Jjk (I actually don’t watch much anime, but I’ll watch the anime’s if you request for one I haven’t seen.)
Peacemaker
Moon Knight
Marvel
Slashers
Creepypasta
I also want to say, don’t be afraid to request something even if you think I don’t know it, cause I’ll definitely do my research on it to write for it🫶🏽
Genres
Smut
Angst
Romance
Slow burn
Horror
(Anything really)
What I will not write
Child x anything (unless it’s platonic)
Force anything (r*pe)
Weird ass kinks (I’m a kink shamer)
Anything pedophelic
Age regression
I think that’s pretty much it? Feel free to request anything.
You guys can either message me or use this as a place to make your requests I don’t mind
When I was younger I used to tear everything the fuck up when I was mad. Like I mean literally ripping paint off the walls kicking doors in chasing my siblings with a knife. But then I listened to Tord from eddsworld asmr, I got worse.
(18+ only guys)Heyy! Do you guys like creepypasta? Feel free to join the server then! We have a great community fair moderators. Shifting stuff roleplay stuff and more!
🕯 Welcome to Slender’s Best 🕯 ╔══════════༺🕸༻══════════╗ What Awaits Inside? ☠ Shadowy lounges and paths between the walls☠ Creepypast
There’s also great diversity and we don’t discriminate against anyone.
Unattractive character : i'm a horrible person who has done horrible things
Fandom's : we hope you die by the end of the show/game/book/movie
Attractive character : i'm a horrible person who has done horrible things
Fandom : but guyyyssss they are just a misunderstood lil bean who has done nothing wrong and let's ship them with there victim and we should all blame the female lead who yelled at them once
Honestly it just depends on what they did for me cause I find unattractive characters attractive too and I treat the attractive ones the same way based on what they did. Unattractive and attractive if they have good writing Im pulling a “WHATTT MURDAHHHH??!!!”
I was thinking a little bit of smut!! Cause I haven’t written smut in a while and wanna see if I’m still any good at it, but I noticed most of the Adrian Chase fanfics on here are smuts and I low-key wanna be different cause I love smut as much as the next guy, but! But! I hate to see so much of it in one tag😮💨 I’m still reading it though and savoring every last bit of it.
Guys, honestly if you want to write for your oc thats totally fine, but what the hell is ‘x named reader’??!!! Back in my day 👵🏽 we just said ‘x oc’. