. And in return, they became the family you never had before.

HQ, once a place of missions and briefings, had become something more—a home. The walls that had once felt cold now held the warmth of shared meals, late-night conversations, and quiet moments of understanding. The halls, once filled with the echo of footsteps, now echoed with laughter, with camaraderie, with life.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged. You weren’t just surviving—you were thriving, building a new life within the walls of HQ. A life filled with purpose, with friendship, with family. A life where each day felt like a mission accomplished, not because of the tasks completed, but because of the bonds you had forged.

This was your new home. And you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Read Part 10

As the day faded into night, you reflected on your journey within HQ. No longer an outsider, you had become part of a family that thrived on trust and laughter. The walls that once felt cold were now alive with memories and bonds that made you feel at home. For the first time, you were not just surviving—you were truly living, ready to embrace whatever came next together.

Tag List:

@strawberryrnilk

@rafaelacallinybbay

@stormy-stardust

Let me know if you would like to be added to the list lovely!

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

[wtfdemother]

Slasher AU Heelshire!König Any takers? Aye. NSFW below, happy kinkvember day 11 ☃️🤝

post dividers by tsunami-of-tears

CW: Mommy kink. Big one. Edging + lots of breast play. Implied reader is plus sized.

Heelshire!König X Nanny!Reader

Heelshire!König who can’t seem to fall back asleep after being jostled awake, the Heelshire Mansion being so cold and eerily quiet this time of night.

Heelshire!König who timidly pads towards your room, his imposing figure treading lightly, not making a sound as he navigates through the halls. He finds your room and tries the doorknob. Unlocked.

Heelshire!König whose brain floods with relief at the fact he doesn’t have to sneak in, he can but chooses against it. The urge to be a good boy for you overwhelmed him and in his mind, he was doing good not using that secret, narrow path leading to your room in the walls.

Heelshire!König who despite him, finds himself crawling underneath the covers and tucking himself underneath your chin. He discards the mask, placing it on your bedside table. You stir, feeling a familiar weight settle beside you. “König…? What are you doing out of bed?”

Heelshire!König who whimpers and vehemently shakes his head, it breaks your heart to see him clinging to you like a lifeline. You trace over the expanse of his shoulders and he seems to settle in from your gentle touches. “Mutter… Ich hatte einen Albtraum.”

Heelshire!König who immediately relishes in the attention you give, cooing the sweetest of words into the boy’s ear, “It’s gonna be okay… there, see? No more monsters…” He finds a way to slither up your shirt, you exclaim from the sudden intrusion with your brows furrowed. “Oy. Where do you think you’re going? König?”

Heelshire!König whose mind fizzled into someplace warm and fuzzy as he latches onto one of your breasts, giving your hardening peak a tentative lick before taking it in his mouth. You feel slightly panted words muffle against your ample flesh, the stubble from an unshaven beard rubbing mercilessly against you as he pushes himself further into your breast. “Mutter… Ich brauche dich, Ich kann nicht-”

Heelshire!König who silences himself with another pitiful whine, calloused paws mindlessly groping at the curves of your body as he tries to find a way closer to your skin. Slowly, he grinds his hardened cock between the plushness of your thighs, swinging a leg over your broad hips as he hopes for a better angle. You comply with a sigh, burying your fingers into his growing locks and reminding yourself that he’s due for another haircut very soon. “Insufferable thing,” you mutter, “I’m beginning to believe that this whole ‘nightmare’ story was all a ploy just to sneak into my quarters, König.”

Heelshire!König who doesn’t take kindly to your teasing, “Nein! Es ist kein Trick.” He continues to suckle, making contented noises while he swirls his tongue around your budding nipple and eliciting a groan from you. This only encourages him, taking your silence as a green light to push it further. He drops his pyjama bottoms and discards them, pulling his boxer briefs down to his hips and letting his erection spring free. The tip leaked with pre and his shaft tilted forwards and back, trying to sustain its own weight.

Heelshire!König who finally lets free of your glistening nipple with a wet pop!, peering above you with pleading baby blues. “Mutter bitte, ich brauche dich.” He repeats, rutting himself against the meat of a thick thigh. “I need you, please… I’ve been good. Real good.” He assures, sliding his large hands underneath your bottoms to palm at your ass. You’re not as convinced, a grin forms as you place your lips on the crown of his head.

Heelshire!König who groans impatiently from the leisureliness of your strokes, your thumb gingerly rolling circles as you smear pre all over his red, angry tip. “Shhhh… you can take it, just hold it in.” You coo into his ear, giving the outer shell a little nip. He bucks into your hand, trying to match the rhythm you mercilessly set. “Ich möchte kommen…” he repeats like a broken record, drool coming out the corner of his mouth as he babbles the one thing on his mind. “Mutter, Ich will es. Ich möchte kommen, bitte- bitte-”

Heelshire!König who comes apart moments later, muffling his cries into the crook of your neck as you shower him with kisses. He clings to you hard, his massive body shuddering with the aftershocks of his release and painting your hand in thick, white spurts of cum. You feel his cock slowly soften in your grasp, carefully you reach over his body to grab a tissue from the nightstand.

Heelshire!König who sleeps like a baby that night, sighing contentedly in the warmth of your arms. “You feel so warm…” he mumbles half-conscious, pulling you closer to him. “Ich liebe dich, du bist alles für mich.” Soft snores fill the room as you cradle the snoozing man in your arms, a ghost of a smile appears on your lips. You can’t resist looking at him fondly, the man in the walls has grown on you, he found a way to sneak into your heart like he sneaks around the Mansion walls.

By far the weirdest gig you took up to date. But hey, at least the pay’s good and the company’s even better.

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

could i request something post apocalyptic between a Y/N and Springtrap?

🐰|The whole situation has been going for the last six years. Originally, you’d been traveling alone.|🔥

🐰|...At least after something occurred with the last person you were traveling with.|🔥

🐰|It’s late, and you’ve been traveling for awhile, and you need somewhere to rest. So, you find an abandoned pizzeria.|🔥

🐰|You thought you’d be alone. ...You were quickly proven wrong.|🔥

—

Sighing heavily, you leaned against the shattered wall, rubbing at your eyes.

What happened six years ago... you still couldn’t quite believe it. It didn’t really feel real, yet it was.

Why couldn’t this just be a nightmare?

A loud clatter, followed by a screech, was what caught your attention. Your eyes widened, and your body tensed.

You whipped your head around, and caught sight of an entryway that you were certain hadn’t been there before.

Boards were collapsed all over the ground—some remained well intact, while others were in multiple pieces.

And in front of the entryway stood... a rabbit?

He took a single step forwards, and in a raspy whisper, asked, “What... are you doing?”

Immediately, you began to take several steps backwards. “I just... I need to hide here for a-“

“...From what?”

—

🐰|He has no clue what’s been going on, as he’s been locked away for so long. So, you end up giving him an explanation.|🔥

🐰|The rabbit—Springtrap—wondered a lot of thing’s in those years. He wondered what would be different. He’d not expected this.|🔥

🐰|When you ask that you can still stay here for awhile, Springtrap allows it. Partially because... he has a lot of questions.|🔥

🐰|And that’s what happens. For a total of five days, the two of you remain there, with you resting, and answering any of his questions.|🔥

🐰|In return, Springtrap tells you a couple of things—but it’s all very vague.|🔥

🐰|But one night... whatever roams in this post apocalyptic world? It arrives.|🔥

—

The sound of screeching startled you awake. Eyes snapping open, you were quick to sit up. You’d been asleep on the old stage.

You caught sight of two creatures—both surrounding the stage. Yet, they weren’t the only ones.

Springtrap stood in front of the stage, facing the creatures. By the time you’d sat up, one was collapsed on the ground.

Was the rabbit... protecting you? You slowly blinked.

The next and last creature... you watched as it joined the other, falling to the pizzeria’s floor with a low rasp.

A huff escaped from Springtrap. “That was easier than I expected...” He turned to look at you, raising an eyebrow. “These are really what caused this?”

“We need to go.”

—

🐰|He’s been alone for thirty years. He’ll take being with anyone at this point.|🔥

🐰|You’ve been alone for six, and he was certainly able to handle those creatures... at least a few. You’ll take him.|🔥

🐰|When the two of you leave the pizzeria, and begin to travel... you know this’ll certainly make it more interesting. And less lonely.|🔥

[2346khith]

Dear Friend,

My name is Ghazi Al Amoudi, and I’m reaching out to you from a place of profound despair. My family and I are trapped in Gaza, engulfed in the unrelenting turmoil of war. We’ve lost everything—our home, our safety, and the life we once knew 💔. Now, we find ourselves huddled in a fragile tent, exposed to the harsh elements, enduring hunger, thirst, and the fear that shadows us every day 💨💦. Imagine waking each morning to a world turned to ruin, with nowhere to go and nothing to hold onto.

With a heart burdened by sorrow yet clinging to hope, I am pleading for your help 😢. Every gesture of support—whether a donation, a share, or a kind word—moves us one step closer to finding safety and solace in this nightmare. Our home, once filled with warmth and love, is now just a memory beneath the rubble 💔. We are left with only fear and uncertainty, struggling to survive each day, hoping for a compassionate hand to help us stand once more 😔.

Please, if you can find it in your heart, help us find a safe place to rest, a meal to eat, and a chance to rebuild our shattered lives 😭🙏. Even the smallest kindness can light up our darkest hours, giving us the strength to hope for a new beginning 🥺❤️.

Here is my campaign link: https://gofund.me/8a2c70d7. If donating isn’t possible, sharing our story may help us reach someone who can. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for your kindness and support 🙏❤️.

With deep gratitude,

Ghazi Al Amoudi

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[lovesickeros]

☆ de fontaine

{☆} characters furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings angst, suicidal thoughts, hurt / no comfort {☆} word count 1.4k

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair!

She thought, for one moment, she could put the mask down and breathe – for one moment of daydreaming, she thought she could just be Furina. She thought she would finally get to live the live she should've had in the first place, the life she threw away to play God to an audience who saw her as nothing but a circus animal, dancing to their whims. Furina just wanted to be selfish for one brief and fleeting moment..and it was gone before she could even grasp it in her hand. A comet soaring past far out of her reach.

She can barely keep her hands from violently shaking as she looks down at them – broken and bloody and more a corpse then a person – and she feels so numb she can't even feel the rain pelting against her back. None of this is fair, she wants to scream, why is it always me? But her voice is silent beneath the torrent of rain. She wonders if the ocean would take her if she sank into it's depths – just for a moment, she wonders how it would feel to finally be able to sleep at ease.

Furina is tired.

But Furina is nothing if not useful, isn't she?

So she forces her feet to move, dragging against the stone beneath her heels, and drags their bloodied body into the nearest empty building, letting the rain do the work of washing away the smeared blood following her path. The smell makes her feel sick, the feeling of it sticking to her hands and gloves makes her lightheaded, but she persists. Because Furina is useful, because Furina won't let them die out in the rain, because Furina won't stand by and just let them rot on the streets like some..pest.

Furina wants to go home. She wants to sleep and she isn't she if she wants to wake up, this time. But she keeps going anyway.

Because it's all she's ever done, and the habit sticks.

An Archon she may not be, not anymore, but the expectations of five hundred years still linger like eyes on the inside of her skull. They watch her, pry and prod at her thoughts, mocking laughter and judging eyes following her as she forces herself to dance to the song they weave with glee. Furina never stepped off that stage – she's still there, she thinks, watching the crowd stare at her in disdain as the curtain call looms above her like a guillotine. She still hears Neuvillette deliver her damnation and salvation with a trembling voice, still feels her hair stand on end when electro crackled like the crack of the whip, Clorinde's blade aimed at her like a loaded gun.

She's trapped on that stage and she never left, not really.

She hates it. She thinks she hates them, but it's not their fault. They didn't ask for this, didn't ask for everyone to turn against them, didn't ask for her to save them. Neither did she..yet here they are, she thinks.

She tries to tell herself she's in control this time, though. She can stop performing her part in this horrible, bloody play any time she wants. It makes her feel better, just for a little while, if she convinces herself she's still Furina, painfully human.

And Furina has always been good at lying.

It's the believing that's the hard part.

There isn't time for her to wallow in her own self pity, though. They're still bleeding out onto the dusty, creaky floorboards of some random, broken down house and she's just standing there as the blood stains the wood. She can fix it – she's good at fixing things. She's done nothing but fix things – try to, anyway – for five hundred years. She can fix a little wound, how hard could it be? Her hands are clenched so tight they ache as she kneels down, wincing at the creak of the floorboards beneath her heels– she hesitates just long enough to wonder if she's making a mistake before she peels away just enough of the outer layer of their clothes to see the deep, bloody gash across their chest. She tries not to think about it – it's deep, too deep, and she feels dizzy just looking at it, but she's handled worse, right?

Furina can fix it. That's what she's good at.

She doesn't feel so confident when she tries to wrack her brain for..something. Five hundred years, and a little wound stumps her? No, she had to have learned something, right? She's decidedly not trying to buy time because she's panicking, parsing through hundreds of years of memories like flipping through a book. Furina isn't made for this, not really – she's running on nothing but adrenaline and she's really not sure what she's doing, but she's trying. And just like before, it won't be enough, will it?

She'll fall short again – she'll be too late to fix it before she's alone again.

Furina was an Archon..used to be. What use would she have for that sort of knowledge? Which makes her predicament all the more harrowing and bleak. What was she supposed to do?

Furina had heard it first hand, that vitriol in Neuvillette's voice. She isn't sure she's ever heard him that..angry before. She's not sure he would listen to her if she tried, either. And that scares her more then anything. All of Fontaine was up in arms about this..imposter, yet here she was, staring down at them bleeding out in front of her, and she was trying to save them.

Why? Why is she throwing away her only chance at normalcy for a fraud? Why didn't she just turn them in?

They were dying – that should've been a good thing, shouldn't it? So why didn't it feel like it?

"Why you?" Her voice breaks as she speaks in harsh tones, grabbing the front of their shirt in trembling, bloodied hands. "Why now?" She wants to scream, to demand answers they can't give, to claw back the reprieve she was promised after five hundred years of agony..and all she can do is sob into their chest, pleading for an answer that will not come. "Why me?"

Silence is their answer, and it hangs heavy on her trembling shoulders as she cries.

Of course they don't, she thinks bitterly, no one has ever answered her pleas spoken in hushed sobs. Not her other self and certainly not them.

Furina has always been alone. Furina will always be alone.

Because Furina never left that stage, never left that moment when she looked at herself in the mirror and took up a mantle too heavy for her to bear. She always finds her way back eventually. There's no one on the other side anymore – she stands alone on a stage, waiting for an inevitable end she isn't sure will come.

"Please," She pleads through tears and choked sobs, clinging to them like they are all that keeps her from sinking. "Please don't leave me, too." The words burn on her tongue – how pathetic is she that she craves companionship from the bloodied body of the imposter? Perhaps she's truly lost her mind after all these years..perhaps she's finally gone mad. She must have.

But their presence is like the first feeling of gentle warmth upon her skin as the sun crests the horizon, like the gentle lap of tides along her heels, the sway of branches and leaves as the wind blows through them like an instrument all it's own. They are the soothing sound of rain against the window as she watches the dreary skies in fond longing, the first bloom of spring as color blooms upon the landscape like paint had been spilled across the hills and valleys.

They are like the faint spark she carefully nurtures and stokes, so fragile even the smallest wind could blow it out like a candle. She cradles it within her palms, pleads with whoever will listen – prays that someone finally listens, because if not for her, then for them.

She's failed to protect too much already, let too many people with so much trust in her fall between the cracks of her fingers like grains of sand. She won't let them go – she can't.

If nothing else, if she couldn't be saved when she begged for salvation from that five hundred year long agony, even if she never got that chance..

Furina will make sure they do.

[serpentface]

Don't get too attached

[age-of-moonknight]

“A Little Chaos,” Moon Knight Annual (Vol. 5/2024), #1.

Writer: Dan Watters; Penciler and Inker: Marco Renna; Colorist: Rachelle Rosenberg; Letterer: Cory Petit

[bloodydeanwinchester]

last night i was reaaally sleepy and right before i fell asleep i was reading the beginning by valleydean and like.....i don't think i realized that the fic is actually kind of scary until i woke up multiple times last night from nightmares about just like....being devoured??? so yeah im having lots of fun reading this one (sincerely lol i love it when things actually scare me!)

[riraro489]

They say that isolation is one of the worst forms of torture...