#tw forced relocation

[yanderenightmare]

Yandere Days of the Week

♡ TW: a lot of different stuff today, NSFW, noncon/dubcon, yandere, stalking, drugging, alcohol/poisoning, vomiting/forced/emeto, abuse of power, plotting murder, waterboarding-ish, squirting, implied bottle-fucking

♡ FEM reader

♡ INSPO: this by the lovely @yanderedrabbles

Monday is your strict boss.

He’s always breathing down your neck around the office, checking if you come in on time, laying into you when you’re anything but perfectly on the dot—not even allowing you to get settled into your cubicle before dumping a workload onto your desk on top of the one you already have, coming back with a fresh one right after lunch again.

You know you’re probably just being sensitive, but you feel as though he singles you out. Barking at you to redo things, even after you’d gone through the extra measure of running it by a coworker who’d given you the thumbs up. You don’t know, it sort of feels as if he has it out for you.

Being yelled at is already bad enough, not to mention how he’ll demand you work late to make up for the slack. And yet, that’s not even the worst part! 

No, the absolute worst part is that he’ll insist on staying behind, too—to supervise you. 

It’s utterly nerve-wracking. ‘Cause he isn’t only your boss, he’s also sort of… well… really hot. Always dressed sharply in a tailored pin-striped suit and those sharp-tipped newly-polished shoes—hair slick with a fresh barbershop cut and a chiseled face to match.

He smells good, too. And it all just makes it extra awkward for you. Especially when you stay late together, alone. He’ll remove his tie and jacket, then button up his collar and roll up his sleeves—flexing those burly arms of his and that fat wristwatch that’s worth more than your entire life savings. 

That neat hair of his will start to fall apart as the late hours take their toll, getting disheveled and only sexier for it—and the way he’ll drag his ring-clad fingers through it with a groan, looking at you with such a fierce glare, you actually have to calm your breath and suppress the urge to rub your thighs together.

But although his voice is definitely something you could dream about, you could do without it when he talks down to you, always admonishing you, grumbling about what a poor employee you are, how you only give him more work to do, how he should be compensated for it. 

You’re certain he’s going to fire you soon.

And it turns out soon is even sooner than you’d thought or hoped.

This is it, you think, once he calls you into his office. He’s finally going to do it. You’re going to have to find a new job now—without a good recommendation to help you out, no less. Knowing him and how much he despises you, he’ll probably give you a really poor review on top of it all—he might even call around to make sure no one ever hires you again. 

You’re almost about to cry.

“You’re about the worst employee I’ve ever had,” he states, sitting behind his desk with you standing before him, twiddling your fingers while looking sorrowfully down at your heels, hoping he’d have enough mercy to at least make it quick. “But since firing people is fucking impossible nowadays, I’m just gonna haf’to relocate you somewhere else you won’t be damn useless.” 

You look up at that. Tears held back in surprise. 

Wait, so… he’s not firing you?

He sighs, looking through your employee files, making the changes, “And given it’s the only job open right now, starting today, you’ll be my new personal assistant.”

Gathering everything, he brandishes the documents with his signature, then looks up at you while sliding the pen and papers over.

��Think you can handle that?”

Stunned, you only briefly think about how you’re overqualified to be a personal assistant, but at the same time, you couldn’t really find it in yourself to care, blinded with relief that you hadn’t been sacked.

You just nod your head all prettily, signing just as quickly while vowing, “I’ll try my best, sir.”

He becomes significantly nicer after that—always praising you for a job well done and giving you pretty gifts on top of your paycheck, which, funny enough, is nearly double what it used to be, all the while telling you how lost he’d be without you there keeping his life together. 

You can’t help but let it all go to your head, completely forgetting that you had bigger plans than being an assistant.

He brings you everywhere he goes now. Out of the building on business meetings, out of the country on business trips. Expensive dinners, fancy hotel rooms, big yachts and galas. You can’t complain—too busy picking your jaw up from the floor—too busy to notice his leer and how he plans to keep you by his side for the rest of his life—too busy to understand that when he stays work late, he doesn’t mean doing paperwork.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Enji, Aizawa, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Nanami, Geto, Naoya, Megumi, Toji, Higuruma, Kusakabe ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin, Sae ♡ AOT – Levi ♡ DS – Muzan, Sanemi ♡ HxH – Chrollo

Tuesday is your old classmate who just moved in across the hall. 

It’s a funny coincidence, you both agree, as neither of you lives in your hometown anymore—what a small world, huh?

You’ll meet each other in the mornings when you both set out for work and small talk on your way down the stairs, then up the stairs when coming home again. It’s impressive how often it happens.

He’s always asking for the two of you to catch up—always inviting you over for dinner to talk about old times and what you’ve gotten up to since. 

You never know what to say… You don’t feel like the two of you were all that close during school, so you’ve turned him down each time, hoping if you ask him for a rain check enough times, he’ll eventually just forget.

But after coming home, tired after a grueling Monday and an even harder Tuesday, on top of realizing you didn’t have anything stocked up in the fridge, you end up agreeing to his home-cooked meal when he offers in favor of ordering takeout.

He lights up at once, “Great!”

It’s a bit of an overreaction, you think. But hey, he just moved here—maybe he hasn’t made any friends yet. It’s not easy being in a new place—he’s probably dying for some company. 

Shoot, now you feel a little bad for not having agreed earlier. You remember how it had been yourself when all you ever did was go to work every day—not knowing what else to get up to in the city. Maybe you could give him a hand, tell him about a few places—just to help him get on his feet.

“Yeah, just let me shower and change, and I’ll come over,” you say, unlocking your apartment. 

“Sure thing! See you soon!” he cheers, watching you go with a big beaming smile on his face, only turning around to unlock his own place when you’d closed your door.

He’s a little strange, you can’t help but think—or maybe he’s just that eager. Thinking about it, you don’t remember much about him from college. Honestly, he’s one of those faces that just sort of end up blending into the background. He never made any impact in class or at any parties or other gatherings. You don’t know, he was always rather quiet. You don’t remember him having any friends either. 

But whatever, people change, and he seems nice enough—maybe he was just more concerned with his average. Fucks knows you weren’t.

You shower quickly, not bothering to wash your hair or put on anything too nice. It’s only a Tuesday, after all—it should be casual. A bralette, boxers, baggy T-shirt, shorts, and slippers later, and you pop out the door and knock on his.

He’s quick to answer. “Hey! Come in, come in—it’s almost done!”

“Cool, thanks,” you say. “Smells good.”

He ushers you to take a seat at the tiny kitchen table he has. Similar to yours, actually—these apartments aren’t all that big. Still, his place is poorly furnished. But then again, he only moved in a little while ago, so you won’t judge.

He rushes over with dinner shortly. Spaghetti, meatballs, and red sauce. A classic. You’re not complaining. However, you could have done without the candles and moody lighting. It’s the kind of thing you’d expect from a corny date, but you decide to ignore it.

“Wine?” he offers despite it being only Tuesday. 

You know you probably shouldn’t, but the start of the week has been hard, and you honestly wouldn’t mind the good night's sleep that follows a few glasses of red or anything that would make the affair go over a little more smoothly.

“Sure, why not.”

And yet, it’s still a little awkward. You don’t know what to talk about—you just end up droning on about work, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Then you remember what you’d thought about earlier and start talking about some of the places and things he should check out now that he lives here. You try asking him about his work and why he decided to move here, but he doesn’t seem very interested in talking about himself.

After finishing, it isn’t long before you feel drowsy. You blame it on the wine at first—starting to think it was time you thank him for the hospitality and excuse yourself. But as soon as you get up, you’re already falling over.

No worries, though. He’s been waiting and ready to catch you for a while.

“It took you some time to agree to come—I was afraid you’d never say yes, but I’m glad you finally did… I was about to take other drastic measures…”

You’re so sleepy it’s suddenly impossible to grasp what he’s saying—as well as have any sort of grasp on the situation while you’re being carried bridal style away from the living room, through a door into a very dark room.

“I bet you don’t remember me that well, huh?” he continues as he lays you down on something soft, something that swallows your body in a way you can’t really decide if it feels nice or not. 

He keeps talking while you try to figure it out, “Hm, that’s fine. I remember you very well.”

You connect one and two associations and come to conclude the thing beneath you is a bed. It ripples and dips with the added weight once your neighbor crawls over you. Your body doesn’t yet recognize being alarmed, but something behind the fuzz that’s taken over your mind still has enough common sense to make you feel as if something’s not right.

“I just had to follow after you, you know?” he keeps rambling, but you’re only barely able to listen. “I just needed some time to save up the money and all, but I was right behind you. And made sure I’d get this apartment right next to yours.”

He looks at your pretty face—all spaced out—stroking your cheek all slow and delicately.

He sighs, “Heh, I know they say that if you love someone, you should let them go—but I just couldn’t find it in me.”

His hand travels further down—eyes following the trail. Down, down, down, until reaching the hem of your shirt.

“I had a crush on you since day one, you know?” he confesses while pulling your tee up over your bra, exposing your pretty chest to him. He licks his lips, breath shuddering, and yet he keeps preaching despite it, “All three years. I wanted to tell you, but you were always surrounded by those pesky friends of yours. It was impossible to catch you alone.”

He feels your skin with a gentle touch as if in reverence. Still, now that you’re getting used to the effects of whatever it is he’s drugged you with, you’re lucid enough to feel the treacherous hard-on he has rubbing against you. 

“Unlike me…” He stills for a moment, and something dark takes over. “I was always alone.”

Beyond uncomfortable, beyond alarmed, you’re fully terrified now. You want to scream, but you can’t find the strength to move, even just a finger. Completely limb, and yet not numb, but sensitive to all his awful touches.

“But that’s all in the past.” He smiles. “Now that I finally have you all to myself.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Tenko ♡ JJK – Yuuta ♡ HQ – Yamaguchi ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Nirei

Wednesday is the cheerful clerk who works at your local grocery store. 

You like doing your grocery shopping on Hump day. It only makes sense, after all—you’ve made it through the first half of the week and deserve to spoil yourself a little! 

He’s only just a bit older than you and yet still plays the older and wiser card—all in good fun, though, making a few comments about your lifestyle, jokingly telling you that “Candies are strictly  for the weekend, you know?” A brow quirked while looking at you slyly.

And you’ll return his banter, giggling while saying, “A little fun never killed no one.”

It’s an innocent flirt the two of you share—neither of you really expects anything in return. He’s just a really friendly guy—always coming over to help you in the store. Tall as he is, he reaches the top shelf, barely needing to stretch his arm. Sometimes, he’ll even take a look at your shopping list and help you gather everything, bag your items, and then carry them out to your car as if the two of you are the people around and the store isn’t filled with dozens of other shoppers in bigger need of his assistance.

He mostly only sees you on Wednesday, but he knows your entire life story and your day-to-day schedule the way the two of you end up talking. Usually, people would be wary of sharing things with strangers, but you trust him with so much exactly because he is a stranger—treating him no different from a confidant. No one knows you as intimately as him. He knows all your little habits—from what you eat on a daily basis to what brand of soap you use, even what type of tampons and pads you like. 

He doesn’t appreciate you eating things outside of the groceries the two of you pick together. He fucking hates it, actually—it makes it feel like you’re cheating on him. Every time you eat out, order in, go to a bar or cafe, even a fucking candy store is like a stab to his back and heart all at the same time. It drives him crazy—he might just burn all those places down to the ground. 

But he never lets any of that show when you’re in the store. It’s not your fault after all that there are so many temptations out in the world. You just need a little help saying no.

You don’t have to worry though. After he becomes your boyfriend, he’ll be that help for you. 

Yeah, all you have to do is stay home and he’ll make sure you get what you need. He won’t let you indulge as much as you do now, of course, but he won’t be too strict either, so don’t fret. 

He’ll make sure you get all the right nutrients to lead a long, happy, healthy life—get your body ripe and ready to start a family. 

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo ♡ HQ – Daichi, Kuro, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Yukimiya, Aiku ♡ WB – Suo, Umemiya, Togame

Thursday is your is your random-ass friend who’ll drop by unannounced. It’s never anything crazy, though—no, just a fun hang-out to get a little headstart on the weekend. He’ll bring a joint or maybe some gummies—he likes to keep you guessing. And the two of you will watch cartoons or shitty reality TV, play a round or a dozen of Mario Cart or the like—giggling over each other’s commentary.

He’s chill, laidback, a fan of both comfortable silences and making good conversation. A really good friend.

Yeah, a really good friend who likes sticking his tongue down your throat when you’re knocked out from all the laced drugs he keeps passing you. 

“God, you’re so clueless,” he moans when bearing over your passed-out body where you lie all comfortably oblivious on the couch. “Just a naive cutie pie who’s gonna get her gullible little pussy used.”

You make him so hard—you have no idea how he licks your face and kisses your eyelids. Drunk of the power he has over you and feeling all but unhinged because of it. 

He feels your limp tongue with his fingers, playing with it while grinding against your thigh. Breaths thick with lust—eyes half-mast, getting overstimulated by all the nasty things he’s going to do to you and how you will never ever find out about any of it.

“You know I fuck you raw every time I come over? That’s right, every single time,” he laughs and shudders in delight, whispering the truth into your ear despite knowing you’re in no state to hear it. 

“Mh, I use this body like my own personal sex doll. There’s not a spot left I haven’t touched.” He tugs down your top and takes both your tits in his hand, squeezing them as if they belong to him because, in his mind, in these special precious moments he shares with you, there’s not a part of you that doesn’t belong to him and there’s not a part of you he can’t do whatever he wishes with.

And so, he sucks and licks your pretty tits too and keeps raving, “You’re all mine, every single part of you—I own it all.”

He pulls up your skirt and strokes your cunt through your panties, sliding his fingertip through the slit as if he’s teasing you even though you’re going to stay just as unresponsive no matter what. But in his mind, he imagines it wants him—that your pussy desperately craves him without you knowing—that it’s a secret the two of them share with each other and that they're somehow in cahoots on keeping you oblivious.

“You’re always so tight and wet—it takes everything in me not to cum inside, but we wouldn’t want you figuring things out and ruining our fun, now would we?” he rambles, finally sliding your panties to the side so that he could slip his digits within, pumping you sweetly while you sleep oh-so-soundly and blissfully unaware, getting you good and ready to take his cock in the next minute.

“Yeah, it’s gonna stay our fun little secret forever.” 

♡ BNHA – Denki, Kirishima, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo ♡ HQ – Kuro, Lev, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Nagi, Karasu, Shido ♡ WB – Togame

Friday is the bartender at your go-to club. 

He’s seen you in every state of drunkenness possible—from tipsy, plastered, sloppily drunk to flat-out shit-faced. You’re a bit of an alcoholic, you know that? Once you start, you can’t seem to stop yourself. If someone puts a drink in front of your face, you dont even think before grabbing it—all laughs and zero critical thinking.

Of course, the way he overserves you, you’re bound to get fucked up.

“Wanna go home…”

He holds your drowsy body against his chest, keeping you upright.

“My shift’s done, and my place is right above here, so you don’t gotta worry,” he says, soothing you as you cling to his side, utterly unable to stand on your own two feet, flinching at the flashing strobe lights and wincing from the blaring party music—feeling as if there’s a seismic eight earthquake raging on inside your poor head.

“Where’ my friends?” your words are so slurred, they’re barely audible. 

But he hears you, chuckling before cooing at you, “Let’s get you someplace comfortable, and then we’ll contact your friends, okay? Sound good?”

You burble a few incoherent sounds before uttering out a weak, “Okay…”

“Alright then, baby, don’t worry, I got you,” he purrs in return, getting a better grip around your body as he leads you out of the club, into the elevator, and up to his flat.

“I feel sick…” you mumble, whimpering.

And he coos, “I know, baby, it’s okay, I’ll help you.”

He leads you to his bathroom, setting you down on your knees in front of the toilet. You don’t think much of it when he lifts up your little party dress and tugs it off over your head—feeling as if he’s just making you comfortable. Yeah, he's just taking care of you.

“Let’s empty that system of trash, yeah?” 

He gets down on his own knees just behind you, cradling you as he gathers your hair back with both hands—gripping it a little too tightly in a single fist before being just as rough, sticking two of his thick digits deep into the back of your throat. 

You immediately gag and throw up. 

And he hums, sounding pleased while praising you, “That’s a good girl—get it all out.” 

He doesn’t pull his digits out despite you struggling, trying to wrench away—no, he just uses his bigger body to keep you pressed and hunched over the toilet bowl while finger-fucking the back of your throat—smiling sadistically while at it.

“Come on now, baby, I know you got more in there. Let it out.”

He keeps you there for half an hour, making you dry gag and spit, mascara streaming down your pretty face as he feels your smaller body convulse under his weight. Fuck, it’s enough to make his cock pre.

“Good girl,” he purrs, petting your hair and placing a kiss on your temple, all while you shudder and sniffle. “Let’s get you washed up, hm?” 

He reclaims his harsh grip on your hair, just as tightfisted, using it to make you crawl across the tiles until reaching the tub. He takes his place behind you—trapping you between his legs, thighs, and crotch, keeping you locked against the porcelain edge while he fetches the showerhead and immediately sprays your face with the cold at full force. 

“Open up, baby, let’s wash your mouth out.”

You yelp, whining, but he finds your protesting more amusing. Finding your nose with his other hand, he pinches it shut. Making you gape and gasp for breath through the water stream. 

But he doesn’t leave it at that. No. The shower head is about the same size as your fist and proving to be just small enough to allow him to force it into your mouth—all but waterboarding you.

He has to chuckle at your fussing—you’re so weak he barely has to put in any effort keeping you in place—he nearly busts in his pants feeling it. But the best part is how when he lets go of your nose, the water starts coming up and out your nostrils.

He let’s go before you drown, of course. Snuff isn’t on the menu tonight. He’s been stalking you for far too long—he can’t just waste it with foreplay.

You collapse on the floor, shivering and coughing—head a spinning mess, still wasted, riddled with shock yet stifled by exhaustion to do anything but lie there, trembling against the wet tiles.

“No, no, no, baby, you can't fall asleep yet. The party’s still far from over,” he admonishes, giving your cheek a few small slaps before grabbing your upper arm and pulling you up. “Yeah, come here—I’m far from finished with you...”

He carries you out of the bathroom and drops you on his bed. 

“God, you’re fucking dumb,” he grabs your face, pinching your lips while giving it an ugly kiss. “Did your mommy never tell you not to go home with strangers, huh?”

Leaving you there, he goes off to find your purse.

“Let’s let your friends know you’re home safe, hm.”

You try getting up while he’s gone, crawling around in the bedsheet like a worm, but not managing to get anywhere. 

He watches you and scoffs while typing up a message, hitting send to your most recent group chat. It only takes a minute before all the dumb bitches you call friends send hearts in return, saying how fun tonight was.

They have no idea what they’re missing out on.

He saunters back to you. Enjoying every second of watching you squirm. Thank fuck for alcohol, and god bless dumb party girls.

“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” He grins while grabbing your ankles and pulling you to the edge of the bed. “You’re not going anywhere, baby—you’re staying right here with me where I can have my fun with you.” 

His hands go up and down your soft skin, thinking of all the pretty marks he’s going to leave on you before curling his fingers around your slutty string panties.

The lace is all wet from his earlier actions as he tugs it down your thighs and legs, tossing it over his shoulder before spreading your legs and pulling you even closer. 

“Aw, you got your pussy all clean-shaven for me?” he awes with a smirk, “What a good girl you are.”

He’d planned on having a bit more fun with you before giving in to his urges, but seeing your pretty little cunt so ready to be fucked, he couldn't be asked to wait any longer, needing to fuck you like he’d been wanting to ever since he first spotted you in the club so many TGIFs ago.

“You sure like to party, don’t you?” he rasps while buckling up his belt and zipping himself down, letting his pants drop before grabbing his painfully hard cock. “Always at the club shaking this pretty little ass of yours—just a dumb party animal, huh?” He just knows your little cunt’s going to squeeze him tight like a trap—he isn’t even going to give you a finger test before bullying himself inside.

“Yeah, you like having fun—you havin’ fun now, babe?” he bows down, biting your cheek while putting his head to your entrance, pressing inside despite the resistance. 

He was right—you are fucking tight, taking his cock just the way he thought you would.

“Fucking slut,” he groans as he starts thrusting, hugging your thighs tight. “Begging to get gangbanged out on that fucking dance floor—dancin’ like a fucking stripper for free and for all to see.”

Fuck, how he’s going to ruin you—give you a necklace of hickies all around your throat as he fucks you into a mess, then press a beer bottle inside you once he’s done—keep his cum in you all night long.

“You deserve to be used. And I’m gonna use yah for all you’re worth.”

♡ BNHA – Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo, Naoya ♡ HQ – Kuro, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Karasu, Shido, Aiku ♡ DS – Sanemi ♡ WB – Kaji, Togame

Saturday is a gym-bro. There isn’t a day he doesn’t go. Yep, not even Saturday.

You try to go as often as you can muster. But no, you don’t go every day, especially during the weekend—and that gives him a good reason to come up to when you do—teasing you about how he missed you last time. Acting all smug and cocky when asking you what bad habits you got up to on Friday that made you skip out.

He makes you feel sheepish standing next to him as he all but bullies you for being an itty-bitty weakling. 

He’s not exactly being fair. It’s not as if you’re especially weak compared to everyone else. It’s just that absolutely everyone’s an itty-bitty weakling standing next to him. The guy’s pure muscle and taller than most of the equipment, for crying out loud!

One time, he’d demonstrated his strength by daring you to hang from his bicep. And sure enough, he could lift you like you were nothing. Using you like a dumbbell—which is what he’ll sometimes call you.

You’re pretty sure he’s flirting with you. It’s flattering, but honestly, you think guys like him are a bit too much. His leg has the same girth as your thigh, and so does his neck—not to mention how you think he has enough strength in his hand alone to pulverize your skull in one simple squeeze.

Besides, he’s way too full of himself. You get being proud about health and fitness, but holy shit, does he never shut up? He’s always bragging about how much he benches and how many reps he does every day—and on top of everything, he seems to always be watching and studying you, commenting about your form, and mansplaining how you can get better.

He gets on your nerves. 

But then again, the guy does seem to know what he’s talking about. And after several weeks of neither seeing nor feeling much results, you finally decide to let him help you out.

And he does. Taking you through all the motions, from warm-ups to really pushing yourself, and now, the cool-down stretches. 

Though… you can’t exactly say there’s much cooling down involved in the way he has you full-feverish, sweating more than you did during the actual workout. In the locker room, suspended against his swole chest with his arms locked around your thighs, folding you clean in half, fingers locked behind your neck as he bounces you on his thick length. And fuck, even his fucking dick is riddled with muscles and veins—feeling as if he’s fucking you with an arm the way he’s stretching you out and punching your guts to mush.

“You holdin’ out, dumbbell?” he mocks, knowing you’re a mess. “Tap out any time, yeah?” 

Fuck him, you think—as if you can move your arms in this position—as if you can even speak or make any sound except full-on panting like a bitch and drooling like one too.

One more hit, and you’re spraying—and he insists on fucking you just as hard through it. Straight pounding your wet cunt until he’s sure you’re empty before dropping you back down on your own two feet.

But just because you’ve cum like a shower doesn’t mean he’s done. No, far from it, as he rushes you up against the lockers next and continues where he left off. 

The cool metal feels good against your cheek, so good you don’t even mind how he’s pressing you flat and free of air—keeping your neck in a chokehold and your hair in his other fist while fucking into you from behind.

“Trust me, this is way better exercise for someone like you,” he grunts with a grin, feeling you go limp. Your knees shot and your whole body listless, kept up solely by his strength like a puppet on strings.

He rasps out a laugh, “I’ll be your personal trainer, free of charge—just meet me after my reps, and I’ll put you to work and make sure you go home feeling proud.”

Yeah, sure, if you don’t pass out before then.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Hawks ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Toji ♡ HQ – Kuro, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Kunigami, Shido, Baro, Aiku ♡ DS – Akaza ♡ WB – Togame

Sunday is the religious guy who always comes and knocks on your door to share his faith. 

You don’t share his views, but you’d invited him in for lemonade and pastries once. 

You don’t know exactly why. You usually just say no thank you and close the door, but that time, well, you’d just finished making cupcakes, and the house smelled like a bakery—it seemed like a waste not to have company.

Sundays were usually so anticlimactic you never really knew what to make of them. But after that, you came to really enjoy spending them baking, always trying out new fun recipes. And before you even knew it, since he always came knocking on your door on Sundays to enlighten you bout God, it quickly became a thing of ritual for you to invite him in.

You’d always thought strictly religious people such as him were more… how do you say… fanatic? Or, at the very least, be somewhat passionate about talking about their God. But he doesn’t seem to be very interested in telling you about that at all. No, he seems much more invested in you and how you’ve been since last time.

Oh well, you think—maybe he’s more accepting of people having different life views and isn’t deadset on changing minds after all. Maybe that was never his agenda—maybe he’s simply a good samaritan going door to door to see if he’s needed or wanted. That is what religion is all about, after all.

Little do you know, though… he’s not really a religious guy at all… 

No, he’s actually a serial killer who’d been hunting for his next victim. 

He thought you were just perfect, exactly his type—pretty and kind and dumb, just like prey should be. Oh, but then, you became a little too perfect, didn’t you? Inviting him in with such big doe eyes, despite living all alone, feeding him cupcakes, and telling him tales about your life as if he isn’t a total stranger. You might as well be begging him to make you his victim.

But he can’t waste perfection. 

And so, instead of abducting you and frolicking in your screams as he cuts you up into a dozen pieces, he abducts you and frolics in your screams as he sucks your pussy into a dozen orgasms.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Shoto, Denki, Hawks, Mirio ♡ JJK – Mahito, Geto, Gojo ♡ HQ – Kuro, Lev, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Bachira ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Tomiyama

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[4mrplumi]

(concept: redstart) batfamily x reforming criminal reader

tw: vv small description of burning bodies.

> reader, who used to scramble around the depths of another city, homeless, hungry and orphaned at nine. naturally became independent, turning to petty crime and sometimes even violence to survive.

> gets caught in the middle of a brawl between adults and almost dies, then caught again by an unmeaning police officer, who relocates you to a children's home.

> your adoption is coerced by the odd head-lady, who justifies it by claiming a strict, but caring family could reform you from your "unruly behaviour" within the centre halls.

> she was right about the strict, not about the caring. father was a hyper-militaristic, obsessed with proving worth through strength type of guy. even had a whole base of operations dealing in organised crime, without even doing so much as hobby-boxing.

> you were incredibly indoctrinated into "goods" and "bads" and how to solve the issue of corruption by a moralistic, anti-moral man. he was the corruption, but painted himself in bright lights.

> you were a lonely child. you began to look up to him. obsessing over everything he said and did and holding it like a knife to your throat.

> adoptive father never much considered you as much compared to his other two, older sons, and treated you as a tool for some unmade project.

> life was like lucid dreaming. you had full control, but none, none, at all.

> concious enough to feel hurt by his treatment and dismissal, but felt too indebted to ever complain, or speak about it. grew up knowing little outside of subservierence. brothers were shadows in the backgrounds, implied ghosts of what you wish you could've been.

> not allowed to be a part of society. father considered it weakness, a threat, a vulnerability. the one time you did get friends, you were punished for it harshly, and isolated further.

> no personal aspirations outside of hoping, barely, to make the man who so tediously took you in proud.

> trained obssesively, five times harder than the brother's you'd never outshine, with ten times less the recognition or support.

> firmly believes your father's course in life is correct, and wants to support it, but can't because he doesn't trust you enough to tell you his goals.

> completely in a frienzied panic when your father and brothers drop dead. your way of life, your identity, all gone with them. completely. a mere child, with nothing to live for.

> batman bad come originally as an 'ally', to take your father's side jn subduing crime worldwide. but you had identified his ploy to take down your father's plans immently as soon as he earned his trust.

> your father was not a clever man. did not think batman knew of his intentions, his mannerisms. believed himself to always be superior.

> but he didn't believe you when you told him, and you watched as their conversations progressed with desperation. he believed this old bat more in these few days than he had you in your whole life.

> when batman reveals his intentions, an accident causes your father to set off an esplosive he himself had planted incase of emergencies. you couldn't help, watching with raw agony as his skin burnt away to reveal boiling flesh. watched with uncontrolable shaking at the batman trying to put it out, trying to perhaps save him and your brothers.

> lunging at him with such practiced fervour, he was caught off guard for a second. realising that the man had another child (not knowing of their mistreatment), he felt immensly guilty and indebted. to stop you from trying to claw his face off, your weapons hidden away by your father before his death, he knocks you out.

> when you wake up, two days later; not due to the force of his hit, but sheer exhausation from all the gruelling work you did daily, you're suprisingly compliant.

> even as an eldey man dressed in a deep black suit, accompanied by a tall black-haired boy you're sure you don't recognise, you don't struggle or scowl.

> they had expected you to.

> maybe it was slow adaptibility, shock, subconcious relief and unconcious reasoning that resulted in your quiet demeanor. without the antics of your usual routine, you were a little timid, like a little doe.

> the boy takes to you immediately, speaking warmly, introducing himself as dick grayson. the name strikes no bells, and you only stare in response. he talks of friends, family, getting better and getting up, but you listen only to half of what he says, nodding once in acknowledgement.

> and so begins the guilt-ridden journey of the batman, trying to protect gotham, the world, and reform a child whose parent he didn't kill, but couldn't save. you begin shadowing your guardian and his... guards (so you term them) on patrols, stalking behind them at gatherings, make appearences in a civilian identity crafted for you on the media. everything you do feels lost, like a deer caught in traffic.

> later, when they talk to you more about your life before the manor, jason simply says, "bruce didn't not do anything. he didn't do anything at all."

> you think he might be sad.

> you piece together the little memories you have, training, fighting, eating, sulking and sleeping with both eyes open into a big, big story. you look at the family come together atleast once a month, a warmth from them you've felt so very rarely, from a distance.

> you feel bruce's reassuring pat on your shoulder, encouraging you to join them.

> you think you might be sad.

INTERACTIONS & Reblogs appriciated !

gahhh i love this idea thingy in my head. so much angst potential. fluff potential. character expansion, relations, dynamic potential... cass, damian, steph, on your end of the coin. tim, dick, duke, on the other... jason, on the edge. i think the whole concept of wanting but not feeling like you deserve what u want is such a batfam thing, a reader with that attribute would be a puzzle piece locking in, or the exact opposite.

anyway, hoped u liked this little drabble. tell me if u think this is smth worth going after.

thank you for reading!!

[artisiumstudios]

Stanley goes through extreme head trauma that causes him to either suffer extreme mental trauma and/or even cause him physical trauma. For example age regression or now being unable to speak properly (maybe unable to read) has to relearn how to do that, basically he has brain damage. Now this could go both ways.

(also TW for suicidal thoughts)

Either ford is called in and is told that his brother has been in an accident and when he gets there to the hospital he is told that Stan now requires full time supervision and needs to relearn how to talk, walk, basically everything, ford still wants to hold onto the grudges and be mad for the past. He tries to reinforce this by thinking "oh yeah of course now that im getting settled in now of all times he decides to be hurt. Now that im finally succeeding he has to barge into my life and make ME have to deal with the consequences of his actions." (he thinks while anxiety bubbles up in the pit of his stomach a voice in the back of his head praying that his brother is okay."

But the moment he sees Stan bandaged up, with tubes and wires wrapping around and inside him, keeping alive, all he feels is guilt, he’s scared. Stanley once so strong and lively now silently laying on a cold hard hospital as machines keep his body alive. Its a slow grueling process, first off having to relocate Stanley to Gravity Falls and then having to reteach him how to speak, motor skills, how to read, how to walk, how to live. Not to mention the mental trauma. The exhaustion for both twins, ford having to make time to go with stan to his physical and mental therapy appointments, and Stan having to actually go through with both of those. It only gets worse as Stan regains some of his memories both from his time from the street and the the worse one, the night at the gym leading to him getting kicked out.

he already felt like dead weight for having to rely on Ford all the time, but now with those memories his self hatred and guilt comes back to him full force and all he wishes is that he would've died upon impact. Maybe that way he'd finally stop being a burden.

Alternatively, ford doesn’t find out and Stan is left to relearn everything on his own (when his memory gets better he has some “sense” to ditch the hospital since he won’t be able to pay.) Unfortunately that means he now walks funny and is practically unable to run, his eyes become far too sensitive to light, he’s can't properly talk (he decides to just not say anything at all, after all what’s talking ever done to him but get him in more trouble) and mentally speaking he’s just worse off then before (mood swings, extreme anxiety, and paranoia).

When Ford calls for him it takes a bit longer for him to get there, and when he finally arrives, Ford is worse than in canon, much more irritable, tired, swaying on his feet. Not to mention he has foggy brain which makes it harder to pay attention to anything, to his brother.

Ford gets pissed thinking Stanley is drunk or high, the few words he has spoken are slurred, he’s wearing sunglasses inside the house for Moses sake! Not to mention that he’s literally tripping over himself and that he went from crying because of the crossbow (although Ford is a bit more sympathetic on that one, it would be weird not to panic at a weapon being pointed at you. But even then, t's odd his brother is crying-) to huffing and puffing like a child, to looking extremely fidgety and anxious in the last 40 minutes. Ford gets even more pissed when he tries to tell him about the portal only to find Stanley messing with something else.

He yells at him that he’s irresponsible to show up drunk and continue wasting his time, that he has shown to be untrustworthy once again. Stanley stays silent and unfortunately Ford can’t see the way tears swell in Stan’s eyes once more, he can’t say the way the glaze over as Stanley begins to dissociate. Ford lets Stanley stay the night, saying tomorrow he must leave. In the morning Ford finds Stanley whimpering in pain, his sunglasses are thrown across the room as his brother hit his palms over his head over and over again. Ford panics trying to understand what’s going on, he tries to pry Stan’s hands but he can’t seem to, his eyes are squeezed shut tears flowing down his cheeks.

Before he knows it Stan is dry heaving, Ford quickly finds a bucket and hands it over. When he asks Stan if he’s hungover Stan just stares at him weakly, his speech slurred he mutters the words bright and hurts. Ford catches on bring Stan’s sunglasses over. It takes moment, Stanley's shaky uncoordinated hands place the glasses over his eyes. He finally sighing in relief, his breathing more calm. Ford looks around the room spotting where sunlight creeps through the wood he hand hung earlier that week, the sun shines bright, the snow probably not helping. Ford looks at Stanley close noticing a jagged line that reaches from the bottom of his neck up to the back of his head, guilt creeps into his bones.

Without thinking he reaches out, brushing his hair tracing the line up til he reaches the lower part of his partial bone. Looking at Stanley once more, he notes the small scars that litter his face and hands, the way he seems uncoordinated, confused, unable to speak. Like he's-

Oh no.

[vivwritescrappythings]

words fall short

knight!könig x plus-size!fem!reader

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 5 - part 6

you can’t stop thinking about some rude words said about you at last night’s feast, but your knight doesn’t let you worry for long.

tw: plus size reader, fem reader, kissing!, negative self talk, body image issues

wc: 2.5k

masterlist

—

Winter’s chill had settled over the castle. Snow blanketed the courtyards and gardens, ice frosting the windows with flowers at the corners of the panes. The evenings stretched longer, fires became more comforting.

You found your days occupied with the other ladies in court, the social season in full swing as you attended parties and feasts and balls. It was hard to watch your father still hold out hope, each event had him sending middle-aged suitors your way. Each one was worse than the last, his desperation apparently growing.

König did not broach the subject of your dance, so neither did you. You chalked it up to the lack of sleep and your knight being far too kind. That was all it could be, a misunderstanding on his part of his duties. Maybe he did not like seeing you dejected.

Nothing more.

The day was slow and lazy, a thick layer of snow covering the land around the palace forced everyone to the comfort of their hearths. You were curled up in an overstuffed armchair near the large fireplace in the library, slippers kicked off onto the carpet and knees drawn up beneath your skirts as you read.

The library was your favorite part of your father’s decision to relocate you to the royal palace, you had never had access to so many books in your life. It was a lesser-traversed part of the castle, members of the King’s Counsel occasionally searching the shelves for some historical ledger that had been filed away. They hardly did more than green you politely.

If anything, König’s presence was what alerted them, his large stature looming near a column that stood a few paces away from your preferred armchair. Their gasps of surprise pulled you out of your reading, your eyelashes fluttering over your cheekbones before your gaze cut to König’s conspiratorially.

He always met your smirk with a slow blink of his blue eyes beneath his shroud. You were starting to memorize the broad variety of his expressions, hanging onto every movement of his eyes and tilt of his head. It was easier to decipher what he was feeling—his eyes were shockingly expressive when you actually paid attention to them.

Any time he startled a lord he straightened up like a peacock ruffling its own feathers, squaring his shoulders and stacking his head at the top of his spine rather than his typical slouch. That was when you realized he enjoyed the way they paled at the sight of him, their stammered greetings to you.

You would not have been surprised to learn he was smiling beneath the shroud.

You thumbed through the book in your lap absently, chewing your lower lip as you stared at the flames crackling in the hearth. There were few interruptions that morning but you still found yourself distracted.

Words from last night’s feast still lingered in your mind.

At first it had been a normal evening. The great hall had been outfitted with long tables lined with candles and greenery from pines arranged into elegant centerpieces. The king was celebrating the birth of yet another son, so the food was plentiful and the drink flowed freely.

Even you had been allowed a cup of dark blackberry wine so sweet it nearly hurt your teeth.

It warmed you from head to toe, your smile coming easier and conversation tumbling from your lips before you could even consider your words. You had been seated with other ladies from the court, your father up on the dais with the king and the queen.

You were speaking with Mary across the table when you heard the first whisper of your name intermingled with the voices around you. It ran a chill down your spine like a fingernail sliding along your vertebrae.

It was impossible to place. Perhaps it was not your name at all, just a string of syllables that sounded enough like it to alert you. Slant rhymes had always been your favorite poetic device, why would you not encounter it in real life as well? Or at least it was easy enough to convince yourself of it the first time.

The sound of your name kept going off like a bell, the word said so softly each time that you continued to convince yourself it was something else entirely. Mary did not seem to notice, so you wrote it off as paranoia.

The first snippet of conversation reached you as the bards took their first break and guests stood to stretch their legs. It was quiet, just a scratch at the edge of your ear. “I heard that her sister married into the Garrick family, but her poor father is desperate to find a match for her.”

You looked up, jaw set as you scanned the people around you. None seemed to be looking your way. It felt as though a bucket of cold water had been tossed over your head, soaking you to the bone.

“Well, she is rather strange compared to what I have heard of her sister, it is said that Ser Garrick married a great beauty.”

“Unfortunate that it does not run in the family.”

Strange.

Strange.

Strange.

It was all you could think about. You never found out who said it, part of you was glad that you never knew who labeled you as such.

You had tossed and turned the entire night, worrying over being thought strange. Strange. You were many things: brash, loud, difficult, stubborn… but strange? It hurt more than you had expected it to.

König had noticed your sour mood as he escorted you back to your chambers, badgering you to know what had happened. You did not have the heart to tell him. The fear of looking into the cool blue of his gaze and finding that he, too, believed you to be strange was too great. You did not think you could bear it.

So you let the word fester.

“My lady.” You jolted at the sound of König’s voice cutting through your thoughts. It took you a few moments to blink the blur out of your vision before you looked up at him over the back of the armchair, the emerald green fabric soft against your cheek.

“Yes?” you responded, sounding more exasperated than you intended. He took a few steps forward, the gray cloak affixed to his shoulders swishing against his armor with his movements.

Your tone must have made him reconsider before he shook his head slightly, the fabric of the black hood over his face settling into place once more. “It is obvious that something is on your mind, my lady,” he finally said, slouching to meet your gaze. “You have not even turned a page in several minutes.”

Heat of embarrassment blistered across your face before you could even think to deny König’s words. You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him that he should be paying more attention to your surroundings than your mannerisms.

Instead you took a breath, looking away from the knight back to the fire. “Do you think I am strange, König?” you asked. You allowed the cover of your book to fall shut, fingertips running over the fabric.

He paused for a moment, cocking his head to one side. You watched as he cast a long glance around the room before moving in front of you, kneeling on the plush rug with one knee as his forearms rested on the flat of his thigh.

Your eyes widened, you straightened a bit out of your contorted sitting position. The question begged a yes or no answer, not something… intimate.

“Why would you think that?” König asked, his accent making the words harsh. It was so sincere you already felt the sting of tears in your eyes.

You huffed, expression crumpling. The frescoes on the buttressed ceiling begged for your attention as you tried to find your words. “Last night… during the feast I overheard a conversation about my being strange and that being the reason my father has struggled to find me a match.”

It pained you to admit it. Repeating the words made it feel so much more real.

You took a deep breath, pressing on despite the tears building at your lash line. “So it begs the question, do you think I am strange?” You were brave enough to look at him again. “You are the only person I can ask. The other ladies in court would lie and my father would as well.”

König’s deep breath was audible, his body leaning toward you. His head tilted back, the two of you close enough that you could see the light of the fire on his blonde eyelashes.

“I think you are wonderful, my lady.”

His gloved hand took yours from where it rested on the cover of your book, fingertips smoothing over the ridges of your knuckles as he drew your hand toward his chest.

Your heart was in your throat, his compliment rendering you speechless. It would be easy for you to try to dismiss his words as a lie, brush them off as a kindness to you. But his eyes were sincere, rounded with gentleness as he looked up at you.

“Wonderful seems like an exaggeration,” you mumbled. You suddenly felt too aware of the extra flesh beneath your chin, the way your upper arm spread out as it pressed against your side.

König snorted, shaking his head.

You spoke before he could, gently trying to tug your hand back. He kept it in his hold. “They also wasted no time comparing me to the great beauty that is my sister.”

“Your sister?” König kept close, his hip pressed against the emerald green cushion of the armchair. “The woman with you at the tourney?”

You nodded, scraping your teeth over your lower lip without mercy. At that rate you would chew it until you were bleeding.

He shrugged, his breastplate now touching your thigh through your heavy skirts. “She was beautiful, yes, but no more so than you,” he said, the same sincerity in his tone. “It was you that caught my eye, my lady.”

“Truthfully?” you asked, voice trembling.

König’s free hand reached up, his palm finding the curve of your cheek. The leather of his glove was warm, broken in enough that it felt almost soft.

“I would not lie to you.” There was no room for you to question him.

You took a deep breath, your cheek pressed into his palm as you looked down at him. Your throat was closing, tears stinging behind your eyes as you struggled for something to say.

Then König surprised you.

He released your hand, pinching the bottom of the black hood over his face as he leaned even further into you. You watched the frayed edge of the fabric lift higher and higher, greedily awaiting the secrets beneath.

His skin was just as pale as you expected, gnarled scars marking his neck. The scar tissue was shiny and white in some areas, tinged pink with lingering irritation in others. You wondered if he sustained the wounds in battle along the eastern border, but you could not find your voice to ask.

Honey-blonde stubble scraped across jaw, the same color and the locks of hair you could see curling out from beneath the fabric of his hood. You would never have guessed his hair was long enough to reach his shoulders. If anything, you expected it to be cropped close to his scalp.

Two scars met on his chin, crossing into an X just below the curve of his lower lip. One went vertical, bisecting his pale pink mouth before jutting off to the right and disappearing beneath the black fabric of his hood.

“König,” you whispered, bewildered at what earned you the privilege of seeing his face, even just a part of it.

“Forgive me, my lady, my words simply continue to fall short.”

His palm slid against your cheek, fingers curling around the nape of your neck as he brought your lips to his. You braced a hand against his chest, the metal of his armor smooth beneath your touch. His heartbeat thrummed somewhere beneath all the layers.

It took you a moment to kiss him back, your eyelashes brushing against the bunched up fabric of his hood as you finally closed your eyes. Your mouth moved clumsily against his—the most you had ever kissed was the cook’s son behind the grainery when you were fourteen. It was a tender and nervous thing, far from the slow and sure press of König’s lips.

His fingers caressed the hinge of your jaw, tilting your head to match the slant of his. The scrape of his stubble against your face sent chills all the way to your toes. Your mouth parted on a soft sigh, letting him slot his scarred lower lip between them.

The feeling of his smile was so distracting that you almost pulled away just so you could finally see it.

There was a vague sense of danger curling up your spine as his tongue teased between your lips. You should have pushed him away, rebuked him for advancing on you and immediately searched for your father. Instead you were leaning so far toward him you would have toppled out of the arm chair if not for the spread of his shoulders and his forearm pressed against your collarbone.

“You must meet my daughter, I assure you she has a wit that catches most lords off guard.” It was your father’s voice drifting between the shelves of books that reminded you of the severity of the situation.

König was already pulling away, dropping his hood back into place as he gracefully brought himself to his feet. You removed your hands from him with reluctance, the only soothing balm the quick press of his lips against your hairline through the fabric.

You did not have enough time to marvel at his speed before your father and a lord you did not recognize rounded the last shelf into your little alcove. Your knight was already at his typical spot against the column, studying the newcomer for threats.

A fake smile plastered itself to your face, hiding the fact that you wanted to scream as you stood to curtsy. The man already was appraising you, watching you like you were a horse he was purchasing.

“Lord Fischer, meet my daughter,” he said cordially. The man was your father’s age, maybe older. But he smiled and greeted you politely.

You wanted to retreat into König’s embrace, pepper kisses along his scarred throat and coax his lips back to yours. Instead you sat down across from your father and Lord Fischer with your hands folded in your lap. The conversation was polite, nothing remarkable or interesting was said before your father proposed he joined you for supper that evening. It was the last thing you wanted, but nevertheless you stood and walked with your father and Lord Fischer to your father’s chambers.

As always, König dutifully followed.

[bloodywankers]

tw; yandere, forced captivity, isolation | masterlist

unedited | 669 words

I would like to suggest, high school boyfriend yandere.

He starts off as this loyal soft boyfriend that asks you out after class. Maybe you’re the one that asks him out even, he’s over the moon regardless when you start dating. He’s the type to never forget anything you tell him and look like a lost puppy every time you have to leave him to do something else.

Then he starts taking up more of your time, suddenly you aren’t free to hang out with your other friends. Can’t go out because you’ve got a date with him and you just hate how dejected he looks when you have to cancel at the last minute. Your friends stop asking you to join them after the tenth time this happens.

You’d get whiplash with some yanderes where one day you’re out and about and the next you’re suddenly kidnapped in his 14 room mansion in the middle of the woods. But not this one, he develops slowly, you’re his first and probably last lover. He’s still young and impressionable so a combination of his surroundings and probably traumas that have built up to this point lead him to spiral. Next thing you know you’re sharing an apartment and going to the same uni, maybe you’re studying different majors but his classes are scheduled at the same times as yours aside from a few minor ones that just couldn’t be changed. In the end all you’ll be left with is him. He’s just so nice to you, if anything you’re the one that should be afraid of him leaving you knowing how popular he is but seeing how he spends every moment outside of class with you gives you some solace.

Almost conditions you to be as possessive as him. He learnt all of your likes and dislikes, he doesn’t argue with you and always has a soft tone, you don’t have any friends to begin with but slowly you find yourself disliking other people's presence. They don’t treat you like he does, they could have ulterior motives or might be using you but you don’t have to worry about that with him, he’s not like that. You’ve heard of cheating stories in the past but he doesn’t have anything to hide, you’ve never given him reason to, he’ll go to any lengths to assure you of this.

The few times you do talk to other people they always fawn over how cute you two look together, even your family loves him. No one is surprised when you two get married.Maybe the only grievance you have with him is how he doesn’t let you work, assures you that he’ll make enough to provide for you, in just a few years he’ll make enough so that you don’t even have to look at the cost of something before buying it, just stay comfortably at home. But you don’t think of it much after you get pregnant, it's better to stay at home when you’re expecting.

But sometimes it just can’t be helped, no matter how perfect he is, sometimes you just fall out of love, crave to experience things outside of the rose tinted world he’s made for you. That’s when his cracks really start to show. He’s not used to seeing you like this, to going against him like that, you’ve always been so compliant that he started feeling complacent. This is when you see the side of him he’s hid so well, the one that suddenly decides to relocate far out in the countryside, the one that gives you no reason to leave the house. He just works from home now (he took this into consideration when choosing a major). If you need anything it can just be ordered online, but even that’s monitored, your own phone is nowhere to be seen.

You’ve never had anything other than him but back then it was your own choice, foolish as it may have been but now, he’s left you with no other option but him.

[the-californicationist]

Hello hello! I got super happy once i saw your requests open again <3 i love your writing and i would love to see Price and a reader who is too recluse and uptight, cold and distanced. He somehow noticed she likes him and stuff and it turns into what you write best, something hot and more. Basically Price shaking some sense into her, breaking her down? I don’t know if this is too much detail and I don’t know if it gives any ideas. Feel free to ignore. Love you, have a best day 🧡

Thanks so much for the ask! This is really unique, and I like the concept. I'll do my best! <3 <3

TW: female reader, afab, cunnilingus

Price scanned the meeting room as his teams filed in. The 141's operations had grown, now that Shepherd was out of the way, and new recruits with a lot of promise had come in to aid in the operations. Gaz, Ghost, and Soap sat up front, reports prepped and ready to be handed out, the logistics team sat around Alex and Farah, and sometimes, when she wasn't out doing the dirty work, Laswell would hang around the back corner, arms crossed, watching the meeting unfold. But, he was waiting for you.

You were the newest addition. Your specialty with data analysis and reporting had meant a stream of fresh, sparkling intel that was immediately actionable and nearly allowed him to predict the enemy's movements. You were a magician, and you never talked over anyone's head. Very professional, but kind. Beautiful, even though you were not a fresh-faced youth.

You also had a body that would not let him rest. He'd taken more cold showers in the past two weeks than he ever took as a teenager, and his cock was in his hand, hard and drooling, hungry to bury itself between your thick thighs.

He tried not to stare, really, he did. But, you would wear those cargo pants, belted to your waist, and he could see where your generous ass stretched the tight canvas. The way your hips swayed when you walked across the base with your data-tablet made him want to fight someone for you, even though, as far as he could tell, there was no competition in sight.

That was part of the problem. You kept everyone at arm's reach. Well, that was about to change.

Price started the meeting and tried not to keep glancing back to you in your seat. You were listening diligently, doing your job, and he felt downright lecherous at what he was about to do...

"...and so we'll be pairing off for a full facility inventory."

Groans resonated throughout the team. Complaints flooded in.

"Check the board for your partner and meet in Hanger 3. We'll start in the back storage."

"Back storage! Cap'n, unless you're lookin' for flip phones and manuals from 2007, there's nothin' we need in there," Soap protested.

"Well, Sergeant," Price grinned, "We're about to find out. Spring cleaning!"

He felt someone's presence behind him, and when he turned, he was delighted to find you there, shifting from foot to foot, waiting to be heard.

"Yes, Corporal? Do you need something? Going to whinge about the inventory as well?" He joked with you.

"N-no. No, sir. I just... I checked the board, and you are my partner, sir."

Your eyes were wide and bright. You were staring up at him and clutching that data-tablet to your chest like a shield.

He threw an arm around your shoulder and walked with you side-by-side,

"I'm just pullin' your leg, Corporal. Let's get to it."

As you worked together, the ever-observant John Price noticed a few things. First, you would stare at him when you thought he wasn't looking. Second, you would move to the opposite side of the room to work if he decided to relocate. And third, you had a bad habit of chewing on your bottom lip when you got nervous.

"You'd be no good at poker, Corporal," he commented, stacking a set of boxes near you.

"What, sir?" You looked up at him, biting that poor, innocent lip again.

"That bottom lip gives you away," you fixed it as soon as he said it, but he forced you to sit with him and asked you, "Hey, what's going on? You're doing a great job here, but I can't help but feel like you're not keen on being a part of this team."

You shook your head, sighing,

"No, sir. It's not that. I love this team... I just..."

"Just what, Corporal? We're not leaving this storage crate until you tell me. You have a crush on one of my soldiers, or what?"

Fear, now. He could see it all over your face. He reached out tentatively and put a hand on your knee,

"Hey," he dropped his voice to a dark whisper, "It's alright. I won't tell anyone."

Your voice was so small when you answered him, but gods you were brave for answering him,

"Sir... it's you who I shouldn't tell."

Price's breath caught in his chest. All this nervous energy, all this seriousness... for him? You were nervous to be around him?

"Corporal..." He was stunned.

You stood up, quick as a flash,

"I'm sorry, sir. Please forget I said anything."

You were backing away towards the door, looking like you were ready to bolt, but he reached out and grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

"Me?" He stood above you, his body looming, covering you in the small storage room. It felt like it was getting smaller by the second.

You swallowed, nodding,

"Yes, sir..."

Price reached behind you and popped the metal lock into place, sealing you in,

"Mmm... Corporal, if you only knew how long I've been prayin' you'd say that to me."

"Wh-what? Really? Captain, I didn't --"

He put his thumb on your chin, pulling the skin so that your bottom lip would be freed from your teeth, and he bent to suck it into his mouth. He wasn't kissing you so much as he was working your full, lower lip, slowly and gently, taking it between his own lips and tongue, making you catch your breath.

"In here... I'm not your captain," he smiled, kissing you fully now, "And when I'm not your captain... you give the orders. We can stop, if you want to stop."

He let the news register, showing you how true it was, backing away a bit, giving you room to say no. Price watched your face as the information sank in. It was understood, analyzed, and filed appropriately in that beautiful brain of yours, and then, the results.

You set your tablet down on the boxes and took off your shirt. He still hadn't touched you, happy to let you drive. You pulled his face to yours, placing your hands on his furry cheeks, petting his hair and knocking off his hat until it hung around his neck on its string, almost letting him kiss you, but just before he could, you whispered into his open, gaping mouth,

"I don't wanna stop."

He kissed you, then. So softly it was almost chaste. He matched your energy. If you explored him with your tongue, he explored you just as far. If you spent time kissing his jaw and neck, so did he. After a few minutes of such restrained torture, though, he was breathing heavy, and his body was begging for more.

His hands rubbed across the tight muscles of your neck and down your arms before finally discovering your heavy breasts. He let them fill his warm palms, plucking softly at your nipples and making them harden beneath his fingers.

Price spoke to you as he kissed you, as he fondled you into pliant submission,

"Do you wanna stop, love?"

You shook your head, whispering back,

"I don't want to stop..."

He bent himself like the bough of a great tree, leaning to suck your sensitive nipple into his mouth. Price warmed it with his tongue, and put it between his teeth just enough to make you writhe. Then, he slid a huge hand between your legs and felt the heat you were hiding from him there. He sighed raggedly when he found it, like he had just dropped the weight of the world from his arms.

John pressed the canvas of your pants up into the spot where your folds would part, rubbing the seam against your center, making it shove your clit back and forth along its line, making it swell and tingle. You writhed beneath his teasing, moaning from it.

"Mmm. Do'ya wanna stop, love?"

"No, fuck, no. Don't stop."

He forced open your buckle with a swift pull, snapping the metal tines and popping open your button fly. Tucking his fist into the elastic of your panties, his fingers found their soft, wet prize.

The captain sighed again, that same ragged relief, and just before he opened his mouth to speak to you again, you clasped your hand over it furiously, and warned him,

"Don't you dare fucking stop."

He chuckled, but he said nothing as he sank to his knees, looping one of your legs over his shoulder as he began to eat from your body, hungry and thirsty and needy and ready to be full of you, smearing you all over his beard, smiling all the time.

If you liked this story, please consider buying a coffee for your favorite feral cat <3 Comments, reblogs, and kudos are also appreciated!

AO3 Link

[igetnosleep]

Rekindling

Sequel to "The Night we Met" another attempt at angst. mostly written in Leon's point of view set after RE: 4 remake in mind.

So some TW: Four pages of Leon picking you apart, Leon being needy (If you count that as a warning), thoughts of mutilation (Leon wants to get close to you but is unable to express himself properly), Anger, implied smut (I cannot write smut for the life of me), angst, some comfort but I take it from you.

Six years.

Six years since Leon had last seen you.

It felt so far away the memory of Raccoon City was ingrained into his mind like a brand.

Then they took you away had you relocated far away from him away from anyform of comfort. He wished he could have followed you at that moment and have you in his arms longer.

It felt like decades had passed since he saw you.

He wished he could pour everything out, rip his skin off and have the weight in his chest fall out bloody and ugly, but you couldn’t know that. He had to beg on his knees to make sure you didn’t end up like him. You wouldn’t have survived USSTRATCOM. He barely survived. You would have died.

Mission after mission, saving the president's daughter, the DSO decided to throw him a bone. Reward him for all of his hard work.

Now here he is finally, he gets to see you, standing in front of your apartment door. Not Sherry unfortunately, Simmons wouldn’t let him. “Make up your mind Golden boy, what's it gonna be? Think fast or I’m pulling my offer off the table.” He wanted to kill that man, jaw clenched as he accepted his superior's terms.

He steeled his nerves reaching up and knocking on your door staring hearing a dog barking and the sound of nails tapping against wood floors then scratching and more barking, you had a dog. “Coming!” your voice rang out as you unlocked the door and he was met with a determined pitbull sticking its nose past the door trying to get a feel on him.

You held onto its collar the large puppy with a powder face, sniffing excitedly as its tail whacked your leg. “Noooo don’t run off you’ll get me in trouble again.” You spoke gently, eyes trained on the pup. Slowly you looked up at him and your eyes widened in surprise, like you saw a ghost.

“Leon?” Your voice was confused and unsure. He gave you a small nod, his lip quirked up trying to give you some semblance of comfort. Your grip on your dog loosened giving it the chance to approach him, he offered his hand allowing for a sniff of approval and affectionate licks to his palm.

You had changed a bit, you looked skinnier, unfortunately, he missed the softness in your body even if it was brief how long he’d held you. You looked tired, you hadn’t been sleeping. Why did you look frail? 

You looked at him like you didn’t recognize him, your eyes searching for something, a remnant of him from when you met.  The same man who had left you alone now thinner, cheeks sunken and heavy eyebags and dark circles. Hesitantly you touched his cheek watching him tense before forcing himself still.

Those blue eyes you couldn’t get out of your head dulled and tired. The back of your hand gently smoothed over his cheek and he sighed shoulders drooping, a hint of vulnerability. Leons hand coming up and grabbing yours pressing your hand against his cheek as he took a breath.

He needs more, more than just you touching his cheek. Morbidly he wished he could sink under your skin and feel your warmth, would you mind? Would you mind if he did that? You wouldn’t would you? 

Sink his teeth into your skin and rip your throat out, maybe claw his way into your chest and make a home next to your beating heart.

Your life felt too inviting. Your warmth all too accessible, willing, open for something like him always longing for something.

Then again. There was that fear. Fear of getting too close too fast, seeming all too eager for something more. He’d come out bloody and red staring back at you scared and confused. 

Your voice cut him out of his head. He blinked and hummed a small beckon for you to repeat yourself “Do you want to come in?”

You led him inside pouring both a cup of tea, chamomile, “Helps the nerves..at least that's what the lady down the hall told me.” you spoke almost in a daze, still surprised to see him there. You pour some honey and lemon into both mugs.

Silence felt deafening between the two of you, his eyes trailing the interior of your apartment, the dog lying peacefully on the couch cushions, he never took you for a dog person, the way the carpets seem to overtake the living room, how warm it felt in the apartment despite the air being at the coldest temperature known to man.

“How have you been?” It feels like a stupid question to you, but he knows it’s all you could think of at the moment, you weren’t social you could barely keep eye contact. Were you trying to go back to the night when you looked at him trying to find the puppy you met all those years ago?

It almost felt nice that you were trying to find something to cling to like how he’d started trying to take note of how you lived every detail to how you dressed was something he wanted to write into memory. You were an open book he held the highlighters and pens writing annotations on your pages underlining and highlighting the details that caught his attention.

You could barely peer into him. Leon felt like a blank journal, the cover beautifully decorated yet when opened held nothing, no words or details to keep note of, how he preferred it now, it wasn’t your fault. He reminded you of the ones you collected but never got the chance to use, he seemed torn and frayed, being through too much to know pages torn out secrets hidden between lines and invisible ink. He felt more like the blacked out lines you’d see in a government document. At least in the movies you’d seen but at this point you were sure it was the same.

A part of him felt angry you didn’t immediately know, you couldn’t get a read on him, see what kind of person he was now without feeling like you were intruding. The man in your living room is more of a stranger if anything rather than someone you thought was a friend.

Could you classify what you had as a grounds for friendship?

You hardly knew let alone understood what happened yourself.

Leon barely tried to acknowledge it, finding himself torn between wanting to acknowledge and longing to forget what happened even if it meant forgetting you sometimes.

He almost wanted to scream at you, resentment at the life you were living now like he didn’t make the choice to protect you. 

He bit back a scowl. Glowering from his spot. “Fuck you.” his mind supplied it was terrifying how it felt like it was creeping into his veins, anger, resentment.

You looked small under his gaze, did you regret it? Did you regret meeting him? Were you starting to regret letting him into your home?

He took a deep breath, the aroma of honey and lemon mixed into his cup easing his nerves. He needs to calm down. He’ll scare you if he keeps going on like this. You hadn’t seen him in years. You didn’t even know what he’d done for you. “And you never will.” 

It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. 

Leon knows better. He’s not his father. You’re not at fault.

“I’m..” he paused, debating telling the truth before shaking his head “I’ve been better.” you bit your tongue. Your cheeks flushed red as you rubbed your forehead. “Sorry..I just..You can’t talk about anything can you?” You were smart peeking into the cracks of his walls. He shook his head “No, sorry.” He looked down, somber hand coming up to rub his forehead. 

You sat in awkward silence, you weren’t used to the bitter tone on his tongue. You didn’t know what to say, what could you say? What could you do? His shoulders looked squared; he was guarded; rigid. 

His eyes narrowed and observed the area, what was he looking for? God fuck who knows something a hint that you had moved on that you were just fine without him. 

Resentment towards you festering in his mind despite him pushing it down but it clung to his gut unwilling to go away. Bitterness coated his tongue. You were scared one wrong move could break him and have him crumble like he was fragile. He wasn’t fucking fragile. “You have something on your mind?” He asked his finger tapping against the mug in his hands impatiently. 

You weren’t stupid, mostly just caught off guard by his behavior. Shifty eyes and rigid body language. Clear indication that he wanted to leave, to go back to wherever he called home.

“Sorry..I guess I’m still surprised to see you..” you apologized for your lack of words, it only proved to make him feel worse.

This meeting felt like a mistake. Everything about it felt wrong. 

Leon placed the mug down on the coffee table as he tapped his knee anxiously. “I should go.” Already getting up and moving towards your front door. You stared at him confused. He wasn't here for maybe a few minutes.

You didn’t want to leave it like this: a wordless exchange of nothing too much simmering under the surface too much needing to be said but fear and reluctance prevented them from being said.

“Leon.” Your voice was gentle trying to pull him away from his head “Are you..feeling up to a hug?” You asked, arms opening up in a curious invitation. 

For a moment he wanted to decline her out before he did something he would regret but he wanted to be selfish. He gave so much and let his superiors take so much of him it felt like there was nothing left to take. 

Just for a moment, let him have something.

Let him have this.

His arms wrapped around your shoulders, hands moving over your back slithering down and locking you in place while your hands hesitantly rest on his waist. Your hands were shaking at the unexpected contact not understanding how quickly he would change his demeanor. 

Leon nuzzled your neck, his hands clutching your shirt for a moment. He felt like he was reliving a good memory. A piece of heaven he thought was locked away from him his hands felt bloody, unclean, clutching your shirt.

You smelled nice. The scent of the soap you used was intoxicating a deep breath and he was ingraining it into his memory, his hands roaming down to your sides then up your shirt, feeling you jolt in surprise “Leon?” You voice surprised but not pushing him away cheeks flushed warm, almost burning feeling lips against your neck.

You pulled away staring at him eyes wide “Push me away. Please say something.” he murmured, his forehead leaning against yours. Your breath mingled with his while his fingers dug into your back pulling you closer with each moment of silence.

Your mind was racing, the sudden change the way he stared at you.

What the fuck?

Holy shit.

You were certain you might blow a fuse or burn out with how he was staring at you. What could you do? Say no? He did say that but the words weren’t forming in your mouth. Your name was rough on his tongue “Please say something.” he whined his voice cracking his hand coming up to cup your cheek his lips brushing against yours as you managed break out of your thoughts staring back into those pretty eyes of his ones you knew you could get lost in staring into for a long time if he allowed it.

“Keep going.” You gently urged your hand going over his thumb brushing over the back of his hand. He could get used to that feeling. His eyes darted down nudging your nose as he murmured, asking gently “Can I?” a small pause and you nodded allowing him to continue.

His lips were chapped desperate over yours. Your hands on his cheeks as you moved your mouth clumsily against his. “Bedroom?” he asked clumsily, he felt like a rookie again, legs wobbly as he guided you to where you spent your nights and mornings wrapped up in nothing but peace.

Need and desperation were the two emotions he felt during that moment. Being able to hold you to bring you close to the feeling you wrapped around him, his nails digging and clawing into your skin begging to be let in to be a part of your life without the blood and the fear, without the constant mockery or over reliance of his skills.

The morning after it was like he’d slept for the first time in a while, a proper sleep, no restless tossing and turning, no screams and vivid nightmares that came for his throat. Just sleep.

Leon breathed for what felt like a long time. Searching for you before wrapping his arms around you pulling you close his hand smoothing over your chest, a familiar heartbeat, a rhythm that made him relax with a scary realization.

He didn’t want to leave.

