#was he stalking you before his unfortunate accident

[ceilidho]

hmmmm “wakes up with amnesia” trope but instead it’s Ghost that wakes up after you found him half dead in a ditch somewhere and thinks that you must be his if you were out looking for him. even convinces himself that he can almost remember the first time he ever saw you. won’t hear of it when you try to tell him that the two of you have never even met before.

[k-hotchoisan]

coming home with me

<san x fem!reader>

under the dim lights, Choi San realises that he just can’t keep this casual when it comes to you.

genre/warnings: pwp, smut, furcoat!San, is San being toxic??? I guess we’ll never know!, jealous dom! San, unprotected sex, reader is commando, car sex, fingering riding, breeding kink, spanking

a/n: ahoy!! y’alls gotta thank @bro-atz & @skteezcursed for the fic concept 😘 have been overwhelmed with life so I’m presenting this as my compensation ~

w/c: 3.1K

Under the dim lights, your eyes slowly adjust, and much to your delight, you spot the man you’ve been eye candying at a booth. Of course, you knew he was gonna be there considering you’ve been stalking his socials, and casually asking your mutual friends about his favourite hang-out spots. 

He’s cute, you think, stealing glances at him from afar, wondering how you should approach him. A coincidence? Maybe stage an accident? 

“And what’s the end goal for you with him?” You hear your friend’s voice piercing into your thoughts. 

Well, initially, it was mostly a light-hearted flirty thing. You just thought he was cute. All romance sparks started off with the thrill of liking someone. It just hadn’t reached to that point with him yet. 

“Maybe play around? I don’t know”, you reply. 

Or maybe it was just a farce to keep a certain guy off your mind. 

“You know, you don’t have to force yourself”, your friend reminds you, her palm on your hand comfortingly. “You should be direct with him.” 

You force a smile back to assure her.

“It’s fine. I’m not gonna do anything foolish.” 

You don’t notice the confused expression she’s making at your answer because now you’re thinking if you should just let things unfold naturally. Amidst your pondering, your friend’s elbow nudges you. 

“And he’s looking at you”, she says. Your eyes glance up—and she’s right—your little eye candy has seemed to catch your gaze. He smiles even though he’s on the other side of the room. You give him a small wave and he waves back. Then he gestures for you to go down to the dance floor. You’re wondering if you should too as you watch him leave his booth and down the stairs to the crowded floor. 

Unfortunately, you let the thought sit for a little too long because when you decide to leave the booth to the floor, you’ve lost him. 

Letting the flashing lights and lasers with the decent music from the DJ doesn’t sound like a bad idea. 

Soon enough, your eyes filter through the people and you catch your prey. He seems to be talking to someone but he also seems to have noticed your stare before he fully turns to you. 

But as you’re steadily maneuvering the crowd to reach him, your eyes meet another man’s—sharp and all too familiar—and it seems as though he’s caught you too. 

Your eyes widen and you immediately turn away, fishing your phone from your chest, opening your phone book to speed dial.

You bring your phone up to your ear, turning away from the approaching male deliciously styled in a black fur coat walking towards you, panic obvious in your tone while your friend picks up. You look up at her from the dance floor, eyes wide. 

“Babe, you did not tell me that he was here?!” You whisper-shout. You watch your friend’s face widen her eyes before she shrugs. 

“Who the hell did you think I was referring to just now? I was talking about Choi San!” 

Choi San has had his eyes on you since you settled in your booth. He never thought he would see you out of all the clubs that existed in this town. But despite the slight scowl present on his face when he realises you’re flirting with someone else at the same level booth he is on, there’s a seed of desire that’s lodged in his heart, that maybe he has a chance. 

But first, he has to get rid of your little eye candy. 

San’s eyes trail your movements carefully—from the way you bat your eyelashes at the other male from the other booth, then to the way you stare after him as he walks down to the floor. 

How have you not noticed him yet? 

He stays put on the sofa, silently counting down how much longer it’d take for your eyes to rake over the rest of the booths to reach him. 

Unfortunately, it only leaves him frustrated, and even tenfold when you leave your seat while your eyes search for him on the dance floor. 

Guess he has to do it his way then. 

He pushes past the wave of people, still locked onto you under the dim lights

The satisfaction that floods into his brain when your eyes meet his, his ears slowly tuning out the music, and he watches the way you eyes widen when you finally take notice of him from a distance. 

And then you turn away. San cocks his eyebrow in confusion and irritation, and his footsteps towards you quicken. 

Then he stops in his tracks once more. 

Dear god, something might break today if he gets interrupted one more fucking time. 

Your attention is stolen by your little eye candy. He got to you before San could.

You’re well-aware that you’re being stared down by a certain male from your peripherals, and that certainly wasn’t stopping you from pretending that he’s part of the air molecules, although not the easiest task when he’s boring a hole into your head. 

You look back at your eye candy, plastering a pretty smile. 

The both of you sink into small talk, leaning in closer in an attempt to hear each other over the music. You’re listening to him, but your attention remains on someone else. Someone who’s not hiding that he’s stealing glances at you. 

“Do you wanna go somewhere private?” You hear him ask into your ear. His arm is snaking around your waist, and your interest is waning. 

You’re ready to reject him, and you jolt slightly when you feel a bigger pair of hands slide across your back replacing the unfamiliar warmth. 

“She’s got afterparty plans”, San answers curtly. It’s an automatic response that you swallow hard when let your eyes rake over San. His hair is slicked back, letting a couple strands fall past his eyes. He’s smug with the corner of his lips curled up. Maybe it’s the confidence that you hate about him, but like a moth drawn to a flame, you can’t seem to stay away from him. 

You see the way the male tuts, then force a smile. “No worries. We’ll see each other soon, yeah?” 

You nod, already losing him in the crowd, mostly because Choi San has your full attention. 

Even under the dim lights, Choi San looks stunning. You realise you’re royally fucked when your eyes trail to the star of the show—the fact that San isn’t wearing anything underneath his fur coat. That piece of apparel somehow makes him look bigger, and it’s driving you insane. Well, if the tension escalates, he might get a surprise if you’re feeling generous enough. But right now, he’s eyeing you down like a predator, and it’s making you fall into his spell. 

His arm isn’t leaving your back. He’s leaning in closer, making sure you hear his words loud and clear in your ear. 

“That’s your type?”

You do your best to hide the effects he’s having on you—ignoring heat pooling between your thighs.

Your fingers play with the soft fur as he leans in and waits for your answer. He smells so fucking good. 

You shrug, and that only bubbles his irritation further. His grip on your waist tightens slightly.

“Answer me, darling”, he pushes, his palm sliding lower down. 

“Maybe. We had a nice chat before you cut in. Seemed like a decent person.”

San furrows his eyebrows. 

“What if he’s not a good person? Does that mean any guy that has a nice conversation with you a good person?”

His other arm is snaking around the back of your neck and he definitely feels your goosebumps. He’s forcing you to look at him. 

“San”, you huff, mentally bracing yourself from falling for his charms again. “And on what grounds do you have to be saying all of this?” 

“As your best friend?”

You scoff, with a roll of your eyes. Painful to tear away from his chiseled body just peeking out. 

San can’t seem to pinpoint it—for some reason, the interaction you had with your eye candy pricked him so much. But why? You and he have always been fooling around, leaving feelings at bay so it wouldn’t “complicate things”. But obviously after tonight, something clicked, and San is very sure he doesn’t like you to be around other men that aren’t him. 

“I’m leaving, Choi San. It’s hard to hear you with all these people around”, you make up the excuse, smacking his arm away with much reluctance, only for him to snatch you back once more. San makes sure you hear him loud and fucking clear when he leans into your ears. 

“We should go somewhere private then.”

Your moan in the kiss sets him off. Your hands trail up his bare body, and his hands are on your thighs. 

Fucking you in his car wasn’t San’s preference—he prefers a little more space— but he’s not complaining when he has you slowly unravel right before him, forced to press yourself against him even with the seat reclined and his thick erection is just shameless pressing against your body con dress. 

His fingers slip under your dress, and he groans when he feels your bare pussy—wet, puffy and just ready. 

And for some reason, it pisses him off when thought of your eye candy being the one to discover this instead of him. 

“Just how much of my buttons are you gonna push tonight, princess?” He asks rhetorically, his sharp eyes locked onto yours, trying not to snap from how wet you are.

You steady yourself on his lap, your mind slowly growing blank whenever his thick fingers graze your clit and past your sopping hole. 

“You were just begging to be fucked, huh?” San asks with his fingers circling so close to your pussy. 

“San!-“

“Tell me then: who were you hoping to fuck you stupid tonight?”

Your begs come in the forms of soft whimpers, and a sob rips from you when he plunges two thick fingers in, filling you up so fucking full.

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

His fingers fucking your cunt isn’t helping you think. 

You know there’s no way around this. As much as you hated to admit, San always seemed to have the upper hand. Nonetheless, your unintentional plan had roused a side of him you’ve never seen before. 

“I’m waiting.” 

It takes almost all of your strength to focus on answering him, and it’s making you frustrated because he’s intentionally missing the spot that he knows can send you seeing the stars. 

“You”, you answer meekly.

“Can’t hear you, sweetie.” His fingers press against your g-spot, and you lean closer to his body on reflex, your hands gripping his fur coat. You could just smack the smug look off Choi San if he didn’t have two fingers stuffed in you. 

“You! Oh, fuck-” You cry out when he misses your g-spot on purpose once more. 

“Right answer, sweetie. You deserve a reward for being a good girl, hm?”

You can’t even answer. His thumb is rubbing on your clit, it sends electricity all over in the best way possible on top of his fingers hitting your sweet spots over and over again. The wet sounds of your pussy squelching only bring up the thick tension. 

“Look at you, tightening up like this. Are you gonna cum for me?” His voice drops an octave, lulling you closer to your impending orgasm. You hate the way he knows every nook and cranny of your body as if it’s his. You just really cannot escape him. 

His words continue to edge you closer. 

“Oh, that’s a good fucking girl. Keep squeezing my fingers like that. I’m the only one who makes you feel this fucking tight, right?” 

You fucking hate Choi San. 

Cream seeps past his fingers from your hole when your orgasm brings your vision to white. Your moans fill up the car when it wrecks your body in waves, your nerves flooding with pleasure over and over. 

And San isn’t letting you leave the damn car, not until you’re screaming his name. 

He’s not faring any better himself and he could just get off just by watching you cum all over him like that. 

His fingers leave your soaking cunt, slightly pruning with strings of your cum in between his fingers. While you catch your breath, San forces you to watch him lick his sticky fingers clean while his free hand shifts your fingers to his bulging erection that’s just begging to be let out. He’s grown so fucking hard that you wonder if it hurts. 

You unbutton and unzip his trousers, then push yourself to the side towards the car door to give him enough space so he’s able to fully remove his trousers. You can’t help but worry if the both of you would be caught, even though San assured you that he parked at a secluded spot. Your eyes dart to the windows, noticing how it’s beginning to grow foggy.

Oh. It’s about to get a lot more foggy. 

San’s touch pulls you out of your thoughts. Although you’ve fucked many times, the sheer fucking size of his cock never fails to make you swallow hard. 

Your hands wander up his tits as you settle back down onto his thighs. The realisation hits you then—the only clothing article Choi San has on right now is his fucking fur coat. 

He catches onto your stare and smiles in response. 

“Why? Is the thought of getting fucked by your favourite person wearing a fur coat getting you excited?”

You narrow your eyes at him, and you palm his bare, thick, and sticky cock, making San groan in reply. 

“Favourite? What makes you think you’re my favourite?” 

He chuckles and makes your heart flutter. 

“Many things, sweetheart. Just as you’re mine.”

You’re really gonna end up losing to him, huh? 

You lift your hips instead, lining up to his cockhead, and then letting San guide your hips down his fat cock, making you take him inch by inch. You bite your lip at the feeling of his cock filling you up so disgustingly good, and San has his eyes screwed shut, a strained groan leaving his lips when your warmth envelops him so fucking good. 

“That’s it. You’re so fucking warm and tight for me”, San mutters in pleasure through half-lidded eyes. 

Riding San sometimes feels too much for you, in the best fucking ways possible because he’s all the way in, and he knows that very well—how easily you get sensitive and squirmy just from sitting on his cock. 

You slowly bounce off his cock, grabbing his shoulders for leverage. He likes that you have to lean into him while he fucks you from below so he can whisper the most dirty things into your ear just to make you clench around him.

His palms slide down your ass, following the momentum of you bouncing off his cock, then landing a tight slap against your skin to hear your gasp and feel you tighten on his cock. 

The sting feels so fucking good that another slap has your pussy leaking cream all over his cock once more. 

“S-San! If you keep doing that-“ you cry, another slap to your ass making you jolt, sinking even deeper into his cock. 

“That’s your punishment for flirting with another man in front of me like that”, his voice buzzing in your ear. 

Another smack. 

Your thighs are trembling from the overstimulation. 

One more smack. 

Your mind is about to shut off. San’s cock is pressing against your g-spot with even more pressure than his fingers. 

The windows have completely fogged up.

“San, please. Oh my fucking god. Gonna fucking cum”, you whine, arms tight around his neck, intoxicated with the smell of his musk mixed with his cologne. 

San’s grunts fill your ears when your second orgasm drowns you again, your cunt pulsing uncontrollably around him, cream just pooling at the base of his cock. He groans and buries his nose into your neck, his mind fuzzy from how close his orgasm is. 

“I’m gonna cum in you. Wanna plug your pussy hole full of my cum. 

And you’re gonna take all of it like a good girl.”

“Yes, please”, you reply, much to his pleasant surprise. So his large hands hold your legs down, listening to you whine while his cock fills you up endlessly with warm and thick cum with moans escaping his lips every few seconds from how fucking good he feels. 

He pushes you off his body gently, his eyes reflecting the hearts in your glazed-out eyes. His thumb brushes against the corner of your lips and he pushes his thumb past your lips. 

“Such a good fucking girl, letting me fill you up with my load. Does it feel good?”

You nod, twitching slightly from the overstimulation since he still has you stuffed full of both dick and cum. San wants to keep this sight of you in his brain forever—sucking on his finger, sweating with him post-orgasm, staring down at him with watery eyes while his cum just leaks past your puffy pussy hole even though his cock is plugging your cunt. 

San pulls you into a deep kiss, and you reciprocate it in between breathless pants and sighs. 

“Fuck. I think I’m in love”, he mutters loud enough for you to hear. 

You don’t know how to answer to that, but you feel your face flushing. He grabs the tissues stowed in the storage compartment and quickly cleans the both of you up after he lifts you off his softening cock. 

You instinctively shift to the passenger seat, and San removes his fur coat to cover you. You watch him grab a black tank top from the back seat, then fit his trousers over his thighs. 

He rolls down the windows despite the air-con running, just to rid the smell of sex.

You wrap his coat closer to you when the night breeze kisses your cheeks. 

“So, are you gonna send me home?” There’s a strange tint of hope you have that he’d decline. 

San stares at you with an expression that confuses you—one that makes you wonder if you had said something weird. Then he smiles after that. 

“You’re coming home with me, sweetheart”, San tells you as he loops his tank top over his head before he switches gear to move out. 

“It’s gonna be a long night for the both of us.” 

taglist:

@bro-atz @skteezcursed @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie  @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf  @jeon-ify @miss-fallon @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @haleyjoy @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn @vic0921 @sanhwajoong @bitejoongie @no1likevie @jwnghyuns @everythingboutkpop @skz1-4-3 @minalizasworld @seomisaho @tunafishyfishylike @woojirang @yuyusgirl

[steddiealltheway]

Steve can see it in Max. That same loneliness and ache that he finds in himself. For him, it’s result of his parents leaving with no intent to return to him unless absolutely necessary.

He knows he was an accident. Or rather a mistake as his father used to call him when he was particularly angry. But it made sense to him. Steve's the reason his father had to marry his mother. He left him "trapped." And maybe no one says it out loud, but he can tell his mother feels the same way too.

But they must keep up appearances, right?

Which is what Max has been trying to do since Billy died, El moved away, and it's been just her and her mom. But she's been going about it through a different route - pushing people away all while pretending things are fine. But Steve sees the way she picks up the broken pieces of her mom and tries to put them back together - Steve's had to do the same thing before.

So, he starts sticking around a little longer. Offering her more rides to the arcade and around town to pick up groceries when she needs to. Sometimes he'll tell her about a new recipe he's been trying for a casserole and pick up the ingredients, pretending like the milk and butter he bought will spoil by the time he drives home from her trailer.

Of course, they both know it's a lie, but Max humors him and plays along. She'll let him cook dinner while she picks up the bottles her mom left on the floor, dumps out the overflowing ashtray, and feeds the dog. Usually, Steve will ask her what she's learning in school and linger a little longer than usual in hopes that she'll say more than the usual, "I don't know. A bunch of boring stuff."

But lingering has gotten a lot of things out of Max such as her love for Kate Bush, a story about El and how much she misses her, and short quips about Lucas before she gets a sad smile on her face. Steve doesn't really know what to say most of the time, but he hopes that just being there will help.

Unfortunately, lingering and just being there has led him to his current predicament of none other than Eddie "The Freak" Munson sitting on the hood of his car glaring at him as he walks out of Max's place. Steve jumps a little, startled by the figure on his car and becoming more hostile as he sees the expression on his face. He shoves his hands in his pockets and slows his pace. "Is there a problem?"

Eddie snorts humorlessly. "Christ. You're really going to pretend like there's nothing wrong with what's happening?"

Steve's brows furrow, entirely missing whatever point he's trying to make.

Eddie stands up and stalks toward him. "I see you, you know. Always lurking around when her mom isn't home. Coming out of her trailer late at night."

Steve laughs, finally understanding the absurd conclusion he's come to. "Jesus, man. You're delusional."

Steve doesn't expect it, but Eddie sharply shoves his chest and grits, "I don't fucking lie to me, Harrington."

Steve holds his hands up. "I'm not," he firmly states. "Nothing like that is happening here. I'm glad you're looking out for her, but it isn't like that."

"Do you expect me to believe that? Maybe this is why you're always hanging around Henderson and the other kids."

Steve crosses his arms and his jaw tenses. "I'm not a fucking pervert or a pedophile if that's what you're trying to say. I'm just looking after them."

"Why?" Eddie asks, dramatically opening his arms, "Why would King Steve adopt a group of misfits to take under his wing? See, the math isn't adding up."

Usually, Steve would just brush it off and tell the person to fuck off and mind their own business. But his parents have just left town again without leaving a note and Max had snapped when Steve tried to help her clean the place because it looked worse than usual, and he was just generally feeling like shit and angry at his parents and Max's parents for not being there. So he broke, "Because I don't want Max to end up like me! I don't want any of those kids to grow up without a role model. And god forbid if any of those other kids' parents fuck up, and they’re left with only me. I need them to know that I'm there for them! Because sometimes it feels like whenever the world goes to shit, I'm the only one who is there, and I plan to stay there, okay?!"

He finishes his rant breathing a little heavier than usual and noticing that a few of the lights in the trailers have turned on around them. He looks around and awkwardly nods to the people glaring out their windows. God, he needs to get a grip.

When he turns back to Eddie, he notices the conflicted expression, jaw dropped, eyebrows knitted together, eyes searching him as if he's still wondering if he's lying.

A door creaks open behind them and Steve curses under his breath as he hears Max say, "Eddie, leave him alone. Do you really think I would hook up with my damn babysitter? Jeez."

"Language," Steve quietly lectures as the door swings shut. He runs his hands over his face and takes a deep breath. It's been a long fucking day.

A hand lands on his arm and tugs him away from Max's trailer. Steve glances up at Eddie, leading him across the way. "Where are we going?"

"My place," Eddie says.

"Why?"

"So we can talk."

God, the last thing he wants to do is talk to Eddie of all people, the guy he's been actively avoiding since Dustin started worshipping the ground - or rather tables - he walks on. But he lets himself be pulled away in the trailer and practically deposited on the couch in the living room.

He glances up and comments, "That's a lot of mugs."

"My uncle's, but that's not what I wanted to... Christ," Eddie says, pacing in front of Steve and tugging his hair in front of his face. The anxious display makes Steve feel even more tired, but he lets him pace. God, what is he even doing here?

"I'm sorry," Eddie blurts out. "I'm just..." he trails off and rushes over to grab a stool a few feet away before dragging it in front of the couch. He sits on it but his leg still holds that nervous energy as it rapidly bounces up and down. "I jumped to conclusions, and it was really shitty of me, man. I just... didn't believe what Henderson was saying about you and thought 'Oh, this makes way more sense than Steve Harrington being a good dude.' And I'm sorry to accuse you of that. And I... I didn't know about your... parents and stuff. Like I knew they were away a lot because of your parties but... I just never connected the dots. And I'm sorry. No one deserves that shit, man."

Steve doesn't know what to do this whole interaction, especially with it coming from Eddie Munson who he doesn't think he's ever talked to before this moment, but... he needs to hear it. God, he needs to hear it.

Of course, he can't let him know this, so he does what he's best at and brushes it off. "It's fine. You were just looking out for the kids. And really just ignore what I said back there, it isn't that big of a deal."

Eddie worries his bottom lip before he blurts out, "I know what it's like." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "I mean, I know what it's like to have... absent parents. But in my case, eventually, my uncle Wayne took me in, and I can only imagine if he didn't." He gives him a pointed look and lowers his voice, "Do you have someone like that?"

A big part of Steve wants to leave right now, and he knows there's nothing stopping him. But a bigger part of him needs to stay. Needs to talk about the emptiness in his house that he can never truly escape at the end of the day that he can’t talk to anyone about. Because he's not supposed to be weak. He's supposed to take care of the others. So he admits, "No, I don't have... anyone like that. Except Robin but..."

"That's different," Eddie finishes the thought for him.

Steve nods. He loves Robin, but he loves her as a platonic soulmate and not as a parent figure in his life. "You know, I once had this basketball coach in middle school - Mr. Weston. And I remember looking up to him so much. I wanted to be just like him, and I would go to his office during lunch and ask him for advice or talk about dumb shit that my father would never talk about. But he never shamed me for my questions. And sometimes he even packed an extra dessert for me." Steve smiles at the memories and runs a hand through his hair, remembering the day he got the news. "But one time, when I went to his office, he had this look on his face. And I just knew it was bad news. And really, it wasn't bad news to him because his wife was pregnant. But she wanted to move a few states away to raise the kid closer to her family. And it wasn't his fault, you know? It wasn't like he purposely chose to move away from me, but I felt like I was abandoned again."

Steve wipes a tear from his eye and puts his head in his hands. "God, I don't know why I'm even telling you this story. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Eddie says quickly. He pauses and shifts on the stool, his gaze being far away. "I remember him. He was one of the only gym teachers that defended me against all the shitty middle school bullies. He was a good person.”

Steve nods. God, he was a good person.

Eddie continues, “I'm sorry that he left. And I bet he still regrets leaving you behind."

Steve leans back against the couch and looks away, shaking his head. "I bet he forgot about me."

"You're kind of hard to forget."

Steve looks at Eddie and sees a slight blush on his cheeks as he shakes his head and waves his hands as if trying to make the comment go away. "What I mean is that there's no way he's forgotten about you. Someone who you used to have lunch with all the time to the point of giving you free food... Nah, man. He remembers you. I think you may have been as important to him as he was to you."

The thought breaks away at a wall Steve had built up long ago. "Thanks," he practically whispers.

Eddie just smiles at him, small dimples appearing on his cheeks.

"You didn't deserve it either, you know," Steve says. "The absent parent stuff. Even with Wayne, they should've been here too."

Eddie's smile falters a bit as he swallows and looks at the ground. "Thanks," he mumbles. He looks up at Steve and comments, "Getting sappy with Steve Harrington. Who knew."

"Yeah, getting sappy with Eddie Munson," Steve echoes back at him.

Eddie laughs, "I'm surprised you even know my name."

"You're kind of hard to forget," Steve says easily.

That same blush comes back to Eddie who shifts in his chair a bit as if he needs to process the information with his whole body.

They sit in the moment for a bit before Eddie gets a somewhat serious look on his face and offers, "You know, I'm definitely not a parent figure or anything, but I'm always here and around to talk about that whole thing if you need to."

Steve's heart beats a little faster at the sheer genuineness. "Same here," he can't help but offer in return. He glances down at his watch and sighs, "It's getting late, so I better..."

"Right," Eddie says, standing up and leading him to the door. "Do you need water for the road or anything?"

Steve smiles and pats him on the back without thinking too hard about it. "I'm good, man. But thank you. For everything really."

"Sorry for being an asshole," Eddie apologizes again.

"Usually that's my line," Steve accidentally voices before cringing a bit, wondering further why Eddie's been so kind to him.

But as he opens the door, Eddie comments, "I don't know. It seems like Dustin was right about the whole reformed jock thing. Maybe your crown really has fallen - which is a good thing by the way."

Steve slightly smiles at him before he turns to leave. But he can't help but say, "I wonder what the neighbors will think about me leaving your trailer so late."

Eddie groans then laughs. "Sorry to ruin your image."

"I wouldn't mind," Steve replies, honestly unsure what he means by that. "Goodnight, Eddie."

"Goodnight, Steve," Eddie says, that same blush on his cheeks, only this time Steve isn't sure if it's something he said or a result of the cold night air.

In bed that night, Steve feels a slight weight lifted from him and can't help but feel like he’s a little less alone.

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Kiyoomi Sakusa General Profile

Yandere! Kiyoomi Sakusa x fem!reader

TW: kidnapping, stalking, drugging, controlling behavior, Kiyoomi is secretly a wee bit of a misogynist, he makes a few comments about Reader's weight but there's no explicit descriptors, allusions to reader purposefully hurting themself, reader suffers a minor concussion but it was an accident, implied noncon, mentions of physical abuse, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 10K

DARLING PROFILE:

Considerate

Kiyoomi is not an especially generous person. He’s civil, sure, and adheres to social customs enough to not be considered too rude, but he’s never really understood the need to stick out one’s neck at the expense of others.

And so Kiyoomi is equal parts intrigued and frustrated by a darling who’s empathetic and cognizant of others’ desires and wants. He thinks it’s admirable, if not a bit naïve, but it’s not until they stick their neck out for him that he really begins noticing them.

It’s small things – offering him the package of communal sweets first so that he can have the first bite, their smile seeming too big when they tell him that they know he hates when other people touch his food first. It’s the way they always ask about his day, asking about specific details when his blanket statement of fine doesn’t seem to be enough.

(And specifically, it’s the way they ask about how he felt, rather than simply what he did. It makes him pause and think, glancing at them like they’re crazy, but finding himself slightly intrigued because he can’t remember the last time someone had asked about his feelings.)

It irritates him, more than anything, but as his friendship with them grows, Kiyoomi finds himself almost growing protective over how invested his darling is in others. It’s dangerous to be so selfless, don’t they know?

They’re practically asking to be taken advantage of, and while Kiyoomi tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care in the beginning, it becomes harder and harder to maintain that air as his feelings slowly begin festering.

It’s just a sign of stupid kindness, he thinks, but it nonetheless draws him in, desperation to be seen by his darling insatiable.

Smart

Unfortunately, Kiyoomi is a bit of a snob. And although his profession isn’t exactly academic, he still likes to think of himself as a man with decent taste, or at least someone with a good head on his shoulders. And so, having a darling who is equally as intelligent is something that Kiyoomi absolutely must have.

He can’t tolerate a ditzy partner, finding himself growing too irritated to stand being around them. Instead, he needs a darling that’s quick-witted, perhaps even snarky like him to match his wit and challenge him intellectually.

Despite what proves to be a distinctly possessive and controlling edge in his relationship with his darling, he does truly find their intellect and ability to think for themselves wildly attractive.

(He limits this, of course, feeling that his thoughts and feelings are ever so slightly better for his darling’s wellbeing, but it’s still a significant source of where his attraction is stemming from.)

And because Kiyoomi needs to have been friends with his darling for a significant period of time before his infatuation fully settles in, his darling needs to be smart enough for him to feel like they’re an equal in a platonic, friendship-based setting.

They don’t need to be a genius, but Kiyoomi respects those who are inquisitive and able to foster a healthy curiosity about the world around them. It’s sweet, and while he’s never given much thought to having kids (because while he feels he’d be a decent father, he’s not sure if he could handle having such disgusting things latching onto his leg or drooling over his shoulder), the mother of his children absolutely must have a good sense of judgement and wits about her.

It’s just so appealing to him, and even as his obsession festers and grows, eventually trapping his darling away, he still expects to see that fire in their eyes, loving the way they seem to understand what he’s thinking without him even needing to say it.

Flexible

Because Kiyoomi is so particular, in order to develop a friendship with him, his darling needs to be flexible. They need to be able to understand his preferences, and understand that he’s moody.

A stubborn darling that butts heads with him will only lead to Kiyoomi growing frustrated, and instead he’d prefer someone who’s more complacent with his own desires. It’s a trait that Kiyoomi is a bit embarrassed to say he finds attractive, if only because it’s an admission of knowing that he can be difficult to be around, but the comfort that his darling provides for him in this aspect is one that makes his feelings grow exponentially.

He wants to feel comfortable and cared for in their presence, and a darling that’s willing to do whatever he would prefer not only soothes his anxieties, but it spoils him in a way that makes his heart flutter, his cheeks blooming ever so slightly pink and his palms clamming up a bit.

It’s just so very sweet, and it leaves him feeling only more eager to be in their presence, desperate to spend every waking moment he can with them.

And as his infatuation continues, this is a key trait that allows his feelings to fester and grow to the degree of feeling constantly on edge without his darling in his sight.

He’s able to insert himself into their life more easily this way, able to control every aspect of their life, keep them away from potential suitors, keep them looking at him and him only.

Clean

This one isn’t as imperative, but similarly to matching his intellect, Kiyoomi appreciates a partner who’s naturally cleaner. He’s comforted by the knowledge that his darling isn’t dirty, that when he gets brave enough to reach out and oh so carefully, hesitantly run his fingertips over the soft skin of their palm, that they’ve washed their hands recently.

He likes knowing that the wonderful, lovely scent of their hair is a mixture of their natural scent and shampoo, making his eyes roll to the back of his head because he just wants to keep inhaling and inhaling, breathing in as deeply as humanly possible to consume as much of them as he can.

There’s this subtle sense of pride that settles into his chest when he enter their apartment for the first time, pleased to see the way their living-space reflects his own – perhaps with elements of their personality, maybe more colors or patterns or photographs of friends and family, but it’s almost too easy to see himself pulling his darling into his side on the spotless sofa sitting in their living room.

It’s disturbingly easy to fantasize about pulling the covers of their well-made bed over his head, black curls brushing against his darling’s navel as he travels lower and lower, listening to their gasps and moans as he greedily laps at the spot between their freshly washed legs.

It’s just reassuring, and it only pushes his obsession deeper because he takes it as yet another sign that he and his darling are entirely compatible, a perfect match that he’d be a fool to let go.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Gradual

Despite his status as an internationally known professional athlete, Kiyoomi’s habits haven’t changed much since his youth. He’s still not especially interested in any sort of romantic relationship – he’s picky, incredibly so, and it takes him an extremely long time to feel comfortable enough with someone to actually be willing to be open and vulnerable with them.

(Particularly in the context of anything intimate – he needs to be very, very comfortable with them to reach the point where he’d willingly kiss them, touch them, or, god forbid, be inside of them.)

He’s not fully against the idea, but he’s realistic enough to know that he’d be a hard partner to please, and he just isn’t all that interested in finding someone. He’s got his career to worry about, and with all the traveling he does and his own personal idiosyncrasies, it would just be easier to not have a significant other.

And frankly, this mentality sticks with him – you have to have known Kiyoomi for quite some time before he develops feelings for you. At the absolute minimum, he must’ve been truly friendly with you for three years; that way, he can solidly say he finds you tolerable, that you’re acceptably clean, not too annoying, someone he doesn’t hate being around.

And even once his feelings begin forming, it’s a slow process – he doesn’t just suddenly wake up and decide that he’s in love with you. No, it’s much more gradual, much more subtle – he doesn’t even know it’s happening until it’s too late, after all.

It starts off as little things that he notices; a new haircut of yours (it was just a trim, something small and something even you had difficulty noticing) that he comments on absentmindedly, telling you it looks nice, this hairstylist is much better than the last one.

He’ll notice that you’ve changed your style a bit; maybe you bought a new pair of pants and you’re a little nervous about wearing them because they’re cute, but it’s a new color or a new cut or just a little bit outside your comfort zone. (He’ll blink and stare when you settle into the other chair at the café, your nerves getting the better of you as you ask what he’s staring at, only to get the rather flat response are your pants new? I like them.)

He's always been observant, noticing little things about you, but normally they’re things about your personality, or things about your likes or dislikes. He knows your favorite ice cream flavor, and which brands to avoid when he’s buying you some for your biweekly movie night (something you had to beg him to start, but now he finds himself looking forward to – enough that he’s counting down the minutes in practice that day, dark eyes glancing at the clock every few minutes and sighing lightly at how slowly time is moving).

He’s always known you were a bit of a klutz, and that your spatial awareness leaves a lot to be desired, just because he knows you. You’re tight friends, after all. But lately the things he’s been noticing are less platonic and less general, and more relating to your looks.

He’s never noticed that you have a fleck of another color in your eyes – it’s pretty, and when you turn your head just right in the sunlight, it makes your eyes glow.

He’s never noticed that you fill out your clothing very well; he’s gotten teased for spending so much time with you, sure, Hinata or Atsumu’s dramatic assertions about how the two of you must be more than friends always making him scoff and roll his eyes, disgusted by the implications. But now he finds himself wondering, late at night, with guilt gnawing at him, what it would be like to actually undergo those implications – being physical with you, that is.

His gaze is lingering on your pants a little more than usual, dark eyes staring just a hair too long at your ass, the jeans tight and accentuating every curve you have.

He’ll force himself to stop thinking about it, wondering where the hell that thought had sprung up from, rolling over in bed and shutting his eyes tightly, praying for sleep to come and for the images of the few, accidental times he’d seen you in your bra to stop flashing through his mind.

He notices that his thoughts towards you are changing a bit, but he tries not to think about it. You’re friends – aside from Komori and his teammates, you’re his closest companion, and developing feelings for you would ruin the fragile thing you have. Except his denial of his feelings doesn’t magically make them go away – he’s noticing how often he touches you, without even consciously realizing it. When you hand him some cash to repay him for some snacks he bought you, your fingers brush against his, and he actually freezes when he feels it.

(Your hands are so fucking soft – not hard and calloused like his, not rough and scratchy from years of smacking rock hard volleyballs.)

He never realized that he unconsciously let his hand rest on the small of your back when you guided him through crowds, trying to find the shortest route to minimize his discomfort. (He’d always liked that about you – your acceptance of his dislike of large crowds and germs, never making him feel weird or like a freak for it. You’d even shared an irrational fear or disgust of your own, just to make him feel better – it didn’t, but he appreciated the sentiment.)

Small things begin compiling up for Kiyoomi – things he’d never really noticed or thought about before, but now seem to be at the forefront of his mind. And yet, he still represses his feelings – no, he doesn’t want a girlfriend, and if he acknowledges his feelings for you, he'll want to push your relationship in that direction, to not suffer in silence because he wants more more more.

And yet, as time passes, Kiyoomi finds that he simply can’t not acknowledge what he’s feeling – it’s too much, too strong for him to ignore. His heart physically aches when he’s not around you, his mind racing and whirring with thoughts of what you’re doing, how you’re feeling, who you’re with, if you’re thinking of him.

It’s overwhelming, and it gets to the point where Kiyoomi literally cannot function without recognizing just how far gone his feelings for you are – it's effecting his playing, his relationships with his teammate, his eating habits, even his sleeping. You’re just too all-encompassing, his feelings to fucking intense – intense enough to leave him staring at his ceiling night after night, the bright screen of his phone illuminating his bedroom as he scrolls through photo after photo after photo of you.

Always you.

Possessive

Kiyoomi’s feelings, while strong and nauseating and so, so very good, really end up intensifying to an unbearable level from a single, main cause – he absolutely cannot stand watching you interact with other men.

He can’t repress the way jealousy claws at his throat, making his mouth taste sour and his gut twist because who the fuck is that man you’re talking to?

All it takes is one instance of a man flirting with you while Kiyoomi is present for these feelings to spark up – frankly, he's shocked that the man had the gall to approach you when you’re with someone as famous and handsome as Kiyoomi Sakusa, but perhaps he’d only felt confident enough because you were smiling at this stranger, standing close to him, laughing at a joke.

His fists clench up, dark brows drawing tight as he watches, the bustling café too loud for him to pick out exactly what’s being said. Seeing the way another man looks at you makes his gut sink, and even once you return back to him (with the food you’d ordered for both of you, since you know how much he hates talking to strangers), he can’t shake off his sour mood. From that moment forward, Kiyoomi is forced to confront his feelings – specifically, the ugly, twisting mess of emotions he feels whenever you’re around another man.

He grows possessive of you remarkably fast, hating when your attention strays from him, particularly if the new target is another person. Another man, really. It makes all these insecurities begin sprouting up in his chest – things he thought he’d long moved past, doubts and self-criticisms that make him feel weak, helpless, pathetic.

When he sees you catch eye contact with the man passing you on the sidewalk, your smile and small good morning makes him think about whether this stranger can stand being in a crowd for longer than three minutes. (He probably can, something Kiyoomi can’t – this man could take you to all those concerts you talk about, and he could take you to fun amusement parks and be in the crowd at sporting events and museums and all sorts of things that Kiyoomi can’t.)

When he sees you laugh and apologize to the man you nearly ran over with your shopping cart in the grocery store, Kiyoomi can’t help but notice how easily the man’s smile comes, his entire aura radiating positivity and happiness, the little tease and joke he makes in response to your apology making Kiyoomi’s hair bristle, unease sitting in his chest because no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t be so carefree and socially comfortable.

(Would you prefer someone more confident and natural in social settings, someone who can make you laugh so easily and introduce himself to strangers, shaking their hand and telling them with any sort of honesty that it’s nice to meet them? Kiyoomi hopes not, please be no.)

He grows pessimistic at the prospect of you interacting with others, because Kiyoomi recognizes that he probably isn’t your type. It makes him feel insecure, worthless, ugly, but more than anything it makes him panic, his fingers shaking and his knee bouncing because he absolutely cannot allow another man to come along and sweep you off your feet.

He needs to do something – and do it quickly, because you’re beautiful and gorgeous and funny and sweet and smart and so fucking perfect, and surely another man will realize that soon and you’ll be gone forever, all while he’s left to watch and stand by, forever regretting that he let this happen. And so, Kiyoomi decides that his only option is to try and limit your time with other men – meaning, he needs to monopolize more of your time, keep you with him, your company limited to only your family, coworkers, and him.

It’s the only way – and while he’s never been particularly subtle about anything, even you will be shocked at how blatantly he acts on this desire.

He's calling you up more, sending texts with flying fingers asking if you’re busy tonight, if you’d like to move your movie night up a few days, if you’d like to go get lunch at the ramen shop Bokuto won’t shut up about, if you’d like to stay the weekend with him at the VRBO he’d already rented on a beautiful little lake.

(He won’t tell you he’d chosen that one specifically because there was both a lake and a hot tub present, meaning he’d get to see you in your swimsuit hopefully more than once, but still.)

He becomes desperate to get your attention solely on him, and while you’ll be surprised, you won’t give it too much thought. Kiyoomi’s always been a little strange, and if he wants to further your friendship, you wouldn’t put up a fight.

But then he’s also scowling when you bring up the name of any other man, even when you’re alone – talking about any of your friends or any of his teammates gets him clenching his fist so hard his perfectly manicured nails dig into his palms, sometimes even pressing hard enough to draw blood.

You’ll notice his discomfort, the way he tenses up, how his voice gets terse and he talks less than normal, and when you ask him about it, he’ll only bite out an I don’t want to talk about another man with you. It’s cryptic, kind of, and it’ll take you aback, but you’ll respect his wishes, mentally noting how odd his behavior is.

And really, that’s how it’ll all progress – you’ll write off Kiyoomi’s strange, possessive behavior, which only makes him further push the envelope, not allowing you to talk about another man in his presence, or even look at them or stand close to one. It’s too much, and it’ll make you uncomfortable, but Kiyoomi’s too far gone.

And frankly, before you pluck up the courage to actually seriously confront him about it, it’s too late – your mouth is already being covered with the chloroform rag, your body going limp and landing in his arms, the sound of him deeply inhaling next to your hair and the low whimper he lets out making you dread when you’ll awaken even more.

He just wants your attention on him, and even more than that, he can’t accept the idea of you leaving him – you’re close, you’re friends, even though the word makes him spit, and he won’t let you leave him. You aren’t allowed to, he won’t let you. So don’t even bother trying.

Controlling

Tying into his more possessive traits, Kiyoomi slowly begins morphing into someone you hardly know.

He becomes blinded by his obsession with you, allowing himself to become more and more omnipresent in your life, worming his way into every little aspect of the way you live, from who you spend your time with to the clothing you wear. Though he’s not particularly subtle, the beginnings of his more controlling behavior will actually spark up long before he realizes how he feels for you.

Much before he’s come to the conclusion that he wouldn’t mind waking up with you wrapped in his arms every morning, he’s telling you that you really should consider waking up at a more reasonable time. It doesn’t matter if you’re a chronic oversleeper, or if you rise with the sun every morning – you’re always doing something wrong, really, and Kiyoomi will point it out to you.

(This is done in a genuine effort to get you to healthier, though. It doesn’t really feel like it when he’s criticizing you for your lack or overindulgence in sleep, his words snarky and cutting, but the motivation behind his prodding into your sleep schedule is to make sure that your body is getting the appropriate amount of rest. To make sure that you’re taking care of yourself, really – because Kiyoomi simply doesn’t trust that you know how.)

Long before he realizes that he wants to press kisses against the column of your throat and feel your soft, warm pulse underneath his lips, Kiyoomi recognizes that you don’t take perfect care of your skin. You could always use a better moisturizer, a better toner, take more time in the mornings and evening to make sure your skin is glassy and smooth and soft.

(He won’t insinuate that you’re ugly, of course, because Kiyoomi is many things but not a liar. But that doesn’t mean he won’t make comments about how he thinks you’ve gotten more pimples recently because your creams are expired, dropping skincare recommendations on you unsolicited and without batting an eye. And when they arrive on your doorstep the next day, shipped with the fastest service possible that you know costs nearly double the regular speed, you can’t even truly get mad at Kiyoomi – after all, his skin is perfect, and maybe he does know more about skin care than you do. The least you could do is try the new products, right? It would be rude not to.)

He’s always been a bit controlling about how he wants things done, but where you’re concerned this is only amplified – it’s a response to caring about you more than anything. He loves you, feels such deep, horrible yearning for you that he feels he must have a say in your life. He’s a successful man, with the last puzzle piece of his life missing being a sweet, loving wife who dotes on him and he on her in return.

And perhaps it’s a coping mechanism to make up for all the years of feeling ostracized, having minimal friends and even less romantic pursuits, finding himself suddenly feeling the pressure to make sure that everything is absolutely perfect because can’t fuck up what he has with you.

He’s become too dependent, too reliant on your presence in his life, and he becomes all-consumed and paranoid at the thought of accidentally doing something to dissuade you from wanting to spend time with him. He won’t change himself for you (or, at least, not too drastically – just enough to keep you interested in him, just enough to keep you in his life), but Kiyoomi is putting every possible effort into making sure that everything goes according to plan.

Expensive dinners are meticulously analyzed, dark brows furrowing at each potential obstacle as he mentally rehearses for the date.

(He’ll order to smoked fish fillet, and you’ll have either the pasta or maybe the salad. But wait. Is it rude to recommend the salad to you? Would you perceive it as a comment on your weight? He wants to see you eating more vegetables, but he doesn’t want you to think he finds your body displeasing – absolutely not, not when he spends most mornings with a hand pressed against the shower wall, water mixing with sweat and dribbling down the curves of his back, other hand feverishly pulling and tugging at his cock, your name slipping between his lips like some sort of prayer.)

He's planning out who will attend your wedding, the seating arrangements, the colors and flower choices, even what your dress will look like and how you’ll style your hair. (It sounds sweet, really – except that it isn’t, because if things don’t go exactly how he’s expecting them to, Kiyoomi will panic, worry eating away at him because no no no! Everything needs to go according to plan, otherwise things will fall apart and you’ll look at him with disappointment and just the thought is making it hard to breath and he needs to see you right now and reach out and touch you and hear you say his name fuck fuck fuck -)

He becomes overly concerned with every little behavior that you exhibit, always making a comment on this or that, his eagerness for your approval (and your obedience) making it difficult for him to notice the way you roll your eyes or how you hesitate, slightly offended at the way he tells you to stop eating like you’re poor, chew slower.

Everything is done with the intent of trying to better your relationship, to make sure the two of you are as compatible as possible, but the execution will leave you often times feeling as if he’s purposefully belittling you, your irritation and anger growing but then tapering out when he looks at you with those eyes.

It’s hard to stay mad when you’re nearly his only friend, the authenticity in his voice when he says that he loves you making it hard to stay mad at one of your closest friends. Just don’t say that – it’ll have his eye twitching, something ugly clawing at his chest because in what fucking world are you two just friends? 

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

As a general rule, Kiyoomi does not handle jealousy well. He’s always been an envious person, but once his attachment to you forms and he becomes aware of just how badly he needs you – both emotionally and physically – his jealousy only increases, his intolerance of other people greedily sucking up your time lowering monumentally.

Because really, that’s what it is, isn’t it?

Other people – worthless, unknown, people who don’t even really know you like he does – wanting your time and attention all for their own selfish, gluttonous desires. It’s disgusting, frankly, how these people think they have any right to see your smile, to hear your voice, to feel your hand brushing against their own when you’re handing something to them.

(And oh, what an experience that is – Kiyoomi’s entire body stiffens up when he feels your skin against his, his mouth feeling dry and his pupils dilating because god, you’re so soft and warm and he’s never felt this urge before – the urge to reach out and take more, to keep touching you and feel his way up your arm, to press against the curving bones of your collarbone, to thumb over the plains of your ribcage, to take a handful and squeeze what he’s sure are two very, very soft and supple breasts… Just the thought has him breathing heavily, staring at you with this look that makes your skin crawl ever so slightly, the intensity and the concentration nearly scaring you.)

His possessive streak is bad enough that he finds himself actively seeking out men who may be interested in you when he’s in public with you – you’ll be happily chatting away, animatedly waving your arms as you tell him about the latest episode of your show you’ve been watching, and while he wants to be listening, to give you his full, undivided attention and watch the way your mouth moves when you speak, how your eyes light up, hear how you occasionally say his name, the lilting Ki-yoo-mi making his knees weak, he can’t focus.

Instead, he’s glancing around the cafe you’re sitting in, mentally noting every man and what they’re doing – there’s a brunette in the corner with his laptop open, what looks like email after email being fired off with rapt, quick fingers flying over his keyboard.

An irrational pang of fear shoots through Kiyoomi – do you ever receive emails at such a rapid pace? How often do men email you, and is truly as professional as you claim? How well do you know the mind of a man looking at you as nothing more than a walking pussy?

Another man is sitting near the fireplace, his phone in hand a scowl sitting across his features. He’s practically yelling into the receiver, telling off what Kiyoomi presumes to be his secretary because of some misplaced papers. Kiyoomi winces, grinding his teeth and clutching onto his coffee cup tighter because has any man ever yelled at you like that? Have you ever been screamed at, wrongfully blamed for something, or have you ever cried because of some horrible, lousy man?

(Kiyoomi isn’t a particularly violent person, but the mental imagery of leaving the man’s face purple and blue makes something warm and fuzzy and good settle in his chest, a sense of satisfaction and a rush of adrenaline nearly making him dizzy.)

Even the cashier has Kiyoomi on edge – he’s smiling like an idiot, greeting each customer with that infuriating, chipper tone of his, and it’s immediately making your coffee partner irritated, wondering with only the smallest big of insecurity whether you’d like that more – someone more outgoing, someone more friendly, someone less difficult than him.

Every time he's with you, the constant feeling of sizing up the other men in the vicinity is always weighing him down, the fear that you could potentially lose interest in him and instead develop an attraction to someone else leaving his paranoid and quite frankly scared – you wouldn’t leave him, would you? You wouldn’t abandon him, would you?

The thought is enough to make him guide you towards a less crowded area, back towards his apartment, back to where it’s just you and him – how it should be.

Kiyoomi knows he shouldn’t have let you talk him into coming to the supermarket. There’s a reason he pays for his groceries to be delivered to him – it’s too busy, too loud, too many unaware people walking around with no regard for personal space or respect. It’s irritating, really, but you’d been looking at him with those pearly eyes and fucking pouting, and how could he have possibly said no to that?

Not when you were saying his name with that low tone of yours, practically purring it, making it nearly impossible for him not to snap and tangle his fingers into your hair, to pull you as close as physically possible and suck hickey after hickey into the sensitive, delicate skin of your neck. He’d been a goner the moment you’d brought it up, and it’s only now, as he’s standing at your side in the bread aisle, that Kiyoomi feels the full regret of his decision.

After all, the rather attractive blond man at the end of the aisle certainly hasn’t slipped his notice – the man’s tall (though not as tall as Kiyoomi, of course), decently muscular (though Kiyoomi knows he has much more definition in his quads, the lines dancing along his thighs and calves drool-worthy compared to the stranger’s), and staring rather intently at the shelved loaves in front of him.

It makes Kiyoomi’s eye twitch; he’s purposefully placed himself between you and the stranger, hoping that this vantage point blocks as much of the man from your view as possible. You’re too engrossed in your selection process to really notice, Kiyoomi knows, but that doesn’t stop him from worrying, the nagging voice in the back of his head urging him to minimize your chances of even acknowledging this mildly attractive stranger.

He’s still got that familiar unimpressed look in those dark eyes (mixed with a touch of adoration as he watches you bite your lip and furrow your brows, the sight pulling at his heart and almost, almost making him forget all about his jealousy), and that look only darkens as he hears footsteps on the linoleum flooring behind him.

He moves closer to you, opening his mouth to tell you that you should just grab the nearest loaf and leave, but the man beats him to it. His voice is timid, scared, even, and for just a split second it leaves Kiyoomi feeling smug – for all this man’s physical attractiveness, surely you wouldn’t want such a meek, submissive man. Not when you could have someone like Kiyoomi – someone stronger, more masculine, more dominant, more of a man.

The man’s question is innocent, all things considered – he reaches towards the loaf of bread you’d already stashed away in your shopping cart, pointing a finger and asking where did you find that?

Immediately Kiyoomi’s stiff, every muscle in his body going taut because no matter how you react to the man’s question, he won’t like the result. Your mouth parts into an adorable little ‘o’ that gets Kiyoomi biting his lip, before you smile and point towards the opposite end of the aisle, answering with a chipper, oh-so-fucking-cute response of right down there!

Kiyoomi’s brows knit together as the man thanks you, moving forward to go in search of the loaf you’d guided him towards. As the man passes, those dark eyes settle on his figure, leaving him to pick up his pace, the heavy weight of Kiyoomi’s stare making him noticeably uncomfortable.

As soon as the man is out of earshot, Kiyoomi snatches your wrist, his grip tight and making you nearly wince, his other hand reaching out to grab the loaf you’d been eyeing. Come on, we’re leaving, is all he says, walking with purpose in the opposite direction of the man.

You’re out of the grocery store before you can blink, Kiyoomi slipping his credit card back into his wallet and guiding you towards his car. You’re confused, really, and as you blabber on about how he didn’t need to pay for your groceries and ask about what’s gotten into him, Kiyoomi can only usher you into the front seat, throwing the grocery bags into the trunk and taking a final glance around him. The man seems to still be in the store, and Kiyoomi clicks his tongue, a small pang of relief racing through him.

As he settles into the driver’s seat and puts the car into reverse, he glances over at you, soaking in the sight of you in his car with his old sweatshirt on. His lips quirk up at the edges, the smile small, before stepping onto the gas, driving away from the store and trying to forget the sight of your smile being aimed at someone else.

He grips the steering wheel hard, focusing on the sound of your voice to calm him – your voice saying thank you for the ride, Kiyoomi, you’re the best.

(A sound replaying over and over and over in his head later that night, with the too-bright screen illuminating your photographed face and casting shadows over his naked body covered in a light sheen of sweat. The best, huh?)

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Really, as soon as Kiyoomi realized that his feelings for you were something so much deeper than he could ever imagine, he’d begun planning for your eventual relocation to his home. There’s a variety of reasons why he’s so eager, so insistent: it’s easier, and it makes more sense.

Because really, while Kiyoomi doesn’t want to steal you away, he doesn’t really have much of a choice, does he? You’re too independent for your own good – you’re always going out and doing things, seeing people, putting yourself in a position not only of meeting potential love interests, but also one of danger.

 Kiyoomi rationally knows that you’re strong and can make informed decisions, but there’s a part of him that slowly grows to doubt your abilities. It’s not that you’re incapable, but more like you aren’t the most qualified to make choices about your own health and life.

And really, doesn’t it make more sense for him to guide you? Kiyoomi, who is successful, wealthy, the pinnacle of health and fitness, and much more calm and collected than you. Surely he knows better – and you’d agree, wouldn’t you?

You always seem to support his choices, laughing and telling him that he’s so predictable and logical whenever he rants about his teammates and general annoyances. You always sound so in awe of him, the praise and tone going directly to his head, making his palms feel a little clammy and his voice getting a little hoarse because oh, being seen and complimented by you feels very, very good.

And so really, it only makes sense that Kiyoomi steals you away – he’s already controlling, but he isn’t with you at all hours of the day, and can you really be trusted to be constantly making smart, responsible decisions every waking moment?

You don’t know what’s best for you, and in order to have you in peak health and keep you utterly, completely his, this is the only way. But to Kiyoomi’s credit, he gives you ample opportunity to willingly come to him. His attempts to ask you out are, objectively, not particularly romantic, but his requests for you to stay the night are met with little resistance from you.

It’s typical, after all, for you to stay over at his place in his spare bedroom after you’ve drunk just a bit too much, sleeping off the tipsiness because Kiyoomi will be damned before he lets you out on the road in the wrong state of mind.

(Not for the safety of others, of course – solely for you, because if you were to get injured or, god forbid, die, Kiyoomi genuinely thinks he may never recover, the pain and guilt of losing you driving his mad with grief. Besides, you look very, very enticing all tangled up in his spare sheets, your pretty body so scantily clad in the t-shirt he’d loaned you and a pair of workout shorts that ride very, very low on your hips. Enticing enough to have him standing in the doorframe of the room, entirely motionless as he watches you slumber, swallowing thickly and not letting his eyes drift from your form for sometimes hours on end, just watching and waiting.)

But then those requests to spend the night start happening more days out of the week than you’re comfortable with, happening multiple nights in a row, so much so that you’re starting to spend more time at Kiyoomi’s place than your own – and so when you start denying his requests, he resorts to one final tactic.

Of course, it doesn’t feel good to be unscrew a few things under your bathroom sink as he ‘uses the restroom’, but it’s necessary. When you call in a panic later that day about how your apartment is flooded and your landlord is furious over the water damage, Kiyoomi will try his best to be sympathetic, to not sound as flat and mildly pleased when he offers to let you crash at his place for a few days until it all gets sorted out. He’ll mess with your piping first, then your thermostat.

(He’ll tell you on the phone that losing your heating during the height of winter isn’t a joke, I don’t care how many blankets you have you’ll still freeze to death – and who’ll have to organize your funeral? Me, so don’t be selfish.)

Then he’ll go so far as to start stealing things out of your apartment – of course, he’s always been a bit heavyhanded in ‘borrowing’ your things (mostly inconsequential things that he knows you wouldn’t notice, like little knick-knacks or pairs of clean socks – things that make him feel more connected to you and are the perfect size to fit underneath his pillow at night, of course), but then he starts looting away more serious items. Your books go missing, your jewelry, cups from your cupboards, even going so far as to steal your laptop or your speakers or anything else he knows you’ll miss.

And when you’re running to him and telling him that someone’s targeting your apartment, that you’re feeling unsafe, that you think someone’s been repeatedly robbing you and breaking into your apartment, he'll only sigh and tell you that you’d be stupid to not live with him for a while, that you’re practically asking for death by staying in that tiny little thing you call an apartment for any longer.

And in the event that you’re still planning on living on your own after all these attempts to force your dependence on him, Kiyoomi will see no other option – having you live with him is like his own personal heaven, and he’ll be damned if he loses the feeling of falling asleep under the same roof as you, of hearing your pretty snores and seeing the peaceful expression on your face as you slumber.

You’re just too damn perfect, and so you really, really shouldn’t be too surprised when Kiyoomi’s got the rag held over your nose, his words cold in your ear as he tells you to stop struggling, you’re only making this harder. After all, he’s made himself perfectly clear – it’s not his fault you didn’t pick up on the signs.

As a captor, Kiyoomi retains a lot of his mannerisms from before stealing you away. He’s still a bit harsh with you, his tongue biting and cold, but the difference becomes that Kiyoomi doesn’t bother trying to hide the nature of his feelings anymore.

You’d been aware that his interest shifted from a more platonic to romantic nature sometime along the way, but now there’s absolutely no way to misinterpret his actions – not when he’s resorted to making you sit so close to him on the couch, those dark eyes expectant when you don’t immediately shuffle into his side. He’ll stare for a while, before sighing, like it’s all some big chore, then grabbing you and forcing you to practically sit in his lap, all the while grumbling about you being so damn difficult, aren’t women supposed to love cuddling?

He’s making you take all your meals with him, forcing you to sit at the modest wooden dining table, the rather bland meal of white rice, fish and a roasted, unseasoned vegetable looking less appetizing with every day.

(He won’t let you cook, however – his protective tendencies show most when it comes to you being in the kitchen, if only because he doesn’t trust you to not injure yourself. There’s just too many possibilities – you could cut yourself, burn yourself, use the cheese grater or the potato peeler to tear off a layer of skin, you could squeeze lemon juice into your eyes or get jalapeno residue at your waterline. There’s just too much that could happen, and while Kiyoomi would absolutely love to have you entirely dependent on him if you were to become injured, the idea of knowingly letting you hurt yourself makes something bitter tinge in his mouth, his legs getting restless and his fingers twitching because he needs to do something to prevent that from happening.)

He’s curating a wardrobe for you, making sure to dress you in his favorite colors, rich fabrics, comfortable designs, things that he thinks will make you happy but still fit his tastes. (And besides, you’ve always complimented him on his own fashion choices – surely you’d trust him on this too, right?) There’s lots of complimentary colors and designs to match his own clothing, enjoying the way you two look right when you’re together, a smile gracing his lips and prompting him to twirl a lock of your hair around his finger, bringing it up to his lips and letting his tongue dart out ever so quickly, just to catch a small taste of you.

He’s controlling, always dictating what you do, what your plan for the day is while he’s gone, but it’s always done with the intention of trying to keep you safe and what he hopes will make you happy.

He’s investing a large portion of his very generous salary to getting the best supplies of any hobbies you have (as long as they revolve around music, art, anything that couldn’t possibly hurt you), always demanding you show him the progress you’ve made that day. It’s a desire to get you to interact with him, but it also makes pride swim in his gut to know that you’re getting better using the things he bought for you.

(And perhaps, there’s even some small part of you that’s improving to impress him… Just the thought makes him gulp heavily, having to shift his pants ever so slightly because the idea of you wanting to impress him, to seek his approval, to make him happy gets him hot under the collar.)

Life will become very monotonous with him. It’s a routine, with any deviation planned out in advance, Kiyoomi finding comfort in the order and consistently. It helps quell the anxiety stirring in his gut when he’s away for tournaments or away-matches, his knee always anxiously bobbing as he imagines what you’re doing.

He’ll whip his phone out nearly ever five minutes, tapping into the multitude of cameras he has set up around the apartment just to keep an eye on you, visibly relaxing when he sees you tucked up into bed, stepping out of the shower, or even reading on the sofa.

(He’s harsher than normal when Hinata bounces up and asks what he’s looking at, his words dripping in an extra layer of venom as he tells his fellow spiker to get away from me, it’s a private matter. Because he’ll be damned if he lets anyone see you in any sort of intimate, raw way – you’re for his eyes only, and Kiyoomi would rather cut off his left hand than let the redhead get even a glimpse of you.)

Kiyoomi is omnipresent, a trace of him present in every aspect of your life, and while it’s exhausting, humiliating, enraging, you’ll eventually grow tired of trying to rebel. He’s a patient man, but you can only handle so many derogatory comments, so many failed escape attempts (he has the best, most up-to-date security measurements around the apartment, of course) before you decide it may be better to simply accept this as your new fate.

After all, Kiyoomi isn’t that bad, right? You’d been friends for years – you know he’s a good person, and perhaps this is just a lapse in his judgement. Maybe he’s not thinking clearly. Maybe he’ll lose interest in you, or decide that what he’s doing it wrong.

You’ll cling onto the hope, repeating the mantra over and over in your head, but by the fifth year of living under his lock and key with a baby nursing at your breast, it’ll be very, very difficult to pretend that this isn’t your reality.

So really, it’s in your best interest to just accept him, to accept this – you’ll be happier this way. He promises.  

PUNISHMENTS:

In general, Kiyoomi is actually remarkably patient with you. Somewhere deep down, below all of the twisted, dark manifestations of his feelings, he does truly love you. And while his controlling behavior and the way he expects you to give him all of your time, attention, energy, and focus is exhausting and at times dehumanizing, Kiyoomi never truly wants to hurt you.

And as a result, it’s unlikely that he’ll ever lash out in a way more substantial than verbally. He’d never physically hurt you, as seeing you with even the slightest discoloration or bruise makes him near inconsolable, anger seeping into every part of his body because you absolutely cannot be hurt, not when he’s the one who’s supposed to be your perfect, caring, protective partner.

He won’t take away your basic rights, either – though, in all fairness, they’re effectively gone once he realizes the depth of his feelings for you. He forces you to spend all your time with him, share meals and wear the clothing that he picks out for you, and so aside from forcing himself to be present while you relieve yourself or perhaps feeding you with his own hands, there really aren’t too many personal rights that he could take away even if he wanted to.

Kiyoomi does have a tendency to be a bit mean when he gets frustrated or afraid, however. You’ve always known this about him – his snarky personality is what initially drew you to him as a friend, but there’s something more cutting and biting about the way it feels when he’s looking at you with a mix of such devotion and anger, the love pooling in those dark eyes scaring you even more than the way they crinkle at the edges, wrinkling dotting his forehead as he frowns and scoffs at you.

It’s hurtful, really, when he makes comments about things he knows you’re insecure about – perhaps your weight, your smile, your curves, your laugh, your intelligence, anything and everything because he needs to make you understand how you’re making him feel, how it hurts him just as much as it hurts you.

It’ll make your eyes sting, the venom in his voice enough to make you crumple in on yourself, and it’s only after Kiyoomi’s left and calmed down enough to breath normally again that he realizes just how truly devastated his comments make you. He’s softer, after that, approaching you with shaking hands and a tone that’s laced with something almost akin to fear, calling your name and pretending that it doesn’t slice through something soft and vulnerable and weak inside him when you flinch at his touch.

He’ll be kinder after that, spoiling you with your favorite foods (even the unhealthy ones, which would normally never be available to you, what with Kiyoomi’s obsession with keeping your diet squeaky clean), watching hours upon hours of your favorite movies and shows, even material purchases of new clothing and expensive jewelry.

It’s not enough to truly make you feel better, but as time passes and the realization that Kiyoomi is truly all you have in this lonely penthouse apartment of his, you’ll grow to appreciate it, even if his words still echo in your head.

But really, what primarily sets Kiyoomi off is your disobedience – his controlling tendencies are so ingrained into him by the time that he’s stolen you away permanently into his home that he simply cannot handle when you aren’t utterly compliant with his every whim and wish.

In his fantasies of you living with him and staying by his side, fueled by possessive need, you’re always so eager to please, doing anything and everything you can to make Kiyoomi happy. And when you contrast this idealized version of your behavior, it’s a rude awakening for him that you aren’t truly happy with him yet, that things aren’t as perfect as he wants them to be. And so, as a defense mechanism he lashes out, spitting out words and lies that make both of your hearts hurt.

But truly, what really warrants the term ‘punishment’ is what happens when something even bigger happens – when you hurt yourself. It doesn’t even have to be purposeful; it still results in utter, blind panic consuming him, his heart racing in his chest and a cold sweat dripping at his brow because you’ve somehow managed to cut your thumb while he was at practice.

It makes him see red, desperation tinging his movements, making his hands tremble and his feet practically flying as he rushes you into the bathroom, applying too many anti-bacterials and wrapping your thumb tightly enough to nearly cut off the circulation. It’s pure, unadulterated dread that seeps into his bones, a panic like he’s never felt before, and this leads to the most extreme reaction Kiyoomi will have to your behavior – that is, he doesn’t like slipping the pill into your food, but your body needs time to rest. You need time to rest. He needs time to simply hold your limp, unconscious body in his arms, clutching onto you like a lifeline and pressing you as tightly against his body as possible just to prove to himself that you’re here, that you’re alive, that you haven’t left him.

Kiyoomi doesn’t necessarily like drugging you, but it’s the only way to keep you from hurting yourself again for the next day or so, the only way to make sure you don’t have a repeat offense.

You hadn’t meant it – really, you swear you hadn’t – when you’d left the shower curtain a little too open. The water wasn’t supposed to be splashing out and leaving a puddle directly outside of the tub.

You know how Kiyoomi gets – irritated by the mess, those dark eyes clouding and frustration settling across his features because you’re so damn clumsy, can’t you notice when the shower curtain’s wide open? As you glanced at the clock sitting against the stark white walls of the bathroom, you bit your lip. He would be home any minute now from practice, surely needing to be in the exact space you currently were, aching to get every bit of sweat off his skin.

The towel clutched in your hand wasn’t absorbing as much as you needed it to, the gray already turned a dark, near black color despite how much water was left on the tiled ground. Cursing, you sat back on your heels, resigning yourself to needing to dirty another one and having to deal with Kiyoomi’s multitude of questions.

But as you shifted your weight, hands braced against your thighs to sit up, the sudden impact of the back of your head against the edge of the marbled countertop make you cry out, the stinging sensation followed by a dull thud making you collapse down. Clutching at the injured area, tears pricked at your lashes, body curling up into a feeble position despite the water now absorbing into the freshly clean clothing you’d just changed into.

Your vision was hazy, everything looking warped and bent, and you only very distantly hear the sound of the multitude of locks on the front door opening, Kiyoomi’s grumpy I’m home resounding through the apartment. His footsteps are heavy as he wanders through the rooms, slowly growing in speed and weight as he begins worrying, unable to find you.

But you do hear when he gets to the bathroom doorway, wide gaze catching sight of your curled-up form and the slew of curses falling past his lips as he immediately drops his bag and stumbles down to you. You’re clutching your head and through your bleary eyes you can see the way all color has drained from his face, eyes blown wide.

He doesn’t bother asking what happened as he scoops you into his arms, adrenaline coursing through him and forcing him to run through the apartment to your shared bed, settling you down as gracefully as possible. Before you can orient yourself he’s already pressing cold cloths against your scalp, shoving thermometers into your mouth and compulsively checking your pulse points, terror still running through him.

He’s muttering under his breath, what sounds like your name mixed with mantras of she’s okay, she’s okay, she’s okay, though it sounds less like a statement and more like a hope.

It doesn’t take long for you to slip into unconsciousness, only being awoken a while later by Kiyoomi’s thumb stroking at your cheek, his eyes red and watershot, as if he’d been crying. Drink this, he tells you, holding a glass of what looks like water out to you.

When you don’t move, he grimaces. Please.

Your sips are slow, your head feeling like cotton, and Kiyoomi watches with baited breath, a hand still placed high on your thigh over the covers of your shared bed.

Those dark eyes are still fixed on you as you lean back, sudden exhaustion rolling through you, your own eyes fluttering closed once more. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been out once you wake up, but it’s early morning now, from the looks of the barred window, and as you slowly come back to consciousness, trying to ignore the sharp pain in your head, you notice Kiyoomi standing at the end of the bed, seeming to loom over you.

He doesn’t say much, only rushing forward to grasp at your hand and once more check your pulse, sighing with relief when it comes back steady and normal. He doesn’t let go for a long time, still silently staring, watching the way you squirm and wince as your headache throbs. And when you eventually wander out of the room that night to see him making dinner, you won’t bother asking why the calendar shows that two days have passed, nor why there seems to be a thick rubber padding on every desk, table, and counter corner you see. It’s not worth it, really, because you already know the answer.

And as Kiyoomi spots you, the small smile that spreads across his lips makes your skin crawl, your thighs shifting weight as the lacy panties you know you didn’t have on previously tickle against your skin.

Sit down, love, dinner is ready.

And he can only smile when you do, something flickering in his heart at the sight of you looking at him with wide eyes, all confused and pretty and so very pliable. Sure, your concussion is no small injury, but the way you’d been sleeping so soundly in his bed, the smallest snores slipping past your lips and your body seeming to mold against his when he’d pulled you against his chest made him almost grateful for your clumsiness.

Stupid girl, he chides to himself. This is why you need me, can’t you see?

OVERALL DANGER:

8/10

 While Kiyoomi himself isn’t inherently dangerous, what makes him such an intense yandere is his blatant disregard for hiding his feelings from you. He doesn’t care whether you see how deeply obsessed with you he is, whether you become aware that he wants nothing more than to keep you with him forever and ever.

Kiyoomi is resourceful and follows through with his plans and goals, so once you’ve gotten his attention, you can kiss any ounce of freedom goodbye. He’s controlling and possessive, and it’ll almost feel like you aren’t even yourself anymore, but Kiyoomi will always be there - looking down at you with an impossible to read expression, before a small flush will coat his cheeks and he’ll gently flick your forehead, telling you that he loves you and that he’s happy to have you with him, where you belong.

Of course, it’s not like you have a choice in the matter, but there’s something deliciously pleasant about pretending that you want to be here, something that makes his heart race and blood rush to both his cheeks and between his legs.

Kiyoomi is a tricky case, because your initial friendship with him and the odd charm of his strange idiosyncrasies will leave you naively blind to the way he slowly devolves into a deeper and deeper state of obsession. You can’t see the way he begins losing himself, all his time and focus beginning to shift only to you, and by the time you truly realize just how far gone he is, it’s too late to get away from him.

Because Kiyoomi has thought of absolutely everything – it’s practically impossible to get away from him, and really, can you so easily disregard years of friendship once the warning signs become clear? Are you so inhuman and cold as to pull away from your closest friend once he starts acting strange?

Perhaps you’re the crazy one here – a sentiment that Kiyoomi will only encourage if it means getting you to touch him, if it means you saying yes to spending the night at his apartment, if it means you say yes when he tells you that pregnancy would suit you.

But really, it doesn’t matter – after all, you’re Kiyoomi’s now, and absolutely nothing will change that.

[chknbzkt]

Anddd for the one that started it all: Moondrop the Night Terror!!! \o/

Stand-alone!!!

More pictures and lore below!!

Proto dragon Moon (yucky man, I love him so)

Gremlin to not-gargoyle pipeline is so real lmaooo-

The shades, abyssal inky monsters that take vague, bastardized forms based on things they see (and oft consume) are infamous for only venturing out of their pools at night. Shades are, however, not the only thing that stalks Hyde’s Crossing and it’s people when the sun falls ‘neath the horizon.

Yet another “problem dragon” (with an impressively sizeable bounty on his head!!), Moon’s disposition towards humans in particular is hostile at best, potentially deadly at worst. He relishes in the chaos and unrest his nightly excursions cause to all manner of folk, seemingly unpredictable in that he never sticks around in any one part of Hyde’s Crossing for too long.

No, indeed efforts have been ramping up of late to catch him. He’s responsible for all manner of crimes including arson, murder of livestock, theft, jaywalking, vandalism, bribery, forgery… and murder. Never you mind that the deaths in question were either an accident on his end or that of his would-be slayers, unfortunately he’s not particularly interested in sticking around to give his testimony to the contrary.

So, as efforts to encourage monster hunters to kill him dead in the form of steadily rising bounty rewards continue being made, he’s stuck nomadically jumping around from place to place to evade capture or worse. He’s not keen on stopping his nightly reigns of terror, he wants to be feared and he likes the purchase that comes with having no alignments or attachments.

He’s made attachments with humans before. He has the iron collar to show for it. Never again.

He has no hoard to call his own and it’s not doing his dubious mental stability (with like zero support) any favors. He does tend to linger near villages with libraries a tad longer despite the risk, however.

It’s only a matter of time before his bounty gets upped to “kill on sight,” though to finally sort himself and his baggage out may require being “slain” by the right hunter he meets at the right time…

[moonsaver]

Yan!Alhaitham wears you to work.

It was easy. Finding your shampoo, soaps, scents.. practically any daily use items that you usually bought from the bazaar. He stalks you almost casually – nodding at you familiarly when you do spot him, as if seeing him for the 5th time in the same day wasn't creepy. You seem uncomfortable, but don't bother confronting him about it. Mainly either due to the fact you don't want a confrontation, or you simply aren't sure if he's stalking you in the first place.

In the shower, your scent fills the entire bathroom. He considers any free time now dedicated to thinking about you. The fabrics you wore yesterday seemed to have a few loose threads. According to the bottle of perfume he bought at the same time as yours, yours is running out. A visit to the old lady tucked away in the corner of the bustling street is probably on your weekly schedule, now. The scent of your soap clings to his skin comfortably, emanating gently in a still space. If he stood for long enough, your acquaintances might actually realise they're smelling you on him. Whether or not it's a good thing.. who knows. He doesn't care.

The tap stops, and he steps out. The droplets of water follow his feet as he walks. Your towel – or rather, a duplicate he bought. Your scented oils. Your hand cream. Your preferred ink, pens, even the bookmark you'd recently bought. All of them are assorted neatly into his drawer. All duplicates, of course. His diligent hand picks up the perfume bottle, the liquid ebbing on the glass surface as he tilts it in the sunlight. Your birthday's coming up soon. He's also recently caught wind of your favorite flowers – this time by accident. His prickly ears manage to pick up the particularly interesting conversation you had approximately 16 days ago, when you mentioned the recent Sumeru Rose body lotion you'd just bought. Although, he's not blind. He's observed the twitching of your hands towards the Lumidouce Bell scented bottle that was recently imported. You had to draw your hand back by force due to the price. Your birthday's coming up. He managed to get a look at the price after you left dejectedly with the one you were talking about.

His fingers press and spritz the perfume over his clothes. The fabric must have practically shaped themselves to the drops of the perfume from how often he's sprayed it in the same place, but now his closet smells like you. Perfumes last longer than lotion, he thinks. He should just get you a different perfume, instead. The merchant sold Lumidouce perfumes, too. Your birthday's coming up. The fact repeats in his mind. Should he get you a card? No, that's not enough. He saw you recently pick up a romance book. Unfortunately for you, it's a series, and the last he's heard about it – is it has deadly cliffhangers. He'll probably gift you the next volume.

He feels a slight tug of a smile on the corner of his lips, his fingers sliding over the vast collection of books, landing on the stiff spine of a book. He's already bought it in advance. Should he sneak in a small card in there? That would be better. If he remembers correctly (which he always does); you should have half the day off on your birthday, and you plan on spending it with your friends and family. He'll give it to you before you clock out. Maybe, he thinks, if his words sift through well enough, he'll manage to squeeze himself into your guest list. So, for the time being, he thinks up certain conversation topics for today, and the next day, and so on until your birthday. By rough estimates, you'll be familiar enough with him to invite him just shy of a day or two before. The door of his room clicks as he leaves.

The Akasha had not much use to Alhaitham until he realized the significant potential it had after that Cyno-prediction system those sages crafted up. He manages to tinker in his own study enough to make a special version of you. And so far, it's 100% accurate. He can already visualise you on your way to work, and the conversation he has in mind. Your responses are crafted skillfully by the device in his head, before you even think about uttering them.

[yanderes-galore]

Platonic Hiccup Haddock III with his sister? Thank you

Sure! Sorry for the long wait, I wasn't sure what direction to take this so this is me thinking of small scenarios.

Yandere! Platonic! Hiccup with Sister! Darling

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Manipulation, Fear of Loss, Clingy behavior, Jealousy, Slight stalking, Hellicopter brother, Dubious companionship.

I like to imagine maybe you're the younger sister of Hiccup or are similar in age.

You've been raised alongside your brother and father, believing your mother is dead.

Your father is naturally overprotective of you, which probably makes Hiccup overprotective of you.

Ever since the "death" of your mother, Hiccup has been taught to watch over you.

This overprotective behavior is no doubt why later in life you don't get a dragon for awhile.

Platonic! Hiccup is no doubt just him being a helicopter brother to you.

Hiccup seems like the type to worry about every little thing when it comes to his sister's safety.

For example, he'd fuss over your protective gear before you eventually ride a dragon.

He'd want to pick a dragon he knows can protect you rather than one you want.

He's a bit paranoid when it comes to you.

However... he's still a brother.

He tries to support you, he even takes you on rides with Toothless if he knows Toothless will be gentle.

He often has Toothless help train your dragon so Hiccup knows they're safe.

Even when you both find out your mom is alive, Hiccup doesn't relent.

In fact, he even tells your mom how well he protected you.

His worries only get worse when your father dies, anyways....

You just know Hiccup is one of those overprotective brothers who judges who you're around.

He's no doubt used to when you both played together as kids.

That and he just... wants to make sure your friends and potential partners are safe.

I feel Hiccup wouldn't isolate you... but he'd insert himself into your conversations.

He makes it clear to people that he's looking out for you.

Much to your dismay.

He's naive to the fact you may not like him around all the time.

He's so used to betrayal and playing protector that he forgets he's supposed to let you be independent.

To him, he feels he'll always be part of your life.

It hurts him when you try and push him way.

You're not kids anymore.

He seems to have trouble understanding that.

He gets a bit jealous when you have a life of your own, speaking with friends and maybe even finding a partner.

He tries his best to bottle it for you, to have you happy.

But he can't help but have Toothless follow you or one of his other friends check in on you.

There's times he has to hold back on telling off those around you... seeing them as "bad influences".

He probably means well... yet at some point he should learn that he has to let you go.

A platonic yandere Hiccup would focus more on his sister's safety than her happiness.

He feel you're happiest with him.

Which makes him threaten and judge your social circle.

You can tell him off, yet he may just ignore you.

In his eyes, you're his sister... he's your protector and you should rely on him.

Which unfortunately just drives you apart... making him try harder... which causes more harm than good.

Sure, you two originally got along.

You originally did everything together.

Hiccup is so used to that, so deep in his delusions... That he may socially isolate you on accident.

However, to him? It doesn't matter too much...

He'll promise to be the best for you as your brother... just please stop ignoring him...!

"Did... did I do something wrong...? I just want you safe, I swear! Please don't look at me like that!"

[certifiedwhore4slashers]

final girl | coriolanus snow

pairing: ghostface!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

summary: you've become a target, the final girl of a killer's movie.

warnings: dark content, possessive!coryo, dark!coryo, obsession/obsessive behavior, suggestive themes(if you squint), stalking, murder, blood and gore, coryo being delusional, threats of violence, violence, sort of modern!au, no use of y/n, naive!reader, r is too kind.

It was october, not only that but there was a killer on the loose. You were by yourself, much to your parent’s annoyance. You told them,”I’m 18 Mom. I technically could be on my own. Please, let me be on my own. I’ll be fine. I’ve got friends who can help me. And 911 on the phone.”

Your mother sighed. "The capitol’s safe enough. Fine. But if anything happens-” “Protocol, I know, I know all the rules, You replied. You did. Normally, your parents weren't like this. But there was a killer. A fucking killer. Of course they'd be worried for their only child.

You were also the heir to wealthy parents and known in the capitol. Your parents were. If there would be a target, you might be on that list. Either way, you were going to be as safe as you could be.

. You place yourself on the couch. The staff, which included the maids, were on their day-offs today, which was unfortunate for you. Tonight, would be different, though, you had no idea.

Clemensia, your best friend, texted you.

Home alone?

You replied almost right away.

Yeah. It took convincing, though. My parents are kind of protective.

You knew she was sighing and rolling her eyes at your comment. Clemensia was logical, so were you. The both of you were, but sometimes you could be reckless. Her, too, but not tonight apparently.

For good reason. I mean, there's a killer out there.

You wanted to just watch a movie, something that was a form of entertainment in the Capitol, obviously. You decide a horror movie was too gruesome for a time like this, and were planning to watch a rom-com. A surprise, considering you loved horror movies.

Yeah. I feel too... scared to watch a scary movie. That's how bad this is getting.

That was the truth, you were utterly terrified. Terrified to even watch scary movies, as if it'd become true. You check your phone. Updates in the group chat continue.

Your friend, Coriolanus, was discussing the killer. But also said that everyone should be careful. It was a known fact he liked you, but you were oblivious.

You were always so naïve.

They say he calls his victims before he kills them. I hope that's not true. I mean, what if he gets one of us?

The latest kills were students at the school, Gaius Breen and Androcles Anderson. This was tragic, and they didn't deserve it. They really didn't. And it made you wonder, why?

Why?

Clemensia was texting you and then calls. “Hey Clemmie, You say. “Hey! She replied. She sounded a little better but still, she was probably terrified just like you. "You okay, Clemmie, why did you call? You ask her, naturally. "Clemmie" was a nickname given in your childhood. You had a friend group that all had your own nicknames, including you. "I don't know, I don't think I'd like to be by myself, She admitted.

"That's fair, You agreed."I don't think... Hold on. I'm getting another call. Can I be right back on that?" "Mhm, it's not your fault, Clemensia said.

You end that call, and while the number was not one you'd recognize, sometimes you don't put in numbers on accident, or change the name. It happens. "Hello? You say, kindly. No matter who called, you tried to be as polite as you could be. 

"Hello."

Already, you know this is a stranger. For one thing, the voice isn't one yo recognize, secondly, the number wasn't in your contacts. So it wasn't one you accidentally kept the number on. Unless this was a prank. 

"Sorry I have to ask, who is this?"

"Who is this?"

"I already asked that. What number are you trying to reach?"

"I don't know, what number is this?"

You chuckle. "You called me, shouldn't you know?"

"I guess not."

In your mind, you conclude that this must be a wrong number. It wasn't his fault, so you weren't going to be annoyed by it. They seemed to be confused. "Wrong number, it's not your fault, it happens." You hang it up, and it was eerily similar to the beginning of Scream. You brushed it off, and planned to call Clemensia back, when the number called again.

"Hello?"

"I'm sorry. I guess I dialed the wrong number."  

"Oh, then why did you call again?"

"To apologize."

"Well, I forgive you, so-"

"Wait, can we talk?"

You sigh. "I'd love to. But i've got a phone call to do, bye, buddy." You hang up again. You innocently think of this as some joke. So, entertaining the prankster wouldn't be too bad for you. 

However, you needed to call Clemensia back, ASAP. As you were about to tap her name to call, the prankster called again. However, you weren't going to be mad or annoyed, you were that good of a person.

Maybe naïve for your own good, but kind nonetheless. 

"Hello?"

"Why don't you want to talk to me?" 

"Oh, hi, um... I just don't know you at all. Sorry."

"You seem very sweet and understanding."

"I try to be. You never know. What's your name?"

"You tell me your name, and I'll tell you mine."

You place a piece of popcorn in my mouth, my soda beside me by the movie." As much as it'd be nice to make another friend, you'd have to earn that." A while ago, you texted your boyfriend to come over. Where was he? Your parents were gone. This was your chance to finally get intimate tonight. Still, no response. You texted him a couple of times. You frown. Is he cheating on me? You thought.

"What are you eating?"

"Popcorn, You immediately reply. "I'm watching a movie."

"What movie?"

"A rom-com, I can't bring myself to watch a horror movie."

"Rom-coms are cheesy, I think horror movies are incredible."

"Ah, a horror nerd, You joke. "Well, I normally think so, too. But, it's just... whatever."

"What's your favorite scary movie?"

You smile. "I guess I'd say, Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It's interesting."

"A good choice. It's brutal."

You check your phone a couple of times, still on the call, your boyfriend messaged once. He was on his way, and apologized for not being there. You accepted it, he was a good boyfriend, and was normally on time or responded, he was perfect. So, you forgave him immediately. 

"So, you've got a boyfriend?"

His voice was flirty, and suggestive, even. But you weren't flattered or anything. You loved your boyfriend. "Mhm, You say."So, I'm not interested. We're happy together."

"Ah, lovebirds. How cute."

His voice was sarcastic. However, you still tried to remain kind. You didn't say anything as a response though. 

"You never said your name."

"Why do you want my name?"

"Because I want to know who I'm looking at."

You freeze. "What did you say?"

"I want to know who I'm talking to.""

You shake your head."No. That's not what I heard." Panicked, you text your boyfriend and Clemensia. Someone was watching you."I'm hanging up."

"Why would you do that, Doll?"

"I... I just have to go."

"Don't hang up."

You text your boyfriend once more, hoping he'd come quick. Instead, however, you got a disturbing response.

Don't hang up on me. It won't end well for you.

You lock every door in your house, this creep wouldn't come in your house. But you also weren't ignoring his calls anymore certainly. He calls again, and you pick up. "What do you want?"

"Just to talk, doll."

"No, clearly not. Otherwise-"

"You've caught me. I want to play a game. Like I played with your boyfriend."

"What did you do with him?"

"Go check for yourself."

You whimper, stepping towards the back of your large home. You had a feeling it'd be in your backyard, the answer you were looking for. When you turn on the lights, You scream. Your phone drops, but thankfully doesn't break. Your boyfriend, was hung and gutted in your tree, bloody and all. You began to sob, shakily picking your phone up. "Please, why did you kill him?"

"You belong to me, doll. You're mine. I won't let anyone take you from me."

In that moment, a figure with a ghostly mask bursts in, grabbing you from behind, hands on your waist as you begin to fight, what was he going to do? Take you? You kick, your elbow kicking his rips, and a groan came out from him. You run. You held your phone, call ended. You take this chance and call 911. 

Ghostface gets up, and mid call, is fast and you dropped your phone. You yelp, trying everything in your power.You’re thrown onto the floor and now he’s on top of you, knife in hand was clean but probably washed off the blood after murdering your boyfriend.

what was he going to do with you?

He must be contemplating what he was planning to do. Your legs were stuck, so you couldn’t kick him. He tilts his head. His knife trails down your body, suggestively but also mocking you, it's between your breasts, and then you grab his wrist, trying to pry him off of you. But he's stronger. He says,"Be a good girl and I won't hurt you." He must mean death, so you nod, still crying. The police would come. 

You must've hit the floor hard, because your vision was foggy, and you were close to passing out. If this was death, you were ready. But you had no injuries. You clearly were just going unconscious. You use your free arm to take his mask off.

Your eyes widen."Coryo?" You barely see the grin on his face before you black out.

[chronicbeans]

Wally and a Puppeteer Reader (part 8)

Yippee! More time off! At a price, though.

TW: Obsessive Behaviors, Scopophobia/Eye Imagery, Idol Worship, Mentions of Stalking, Spoken Descriptions of Injury/Gore, Mentions of Threats

🎥 The night is a bit difficult for you. Not only is your mind swirling with worries about this stalker of yours, you keep hearing the oddest of noises. It is a bit like plastic tapping on the hardwood floors, before a very soft "thump", followed by a plastic scraping noise, then more tapping. It is like a cycle that keeps going. As much as you want to check it out, you are too scared to do so. Not only that, but if you want any hopes of getting sleep, you need to stay in bed. You are exhausted, but getting up will only wake you up more and completely ruin your chances of rest. The odd noises can wait. Maybe they are Henry playing with Wally? Wally's shoes are plastic and Henry's floor is hardwood. The only carpet there is a blue circle one that covers about half of the exposed wood.

🎥 You, somehow, manage to get a little sleep. Unfortunately, you are woken up to the sound of your downstairs phone ringing. So, you get up to go grab it. You are surprised when Angela makes it to the phone before you, picking it up. You almost forgot that she would be home when you were around. It isn't often you get to spend time with her at home, except for holidays.

🎥"Yes, what is it? You want (Y/N)? Who is this? How do I know you aren't their stalker?" She says, her tone harsh and sharp. She has always had a bit of a... rude tone when talking on the phone. If you had to make a guess, it is due to her long work hours. This situation, however, seems extra hostile on her end. Though, considering what you hear from her side of the conversation, it is a bit understandable.

🎥"Oh, you're their boss? Why are you calling during their break, then?" It grows silent. You feel awkward standing there, waiting for her to finally give up the phone. You watch as her cold eyes grow wide and concerned. "What? Oh... oh dear... Um... I'll hand the phone over to them right now."

🎥 You are finally handed the phone. Putting it against your ear, you ask "Hello? What is it, Boss?" There is a sound of rustling papers, before your boss says "Well... Good news and bad news. Mostly bad news. However, the good news is that you have a few extra days, if not weeks, of vacation! Bad news is that it is because of severe injuries to the... Uhh... "Overnight Team". Is that what they called themselves...?" They trail off, before there is some more rustling of papers.

🎥"Wait... what happened last night?" You ask, remembering how Eddie's puppeteer was walking with a slight limp. Your boss sighs, looking through some more papers, before saying "I can only really tell you what happened to Wally's voice actor and Eddie's puppeteer. The voice actor, I can only tell you because they worked alongside you and I put it into your contract that you both will know of the other's condition during emergencies. I thought it would help you both coordinate your rehearsals. The puppeteer consented to letting others know of what happened before being wheeled out in a wheelchair."

🎥 You grow silent, not knowing what to say. Your boss, seemingly waiting for a cue to continue, decided to take your silence as one. "The voice actor got hit in the head with a falling, two gallon can of paint. We believe it hit his head at an angle, with the rim causing a dent in it. He was found bleeding, but still conscious, somehow. He was given first aid from one of the two camera operators who found him, before the two rushed him to the hospital in their car. He is currently in stable condition, but passed out on his way there, and hasn't woken up."

🎥 You stammer in shock, trying to find something to say. Eventually, you settle upon the words "Do you know what caused the accident?" "No. As I said, the cameras seem to be turning off whenever we are not filming. Well, technically, if I remember correctly, I said that they turned off around the time we stopped recording... we have just learned through this incident that they turn off whenever we are not recording. None of these incidents were caught on camera. The camera operators seem to believe that whoever is behind the messages did all of this."

🎥 He then moves onto Eddie's puppeteer, explaining "They were able to tell us some of what happened, but not who did it. They were found to be limping, which caused Poppy's puppeteer to ask what happened. When they lifted their pant leg, it was revealed that someone had put staples in their leg, before puting five pieces of construction paper over it and taping them on with a tick layer of scotch tape. They were given first aid, before being wheeled out to the present director's car. When asked what happened on the way there, they claimed that they were jumped, promptly stapled and papered, before being forced to call you and deliver some packages with the threat of having staples put into his throat if he didn't. He refused to tell who did it, but mentions that they saw him. So, we know that whoever stalking you is a guy... At least, I think. They were so shaken up they could barely speak, so it might've been a mistake when they said "he" when referring to who hurt them."

🎥 You feel sick... as well as a bit guilty. You had seen them yesterday, but didn't mention anything about their limping. You faintly hear Henry calling for you, so you try to tell your boss goodbye, but they ask a question. "I need to know what was in the package they brought to you. Can you quickly tell me what it is before you go?" Without thinking, you say "It was just Wally. You know, the puppet? He had some red on his shoes and was pretty scuffed up. Now, I gotta go. My nephew is calling." Then, you hang up before they can finish their sentence.

🎥 Turning around, you sigh in disdain. This day is already exhausting and all that has happened was a phone call. Henry scurries up to you, a large grin on his cheeks as he chirps "I was going to tell you this last night, but you were trying to sleep. Wally said he likes you!" You giggle, a tired, exasperated noise that you didn't mean to let out. Right now, you don't really want to hear about Wally... wait a second...

🎥"That's sweet, Henry. Where is Wally, though? I thought you had him, since you two were having a sleepover." He looks around the room, before saying "Well, I went to bed cuddling him. He said he would let me cuddle him to sleep after I told him I had nightmares if I didn't cuddle a plushie. He told me puppets were soft and plush, like plushies. When I woke up, though, he was gone, so I grabbed my Barnaby plushie, instead. I thought you might've taken him because you work with him."

🎥 You open your mouth to speak, only to close it again as you realize what he said. You think of your words carefully, before asking "Did Angela tell you that I am Wally's puppeteer?" He shakes his head, a big, goofy grin on his face as he joyfully says "Nope! Wally did! He said he loves you very much! Something about him not being able to move on set without your help! By the way, can you tell me what a "set" is? Wally wouldn't tell me, saying that we would've been up all night if I kept asking questions."

🎥 You look around the room, before asking "Do you have any idea where Wally might be-?" "(Y/N)! Did you put the freaky puppet in my room?! You know how much these things terrify me!" You look upstairs, seeing Angela gripping the railing with one hand and dangling Wally by his leg with the other. "No, Angela! I was just asking Henry where he was!" "Well, tell Henry not to do it again! He must've looked in my diary, too, because this THING was sitting on top of it, the pages opened for anyone to see!" With that, she drops Wally from the second floor, a loud "thud" resounding once he hits the floor.

🎥 You pick him up, dusting him off, before looking back down at Henry. "Be honest with me, did you put Wally in your mama's room? Did you look in her diary?" Henry shakes his head, tears pricking his eyes as he says "No! I told Wally not to go in there! He promised he wouldn't! Wally, why didn't you listen? Now mama's upset with me!" He storms up to his room, slamming the door shut.

🎥 You look down at the little puppet in your hands, confusion and concern eating at you. If, by the smallest of chances, what Henry said is true... then your stalker could be... A puppet? The words he said sounded similar to the types of things the notes said. Then there's the Wally voice you heard in the studio... The red paint on his shoes could've been...

🎥 You're face grows pale, before you look down at Wally's shoes and mutter "Oh God... Oh, God no..."

🎥 You look up to Angela's room, walking upstairs. You might be acting too rash. Coming to the conclusion that puppets are coming alive is a silly thing to do. Angela could've told Henry about your job. Hell, he could've also told him about the letters you have been getting. Maybe he just put the two together, thinking that it was all some silly little game or joke. Kids are like that. They are blissfully ignorant to how important some things are, right? Kids are smarter than most think, but they still have their little hiccups here and there. Angela must have told him...

🎥 You hope, at least... the other option is a bit sickening to think of.

[moralesmilesanhourlibrary]

how long

summary: on a particularly hectic day, you find out Miles' secret by chance, years too late. originally posted: Nov. 30, 2019 a/n: I was still getting used to writing conflict here; It's a bit choppy, but I'm actually kinda proud of this one! You go 9th grade me! Note that Miles and the reader insert are adults at this point. Made some slight edits to like three words

Y/N slammed the door behind her and collapsed onto the couch, frustrated and exhausted. She'd probably treated hundreds of patients that day alone-or that's what it felt like. Miles would be back anytime now, judging by the footage on the news. 

Why didn't he tell her?

Y/N's phone buzzed.

'On my way,' the text message read. Y/N swallowed the growing lump in her throat.

She knew it was Miles the moment he spoke.

Some big green thing--folks called him Goblin--was wreaking havoc on the city like no one had ever seen. Spider-Man's silhouette became a blur as he swung from building to building and back, occasionally sprinting through the streets.

Y/N WAS on her lunch break, but not for long. Patients seemed to be streaming in, either from falling debris or various car accidents. Frankly, Y/N didn't feel particularly strongly about Spider-Man--she just wished he'd be a little more fucking careful.

Y/N's chest heaved as she ran back toward the hospital, shoes pounding on the pavement. Unfortunately, Spider-Man was swinging around in that same direction. A dark figure zipped past Y/N's shoulder, nearly knocking her down. 

When she spun around to identify the blur, the masked hero was still chasing after Goblin, yelling, "Sorry, ma'am!" as he left. Sucking in a breath, Y/N continued her trip back to the hospital, but felt like something was amiss. That voice. It was far too familiar.

It came to her after the battle had ended.

The Goblin fellow was webbed up, surrounded by wailing cop cars and news vans. Spider-Man had stopped to take a selfie with a couple of regular folks, then began retreating from the gathering crowd as Y/N looked on. He had a peculiar bounce in his stride that she'd recognize anywhere if she could put a finger on where she'd seen it before.

"We miss you over in Crown Heights, Spider-Man!"

"Miss me? I still live here!"

The epiphany came crashing down like hail. The cadence in his voice was unmistakable. Y/N's heart was in her throat as she started briskly back to her apartment, expecting answers.

Y/N jumped at the knock on the door. The elaborate rhythm of the knocking confirmed that it was Miles. Trying her hardest to maintain her composure, she opened the door.

As Miles stood in front of her, Y/N took a good look at him.

He was wearing the same grey sweatshirt and blue shirt he had on when he saw her off to work, but something was different. Miles had had the audacity to try and hide the suit beneath his clothes. 

Hesitantly, Miles asked, "Something wrong, Y/N? You've been standing there for a minute." In that moment, she couldn't hold it in any longer.

Through clenched teeth so the neighbors wouldn't hear, she said, "Get in here."

Bewildered, Miles sat down on the table, while Y/N returned to her spot on the couch. She didn't look at Miles, frowning at the television screen. Trying to figure out what to say. Miles spoke up.

"What happened-?"

"You would know."

Okay, something was definitely wrong. Miles frantically racked his brain for signs: something he said that morning? Difficult work day? Nothing came up in his mind.

Y/N stalked over to the table where Miles sat. A humorless grin spread across her face, she asked, "What's that under your sweatshirt?" Miles' heartbeat picked up.

"A… shirt?" He prayed to God she hadn't found out.

"Do you think I'm stupid, Morales?"

A pit formed in Miles' Stomach.

Y/N was yelling now. "I can see the suit!"

Miles sighed, cradling his forehead in the palm of his hand. "Well, now you know." Y/N clearly wasn't satisfied.

"I don't know a damn thing, apparently!" Her voice softened to a whimper as tears welled up in her eyes.

"How long have you been wearing that mask, Miles?"

"Everyday-"

"Since when?"

Miles looked away. "8th grade." There was a long pause as his words hung in the air.

"Every day since we were thirteen."

[ultralightpoe]

Dear Reader - Tangerine

Authors Note : Sometimes I hate writing, sometimes I love writing. This past month? Writing has been my worst enemy

Word Count: 4463

Warnings: Cussing, semi smut (not really tho)

Requests: OPEN

Main Master list - - Midnights Event List

(Thank you for the gif @peachyspaceslvt )

x Enjoy! x

Dear reader

If it feels like a trap, you're already in one

Dear reader

Get out your map, pick somewhere and just run

Dear reader

Burn all the files, desert all your past lives

And if you don't recognize yourself

That means you did it right

- 

He didn’t know why he was so mad, this was exactly what he told you to do. Had left exact instructions to do so the last time he talked to you, scrawled across that stupid fucking paper along with his heart, signed and ready to go. 

It was meant to happen, he knew that. You did not belong in his world, he did not belong in your world. But the issue was he was obsessed with you, he couldn’t seem to let you go. He tried, over and over he tried to get you to run the other way. That was the best option for you, but he could never follow through with it. 

You were his. 

You were meant for him, he was sure of that. There was no other explanation. 

He had met you at some pompous event, stalking someone he had been sent to kill before he saw you, dazzling and breathtaking. Hiding behind a pillar as you twisted your hair between your finger while people passed around you like you weren’t there which confused the shit out of him because how did you miss someone as gorgeous as you? 

He stared until he caught your eye on accident, straightening his spine and cursing under his breath to concentrate as he walks away. He pretended that he had self control, he pretended like he wasn’t desperate to catch your eye once more. That pretend game lasted all but 5 minutes before he strutted over to you and introduced himself. 

He ended up in your bed that night, and when you woke up in the morning he made you breakfast before dragging you back to bed. Little did you know that in between he had snuck out to go handle that client before he came back. And he was sure if you did that you would be gone in an instant. That was something he could not risk. He could not lose you. 

So he kept his work life hidden from you. He claimed he was a marketing executive and had to travel to clients a lot. You never asked too many questions, just enough to know what he was like. He felt guilty lying to you, but he had to keep you. 

Until the lives he worked so hard to keep separate ended up crashing into each other, and your life had been put on the line. He was forced to let you go, something he never wanted to do. 

Even worse he had to strip himself from your life completely, make it look like he was never there. 

His plan started with breaking you unfortunately. 

- 

Never take advice from someone who's falling apart

Never take advice from someone who's falling apart

(You should find another)

- 

He had spent the last hour cleaning your apartment of everything, his shirt, his photos, his cologne. Anything connected to him was taken and torched, leaving a hole in his chest that he was sure would never heal. Watching the flames engulf his memories with you, smiles catching fire before a moment of panic clings to him and he reaches to snatch one of the last photos out before it can burn, blowing on it quickly to stop the flames before slapping a hand over it to stop it from burning completely. 

He was stupid, shoving it in the pocket of his suit vest,  his chest aching as his hands shake before your ringtone sounds out, pulling him from his thoughts. 

A smile pulls at his lips when he reads the newest name you had turned your contact info into on his phone. 

‘D*** sucking queen is calling…’ 

Rolling his eyes at you as his thumb swipes across the screen to answer, hearing music blast in the background as he answers. “Lovey?” 

“Baby! Where are you?” You ask, and the sound of your voice makes his guilt heighten as he debates this plan. It’s not worth it, he would find a way to protect you, he could- no. Your life would not be put at risk over this. 

He loved you, and Lemon said that if you love something then let it go. 

“I’m at home, what can I do for you gorgeous?” Ask me anything, I’d give you anything you need or want. Just ask me. 

“You promised me you’d be here at 10.” You mumble through the phone and he can’t fight the smile at the tone. “Where are you?” 

“I….” He gets ready to say something flirty and promise to be on his way over; but that he knows what he has to do. 

“I can’t make it tonight.” He huffs, trying to ignore the pain in his chest. If this was to be done he needed to do it right, he needed to make sure you wanted him out of your life enough to make it work. “Why the fuck you calling me so late anyways? Spamming me all fucking day.” 

“What?” You laugh, not catching his tone quite yet. “I texted you twice.” 

“You gotta stop being a clingy bitch, ye? I’ve met dogs that whine less than you..” he growls, his hand sliding up his vest to feel and make sure your photo together is still there as he begins to march away from the fire left. “Nothing but a spoiled fucking cunt.” 

“I’m sorry?! What the fuck is with the attitude?” You snap, and he knows his plan is working, the pain in his chest heightening. “I don’t know what’s going on but speaking to me like that isn’t okay-“ 

“Get a fucking life and stop pestering me yeah?” He snaps, ignoring the tears in his eyes. “Quit fucking bothering me you ugly cunt.” 

Please don’t believe me, please don’t leave me. I don’t mean this. I never would. 

“Go to hell.” You snap, your voice tight and pained, the beep of the call ending filling his ears. 

He is left in the silence of his walk home, trying not to let it get to him. 

Lemon is waiting there when he walks in, standing awkwardly while Tan glared.

“Did you do it?” He asks, looking upset for his brother. 

“Yes. I fucking did, so get packing will ya?!” He snaps out, snatching the warning threat they received earlier and storming to pack. 

They had to leave before they were killed. And any trace to you had been wiped clean. 

- 

Dear reader

Bend when you can, snap when you have to

Dear reader

You don't have to answer, just 'cause they asked you

(You should find another)

Dear reader

The greatest of luxuries is your secrets

Dear reader

When you aim at the devil make sure you don't miss

- 

He could kill the fucker touching you with his bare hands, convince him to go to the alley the next time you go for a round of drinks and by the time you got back the tool would already be taken care of. He imagines taking his place, sitting in the chair smugly as you come back. He would say something brave and flirty, you would run back into his arms and then he would drag you to the very alley he killed your date in and claim you as his once more. 

He had an entire plan. 

But it was just a dream, because he wasn’t even supposed to be here. If anyone came searching for him he had to make sure there was no trace leading back to you. But he couldn’t stay away. 

Which is why he is here, sitting in the corner of an overpacked bar and watching you on your first date with some random bloke, just making sure you’re okay. He could do that at least. 

But what the fuck was this guy thinking? Bringing you to this cheap and nasty place for a date? You deserved better than this. You deserved the world on a silver platter. 

And Tangerine should have been allowed to give you it. 

Anger takes control and he finds himself gripping his pint glass a little tighter, grinding his teeth down while watching the bar in front of him. His phone vibrates in his pocket and he finally lets the glass go to grab it, sighing when he sees his brothers name on the screen. He ignores it, not really wanting to hear his stupid safety lecture right now. 

‘You know you shouldn't be near her blah blah blah. You are risking her, blah blah blah. I want you on the next flight out here for your own good. Blah blah blah.’ He could never get out of those bloody fucking lectures lately. ‘You’re a thomas. I know it brother. You just have to act like it.’

It rings again, making him roll his eyes before swiping and answering. “What the fuck do you want?” “Will you be home for dinner?” His brother starts, his tone already telling Tangerine that he knows everything. 

“No. I’ll call you later, Lem-”

“Please tell me you are not where I think you are.” He huffs through the phone, the distinct sound of Thomas the train in the back of the call. 

“Are you watching that fucking christmas episode again mate?!” He snaps out, watching the server cast him a nervous glance before he nods his head in apology and covers the mouth piece. “I apologize. Didn’t mean to cuss in front of a lady.”

She blushes, walking past with a dazed out smile on her face. He smiles back right as Lemon finishes up his safety speech. “Just come home Tan, before something happens to her. Okay. You’d be torn if anything happened to her. I know it.”

“I know.” Tan grits out, closing his eyes for a moment. “I just needed to see her….”

“I know, mate.” He hates the pity in his brother's voice. It makes him want to bust someone's face in. He is looking around for a target when his eyes drift back to your table, right as you slap your date's hand off your knee, moving to stand quickly. 

When he sees your date snatch your wrist he stands himself, ready to pummel him in when you snatch your glass and throw it in his face. A wave of pride fills him, watching you stomp out as people clap and cheer while he tries to calm himself down. 

He pays his tab, having already hung up on his brother, before he heads to follow your date out and keeps himself a little hidden. When your date heads close to the alley Tangerine can’t help the smug smile that spreads across his face as he follows. 

Even if he couldn’t be near you he could still protect you. 

And he would. No. Matter. What.

- 

Never take advice from someone who's falling apart

Never take advice from someone who's falling apart

- 

In a moment of weakness he writes the letter, scribbling quickly as he writes a warning. He knew better. He did. 

But how could he not. 

How could he not confess his love, writing how he wishes he was still there. He writes what to do if anyone asks for him, deny deny deny. And…. He drunkenly tells the truth. 

He admits to his career and the threat. 

When he wakes up the next morning it’s already been sent out, and in his hungover daze he can’t help but yell out, smacking himself harshly as Lemon comes shuffling out of his own room. 

“What’s happened?” He asks, blinking slowly at his brother as Tangerine sneers. 

“I made a mistake.” He snaps, anxiety gripping at his chest. “I…. She’s gonna know everything now.” 

“Everything? Everything everything?” He asks, shock claiming his face as both brothers stare at each other. Before either of them knew it a screaming match would ensue.  

- 

So I wander through these nights

I prefer hiding in plain sight

My fourth drink in my hand

These desperate prayers of a cursed man

Spilling out to you for free

But darling, darling, please

You wouldn't take my word for it

If you knew who was talking

- 

He promises himself that he’ll go home once he is sure you made it inside safe and comfortable. Once he is sure you’re okay then he could feel better about leaving you. So he trails you, keeping an ear out for any threats as he stays far enough behind to keep you within sight but not dangerous enough. 

He knows the walk to your apartment like the back of his hand, could walk it blindfolded if he really needed to. And he would, just to make sure you’re okay he would do anything. 

But he is shocked when you make an unexpected turn, his body tightening up when he realizes you had turned into an unknown ally. 

“Fuckin hell….” He mutters under his breath, speeding up his steps to catch up, when he turns the corner to the ally he has no clue what to do when he sees you there, standing in all your glory with your arms crossed and your hip jutted out. 

He’s busted, you’re staring at him and he is racking his brain to try and find a way out of this. 

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know I was being followed home?” You laugh, but it’s not your normal happy laugh, rather your sarcastic angry one. “I dated you for 2 years. How many times did you lecture me over and over on safety when walking home?” 

A snort falls from his lips as he thinks back to earlier in the night when he was upset at Lemon for doing the very same thing. How could he be angry when he so often did it himself? 

“Oh come on.” You huff, fixing your hair as you take a step closer. “Let’s hear it. Get into the speech. ‘Where’s your protection? Can you fight in that outfit? Fucks sake, angel, this is unsafe.’ Just get on with it.” 

“I shouldn’t be here.” He whispers out, watching you get closer and closer. “This is unsafe for both of us.”

“And yet you’re here.” You smile, one step away from him. You’re so close he can smell your perfume, breathing in deep as his hands itch to reach out and touch you.  He’s done for the second your hand finds itself messing with the lapel of his blazer, pulling the fabric between your fingers softly as your eyes trail over him softly. 

“I got a letter awhile back.” You whisper, taking that last step to him, so you were chest to chest. 

“It was a mistake.” He whispers back, but his forehead presses to your cheek anyways, his lips trailing your jaw. 

“I could tell when you misspelled your name.” You huff a laugh. “How long have you been following me?” 

“I never stopped.” He admits, losing the fight of control when his fingers fly up to the hem of your skirt, tracing softly along the flesh of your thigh. 

“Tell me everything.” You request, right as he places an actual kiss to your jaw that makes your breath catch, a wave of pride crossing him at the sound. 

“I can’t.” 

“Tangerine.” You snap, hands fisting in his jacket. “Please.” 

“This is not a good idea.” He huffs out once more, his own hands gripping the fabric at your dress tightly. 

“Fine. If it’s not a good idea then I’ll just go find someone for a fun time.” You laugh, immediately letting go of him and taking a step back which forces a deep growl to pass from his lips before he can stop it, his hands still gripped in the fabric of your outfit. “Nuh uh. Hands off. I’m gonna go find my man from earlier tonight.” 

You try to push his hands away and walk past him, but his arm shoots out to snatch you, pressing your bodies together, pushing you both until you're pressed into the wall of the alley. He slips his blazer off, moving it smoothly until it’s around your shoulders and blocking you from the wall, laughing lightly when you struggle to slip your arms through but with his help you manage it and your fingers hook through the chain around his neck and pull him in to kiss you. 

He can’t resist, he’s tired of resisting. 

- 

If you knew where I was walking

To a house, not a home, all alone 'cause nobody's there

Where I pace in my pen and

My friends found friends who care

No one sees when you lose

When you're playing solitaire

- 

Are you okay?” Someone asks, pulling your attention away from the letter you were holding in a shaky grip as they barge through your apartment, dresses and shoes covering every inch of your floor from the last few weeks of partying you had gone through. 

“It’s nothing.” You mumble, rereading the confession over and over before folding it up, leaning closer to your fireplace and pulling a brick free, shoving the letter in the hiding spot and moving to follow them and get ready for the next party. 

You think about the words, the handwriting scorching in your mind as you throw yourself in the thrill of the dance, letting the alcohol take over you. 

You lose yourself for a moment, but a hand on your thigh pulls you back, heart hammering as fear overtakes you while you look around. It’s then that your gaze snags on the figure hidden off to the side, a glass of whiskey in his hand as he watches you intently, the fear vanishing into excitement as you snap your attention back to your surroundings and exit the dance floor. 

But the second you look back he is already gone, and you wonder if it was just your imagination. 

- 

You should find another guiding light

Guiding light

But I shine so bright

You should find another guiding light

Guiding light

But I shine so bright

- 

The kiss is deep and passionate, your head hits the brick of the wall as you moan through it, one of his hands traveling to twist in your hair and keep a cushion between your skull and the wall, pulling the hair close to your skill tightly to force another moan out from your lips. 

He can’t help his response at the sound, biting down at your bottom lip aggressively before pulling back for air while you smile up at him with that dazed out look and victorious glint all in one. 

“Don’t do that.” He snaps out, frustration clawing at him. 

“Do what?” 

“Give me those fucking looks that you know break me.” His voice is a harsh grunt, breath catching as you shake your head and press your hips further into his, hiking your leg up around his hip. 

“Here’s the thing.” You smile, circling your hips at just the right angle that makes him bark out a curse and grip at your thigh hungrily. “You haven’t apologized.” 

“For. What.” He snaps, eyes pulling closed as you laugh. 

“For what you said that night.” 

“I….. what?” He gasps, pressing his hips further into yours, before you shove him back. 

“The night you left.” You snap, shoving his hard chest one more time to get him off of you. “The things you said the night you-“ 

“How am I supposed to remember what I said?” He huffs, flustered and lost, every thought falling to you in the short skirt. But he realizes his mistake a little too late, eyes sliding up to where you are glaring at him, tears in your eyes that make his chest constrict painfully. 

“Wait. No.” He rushes out, hands gripping into fists when you shake your head and try to move past. “Do. Not. Walk. Away.” 

“What? Like you did?” You laugh bitterly, swiping the tears away. “So let me get this straight. You get to run away, take every memory of us like it’s nothing without a reason. Say hurtful things and run like a coward. I don’t get the truth until you mail a letter, a fucking letter, written in a drunken stupor. And I’m what? Just supposed to accept it all?” 

“No- I shouldn’t be here.” 

“No. You shouldn’t. We already have that settled. So why are you here Tan?” 

- 

You should find another

You should find another

Guiding light

But I shine so bright

You should find another

- 

Before he can stop himself his hand shoots out to grab around your neck, his grip the perfect mix between rough and gentle. Stern but not hurtful. 

“Because. You. Are. Mine.” He snaps out, pulling you close until your forehead is pressed to his. “But I’m not good for you and that tears me up inside.”  

You scoff, slapping his hand away with ease and shrugging like nothing was wrong. “You’ve always been so… dramatic. Angry, dramatic. You go from one step and then try to dive down the stairs.” 

“The fuck does that mean?” He snaps back, looking completely befuddled by your comment. The frustration grows when you slap his hands away from you, giving him an easy glare as you pass and begin to walk away. You fix your hair as you turn the corner, and he of course follows closely, his chest tight as he listens for any dangers near. 

   “You make decisions for me, always danger danger danger. Watch out for this angel, don’t walk so close to that angel.” You mock his accent, smiling at a cop you pass on the sidewalk which makes him angry the way the cop smiles back. Gritting his teeth together as he continues to follow you. 

“That is not how I sound.” He growls. 

“Angel, look here.” You continue to mock, pulling your best grumpy face. “If anyone bothers ya’ then you call me. You hear me? I’ll fuck em up good.” 

“And I would! So-”

“How about this?” You interrupt, whirling quickly which makes him stop short as to not run into you. “You take some time to figure out what the fuck you want. None of this ‘I want ya’ but I can’t have ya’. Because I’m not trying to waste my time. So come and find me when you’re done playing games.”

“I’m not playing-”

“Goodbye.” You giggle, kissing the corner of his mouth which makes him chase your lips with his own, just barely missing you as you take a step back and walk off, waving down a cab easily. Before you hop in you turn to give him one last smile and wink. “Tell Lemon I said hello and that I miss him.”

Before he can step towards you the cab driver honks and you dash into the car quickly, leaving him behind. 

- 

You should find another

“You need to be on your best behavior.” You chide, keeping your hand tight on your own as you lead him through the crowded streets as he growls at people who bump into him. “My friends think you are some serial killer.”

He knows you’re joking and he knows your friends are joking as well, yet his spine tightens at your words as he tries to move you out of the way of the guy shoving through the crowd before he can hit you. What would you think if you actually knew the truth, he had only been dating you for a month but he refused to lose you. 

“I will be on my best behavior… so long as Bethany keeps her trap shut. I’m tellin you right now angel, she is a bloody vex.”

“Why’s that?” You laugh, leaning into him in the way that makes his heart beat through his ribcage. 

“She’s always such a cunt to ya. You think I don’t hear her comments while you are on the phone with her? Or see what she comments everytime you post? She’s a fuckin-”

“Be. Nice. To. Her.” You try to sound stern but you keep giggling through your words. “She told everyone that you say one off thing and she’s reporting you to the FBI.”

“For what? I haven’t done anything!” The lie is easy, making you laugh is easier. 

“Just promise me you will be on your best.”

“Promise, Angel.”

He shouldn’t be here, he knew better than to be here at this moment but he couldn’t stop himself. He had gone back and forth, fighting himself over and over, for the past 2 weeks and no matter what side won there was only one clear answer. There was no him without you. 

So he lifted his hand, rings glinting in the light of your apartment hallway as he knocked once, twice and three times. There was shuffling from the other side, and he knew you would be at the door soon so he straightened up his jacket and fixed his hair, swiping his fingers over his mustache right before you swung it open. 

It takes two seconds before a sly smirk spreads across your face, leaning on the door frame as he clears his throat. 

“I just-”

“You finally ready to admit you need me?” You tease, pushing out your chest a bit to tease him even further. “Or are you going to act like I’m safer without you?”

“You are.”

“Are not.” 

“Maybe, maybe not. But I can’t live without you.” He admits, stepping into your bubble, so you are both chest to chest. “And I can admit that.”

“So you’re taking me with you?”

“Where I go, you go.” He smiles, hand flying to the back of your neck and pulling you in for a heavy kiss. 

- 

“Hey, fuckin’ watch it.” He snaps to a random woman that passes, whipping back to you to make sure you’re fine. “Bloody hell, this is fuckin-”

“It was just some random girl that bumped into me, can you calm down?” You laugh, your fingers gripped into the sleeves of his tux as Lemon returns to you both with the drinks. 

“We headin’ back to our seats before it starts?”

“Some old hag just nearly knocked Angel down!” Tan snaps out, as more people pass while you merely roll your eyes, not bothered in the slightest. 

“It’s a concert! They are always packed, now let’s go!” You smile, snatching him close and kissing him quickly before turning to walk with Lemon back to the seats Tan had gotten you three for the concert. 

He had no clue who this Taylor chick was, but if you two were happy then who could care?

[ino-writes]

New Me In Another World

TW: sexual assault, harassment, stalking, death, choking (very light)

————————————————————————

"Y/n, can you grab the order for table four?" "Yeah, just give me a minute," I hum to myself as I clean up the table in front of me. I've been working as a waitress for a year. I've only just gotten used to it since my accident. Brushing off those thoughts, I drop off the dishes proceeding to table four. "Hi, my name is Y/n, what can I get started for you?" "Let me get...hmm, you...that skirt looks very sexy on you, miss." He touched my thighs. I look at his hand, pushing him away. "Please refrain from touching me, sir, or I will have you escorted out!" He looked at me with a dark smile. "Really? I'd like to see you try," the man says in a dark tone while he grabs me. "Sir, please let go of me!" I shout loudly, many nearby customers turn and look. "

Hey, man, let her go now," my coworker walks over prying his hands off of me. "We're going to ask you to leave now, or we will call the police," my coworker says. The man groans before walking out. "Thanks, Adam, I think I'll be leaving my shift early after that." "No problem, just talk to Jess in the back." Another hour goes by. After telling my supervisor what happened, she lets me go home early. "Thanks again, Jess, I'll rest well," I say my goodbyes before walking out of the restaurant. While walking down the streets towards my apartment, I feel someone watching me. I don't dare turn and look, so I pick up the pace. Before reaching home, I pass an alley nearby, seeing a cute black kitten. "Hi, kitty!" I walk towards the cat. "You're so cute!" I squeal at the cat as it purrs at me. "Do you have a name or a home, little kitty?" I say as I pick the cat up, taking a closer look at his collar. "Ken... What an odd name... still cute!" The cat gives a little glare. It soon runs away as it starts pouring rain. I turn to walk out of the alley and see a man standing before me with a hood. "How dare you kick me out of my favorite restaurant and refuse to let me touch you." He grabs me by my throat before I could scream. I kick and try punching at him. "Stop struggling. You're a woman; you could never outpower a man," he whispers in my ear while he pushes me against the wall. "Useless bitch, I'll make you have an endless death," he says loudly. Soon, I saw a glare of something sharp in the man's hand. He brought it down towards my stomach, stabbing me. I felt it every time, each one was at a different pace and a different force. A few seconds later, a tear fell down my eye and I looked down the alleyway, hoping someone could save me. Yet, the only thing I saw was that cat looking right at me. My eyes started to get heavy as they soon closed. "So that's it... a short-lived life as a waiter who failed to follow her dreams."

“Hey! Get up!” A loud voice shouted at me. My heavy eyelids slowly opened, I rubbed my face and yawned before realizing where I am. “Are you ignoring me?” The girl in front of me says. “Wow! You're cute, miss,” I say, complimenting her. She has long black hair, boots, and a huge scythe in her hand. She also has a collar on with a black robe covering her entire body. “Thanks, cutie... wait... did you say miss?” I nodded with a simple smile. “Just so you know, I am a sir,” he said with a frown. “No matter, waste. I am Kenichi. I am Master Death's cat and servant!” I looked at him confused. How can a cat help a god of death?

“My job is to help people pass on to the next life, and unfortunately, you have died early,” I looked at Kenichi, saddened a little. Why me? “But! I have an opportunity for you!” Kenichi smiled as he walked around me. Then he snapped his fingers, and I was sitting in a chair with a large whiteboard in front of me. On the whiteboard was a huge map and other information. “What's this opportunity?” I questioned. “I'm happy you asked. Well, Master Death has a soft spot for young adults who die early, so he gives them all the opportunity to reincarnate into a new world!” Kenichi looked at me with a happy face. “I also have a few rules; this only applies though if you say yes. So, do you want another chance at life, or do you want to go to heaven where they decide your fate?” I pondered my options. How bad could this other world be? “I accept your offer, Kenichi!” His ears and tail moved, showing signs of excitement. “Great. Back to the rules. You must not die. After you die here, it is out of our control where you go, so say it's neither hell nor heaven. Oh, and you can't tell anyone you've been reincarnated!” I nodded at him in agreement. “My final question before I send you off is, is there anything you would like to bring besides your memories?”

Hmm... what should I bring?

————————————————————————-

Please I really appreciate feedback!! I tried my best to make it interesting but also more realistic! I also would really love to hear all your ideas!

-Ino🎀

————————————————————————-

[planetpedri]

Softly — Leandro Trossard.

Pairing: Leandro Trossard x Fem!Reader

Summary: You wake to the smell of your best friend making you breakfast, a normal routine when he visits. If only you knew it would take one tiny accident for the two of you to get out what you’ve been trying to do for years.

Word count: 983

Disclaimer/s: none, just pure fluff!

A/N: This one’s for all my babygirls(angie)… i see you ladies(angie).. i’m lurkin(freaking).. and im stalking(ur reposts).. when you least expect it(its very evident i tell u every time)…

The smell of freshly cooking bacon wafted throughout your small apartment on the outskirts of Brussels. You’d lived in the city since you were a fresh adult, while starting Uni and hadn’t moved since.

The only difficult part, was the distance it put between you and your best friend, Leo. When he’d moved away for career purposes, you were stuck in Belgium. Although, he did try to visit as much as possible.

Today was during one of those visits. In which, he had always stayed at your place. And every morning, you would wake up to the smell of him cooking breakfast.

Exiting your bedroom with a smile on your face, you shuffle your way into the kitchen. The smell hitting your nostrils in the most heavenly way.

“Leoooo.” You sighed out, accidentally startling him in the process.

“Christ!” He grumbles, “you scared me.”

You laugh, waving away his still wide-eyed state. “Sorry to interrupt, just cannot fathom how good this smells.” Walking toward the stove, your eyes flutter shut. “Maybe I do need to move to the UK.”

Leandro, admiring the way you looked in the morning light, hums softly. “Please do.”

Taking a few steps back so the man could take the pieces of bacon off the pan, you nod thoughtfully. “Unfortunately, moving to a whole ‘nother country for a friend wouldn’t make a very good reason on my resignation letter.”

Rolling his eyes, Leandro moves to open the waffle maker, diligently taking them out one by one. “Just say you’re getting married or something.” He kids, turning to you with a teasing look.

You loved moments like this, when he was more playful than serious. It was a moment just like this, all those years ago, that made you realize you were deeply in love with him.

“Yeah? And who would I be marrying?” You quirk an eyebrow, taking a plate from the newly cleaned stack before handing it to him.

Leandro begins his process of making you a traditional Belgian waffle as he speaks, “well, me of course?”

It was a joke, of course it was. But that didn’t stop your stomach from flipping. Before you know it, you’re speaking again. “Ah, my childhood dreams of our marriage, finally fulfilled?”

You’d mean’t that to come out as a joke, but the way his gaze landed on you, his lips tugged into a lopsided grin, eyes twinkling in the light, oh you’d really meant it.

“You dreamt about that?” He asks, his voice still laced with humor, but with a little bit of something you couldn’t quite place. Something a little more.. wishful.

Cheeks burning a light shade of red, you shrug, trying to find a way to play it off. “Don’t let that get to your head.”

He finishes the waffle, adding a few extra strawberries on the side just the way you liked. “It already has, sorry.” Leandro hands you the plate, his face amused as he watches your eyes roll.

Taking the plate, you tense at the sudden flesh to flesh contact, your hands then failing to grip the plate once his pull away.

A loud shattering sound making the both of you jump back, “shit!” You grumble, slouching down to pick up some of the pieces, only for them to be swatted away.

“Don’t!” Leandro snaps, “don’t touch them, you might get cut.” He softens his voice, concern etched across his face as he swiftly moved to grab a broom from the pantry.

While he sweeps it up, you watch with a from. “Sorry, all that hard work and I drop it.”

“It’s okay,” he sighs, eyes flickering up at you. “Are you okay?”

“Hm? Yeah, why?” Your eyebrows furrow.

“You just seemed a little tense thats all,” he shrugs it off, dumping the contents into the garbage before putting the broom away.

You—still upset— hadn’t noticed he’d made his way over to you. “Don’t worry about it… i’ll make you more. It’s no trouble.” He reassures, his hands holding your biceps with a comforting squeeze.

“I know, I just feel bad.” You pout, eyes meeting his.

His eyes. His dark raccoon-eque dark circles, which only seemed to lighten when during his bi-monthly visits.

Leandro chuckles, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’d make you a dozen waffles, don’t worry about one. It probably wasn’t that good anyways.”

You pull away from his touch for a second, examining his face. You were certain in that moment, you had never loved him so much.

“I love you.” You blurt out, eyebrows scrunching together.

“I know.” Leandro lets out a breathy laugh, “I love you too.” His hands drop from your arms to his side, already walking back toward the ingredients to make more waffles.

You purse your lips. “No, Leo.” You huff, “I love you.”

He pauses, turning around. “I know, and I said—“

“No, i’m in love with you.”

You said it. After nearly ten years of loving him, so silently, so passionately, you’d finally just said it. And he was quiet. Probably stunned, probably in disbelief.

“And, I said I love you too.” He finally speaks, taking painfully slow strides back toward you.

“Yeah, but I—“

“But nothing.” Leandro tilts his head to the side, his hand coming to rest on your cheek, a feeling you welcome. “I love you, too.”

“Oh.” You blink, subconsciously leaning into his touch, “oh..?”

You two stand like that for a moment, reveling in the moment. An unspoken understanding passing between you in that moment, with you simply reveling in the fact that you’d spent ten long years loving him in silence when the whole time, he’d loved you right back.

You don’t comprehend it when his lips touch yours for the first time, it’s a soft peck. A small, tender act of affection that made your heart do summersaults. Smiling, you press your lips back into his.

DTS , @halfwayhearted & @ar4ujos . Please no comment on how ?? this is i wrote it at 4 in the morning and i have been awake for like 28 hours straight now so…

[tara-the-quiet-bookworm-2016]

Home Alone Yandere! Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female Reader Chapter Three

Authors Notes- Here I am back again with the final chapter to my Yandere! Simon Riley fic. As you can gather by now I like to point any and all trigger warnings in the authors notes. Anyway this chapter will feature death, yet more stalking, and more non-con drugging as well as kidnapping. If none of this is your cuppa tea then this is where we part ways but I'll remember our time fondly.

Now that we got THAT out of the way here is Chapter Three. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter Three.

You woke up in a daze, confusion filling your mind when you had no recollection of how you got home. Pushing your hair from your face you groan as you swing your legs over the side of your bed. Hmmm, you looked down at yourself, you don't recall dressing in your Pajamas when you got home, or, you winced knees feeling bruised, obviously during the night you had tripped or something at the club.

The Club!

Your eyes widened, recalling that you a few of your friends had gone to the club, and, and you were drawing a blank. Your phone! Looking to the nightstand you see your phone sitting on the table right where you left it. Reaching for it you opened the messages and were hit with four, five, ten messages from both Kayla and Stacy, wondering where you had gone and if you were okay. Your brow furrow as you continued to try and piece together what had happened last night the more confused you were.

According to these messages it was obviously you had gone home by yourself. Reckless... You mentally kicked your self for that. Wandering home late at night you knew better, you also knew not to drink too much and yet you did, you think? Shaking your head you call Kayla first, and get no response after a few rings, leaving a message to let her know that you were safe and such telling her that you would see her at work. Then doing the same with Stacy, again getting no response so you also assured her that you were safe and that you would see her at work during the week.

Putting your phone down you head to your washroom and get showered, getting ready for the day.

***

Simon wouldn't lie, he knew full well that he was a monster, plenty of people knew that. Sighing he turned away from the bloody body of a young woman you had called Stacy, her throat slit, and now lay in a pool of blood, lifeless eyes staring up at him accusingly. But he did this for you. She was wrong for you, she and the other girl, Kayla had left you alone, to be targeted what kind of friends were they? Before he had visited Stacy and he had sure that Kayla would have an unfortunate accident on her way to work. Having stumbled into the street absolutely sloshed, and Simon tried to swerve out of the way, but she came out of nowhere, but small comfort was that you would find out that she died instantaneously, that she didn't suffer.

And before Simon had arrived here he had made sure that there was no blood or anything else on his truck, taking the time to clean it off before coming here and taking out Stacy. Having knocked on the door saying that he was a landlord, before shouldering into her apartment. A thrill ran down Simon's spine at the fear in her eyes, she had tried to run, but he was fast, this trusty combat knife pressed against her neck as she tried to plead, to beg for her life.

But what about your life? Did that not matter to her? Simon growled as he sliced her neck, a wet gurgling noise came from her as she dropped to the ground, her blood staining the pale green carpet.

I did this for you, Y/N. He thought, stepping out of the apartment, and back towards his truck, normally he would be driving off to see you again, he had other plans. plans that would involve you finally being in his arms at long last. He knew you would fight, knew you would cry and scream and scratch, he knew you wouldn't understand right away. But this was for a best, there were people who wanted to hurt you, and the only person who could stop that was him.

***

Something was wrong. You thought as you drove to work, but you couldn't put your finger on it. Until you entered the breakroom. And saw that the news was on and there on the screen was the very club you had been at the night before. You were silent, across the bottom of the screen said Body Found outside popular club. Your brow furrowed. That was creepy.

"Crazy world am I right?" You heard your boss ask, coming up behind you.

Looking to him you nodded. "I was there just last night. Really scary that could have been me." You told him.

Your boss chuckled and gave your shoulder a squeeze." A crazy world we living in, huh?"

Glancing at the TV once more you nodded. A shiver running down your spine. "Yeah, crazy." Giving your head a shake you started your work day. However, that odd feeling never leaving you.

***

It was perfect. Simon thought, looking around the room he had painstakingly prepared for you. A room that looked exactly like your bedroom, from the freshly painted walls to the carpet and the furnishings, along with the bed. The closet, however was rather sparse, but he would get some of your clothes when you were all settled in. Satisfied with his work he began to plan how he would get you, a glass of whiskey in his hand, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Things were looking up for him.

***

You were tired, work had been intense, neither Kayla or Stacy hadn't shown up to work. Leaving the place rather understaffed. Not that you really minded you did enjoy your work, but today had been exhausting. And when your shift had finally ended you were burnt out, wanting nothing more than to go home and pass out.

Getting into your car you drove the short drive home, you would shoot them a text when you got home, make sure they were okay as well. Stepping out of your car you entered your apartment and headed to your bathroom intent on grabbing a shower, then maybe you'd fix yourself something for dinner. Or perhaps you would go to bed early, exhaustion overriding your hunger as you washed up before stepping out, and heading to your room, and stopped in the doorway.

There was that feeling again, turning on the light you looked around the room, and like every other time you felt like something was off there was nothing out of the ordinary but still that feeling persisted. Shaking your head you pulled your work clothes off and put on your pajamas and climbed into bed, and soon drifted off to sleep the moment your head hit the pillow.

However, little did you know was that come tomorrow things would never be the same...

***

He had dreamed of this for so long, to finally have you, he had thought of this ever since he first met you what seemed like forever, and in that time he never thought he would meet someone like you, someone so normal, innocent, someone that could be so easily tainted by the cruelty of the world around you, and Simon needed to protect you from all the dangers. Sure, he knew you wouldn't understand right away, that you would fight, but he knew you were smart, knew you would come around and eventually love him for it.

Not like he was giving you a choice, he would hide you from the world, keep you for his eyes only.

***

Something was going to happen. You couldn't put your finger on it but something felt off, and not just because both Stacy and Kayla had missed their shifts again. Which was odd, giving your head a shake you get ready for work, stepping onto the floor, and stopping in your tracks, blood running cold when you met the cold gaze of the very man who seemed to be following you.

The two of you stood there in complete silence, before you forced a smile to your lips. "Good morning." You greeted. And were greeted by a mumbled greeting in return before he walked off, but still you couldn't shake the feeling of those brown almost black eyes burning into yours.

Forcing a smile to your lips you walked past him, intent on focusing on work, all while trying to ignore the man lurking around your work, as the hours went by and soon home time arrived, and all you wanted to do was go home and relax, maybe nuke some left-overs and pass out. Or that had been the plan if it weren't for the fact that your tires had been slashed.

"How?" You choked out, circling your car, who had done this? Why? You weren't one to upset people enough for them to do this, so why. Was it just some random act? Some asshole who just needed to ruin your night by wrecking your cars tires? However, before you could dwell on this any further you heard footsteps approach you, turning around you could only catch a glimpse of the man before before when you're suddenly grabbed from behind, a cloth pressed to you mouth and nose, you struggled to break free, but the man was far too strong, and soon darkness took over. And you soon lay limp in Simon's arms.

Simon looked down at you, his heart fluttering as he glanced over his shoulder, half expecting someone to catch him with you in his arms, not that anyone would, Simon had made certain no one was around when he came for you, and even if there was the gun he had inside his jacket would deter anyone from trying to come to your aid.

Placing you in his truck he drove to your new home, a smile forming under his mask, you were finally his, at long last, and no one was going to take you away from him.

Authors Notes- First things first apologize for how this story. I ran out of steam, but rest assured I'll do better in the next story. Also I apologize for there being no smut, despite me tagging smut when I posted this on AO3, that also didn't seem to want to work for this story.

So what I'm trying to say is sorry this story isn't my best I'll do better not only in the next fic I have planned, but the next time I write for Simon. Until then have a good day/night.

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight - Fungus Is Known To Grow Amoung Death After All

@lovelyunknown @skarlettskwrl

An ecto-nanobot powered suit plus a fungus specifically made to latch onto and grow on ectoplasm, wasn’t a great mix.

Danny was starting to get a little worried, worried about Val specifically. He was used to her being slightly on edge pretty often, just as she was likely used to him being on edge pretty often, but this was weird. She’d been jittery, twitchy, spazzy even. At first he thought she’d caught a ghost and was ‘inspecting’ it or that Vlad was giving her a disturbing amount of hassle. Even her just being worried about tests or her nanobots getting noticed by the school nurse would make sense. Perhaps her dad was being harder on her? Or pressuring her to hang up the suit?

Then, then, he noticed the smell. The sickly sweet meaty lime smell that made his mouth water. Made him cock his head to the side and pause in taking his next step, a more ghostly part of himself getting the way he sometimes got around blob ghosts; bitey and twitchy. Then his ecto-field sensed it, and the alarm bells officially went off. The way it sensed like creaking branches or spreading rot; like she was just going to suddenly start violently twitching at inhuman angles and trying to rip out the walls.

This all seemed… familiar too him, unfortunately. ClockWork didn’t tell him to stay away from too many places, but the Riot Sands and its Moxowasp fungus was one of them. And this? Yeah this smelled and felt like Moxowasp fungus. She’s not growing glitchy moving murderous antlers so that’s a positive, so not a full fungal infection but she seemed a bit past just the ‘spore sickness’ version. But he’s not sure, she didn’t have symptoms she should have from his invisible, slightly predatory, stalking/observing. She wasn’t getting weird white fuzz on her or hacking up bits of branches, she wasn’t acting wacky in the high way.

She was human so, arguably, even if she did have moxowasp fungus then it shouldn’t really affect her, but that didn’t account for her nanobots which were ectoplasm based. Danny frowning and leaning back in his chair, side eyeing Val who’s staring wide-eyed and tremoring slightly, maybe it was her nanobots that were being affected specifically? and the symptoms were being passed on? Those things were in her brain and all her muscles after all. But that just makes it harder for him to be sure and he can’t just ask her ‘hey did you eat or get stabbed by weird sponge-y crumbly branches? Or fight a ghost with that stuff coming out of them?’. Well he could do that but it would probably get him stabbed by a cattle prod.

…

Or it would as Phantom. But as Fenton? Maybe not. She might listen to Danny Fenton the only close friend and ex, son of ghost ‘experts’ and ‘the kid who may have gone into the ghost zone that one time’. His accident being public news might actually be useful for a change, besides just being used as a scapegoat to explain having weird ecto-contamination to explain his ghostly shit. And he did take off suddenly all the time and skipped multiple days sometimes, he could say that Danny Fenton and his stupid luck made him have a little run in with the moxowasp stuff before. His folks did try to get every sample they could get their hands on after all. If they ran into moxowasp fungus they absolutely would sample that stuff and Danny probably would actually get sick.

Okay. Yeah. He can work with this. Problem is how does he talk to her about this? Because if his guess is right then yeah, she can get him sick. Or maybe he was strong enough now that he’d have more resistance? Heck ClockWork could have told him about this specifically because Val was going to get infected with it and they wanted him to know about to catch the signs early. She didn’t have any outward signs so maybe it would actually be safe to touch her, try to drag her off somewhere to talk?

And then the bell goes off and he’s out of time to think about it, by the time he’s stood up Val’s basically stormed out of the classroom, bumping into multiple desks and people as she went. Okay yeah, Danny’s following her, immediately…. Even if that takes him straight into the ladies room. Awkward but he’s lived down worse.

Of course what greets him ain’t great, Val hunched over a toilet shiver trembling and looking like she just threw up; Danny trying to be quiet about leaning over her and yup, weird squiggly white branching stuff in the toilet. Okay, one hundred percent yes, she’s got a moxowasp fungus infection. She wasn’t actually sprouting out branching so that was good, but still.

Watching her scratch her head harshly and crack her neck to the side with a hard jerk, smacking herself on the toilet rim (ew), “ow. Why-ugh. Why’d- did I do that? That was… stupid? I think?”, and she cringes basically her whole body.

Danny wincing, a little nervous to touch her but since when did he not help people just because of nerves? Tapping her on the shoulder twice, “Val?”; okay maybe he sounded a little squeaky, but this was freaky alright? And that scent was making his skin crawl, the mouth watering only making him more creeped.

She jerks, snapping her head around to him, twitching sideways and blinking so harshly it might as well be a spasm, “danny? Isn’t this- like- laddies? Ow”, squeezing her eyes shut again, “I’m ‘ine”.

Danny laughs awkwardly, “eh, ha ha. Ah. Yeah no. I don’t think so. Nah”, cringing a little when she just kind of stares at him, shit yeah her scleras are a bit on the green side. Oof. “Ha”, bending down onto his ankles to be a bit more in her level, “Val you definitely are not. And also, you’re not suddenly going to be just by ignoring what’s going on”, okay Fenton, try to play this off without revealing you know she’s Red. “I… have no freaking clue how the crap you got this of all things but, hey, uh, Amity’s a, ah, pretty fucking weird town, am I right or am I right?”.

She groans at him, like she honestly barely even heard him, “what… what are you even, you know, talking ‘bout?”, pushing herself to stand up, “I think.. I’m just going to go, uh, outside”.

Danny’s up like a gunshot, “oh no, absolutely not”, poking a single finger on both her shoulders, “bad. You are sick sick. And like, okay, this is kinda fucked and shit, but I know what’s up with you”.

Now that, that finally gets her attention, her squinting, “explain then. I know”, she sways a little and shakes her head, “I know you’re weird so”.

Danny snorting, “gee thanks, Val. I’m pretty aware of that too”, frowning at her, “okay, now this is gonna sound fucked, but you’ve got a weird ghost illness? It’s like a weird fuzzy sentient branch thing?”, tilting his head and trying to keep his eyes in front of her eyes, “woozy, the twitching, disoriented but also kinda high?”, pointing a finger that she doesn’t follow at the toilet, “vomiting weird sponge-like white branches. This shit can be a, well not death sentence, but like end of their unlife? sentence? Yeah let’s go with that. The branch stuff basically eats ghosts from the inside out till they’re just mindless husks housing a violent fungus”.

She purses her lips, “fuck”.

Danny nods cringing, “yeah”, glancing at the toilet and back to her, “you gotta get that branch stuff outta you, and any kinda white fuzzy stuff. The branches are the fungus, moxowasp fungus by the way, and the fuzzy is spores or, uh, some shit”. Wow was this ever awkward. “You stay here and I’ll go find some salt to help with the whole vomiting thing, gotta get that stuff out and I’m not a freaking doctor”.

She actually slumps onto the ground thankful, the muttered, “I weirdly wanna poke you”. Danny pointing at her a few times, “ah, yeah, um, that’s probably the fungus wanting to try and spread and stuff, if you had the antlers going on they’d be all, trying to attack me and stab me and shit. Super freaky so let’s not get to that, yeah? Yeah”, he’s out of that bathroom in a flash, thankfully no one’s in the hallway so he’s able to just go invisible and go through the walls to steal some salt from cafeteria.

She’s scratching at her head again, there’s… definitely a white bump there, not great, “okay, water, salt, a vomiting one way ticket. Drink and think of super gross shit and nausea and shit. Please do not throw up on me. I will throw up on you back”.

She snorts, “ew”, but winds up biting him when he makes her drink the water salt mixture; him cringing but not letting it stop him.

…

She’s not going to let go of his hand now, is she? Lovely. Okay… it’s not the best idea to use his powers right now but duplication it is, ‘cause he’s gotta get the branching off her head before she legit becomes a danger and in danger. He swears he can physically feel spores or stuff moving from her mouth to his hand, like hard spider webbing; super creepy.

She vomits on his hand… he does not follow through on his threat to vomit on her back. Grimacing, “eugh, thanks for that”. Weee, he’s probably gonna get spore sickness now, love it. At least that gets her to release his hand, before she vomits on the floor this time. There’s white branches squiggling on the ground, occasionally sprouting off-shot branches.

What did ClockWork say? Fire? Fire. Sure he could just make some fire, his pyrokenesis might be cold instead of hot but fire was fire. If she saw that it would be a problem though right? Him squeezing her head between his knee and chest as his duplicate gets back with a pair of wire clippers, the heavy duty kind, “don’t move your head, I gotta snap off a beginning of an antler. You don’t want that shit spreading out of you or through your head more, unless you feel like going completely mindless or assaulting people”.

“Ugh. Eh. Do it”.

Danny giving her a quick back pat with his bitten hand, which was healed at least… even if chopping the hand off would probably be better long term than letting whatever might have gotten in spread. He clips off the antler growth instead, eyeing his hand, eyeing the back of Val’s head; fuck it. He bites his own shoulder and goes snip happy at his wrist. Officially getting a duplicate to text Sam and Tuck invisibly to get to this bathroom for emergency clean up services with full protection on and something to make fire. He’s definitely getting blood on the back of her clothing now, not great, and she’s vomiting again which is technically great.

What’s actually great is the beginnings of an antler do not regrow. Yay. Val groans into him and that sweet smell makes him gag to himself some; gagging more so to avoid wanting to bite her. He forces more of the salt water down her throat.

So if he’s going with the theory that her nanobots are infected then how is he supposed to get that stuff cleaned? Well… if he could get her to summon out her suit… she might be loopy enough to not realise she shouldn’t be doing that. Ah fuck it, he flares some ecto-energy from a foot, just enough to set off her sensor, just as Sam and Tuck get in. They’re thankfully quiet, panicked but quiet, and immediately get to work (with full sleeve gloves) cleaning the ecto and blood he’s getting everywhere. Tucker glances at the squiggling antler stuff, Danny nodding for him to clean it up too while mouthing ‘fire’ and while Val -probably on instinct- summons out her suit and then actually passes out. Great. Cool. Not good.

Danny muttering, “shit”, putting her on her side, letting Sam patch up his wrist while all three kind of stare at all the fuzzy white patches over her suit.

Tucker blinking, “what the fuck is that?”.

Danny grimaces, “fungus. I had a feeling it was on the nanobots, we’ve gotta get that shit off”. Tucker lifting up the cleaning kit and grabbing a rough rag. Danny nodding, “you might need a knife too, for scrapping, and just make sure to keep her on her side in case she vomits more”.

Sam nods, “right, people can choke on their vomit if they’re on their backs”, eyeing Danny, “now why don’t you have a hand?”.

Danny sighing, “she bit it, so, uh, I cut it off? To try and avoid getting sick?”.

“I’d call you stupid but you probably made the right call. Dummy”. Her nodding at his patched wrist then joining Tucker, pointing at him with the hand that wasn’t scrubbing or scrapping off fuzz, “if you can catch this then do you dare try helping more”.

“I have been vomited on at least twice”.

“I do not care”.

Danny sticks out his tongue but sits back, letting his two friends get Val as cleaned off as possible. Tucker having to hack her suit to force summon out Every. Single. One. of her weapons to clean them off. She only vomits once at least. It’s something.

Sam and Tucker sitting back, peeling gloves of cautiously to replace them with clean ones, Tuck looking to Danny, “okay dude, what are we supposed to with her now? Like, is she good?”.

Sam glares at the geek, “we’re not leaving her on a bathroom floor, Tucker”.

Danny rolls his eyes, pushing himself up with his one hand, “no, obviously not. I’ll have Phantom, with actual protective gloves on, take her home once someone force deactivates her suit, tell her dad about making sure she vomits every hour until there’s no more goddamn wiggling branches”, pacing in a little circle, “and the story is that Phantom could smell the fungus stuff and showed up, one Danny Fenton gave the ghost the low down and Phantom agreed to take her home to rest and continue with the vomiting away from the highly ecto-contaminated kid who could absolutely get sick from her”, giving them a thumbs up, “cool?”.

They exchange glances before shrugging at him. Tucker smiling, “it’s your plan, man”, looking around the bathroom, “obviously this needs to be cleaned more”, holding up a blowtorch, he does get her suit deactivated too.

Danny nodding, changing into his ghost form and slipping on the longest gloves they had in the kit. Touching her in ghost form wasn’t his greatest idea but there wasn’t much else he could do. Sam using some of the bigger bandaging to ‘wrap’ Val up for easy transport and less chance of her touching him. Him grabbing her up immediately after and phasing up through the roof and off to her house.

Damon looks worriedly from Val, who’s now more or less resting on the bed, to Phantom, who feels very awkward. “Okay, so when she wakes up, which she will, you need to get her to vomit. There’s gonna be moving white branch things, don’t freak but she needs to get all of that out of her system”.

Damon nods, opens and closes his mouth a few times before figuring out what he wants to actually say, “alright, okay, how did she even get this moxo thing? A ghost sickness?”.

Phantom rubs his neck, “her suit. It’s ectoplasm powered, it runs on ectoplasm and ecto-energy just like all ghosts do. That got infected and that is basically part of every part of her body”, frowning, “if she was a ghost and every part of her was ecto then she’d already be past the point of help”.

Damon rubs her shoulder as she twitches spastically, “will she be fine?”.

“If you make sure she keeps getting that stuff out of her then yeah, she’ll be fine. The Fenton boy recognised her symptoms and got an antler clipped off before it could actually properly take root in her. I got her suit cleaned off later, she’s not perfect but it’ll work. She’s still human so she’s not really at risk”.

“Are you sure”; that’s not a question.

Danny nods strongly, “absolutely”. The father seems to accept this, moving a bucket near her and looking to settle down to keep watch over her.

(Danny is thankfully right. Val showing back up in a few days, basically thanking Danny for the solid save, it was awkward but appreciated. Damon’s and Val’s opinions of Phantom also went up a few notches. Val wanted absolutely nothing to do with any kind of anything with white branches afterwords, reasonable. Her practically demanding an in-depth explanation from Danny Fenton about the moxowasp fungus; Danny was slightly amazed to make it through that conversation without a slip up. Danny was also completely and utterly amazed that she somehow did not actually get him sick; score one for emergency hand removal and weird halfa genetics and being over powered).

End.

Prompts: Valerie is feeling ill, but this is no human sickness. Ghostly Cordyceps

[firenati0n]

summarizing my wips badly <3 :)

thank you so much to @cha-melodius @bigassbowlingballhead @magicandarchery @anincompletelist @kiwiana-writes @onthewaytosomewhere @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @junebugclaremontdiaz @porcelainmortal @nontoxic-writes for the tags!

this is a fun new game fajslkdfj here is my pass at a few of mine:

chef alex started making it big. had a breakdown. came home. breakdown got worse before it got better. bon appetite.

chris nolan!alex and cillian murphy!henry fuck around and find out, to the delight of everyone but them

alex torments henry on tiktok and everyone on the internet knows henry wants alex except for alex. as usual.

alex is stalked by an invisible man in a trench coat fr and almost throws a jo malone candle at him in fear

love at first flight, alex follows henry all around london. henry does not know he is being followed.

henry is once again down horrendous for alex in another fucking universe. but this time he's a masochist and writes alex love letters on behalf of a girl because he's a fucking idiot

horny and earnest brain worms make alex eat his fist on his first date with henry

the super six are overworked and underpaid public school teachers. pez is a principal and he, as usual, slays

cia agent alex forced to participate in a male pageant and henry falls in love. what a twist no one saw coming.

obscene amounts of pining longing yearning across timelines until they eventually converge bc i am not evil

alex pines for bea from afar but ends up, once again, down horrendous for her pretty brother when bea gets in an accident (how unfortunate for everyone but alex and henry)

henry is cillian murphy narrating his little irish train sleep story on the calm app and alex listens to it on loop to fall asleep bc he would rather do that than confess any sort of feelings ofc

henry hires an escort to be his wedding date bc he is incapable of normal human interaction but whoa the escort is alex. who else is surprised.

you are welcome to send me asks about any of these, and i will ramble on about them and share snips where appropriate :) <3

xoxo roop

open tag and a few tags under the cut <3

@ninzied @anincompletelist @nocoastposts @wordsofhoneydew @myheartalivewrites @rmd-writes @cricketnationrise @smc-27 @dumbpeachjuice @clottedcreamfudge @cheesecurdsgravyandfries @orchidscript @tintagel-or-cockleshells @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @eusuntgratie @getmehighonmagic @captainjunglegym @sparklepocalypse @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @onward--upward @leaves-of-laurelin @priincebutt @duchessdepolignaca03 @ships-to-sail @piratefalls @welcometololaland @affectionatelyrs @happiness-of-the-pursuit @sherryvalli @whimsymanaged @alasse9 @cultofsappho @itsmaybitheway @kill8a @largepeachicedtea