He wanted the warmth of the mornings and the cold nights wrapped under your blankets wrapped in you.

You.

You.

Fuck how long had he needed you?

How long did he need to be away before realizing that this was heaven. 

The pearly gates that he knew he’d be rejected from, He realized he gladly fall if it meant staying with you.

His hands were stained in blood staining your skin with his filth. He needed to make his place here. He needed you. He wanted you.

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck.

What was he doing? What was he thinking coming here? Back to you? Back to the memory he wanted to forget?

Leon buried his nose in the crook of your neck, screwing his eyes shut, reluctant feeling like a little kid after being told he had to go to school after summer break stamping his foot whining. 

No. 

No. 

No. 

He refused because he didn't want to leave. This was perfect. Everything about this was home. This was home. You were home. His nails dug into your skin drawing out a whine from you still asleep. This was only supposed to be a visit. He didn’t need to look at his phone to know he was expected back. 

Could he come back?

He wasn’t sure.

Leon stared at you, stirring in your sleep, blinking with bleary eyes staring back at him “You okay?” Your voice is still asleep but trying to stay up for him. “Yeah..go back to sleep sweetheart.” he kissed the crook of your neck while rubbing your arm lulling you back to a peaceful slumber.

When you woke up again, Leon was gone.

[gracemain919]

(The Fungus universe)

Tw: Yandere, mind alteration

Summary: How a mold evolved.

Trial and Error

Back when fish ruled the sea and plants governed the land, down in the deepest depths where specific fungi thrived, there lived a peculiar fungus. Creatures passed by this strange parasite at every given moment, helping it reproduce, helping it spread. The thing every single fungus was intended to do.

But it was tiresome.

‘Attach to that fish, migrate in that fish, breed in that fish, then spread using that fish’s corpse’

No plant or fungi ever got tired of doing the very thing that kept them alive, but this specific fungus loathed such a process. Still, it couldn't stop.

Even when fish started uncovering the secrets of land, it just couldn't find a way to change. When it detached itself from the unsecured cycle, it never ended well.

Living inside creatures caused the animal itself to grow sick. Migrate in their stomach? No, they will vomit until they die. Relocate into their lungs? The creature will die even faster.

Everything on a time crunch forcing the fungus to continue. Migrate, reproduce and spread. Why couldn't its subjects just live? Then the wonder if it could live to see another would be less… scary.

Fear is the backbone of evolution, along with time. Survival is the result of it.

Only after eons of trial and error did this fungus discover a certain cozy part of an animal's body. Their brain. Treating it like a sacred piece of meat, this slithery parasite could live in creatures' heads without instantly killing them.

On the other hand… the brain is hard to understand. The fungus could understand how to live in it, but each living being it tried to live in ended up dying. Not by expected causes like sickness or organ failure. No, things like starvation, dehydration, and falling off the fricking cliff. These beings could always figure that something was in their heads and instinctively decide to lay still. Until they inevitably die.

This parasite finally found a solution, and mother nature decided to screw it over. Yet it couldn't give up. Following the same cycle only with a different change. No animal seemed to want to live with this thing in its skull, or the fungus itself caused them to not want to live either. Hard to know.

It had to witness the rise and fall of great animals and beasts as the same unfulfilled creature until something changed. The day they found an interesting rabbit. Poor thing caught in the fungi’s cage right at the start of mating season. Couldn't even find itself a lady before laying completely still on the ground almost instantly. Expected, geez.

The fungus was already planning on obeying the cycle it followed throughout the ages until it felt movement. Out of nowhere, the once dormant body shifted with haste a certain welcoming warmth taking over the body.

It didn't take long to discover what caused such a bizarre turn of events. The poor bunny was shaken awake by a very needy mate. This action single-handedly brings life into the bunny’s body. The fungus tried everything, in every single animal's brains, but procreation is the thing that fixes it?

Ok, ok… it could work with that.

The bunny did die. After the very clingy bunny finally left, it returned to its original state. Still, that specific moment sparked a new desire for trial and error. During a time when a specific ape thought they were done crawling on all fours.

The parasite was witness to how this animal grew. Of how it stopped picking at the lice in their hair and started hunting beasts that were twice their size. Such capacity and all this mold had was a writhing corpse on the ground.

It worked hard to even get a resemblance of what it once had with that bunny. Poked at every mush in the brain until it figured. Lust… a certain bundle of nerves lunged deep into the brain. They could make their host's body heat up, shake, etc. Force them to move in pure… need.

It worked on random animals until they would get so overwhelmed. So many mates or options, it wrecked their host’s already declining minds until they would snap ending their own pathetic lives. Damn it!

Ok, a mistake. It just had to try again, and again. Maybe if it- or?

The poor mold was stepping into zones of true unknown. Taking a step in a direction and seeing if it would drown or not. No matter what it did—it didn't ever go back—it just moved forward even if the solution was redundant, and a solution was indeed found. One mate.

If too many options is the problem then one shall suffice? Right?

Well, it kinda worked. A random fox chasing another fox like a desperate puppy kept the animal entertained and alive. Although, in the animal kingdom it was hard to stay alive. Humans promptly killing and taking their stolen place on top of the food chain really was screwing with its plans. They lived 5 times the lifespan of any of the creatures it controlled.

So, a few infected animals were consumed and now started another tedious trial. Humans…

God, so many emotions, so much to understandd. Yet, it will never stop learning.

It gives and takes and whatever buys it a second of time is kept forever. Remove the ability to procreate? More hosts survive that way for a bit longer. Why? Well…

It doesn't comprehend what it’s doing. Still, it's doing it. The love and lust humans show are so different, but they keep it alive. Maybe that is for the best. Whatever nonsense that it has to do shall be done in the name of time.

(Yes, I waste my time figuring this stuff out. Sue me. Also I would love to expand on this concept in later posts)

[angel-of-the-moons]

Am I allowed to request a Johnny Cage brother figure? Or Even a Kenshi one? Ofc I understand that you’ll only do one but no rush ~👻

Actually i have a good idea! I know this is more like a headcanons type thing, but it helps answer both of those!

Two's Company

Johnny Cage/Kenshi Takahashi x Siblings!Reader

TW/CW: None. Mentions of some violence, some petty sibling crap, Kenshi's history and injuries.

Kenshi Takahashi

• You were one of the reasons why Kenshi wanted from beneath the Yakuza's thumb. The day you were born, Kenshi vowed he would be the best big brother he possibly could to you, from the very second your tiny fingers first gripped his and you cooed at him, innocent of the evil you and he were born into thanks to generations of necessity to hide.

• Growing up, Kenshi would tell you stories, myths, and fables. But some of his favorites to tell you (and reenact under the safe watch of your mother) was the stories of the Taira clan.

• Kenshi always stood up for you. When you were bullied in school? Kenshi was there. The bullies always came up and apologized shortly after, sporting bruises, cuts, and the occasional missing tooth.

• Some asshole stood you up on a date? Kenshi would pay them a visit. He wouldn't kill them or injure them like he would have in his youth, but he would make it well known that they were no longer allowed to come near you.

• When one of the Yakuza would get too close to you, Kenshi was forced to act violently, much to the delight of his "overseers" as your mother would call them, always with disdain. It was one of the only times he genuinely enjoyed inflicting pain on someone, it was a way of striking against your oppressors.

• Kenshi has your name tattooed over his heart, or inside his wrist, so that way you were always with him, the bright light he refused to let be snuffed out by the Yakuza. The hope for the future of the Taira.

• When he told you of his plan to break the Taira free of their chains, you supported him, but you feared for your big brother's safety.

• You supported him when he told you he knew where he could find Sento, your family sword. It was in the hands of some big shot Hollywood has-been.

• You cried and hugged him goodbye, wishing him safe travels and good luck.

• Kenshi had pleaded with Liu Kang to let him tell you what his new arc in life would be, what he was doing with the Wu Shi, what he was training for.

• Liu Kang agreed, standing off a ways as Kenshi came home, arranging a meeting with you in one of the (few) Taira safehouses to give you the rundown.

• To say you were shocked, and skeptical was an understatement. Liu Kang grinned at you, the corners of his eyes creasing at the edges when you told him that if your brother got hurt--or died--he would be "very sorry" and that yes, your brother kept you largely out of the wrongdoings of the Yakuza, but you still knew how to fight.

• But when Kenshi returned from battle, blinded, with Sento strapped to his back? All you could do was hold onto each other as you cried, your mother sobbing as she held the two of you, her babies, her most precious gems.

• You helped arrange the split from the Yakuza, helping relocate somewhere safer to rebuild your clan, occasionally working with the Shirai Ryu when you needed to. After your clan's history, you needed to build bridges. And the leaders of the Shirai Ryu, Kuai Liang and Tomas Vrbada, were welcoming and warm to your family and clan. They earned your respect by fighting alongside your brother against some evil man named Shang Tsung.

• Kenshi fell to his knees in laughter when you slapped Liu Kang, for not keeping his promise that your brother would come to no harm.

Johnny Cage

• One Cage was bad enough, but two? Liu Kang didn't find out Johnny had a younger sibling until it was brought it to his attention. Right when you walked into Johnny's mansion. Gawking at him, Scorpion, Sub-Zero, and Kenshi Takahashi.

• You had even begun to try and wail on Scorpion (Hey! That guy and his friends were trying to beat up your big brother! What did they expect, you to just sit by and chill?) before Liu Kang stepped in and told you who they were...

• He knew Johnny had an older brother, but you? Yeah... He was certainly surprised when he found out. When he asked Geras why he never mentioned it, Geras merely smiled and said "You never asked, my friend."

• That attitude runs in the Cage (Carlton) genes, that's for sure.

• You were a hothead, always ready to punch first and ask questions later when your big brother needed you to.

• As kids, you and Johnny were thick as thieves. (Some would call you Dumb and Dumber, however, with the antics you got up to. Like the glitter bomb booby trap you'd put in your neighbor's mailbox)

• You guys were so close, when you were little, your parents would always find one of you not in your bed, but instead in your sibling's room, clinging to a stuffed animal and blanket as you two snuggled, snoring softly.

• Johnny had a typical big brother attitude when it came to certain things. When you had your first heartbreak? Johnny didn't have to even touch them, instead giving a verbal lashing so good the school talked about it for months.

• But when some girl had cheated on Johnny? Oh, you were downright diabolical. You had slipped Nair in her shampoo so when she came back from cheerleading practice, she'd be in for a nasty surprise. When she came running out of the shower, hair in clumps? You leaned against the lockers in the hall, a smug smirk on your face. "Geez... Looks like Karma got you good! Now stay away from my brother, bitch."

• You never knew why you didn't get in trouble, after that.

• When Johnny made it big, you made it to all his premieres, even if his parents didn't like his career choice. You were his biggest fan, and best critic.

• Johnny adored bringing you on set and listening to you give unabashed, unfiltered critique on his skills. It always made him laugh and stoked the fires of improvement.

• When he fell on hard times, you were there to lend an ear for him to vent, providing comfort when he confided that his marriage with Cris was falling apart.

• Johnny ignored his companions' complaints about keeping you in the dark, spilling everything to you about what was going on, and how he'd planned on using the stuff he saw to turn his career around.

• You hugged him tightly, clinging to his shirt as you bid your goodbyes.

• He sent you texts and selfies everyday, as well as lengthy--and I mean lengthy--paragraphs of the "crap" he was doing. It always brought a smile to your face when you'd hear a ping and saw it was from him.

• The moment he told you that he'd be going to another world? You were skeptical. Until he started sending you the pictures and videos. That Raiden guy shot lightning from some kinda plate thingy!

• You still had that one promoter friend who could help build hype from the recordings and pics he sent you, right? Of course you did.

• When Johnny came home, you hugged him. And punched him in the gut for making you worry and going radio silent for weeks. His friends, Kung Lao and Kenshi laughed.

• Johnny had even surprised you with one of the lead roles (which you turned down in favor of a lesser one).

• But it was when Johnny showed you some moves he learned from the Wu Shi, that you learned you both had the same power.

• And from somewhere in Earthrealm, Liu Kang felt a chill run up his spine.

[reversedanatomy]

Finding Peace: Chapter 2

Summary: More of an in-between from the last chapter. Reader processing emotions after the breakup and making big decisions.

TW: swearing, some mentions of violence

Denial. This was the first step of recovering from a breakup. The note Wanda had written for you the morning she left was unlike her. When there was a serious topic that needed to be addressed, she always preferred face-to-face conversations, even when she was away for long periods of time on her international trips. Your mind raced like cars on a track, revisiting the same thoughts again and again until you grew weary from worry. You settled on an unlikely, but possible conclusion that maybe she was kidnapped. Yes, you thought, her kidnapper forced her to write this note with the intent play it off like one of her work trips.

You knew this was stupid, but you held onto the idea that she would be coming back. You always left your cellphone ringer on, now, in the slim chance that Wanda would be contacting you. You’d rush to answer your phone at every buzz, ding, or alarm you heard, even when you were out with company.

Your mom started to worry. She knew the situation between you and Wanda had been rocky for some time, and she expressed her relief that you two had parted. She would call you frequently, however, to reassure you and offer for you to come visit and stay with her.

“Maybe what you need is a new change of scenery,” your mom quietly suggested. You held the phone in between your shoulder and ear as you cooked over the stovetop.

“Yeah, but I’ve got a job here that I can’t just leave,” you retorted. You went to check the vegetables you set in the oven.

“It’s a pretty big company you work for. Can’t you ask them to relocate you?” You opened the oven door, feeling the heat burn across your face. You reached to check if your carrots were fork tender, and you shot back as you accidentally bumped your hand on the hot glass baking dish. You bit your tongue to keep yourself quiet, but the phone dropped to the floor.

“Shit, mom, I’m sorry,” you went to pick the phone back up and return it to your ear. “I missed what you said.”

“Don’t swear at me, Y/N,” your mother was direct.

“I’m sorry.”

“What I was saying was that you should ask to be relocated. Your lease is ending soon, and I know rent is increasing where you’re at. Without Wanda there, you’re going to need some help staying financially secure in a place like Chicago.” She was right. You didn’t have much of an option once your lease ended. You could either move somewhere cheaper, alone, or move back in with your mom in southern California. Both options stressed you. “I’ve already looked into it. There’s a position opening up to be a direct assistant under management here. It’s a bit less than what you make now, but, with your dad and I making dual income, you can stay here rent-free and bulk up your savings.”

“I’ll think about it.” If you gave her an open-ended answer, she’d pressure you less.

“Alright, hon. Let me know what you decide. I’ll call again tomorrow in the afternoon. Does three work for you?”

“Yeah, that works for me. Talk to you then.” You made quick goodbyes with each other before hanging up the phone and returning to your cooking. You held your hand under the cold water, letting the rush cool the anxiety in your head. You thought for a moment how your life was going to change when you moved out of your apartment, when you moved out of Chicago.

You ate dinner while searching for jobs on your computer. You investigated the job your mother was talking about. It was an assistant-to-the-manager position that offered significantly less pay than the social media manager position you currently held. Sure, you could put all your money into savings, but you sneered at the idea of moving back in with your parents when you were in your mid-twenties.

You continued to browse through the list of jobs your company offered until your eyes laid upon an office manager position that paid the same rate you were making now, but in a small, incomprehensible name of a town in Norway. You always admired the idea of visiting Norway. It reminded you of the mountains you and your family would drive through to go camping in the Pacific Northwest every summer. You also loved the idea of living near the water. Chicago’s waterfront was nice, but the pollution of the city ruined your connection to the water. Maybe this could be the change of scenery that your mother was suggesting.

It was a risky application considering you weren’t a Norwegian citizen, but you had more than enough experience from your current position to secure this job. You put your heart and soul into this application. When you finally submitted it, you leaned back into the kitchen stool and sighed. It creaked under your weight as you tilted your head back. For a moment you studied the stipples decorated across your ceiling. It was unlikely you’d be offered the position, but you felt more confident in leaving Chicago behind when you finished.

-----------------------------------------------

You waited several days. Every morning, afternoon, and night you checked your email both at work and at home, praying for a response from your job application. You hadn’t made your application aware to anybody yet. It wasn’t like you had a lot of people to tell, anyway. Since dating Wanda, you two had fallen into a state of codependency with each other. Wanda had possessive traits, and you were a doormat whenever those traits were expressed in an argument. Regarding your family and your closest friend Darcy, however, you’d need to be prepared to convincingly tell them why you were leaving the country to seek ‘refuge’ somewhere else if offered an interview.

You thought about this from the comfort of your bed. You held your phone clutched against your chest and continued to stare at the ceiling just as you had when you submitted your application. Your mind felt all kinds of queasy and restless. Nauseating. It was the type of nausea that bubbled in your stomach rather than your throat. You were thinking about Wanda. What if she came back when you left the country? What if she came back bruised and bloody after escaping her hypothetical kidnapper, looking for solace with you, but you weren’t there? It felt like torture waiting for that damned email. Waiting and worrying became more of a reason to keep your mind off of Wanda, off of the breakup.

You were so hyper-focused on if a decision had been made that you were neglecting the rest of your notifications. There were several texts from Darcy, one text from your father, and several missed calls and voicemails from your mother. You had turned the ‘Read Receipts’ option off on your phone so you could still peek at the messages without getting an earful from Darcy. She was wondering where you were, if you died, or if someone had by chance stolen you off of the streets. She then sent a copy-paste message that if you didn’t reply to her message you’d have bad luck for 7 years. You couldn’t help but giggle at that.

Right then, you got another message from Darcy. It read: I CAN SEE THAT YOU’RE READING MY MESSAGES, ASSHOLE!!!

Shit.

You rechecked your phone settings. You forgot to turn the ‘Read Receipts’ option off. Or, you had accidentally had turned it on sometime and just forgot about it. Shit, shit, shit, you started fumbling with your phone. Your heart started racing when a notification popped up that Darcy was trying to call you. Your phone buzzed and slipped from your hands, landing on your face. Your nose unfortunately answered the call, and you could hear Darcy’s animated voice booming from the other side.

“I’ve been trying to contact you for almost a week!” She whisper-shouted through gritted teeth. Her voice was breathy. Maybe her heart was twisting and beating just as fast as yours. You picked your phone up off of your face and brought it to your ear. The room started spinning as you tried to muster a response.

“I-I-I’m sorry?” You squinted your eyes and furrowed your eyebrows.

“You’re sorry? I’ve been trying to contact you with no response and you’re sorry?” You could hear Darcy exhale through her nose and scoff. “Look, I get it. Wanda ran away from you, but you need to stop running away from everybody else.” She was right. It hurt to hear, but Darcy was right, and you didn’t know how to respond. The words you were forming from your mouth lost all form and function, and they came out in a twisted scramble. You were playing a piano and pressing all the broken keys. You slid your fingers through your hair and gripped into your scalp.

Darcy just sighed.

“What’s going on?” Darcy lowered her voice until it was soothing and silvery. Her voice instantly settled into your muscles, relaxing you in preparation for the news you were to deliver.

“I…may or may not have applied to a job in Norway,” you closed your eyes and waited for Darcy to berate you about running away again. You heard Darcy exhale from her nose once more.

“Y/N, you’re acting irrationally because Wanda left. Look, you and I both knew this was coming. Fleeing the country isn’t going to get her out of your head. It’s just going to isolate you from the only support you have now.”

“Yeah, but what if I meet some hot MILF out there who turns my life upside down and fixes all of my problems?” You attempted to lighten the mood and forced out a laugh. Nothing.

“This isn’t funny, Y/N,” she emphasized your name to bring your attention back to the topic at hand.

“I know.”

“Then stay. There’s another internship opening up with Dr. Foster and you don’t need to be a college student to get in. You can work with me,” Darcy offered in the same tone your mother did when bringing up the assistant position back home.

“No, Darcy. I really do want this position. I think it could be good for my mental health to get out of the country and be somewhere new.”

“Do you even speak Norwegian?”

“No, but I can learn.”

“God,” there was a pause. “…okay. Wanna run by the bookstore with me tomorrow and see if they have learning material for that?” Darcy was being patient with you regardless of your spontaneous decision to leave the USA. She really cared about you, but you could tell from her voice she was worried, maybe even scared about you leaving. You felt sorrow fill your heart as you heard her voice break while speaking. You nodded to yourself.

“You don’t have to do that, Darce,” you replied.

“I want to.”

“Okay. Can I at least pick you up from your apartment?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you then. Noon work?”

“Yeah. See you, Darce. Love you.”

Click.

[animeyanderelover]

Greetings 😊 Could I request Hashirama,Tobirama,Madara,Itachi,Pein,Shisui,Sakura and Sasuke with a darling that can shrink themselves?

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusion, paranoia, stalking, abduction, arranged marriage

Darling can shrink themselves

Madara Uchiha

🌑 Considering that Clans like the Nara, Akimichi and Yamanaka relocated into the Hidden Leaf Village after it's establishment, I can see darling also being part of a similar Clan. There's no major interest in any of those clans, Madara only cares about the fact that all those clans will make Konoha a very strong nation but I do see him being interested in the secret arts of all the clans. He can technically copy them, including the ability to shrink the own body if we're going to assume that it's not a kekkai genkai but a secret art passed down within the clan. The only reason he's refraining from it is because Hashirama tells him to not dig into the secret of those abilities since it will damage the relationship between the village and the clan. His darling would have to be special among their own clan to stand out to him, maybe they're just exceptionally talented and smart and get paired with him on missions a lot.

🌑 If Hashirama notices that his somewhat grumpy friend works well together with you, he'll definitely put you two constantly in the same team. Madara's not complaining though. You caught his interest, obviously he'll use every excuse to get to know you better. I do feel like he would feel somewhat weird during missions where you have to use your abilities and shrink yourself to the size where you can easily fit into the palm of his hand. The look he gives you the first few times where he witnesses it is priceless before he learns to mask his mild shock. Occasionally you make him mad on purpose and in such moments he threatens to squash you, you know that he's just kidding though. The Uchiha already have a good idea what's going on when he starts forcing you to spend time with him in the Uchiha compound, that doesn't make the following discussion with the eldest of the clan easier though, considering that Madara is stubborn. There's nothing holding him back from courting you although an arranged marriage will be held if you should refuse his advances.

Hashirama Senju

🌳 Considering the kind of man he is, I can totally see him trying to help literally every clan that settles into Konoha with the built of their compound, even if his brother reminds him that he has other things to do. For Hashirama it's important to take this time to strengthen the relationship between the clan and the fairly new village and connect with the people who will from now on call this place their home. So that's how you two meet when he pays the compound of your clan a visit to ask if everything so far has been working out and if there's anything he can help with. He's just walking up to you and begins talking with you as if he isn't the Hokage of this village. That makes it easier for you to talk with him though as you don't feel any pressure or stress like you'd feel normally if someone in a high position talks to you. So you engage him with your own quips and wits and before he knows it, he's spent far too much time talking with you. He couldn't help it though, you were just that great in talking. You don't think that it's weird that he visits often, you've heard from other clans that he does the same with them.

🌳 You think it's nice how much he cares and you often wait for him to visit again. The time you two talk together when he comes over gets longer and eventually you take strolls together through the village where he excitedly shows you everything that the villagers have worked on and that he plans to do in the future. Then begins the phrase where he suddenly starts giving you flowers and beautiful kimonos as his mind seems to only revolve around you. The times Tobirama has caught him grinning like a lovesick fool whilst sitting in his office is far too much to count on all hands and feet. It's so easy to realize what is going on with Hashirama and whilst his clan initially hesitates a bit, they at least figure that you have a special jutsu. When your clan receives the offer of an arranged marriage between you and Hashirama, they seem willing to accept it, knowing that it would greatly benefit their clan. You search for Hashirama in shock who wasn't aware of the schemes of his clan either although he did plan on asking them for your hand in marriage. Seeing you so devastated with the thought of marrying him breaks his heart though, do you really hate the idea that much?

Tobirama Senju

🌊 Tobirama isn't such an emotional fool like his brother is, he just wanted you and your clan in the village to have as many strong people in Konoha as possible to have an advantage over the other nations. The comfort of those clans so that they stay in the village is obviously also important to him so makes arrangements to ease any tension and doubts. The people from your clan are mostly used for spying and collecting informations as your hidden jutsu suits such tasks perfectly. Eventually you get choosen personally from him as a new member of his own team of trusted and skilled shinobi so you often tag along when he goes out on highly dangerous missions. It's a huge honor for you and your clan so you dedicate your everything into helping him to succeed every mission. As someone who is rewarded with his trust, you realize that beyond that grumpy and serious facade is a more caring and loyal man than some might think. Tobirama just doesn't seem to be fond to show such a side of himself often.

🌊 Everything goes well until Tobirama starts acting weird around you. His newfound obsession disturbs him and he tries his best to not let it have a bad influence on your teamwork as he tries to keep it professional. Yet his feelings are something he can't beat with logic and worst of all, he realizes that his change of attitude hurts you and it awakens guilt inside of him. You still try to not let it get too you during missions, something that only makes him admire you even more. You don't see him very often outside of missions anymore as you just assume that he needs time alone, in reality Tobirama is watching your every step very closely. Be that with the help of the Anbu or with his sensory abilities, you can never escape him like this. Not even if you shrink yourself as he can always track you down. He doesn't want anyone to find out, the shame would be too much to bear for him. I do see him as less opposed to suggest an arranged marriage between his darling and him since he knows that your clan would all too happily agree if it means having a better relationship with the Senju. Only if you refuse him of course and hurt his pride.

Pain

🌧️ You live in Amegakure and are the last one of your family alive, meaning that you're also the last one who knows about the secret art of your family. It seems like this jutsu will die down together with you, that is until two very mysterious people approach you and ask you if you'd be willing to work for their organization. You lack the courage to reject, your guts telling you that it would be a bad idea to refuse their request. You've heard about the rumors of the god and the angel of Amegakure and just sort of know that the people in front of you are those legends everyone keeps whispering about. You're less responsible for catching any Tailed Beasts though as you're only given few information about the goal, origin and purpose of the Akatsuki. Your only job is to infiltrate, to spy and to collect certain pieces of information before reporting back to Pain and Konan. You never dare to run away or betray them out of fear that they might kill you as both always seem to figure out your location, even if you shrink yourself.

🌧️ You find it strange when your missions decrease and you're instead often kept in the tower where you just sit around before helping those two with whatever you can do within the tower. Pain's Rinnegan never seems to leave your form, something that gives you shivers as his unwavering gaze on you creeps you out. It's especially terrifying if Konan isn't there and the thick silence engulfing you two threatens to stop your heart out of sheer nervousness. There are times where he tries to break the silence by chatting a bit with you but it only does little to soothe your nerves. You don't know what's going on inside his head and it's only on the day where he suddenly tells you that you won't leave this tower anymore that you finally get an idea of what's happening. A few of his other bodies stop you from leaving as you glance at Konan, pleading silently for help before you see that she looks away guiltily and you understand that she won't help you. You can try to escape by making yourself as tiny as possible but Pain will always find you. Hopefully you know that already.

Shisui Uchiha

🍂 Both you and Shisui are part of the Anbu and you've been part of his team since years now. The reason is the simple one that you two make a very good duo together and always get the job done, no matter how difficult or bloody the task at hand might be. You can rely on each other and often know what the other one is thinking by simply looking into each other's eyes. Even outside of missions you two spend a lot of time together, you know Itachi and Sasuke very well because Shisui has introduced you to both of them already. You merely see Shisui as a really good friend of yours though whilst Shisui's feelings have changed throughout the years. A simple crush which he never told you about because he knew that you didn't feel the same as he did have turned over time into a deep obsession he's unable to get rid off. It's only because of his amazing amount of restraint that he hasn't done anything yet. You're part of a well-known clan in Konoha and a famous Anbu after all, not to mention that he admires and respects you so much. He would like to avoid underhanded tactics when it comes to you.

🍂 Yet there's this brooding feeling inside his chest as his patience runs with time thin as he starts wondering why you've never considered him as a potential partner for you. He's seen you crushing on so many people before and can't help in some emotionally vulnerable moments why you would choose them over him, someone you've known for years now. Why not him? The only saving grace is that you never went out of your way to ask any of those people and Shisui is partially to blame for that. He has stalked people that caught your interest, has observed them and memorized their routine and their tiny ticks and everything that he can use to help you lose interest as he points out why you wouldn't like that person or why you wouldn't be permanently happy. Even if you try to hide that you have feelings for someone, Shisui always finds out as he knows more about you than you're aware of. For the time being he holds himself back as he stalks you, waits for any sign that you might hopefully return his feelings one day. He's waited so long for you after all, he won't give you up to anyone else.

Itachi Uchiha

🍡 The history between you two starts as you join the ranks of the Akatsuki and get paired with Itachi for a new mission as Pain deems your abilities to fit perfectly for retrieving important information and scrolls, looking on how you've perfected your jutsu to the point where you can even shrink objects around you. Itachi is picked because he has experience as an Anbu and knows how to be stealthy so he is supposed to help you infiltrate the village and steal the scrolls. To your luck he's very silent and not as intimidating as you expected someone from the Akatsuki to be. The mission goes to your luck well as both of you exceed in teamwork as something about Itachi manages to ease your jittery nerves. As you collect more experiences with other members, you soon realize that you work best together with Itachi and Pain notices that too and puts you two permanently together. You feel relieved about it and even Itachi seems weirdly peaceful about it as you're one of the few members he's met who doesn't kill people out of fun or is necessarily happy to murder.

🍡 There's some sort of innocence surrounding you and he soon realizes that you're only here in the first place because you didn't have a choice, looking on how you're the last one of your family who knows the secret art of shrinking yourself and things around you. Almost as if to preserve your innocence, he starts hurting and killing others just so that you don't have to as he has already no chance to make up for his sins. He protects you from doing something you can't bring yourself to do and you appreciate it. Both of you bond like this as your bubbly attitude around him in peaceful moments is a breath of fresh air for Itachi, the last ray of sunshine in the world he has resigned himself into. Love isn't something that he deserves nor did expect to find so imagine the sudden paranoia he feels whenever you go on missions, the fear that you might get hurt. He tries to rationalize his fears, tells himself that you got chosen for a reason yet all it'll take is one miscalculation from your part which will get you seriously hurt for Itachi's paranoia to blind him. You don't belong into this world, so he'll keep you away from it.

Sasuke Uchiha

💙 A trophy of Orochimaru is what you are now, he saved you from the brink of starvation when he found out about your secret art that only you know about now as all your other relatives have been killed in attempts to figure out the Hidden Jutsu. It's not like you want to be here but you know that the man would otherwise either kill you or use you as a lab rat so you choose the less gruesome outcome. By the time you join, Sasuke is already there and your intial hopes of befriending him so you feel less lonely are crushed when you figure out how much of an asshole he is, rude and only focused on his own training. He doesn't bother with anyone who can't help him gaining more power and so you're left completely on your own with little to no choice but work on your own jutsu. Orochimaru expects progress from you after all and it's only when Sasuke finds out about your abilities that he seems to be a tiny bit interested. To your demise, Orochimaru for some reason wants you to train with him together looking on how the both of you are of similar age. He seems convinced that you'll benefit from your training with Sasuke.

💙 The training does pay off as you get significantly better in ninjutsu and taijutsu but it comes with the price of ruthless attacks, scars, wounds and many sleepless nights as Sasuke forces you through hell with the training. You don't know why he's all of a sudden that invested since he didn't want to spare you even a single glance before but now all he focuses on are his own strength and you. He forces you to tag along with him all the time, there's rarely a moment where you two are separated from each other and you can always feel his hardened eyes following you around, his grip on you tightening when something bothers him or he simply wants to warn you to not do something that will anger him. Sasuke himself is equally confused about the uprise of those foreign feelings as he wonders what it is about you that made him this way. Maybe it was your strength, maybe it was your surprisingly tenacious side at times. The only thing he does know is that you're close to his heart and that he will never allow you to leave his side for that reason.

Sakura Haruno

🌸You start training your medical abilities shortly after Sakura has been made the new apprentice of Tsunade and both of you end up spending a lot of time together for that reason. Sakura has known you before that too of course, you're from a clan in Konoha with the special ability to shrink yourself and even people and things you touch. That's about all she knows though so she decides to use the chance to get to know you better now, looking on how both of you train to learn medical jutsu. Sakura has an affinity for healing though which is why soon enough she is able to move on to the more challenging stuff whilst you're still struggling with the basics. You're not afraid to ask her for help though nor is she arrogant that she's better than you, instead both of you begin studying together. At one point you even show her your jutsu when she expresses her curiosity and in the end Sakura can only stare in amazement down before carefully letting you jump on her palm and lifting you up. That's when she starts wondering if it would be possible for you to use your jutsu to shrink the wounds of people which would be of great help. 

🌸 Both of you are at one point inseparable as you're constantly seen together. You study together, you train together, you take your meals together. Tsunade has pretty much made you her second apprentice because both of you stick together like glue but also because Sakura has told her about her idea how to use your secret art which the Hokage figures out might be possible. Honestly, people already wonder whether you two are a couple or not and Ino has teased Sakura about it already a couple of times, triggering a blush to bloom on her friend's cheeks. Sakura's behavior does not make any of this easier though as she essentially acts like she's your girlfriend. She's really affectionate, prepares questionable medicine for you if you're sick and even insists to nurse you back to health when you fall ill. She's delusional so obviously she doesn't shy away from her feelings as she doesn't view them as wrong, she's initially just a bit flustered with her growing crush.

[tsukikonikushimi]

Page 13 - Storyboard of the flashback of EP1

MASTERLIST

Just a short TW, this is pretty deep in what I consider to be an extreme form of police brutality (by me and my countries of origin) as it's an excessive and unwarranted use of force towards unarmed civilians, regardless if it was a riot, peaceful protest, or whatever else they were doing on that bridge, it's beyond excessive. This is exactly the kind of extreme use of force I've heard in the stories of my grandmother during the military dictatorship of Brazil and the workers' strikes. As I'm from Italy, luckily, I never had the misfortune of knowing such violence after my family relocated in 89 (and obviously I was born later) but still a little warning for people reading.

The top left page (first 6 vignettes) is something I think they cut or replaced.

First we can see Vi with what I assume to be little Powder crying in front of her parents' bodies. The bridge covered in flames and smoke from the skirmish, and another view of Vi, Powder and the bodies.

Then we obviously see Vi and Powder trying to console each other. And a shadow appear, we can assume it to be Vander, as in the show that's how he is first introduced.

It's seems they changed the timeline of this scene a little, as we first see the girls looking for their parents, Vander beating the Enforcer, him approaching and showing where their parents' bodies are.

Next is very similar of the finished version. Smoke, fire and the shadow of an Enforcer killing and shooting people on the ground or running away (this is Vi's POV as Powder is covering her eyes). Vi is looking at what I assume to be the first concept for Felicia (blue hair woman) and Connol (pink haired man) dead on the ground in front of their daughters. Vi is looking directly at them before the Enforcer catches her attention.

We can see his smoking gun after shooting, and his threatening eyes, he passes the girls without a glance, and keeps walking ahead while the two sisters grieve. Powder removes the hand from her eyes and Vi cleches her tiny fists.

Little notes for dialogue: (Off) Mum?

Onto the next page!

THIS SPREAD Storyboard of the opening scene of Episode 101

We can see, from left to right, little Powder holding a stuffed animal wile looking down, a kneeling Vi in front of her parents' bodies and the Enforcer, standing tall, with a gun on his hand, looking down at all of them.

I don't understand much of this but I assume this guy to be Vander.

This is more of a backgound of how their parents die I guess.

We can see Connol being shot and Felicia running to his body, reaching for her daughters before also being shot by the Enforcer by behind. We see her hand and face falling down (in slow motion?) with a little note above saying that the camera followed the motion. We see her face and body limp on the ground in front of Vi and Powder with the Enforcer in front of them. Vi is holding Powder's hand and Vi shield her (I think) and we see another shot of their parents' hands clasped together even in death. It follows another shot from behind the Enforcer looking down on the family, and later the Enforcer's unfeeling (?), calm face. And ends with Vi's crying and screaming.

Close-ups of the whole scene in order

Connol being shot

Felicia running to him

The Enforcer approaching her from behind

Felicia reaching for the girls in fear while the Enforcer approaches

Felicia being shot by the Enforcer

Her hand and face falling

Felicia limp body

Felicia and Connol's bodies with Vi's on the left

The girls witnessing the death of their parents

Vi looking at the Enforcer

Close ups of Vi's face and Powder's, she is holding her stuffed toy

Vi holding Powder and a close up of their parents hands

View of the scene from another perspective

The Enforcer's face

Vi's (reasonable) breakdown

Jinx's doodles

Stuff that resembles blood (?) and smoke (?) on the margins of the page.

And another doodle at the top right, alongside the circle around Powder and specks of blood(?)

This is all for now. The spread is pretty pixelated so I apologise for the bad quality. This was requested by Anon -🔫!

[hobiebrownismygod]

Miguel x Desi!Reader - Wedding Edition

Request from @shadofireshinobi!!

This was really fun to write, I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! There's lots of good representation in there and if you've never been to a Desi wedding, you'll probably enjoy learning about it <3

Synopsis: Miguel gets invited to an Indian wedding by Pav and asks you, his neighbor and someone who doesn't really like him, to teach him how it works. The two of you end up going together and have a great time.

TW: None, just a lot of fluff <3

____________________________________________________________

"No."

"Aww, come on, don't be such a party-pooper. You'll have fun!"

Miguel squinted at his AI, an annoyed look plastered across his face. "I said no. I'm not going to a wedding, Lyla."

"You can't turn down an invitation from Pavitr! Come on, do you need me to ask him to give you the 'look' again?" Lyla asked teasingly, teleporting in front of Miguel and shoving her phone into his face, Pav's puppy-dog expression visible on the FaceTime call she had him on. "How can you say no to that face?"

"Ugh."

Miguel waved her out of his way with a grunt. "Come on uncle, I promise you'll never go to a grander wedding! These people are close friends of my auntie's and I'm telling you, they put so much effort into their parties" Pav explained, his voice emanating from the phone Lyla had refused to put down. "Its not a normal wedding. Its an Indian wedding. What would I even do there? No."

Miguel was trying to focus on the screen in front of him, tracing out the dimensional map for some new anomaly chase he'd been planning on assigning out. "Come on, I'll explain it all to you! Or even better...you could have Y/N do it" Pavitr said with a grin, tilting his head to the side as he looked at Miguel through the screen.

Miguel froze at the mention of your name, his expression softening slightly. "You invited my neighbor?" he asked Pav, an dumbstruck look on his face. "Yes. She's very nice and she told me she hasn't been to a function in a long time. Besides, Maya Auntie told me to invite all my friends." Pav responded with a sly shrug.

"Since when are the two of you friends?"

"Since I helped fix her rooftop that your battle with that anomaly ruined."

"So its settled then. Miguel, you're going, final say." Pav gave Lyla a high five through the screen.

"No-" Miguel began to argue back, but the two of them were completely convinced. He knew there would be no point in trying to turn it down at this point, as Pavitr and Lyla would most definitely succeed in forcing him to this wedding, no matter how much he objected.

You were a very out-spoken civilian who lived fairly close to the bounds of the Spider Society. Because of this, you were often affected by the fights that would happen in and out of the society, some of these leading to actual property damage. Even then, your spirts were high and you ended up getting to know a lot of the Spider-people that passed by, even becoming friends with some of them, including Pav.

As for Miguel, the two of you had a complicated relationship. Miguel tried to be nice to you but you barely tolerated him. After all, he'd built his society next to the home your family had lived in for decades. He'd actually asked you to move and even offered to relocate you but you and your family had refused. And thats when you decided that he was a jerk and that you'd try to steer away from him and his problems.

But apparently, he needed your help now.

_______________

"You want me to take you to the wedding?"

"I want you to teach me how the wedding works."

You scoffed, arms folded over your chest as you stared at the tall man standing before the frame of your front door. "And why would I do that?"

He gave you a sheepish look, rubbing the back of his head. "Because I asked nicely?" You snorted. "That's a first." He sighed, "Look Y/N, I know I haven't always been the nicest to you, but I don't have a choice in this matter and I'd rather not be embarrassed at the wedding because I don't know what to do there."

You looked at him for a moment before groaning and muttered under you breath, "Fine." You opened the door all the way to let him inside, head hung in annoyance. He looked fairly uncomfortable too, shuffling in with his fingers fidgeting.

You gestured for him to sit down at the kitchen table and you sat down in front of him, leaning back and folding your arms over your chest. "You want something to drink or...?" He shook his head, still looking a bit awkward.

"Alright. Well, before I start, what do you already know?"

"Uh...nothing."

"Nothing?" He shook his head no.

"Okay. From the beginning then."

You spent a good thirty minutes explaining the intricate details of how Hindu weddings work to him, starting with the fact that they last anywhere from 3-5 days ("I'M GOING TO BE THERE FOR FIVE DAYS?" "No, only for a couple hours each day.") and the significance of each event. Then, you moved onto the attire, and even showed him pictures of all the things the guests would wear. Women would wear colorful saris while men would wear suits or kurtas.

"Please tell me you at least have a kurta."

"What's a kurta?"

You groaned. "I'll have Pavi drop one off for you." he nodded with a slight smile, leaning forward and resting his chin on his palm as he continued to listen to you speak. You told him about the food, and how it would be vegetarian on puja days but would probably have non-vegetarian options later on. ("You can't drink blood there by the way." "I don't drink blood!")

"Now, because you're not a close friend of the bride or groom, I'm guessing you'll only be attending on the third day. That's when the main ceremony is."

"What happens in the main ceremony?"

"The actual wedding. The other days are mainly just prayer days and for mingling between the families. But remember, its not like a western ceremony where we'll all sit down while the bride gets married. It'll be very Bollywood style."

"Bollywood?" He asked, cocking his head to the side slightly.

"Oh my god, I have to show you before we go!" To his surprise, you grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the couch, sitting him down before you began to search for the remote. He grabbed it off the coffee table and handed it to you with a smile, a bit taken aback by your excitement. "We?" he asked, sounding a little hopeful. "Were you planning on going with someone else?"

"No, no, it's just-"

"Besides, if I bring a date I won't have to worry about all those aunties trying to get their sons married to me." You said, shaking your head slightly as you turned on the TV. He stayed silent for a moment, trying to suppress the smile from forming on his face. "So I'm your date?"

"ah, here we go" you said, putting on K3G, one of your favorite Hindi movies. As the movie played, you pointed out the actors to him going "That's Shah Rukh Khan! That's Hritik Roshan!" despite him obviously not knowing who any of those people were. He just nodded along, watching you more than he watched the movie.

____________

The day of the wedding, you were in a rush getting ready, pulling on your sari hurriedly and fixing your makeup. You were wearing a dark green sari, with heavy jewelry that took ages to put on. Your earrings were also a dark green, matching with your outfit and making your skin and hair stand out beautifully. After you finished, all you had to do was wait for Miguel to show up.

The day you'd spent with him had been really nice. In fact, you found yourself liking him a lot more than you expected, considering how much you despised him at first. You were honestly really glad that he'd asked for your help, because otherwise you'd have never got to have so much fun rewatching your favorite Bollywood movie with him.

The doorbell rang and you rushed to open it, being greeted by Miguel standing in the doorway, wearing a sleek black kurta, courtesy of Pav. He stood there awkwardly, a slight smile on his face as he looked you over. "You look nice." he said quietly, as if he was embarrassed to admit it. "You do too." you felt yourself growing silent as you stared at him. He looked better than you'd expected. This man was full of surprises.

You cleared your throat and beckoned for him to come in. After filling him in on the details, and even giving him some bangles of your own to wear, the two of you were off to Pav's dimension. The moment you entered, it was like a blow to the face. The sounds, the sights, the smells, they were all almost overpowering.

The two of you head to the wedding venue, both fairly silent. "So...you ready?" You asked him, looking up to see his slightly nervous expression. He tugged at the collar of his kurta. "Yeah. I just feel a little...out of place."

"Don't. There's going to be plenty of other non-Indians there. Hobie and Gwen are coming too." You said, flashing him a reassuring smile. "Besides, you have me."

After entering the venue, the two of you greeted Pav who was there with Gayatri, being all smiles as usual. He pointed the two of you in the direction of the rest of the crowd where you introduced yourself to some of the aunties while Miguel followed like a lost puppy. He was noticeably taller than most of the people there, so it was a lot easier for you to find him than for him to find you.

As you greeted more and more people you found yourself slipping behind the scene, helping out with moving things and passing out food and party favors. Then, because Miguel was glued to you, he joined in as well.

You couldn't help but laugh to yourself as you watched all the aunties swooning over him. He seemed like the perfect gentleman in his traditional attire and with his helping hands on. It was sweet. "It's Miguel, right? Who are you here with? Your wife?" One of the aunties asked him, inspecting his kurta. "Uh, no, I'm here with a...friend." He said quickly, seeming a bit nervous. He noticed you looking at him and flashed you a quick smile before continuing to put things away with a little horde of women following him.

After at least an hour of helping out, you felt your feet starting to cramp, and decided to do a shoe change. After changing out of your heels into more comfortable sandals, you realized your jhanjharas didn't match anymore. So of course, you gave them to Miguel. "Can you hold these for me?"

He looked at you for a moment before taking them out of your hand. "What are they?" He asked, inspecting them carefully. "They're like anklets" you replied, already hearing someone calling your name to come help out again. "hmm." he responded, continuing to turn them around in his hands, dark gaze focused on the little gems and jewels decorating the thin material.

When he came to join you, you realized he wasn't holding them anymore. You opened your mouth to ask where he'd put them but then you saw, he'd put them around his wrists. You felt a blush forming on your face at the view. They looked so small around his wrists. You shook it out of your mind and continued what you were doing.

Eventually, as the event progressed, the actual wedding started. To entertain the guests, the bride and groom began their performative dance, a classic form of entertainment that most Desi weddings have. Miguel was standing next to you, arms awkwardly folded across his chest as he watched them perform, his eyes on you the entire time. "What?" you asked, returning his eye contact with a slight smile. "Nothing. I just...wasn't expecting a dance."

You laughed softly at this and continued to enjoy the performance as more of the guests joined in, the previously choreographed number turning into a mess of random people joining in and swaying to the music. Although a bit crowded, it was a lot of fun. You could see Pav and Gayatri dancing together and even caught a glimpse of Hobie messing around with some random Desi girl. Miguel seemed to notice this too and kept glancing at you until he finally mustered up the courage to ask, "So...would you like to join in?"

You looked at him, slightly surprised. "You want to dance?" You asked, giving him a sly grin. He shrugged quickly, looking away. "Well, everyone else is doing it. Besides, you look like you wanted to join anyways." he said quietly, trying to hide the small smile forming on his face.

With a teasing eye roll, you stretched out your hand towards him which he promptly took, and the two of you melted into the crowd. He was shuffling along at first, his height making it difficult for him to blend in with the rest as well as you did, but eventually he grew more comfortable and took your hands, swaying with you to the music.

You were focusing more on the bride and groom than on him, and you barely noticed when your bangles caught on the edge of his kurta's cuffs. He laughed quietly at your embarrassed expression as you tried to pull it away. "Here, let me" He said, gently taking your hand in his and removing the bangle. While you watched, he removed the fabric from the bracelet before sliding it back onto your wrist, eyes looking directly into yours.

Even after he'd placed it on, the two of you kept your eyes on each other, unwavering until he chuckled softly and looked away. "I wasn't expecting us to get to know each other so well" He said, looking at you slyly. "Me neither" you caught your breath, clearing your throat before stepping back slightly, but he held onto your wrist. "Hey, we're not done dancing yet, are we?" he asked as he pulled you closer again, fingers intertwining with yours.

"Its a good thing you were willing to come with me. Otherwise, I probably wouldn't be having this much fun" he said quietly as he timidly placed his hands onto your waist, your arms going around his neck. While the rest of the crowd danced wildly to the fast-paced music, the two of you took it slow, eye contact seeming more intense than usual. "I'm glad I took you as my date." You said with a smile.

"Anytime." he gave you a lopsided grin, shyness slowly melting away as he held you.

"Anytime?" You asked teasingly, tilting your head up at him slightly.

"Anytime."

Taglist

@therealloopylupin2099 @daydreaming-en-pointe @vileviale @s6onder @puff-hugs

[spotaus]

Woah!!! Ec-4o.Verse reference?? Bringing you Geno! (With a bunch of notes that are intelligible off to the sides-)

Cropped versions for easier reading/zooming! But to be more fun about it, here's a Lore Recap for each design! (I'd say these designs are from... hmm, a hundred years or so? He's a Boss Monster so he lives a lot longer.)

(Tw: Mentions of Death, Self-Loathing, Mental Illness, and I feel a few other things)

Pre-War:

Geno was a normal guy, had a dayjob, but was beloved by his friends for being a Programmer. He was lazy, had awful work ethic, but would pump out amazing quality work for cheap as long as he was given the time to do things at his own pace. He has a passion for Psychology, but was awful socially, so he designed programs that mimicked mental illnesses in Test Ectos (ectos not embedded with personalities or magic) so people could research mental health without risking patient wellness. He made A.Z. too, the first real mimicry of mental illnesses in children. Geno got attached and kept A.Z. himself, the last prototype of the code. The finalized ones can be found anywhere, but he kept A.Z. around, and even though A.Z. wasn't sentient it was such a good mimicry, Geno practically treated him like a son.

Geno was known for his work, and was contacted by the government of his country to come and work on a big nation-wide upgrade they were planning to improve ecto functionality. Again and again Geno simply ignored their letters, emails, chats, and attempts to call. It wasn't his field of study, so he could care less. So, all that led to the government sending people to confiscate A.Z. from Geno and shut down his workshop under the pretenses of 'unethical programming methods'. He was forced to relocate, and A.Z. was basically held as blackmail to force Geno into working. (Since A.Z. wasn't sentient, he was simply property, and therefore there was no legal issues with the government taking him.)

Before/During the War:

In this time, Geno was among hundreds of other talented people from all across the country who were 'recruited' to work on this project. People who didn't comply with orders went missing, loved ones were "lost" and life projects destroyed. Geno was part of the Programming team (there were also Medical, Bio-Enhineering, and Engineering teams) and he was initially supposed to just shut off the programs within an Ecto that gave them emotion protocols, even the ones infused with magic.

But, as things went on, he was told to do more and more. He was involved in more marketing and branding and announcements. He was made to be on screen, be the face of the change. His background was good for publicity (man who studied ways to harmlessly study mental health) and he was supposedly trustworthy. By day he'd stand up beside someone and listen to them implore people to bring their ectos in for this quality of life upgrade to their nearest government office. By night he'd be slaving away infront of code, being forced to find a way to make these robots kill people. Just enough people. To nullify themselves when it was all over. I'm his despair he tried to make it so that their emotion drives would at least register these events as something positive, so they felt no distress if they were sentient. He tried so hard to stop but any backlash did nothing. So he kept his head down and worked quietly.

And then he was transferred locations. Somewhere closer to the heart of the operation. He met Sci, a man unaware of the Culling Orders or the heartache, because they government had been treating him well. He was a bio-engineer, and his project (nicknamed Fresh) was like if a self-healing code was a living thing and could slow, or even heal, wounds. The government wanted it, in the case that it could unlock immortality. Sci was getting funding and a cushy life. Geno realized Fresh was the best way he coukd possibly end all of this war that was in the works. For good.

So he poured hid heart and soul into finishing that code. "A change of heart prompted by wanting so desperately for his prized project, AZ, to be saved" He claimed. There were a few useful bots that filled through the office. He offered to install code that would prevent the Culling Order from activating inside them since they were going to be preserved. While adding code he added failsafes and kill codes and important information from his and others work he wanted saved. He added the names of every researcher he knew had been drafted into this unwillingly. He did it in secret, so entrenched in code only another programmer would notice.

And then the war started, and Sci learned the truth, and people started dying. Geno had to convince Sci to help him after that. Sci feared being killed. He feared not being able to finish his work. He feared not being protected from the pain and destruction outside. It was a long plenty of *years* that Geno had to configure just the right plan, just the right way to ensure that Sci abd Fresh would survive it. That the rest of the base would be no threat and that it'd stop the Ectos and the Culling Code.

And then he did it. He put an end to the war, at the price of all the power on the continent running to every piece of tech, and at the price of his own arm and eye.

Post-War:

Geno was disfigured. He knew that to make an EMP large enough to cut off all electricity, he would need to overload his own master consol to the point of battery meltdown. An explosion. He didn't tell Sci. Only mentioned he'd need Fresh on-hand. So when it exploded, his left arm (non-dominent just like he planned), his chest, and the right side of his skull (his left eye was better) were demolished in the blast and dusted near instantly. Sci and Fresh managed to save his life, and Sci, resident Bio-Engineer, was able to replace his missing limbs and his wounds with spare ecto parts over the course of a few weeks.

Geno was slow to recover, nearly on the verge of falling down during recovery (He didn't know where they'd stored A.Z. if he was even still in-tact, he had been the reason so many humans and monsters had died, and now to reverse his mistake he'd taken out the electricity the country had been relying on for the past thousands of years.) But he pushed through. He was Determined. He needed to get to the four robots he embedded information and failsafes into. But they were scattered across the country for aafe-keeping. Incase he'd failed. So he has to hunt them down.

As soon as he can he leaves. Sci stays. Geno promises he'll come back (he doesn't). Geno takes a medical uniform, packs the supply belt with programming tools, and moves out. He enters the main story while on this trek to hunt down his Ectos. Not a single one is where they should've been, and he can't help but be furious, praying to a non-existant God that they weren't scrapped by heathens out for parts or destroyed in a rage by scared survivors.

Looking for the four? One day their trackers finally Light up again. One by one. All in the same location. And Geno follows it like a moth to the flame.

[karatekels]

Valek TIG. Reader is Jack’s daughter (18+). The church put the cross at a church at a catholic boarding school for slayer’s children in training to be future slayers, trying to keep everything that needed guarding together. But in reality Valek is able to get the cross and a definite reason to keep Jack engaged in the fight. What would be better than turning Jack’s only family against him. Enemies to lovers.

I'm SO excited to finally get to this one! I hope that it's worth the wait - I'm anticipating it to be 4 chapters in total, and this is definitely going to be the shortest one.

TW: Indoctrination by the Catholic Church, implied death, blood (very minor... for now)

---

Heirloom - Chapter 1

---

Deep in the centre of Tuscany sits the medieval town of Monteriggioni, perched on a hill and surrounded by high stone walls. A centuries-old fortress, it has long been a place of protection for its allies, and can become fully self-sufficient during times of trouble.

It has been operating as a self-sufficient town for decades now, its gardens plentiful.

While official records claim a population of ten thousand, the number of people living in this little city fluctuates like the ebb and flow of a powerful tide.

The comings and goings of its occupants are a well-kept secret, known only to those who are allowed access to the city in the first place.

Within the walls of Monteriggioni, the next generations of Slayers receive their training.

To the public, this education is given a generic name of importance, one that oozes prestige but does not invite questions: The International School of Siena.

To anyone that looked over the curtain wall of the battlements, they would observe a quiet town with more than its fair share of churches, a large fortress at its centre. In practice, each church was a classroom, the fortress a dormitory to thousands of children and young adults, all slayers-in-training.

Some were orphans taken under the protection of the Catholic Church, others were the children of slayers, descendants of the Crusaders.

All were soldiers. Or at least, they would be before they were allowed beyond the city’s walls.

Those responsible for the Scholars of Monteriggioni (as they were known) held various roles: providers, priests, parents. But above all, they were protectors and educators.

And when you had completed your scholarship and were done being protected and educated by the Elders, you waited.

You, Y/N Crow, have been waiting for years.

You aren’t exactly thrilled about it.

You had spent the first thirteen years of your life raised by a single mother that had done everything possible to keep you from the dark world your father operated within. You hadn’t even met the man until a few months after the fire that had destroyed your life and taken your mother from you.

The Catholic Church had claimed you as a ward with the written permission of your biological father immediately upon your mother’s death, a strange and unwelcome presence as you had not been raised with any sort of faith in your life. Having nothing left in America, you had been relocated to the tiny town of Monteriggioni and introduced to the terrifying reality of vampires that walked among us in the night.

You hadn’t believed the stories until you were forced to witness the execution of a goon with your own eyes, the memory of their screech and charred body burned into your mind forever afterward. You had spent the next ten years being moulded into a warrior, a weapon wielded by the Church to exterminate the unholy scourge of the earth that was the growing vampire population.

And you’ve spent more than two years now waiting to be recruited so you could leave this place.

How was it that you, daughter of the infamous Jack Crow, Master Vampire Hunter, hadn’t been added to a team yet? And even if the nepotism hadn’t helped you, you had excelled in your training. So what could possibly be the reason you were still stuck in Monteriggioni?

You suspect that your so-called father has something to do with it.

You really hate the man.

Where did he get off, taking you from your home and everything you’d known and forcing you to follow in his footsteps and then not even letting you out into the world to prove yourself? The best years of your life, the time when you were supposed to find yourself, had been unceremoniously taken from you, and for what?

With nothing better to do, you had taken to exploring the catacombs beneath the city as of late, trying to map out the complex system of tunnels you had grown up on top of. You would hardly say that you were even an amateur cartographer at this point, but your ever-expanding maps made sense to you, at least.

Your focus over the last few months has been the western quadrant of the tunnels. Your exploration of the other areas have all yielded at least one secret passageway or hidden room, but you haven’t found any in this section yet.

These dark, underground halls had long stopped being scary to you, but today something feels different, like there is a chill in the air. While it had been early evening when you’d descended into the tunnels, night was likely only falling now, and you knew it took a few hours after sundown for the night’s chill to seep this far into the ground. You’d been dealing with an inexplicable draft as well, which shouldn’t have been possible underground, but there it was, playing with the flame of your torch again and threatening to extinguish it.

Ordinarily, you could fiddle with the fuel and the airway to create a smaller, more stable flame – with all of your training, you really only required the tiniest fraction of light to see in the dark – but the symbols marking secret entrances were small, and you needed as much light as you could get if you didn’t want to risk missing them entirely.

You were right to do so, coming across two small symbols shortly after reigniting the torch for the fourth time today: one in the shape of a crescent moon, the other an empty cup. You had seen the latter symbol before, here in the catacombs; it indicated the need for a blood sacrifice for the passageway to open. The moon, however, you had only seen in ancient texts, usually used to symbolize change or transformation due to the multiple phases of the lunar cycle. It probably had something to do with what was housed inside, which meant that it wasn’t one of the disused passageways that led out of the city.

Eagerly, the curiosity burning within you, you set your torch on a nearby sconce before unsheathing your dagger, slicing your thumb with the ease of long practice and pressing it against the symbol of the cup. When you remove your thumb from the wall, the symbol looks like a goblet of wine, and a deep rumbling can be heard before the wall slides open a crack.

Bracing yourself against the opposing wall, you press on the newly revealed door with your leg, pushing it open, the sound of stone on stone grating but not unpleasant. Stepping inside the room with your torch in hand once more, your breath is taken away by what’s inside.

Up on the old stone altar, dozens of candles guiding your gaze upwards like the bannisters of a divine staircase, is a large black crucifix, adorned with gold and rubies. A real, sacred relic, right before your very eyes, glittering magnificently in the torchlight…

Relics like these were rumoured to have been stashed all over the city over the centuries. You’d come across some of the altars where they had been kept during your explorations, but they had always been empty, the precious artifacts moved somewhere else or destroyed.

Did anyone even know that this was here? Should you know that this was here? What were you supposed to do know that you had come across it? You weren’t exactly supposed to be poking around down here; you hope you don’t get in trouble.

“Crow…” an unfamiliar voice, husky yet soft, purrs from behind you. You turn guiltily, hoping that a priest or cardinal isn’t about to condemn you for being down here.

But no one is there, waiting to pass judgement on you.

Something about that whisper of your name has your hair standing on end, and you suddenly feel quite claustrophobic in this stone room beneath the city. Time to get out of here.

Taking one last look at the cross, you take your torch in hand and return it to the sconce in the main hallway, moving to reseal the altar room. Your eyes skim past the symbols that marked this place, before doing a double take.

The cup is no longer red with your blood; instead, a dark stain fills the chalice, the way rock did when it got wet. A shudder runs through you, and you think that the spike in adrenaline will at least make it a bit easier for you to push the think wall of stone back into place.

“What is your name, child?” a new voice, this one equally as unfamiliar as the first, asks from the shadows. You shriek, diving for the torch and brandishing it against the darkness, looking for the speaker.

“Where are you?” you demand, fighting to keep your voice from wavering. “Show yourself!”

“Your name…” the voice demands again, high and clear like the ringing of a tuning fork.

“Y/N!” you cry out, wanting the voice to stop more than anything. “Y/N Crow.”

“Did I not tell you, Cassandra?” comes the deeper voice, clearly a male. “Her blood does tempt me so, just the same as her father’s. The blood of a Crusader…” the voice hisses, and you come to a horrifying realization.

Your blood sacrifice hadn’t been absorbed by the stone.

It had been licked clean.

Vampires were underneath Monteriggioni.

Sure enough, two figures slowly emerge from the shadows, staying just on the edge of where the light of the torch fades. From what you can see, both are dressed head to toe in black, only their faces and hands visible, bare and ghostly white. The female is short, shorter than you, with long auburn hair that falls in waves like spilt blood, while the male towers over you even from this distance, his hair dark and brushing his shoulders.

You don’t reply, you can’t reply. You can’t even breathe.

You just turn and run.

You think you hear the faint whispers of a conversation between them, but it’s hard to be certain as your heart pounding in your ears drowns out every sound but the thudding of your feet on stone.

You desperately try to picture your map in your head, but this was the area of the catacombs that you were least familiar with. Left… you need to go left.

There’s a whoosh of air, and your torch flickers again, nearly going out, and then the female vampire stands in front of you with a gentle smile.

Oh. They had been the source of the breeze down here.

Placidly, you wonder how long they had been down here for, how long they had been following you for.

You don’t give it too much thought; you’ll be dead in a moment anyway. You’re glad that the dormitories didn’t have any entrances to the catacombs; that would give everyone else a chance, at least.

“Come with me,” Cassandra’s piercing voice demands, extending a clawed hand towards you.

You take an immediate step back; it’s more of a reflex than anything. She gives you an encouraging smile that doesn’t meet her wide, pale eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you, little one,” she insists, despite being several inches shorter than you are. “Now come with me,” she purrs, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes seem to glow, and you find yourself moving towards her, feeling like you were floating. She was mesmerizing you.

Knowing that her powers of hypnosis are at work does nothing to break you from their spell, and as you find yourself walking into her open arms, Cassandra laughs delightedly, wrapping you in a cruel imitation of a hug.

“Now… sleep.”

Weightless, your world fades to black.

---

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Epilogue

One of the things that disappoints me the most about John Carpenter's Vampires is that there are quite a few cool ideas and concepts that are just... not built on at all, in favour of more screentime for Katrina's abuse or James Woods's unpleasant quips. I really want to build up this world, and that starts with giving at least SOME of the other Master/Mistress vampires a name, starting with Cassandra!

[your-queer-dad]

Hi Dad

This is the person who wrote about being too old recently and about a lost ask. I don’t have the previous text anymore so I’ll wri

TW: rant, suicide mentiones, depression, OCD intrusive thoughts, war, ED

So, I have been going through some stuff for the last ~10 years, having to relocated cause of war twice, various toxic situations and relationships, coming out as trans and loosing half of my friend group, so on. But I always felt like there will be a point where somehow, through magic, luck and working on it, I would get better.

But recently I’ve been feeling kinda hopeless, it seems like all any attempt at improvement does is just show me a new flavour of how being miserable. My 20s will end in a few years and I’m just a mess again. Most days it’s hard to do basic tasks and my work on top of that, some days it’s hard to even take public transport cause my brain like to tell me that I’m a predator if I look at people for more than 0.01 seconds without a “good reason”. I’ve even tried taking the easy route out, but could go through with it.

I am also overweight and have been so for most of my life. I know that this is just my body type and that some people find it beautiful, but I just cannot force myself to love it. Been going through starving myself and overeating phases but always end up in the same phase. A year and a half ago, when I cried alone on my birthday because I saw myself in the mirror and thought that noone could ever love me like that. That I am trapped forever being forgotten and unwanted and playing second fiddle to the happy endings of other people.

I have wonderful friends, a good career, I live in a beautiful and queer-friendly city. But I just don’t know how to not feel awful and dissociated and guilty and in pain all of the time. I even eat salads everyday, yes dad, you can be proud of me I no longer feed myself frozen pizzas! Tried 5+ different psych meds, went to multiple therapists and looking for one again, talked to a bunch of doctors but nothing is ever helping. Nothing is ever getting better in my head or in my heart.

Sorry if this is too dark, I just wanted to vent a but without burdening my friends with it again.

Thanks for being around, dad.

Hey kiddo! I'm really happy to hear from you again. It sounds like you've been through so much kiddo and I'm so sorry you've been through so much. But you're still here, and it sounds like you've been trying so hard. I'm so proud of you- and I'm really glad you're here.

The thing with mental health is you can have the most picture perfect life you could imagine, friends, family, career the whole shabang- and still be depressed. Sometimes mental health issues don't go away, or we struggle with them for years and years. Maybe they'll never go away. But we grow around them, our lives expand and bloom around it, and sure it's still there but as things grow the issues feel smaller and smaller. It'll be there, but you'll have other things as well.

Not every day can be a good day, but someday the good days will out weigh the bad ones. You just gotta hold on til you see them.

I'm so incredibly proud of you kiddo. You're doing so well, through so much shit- keep going and I'll always be here to listen. 🫂

- dad x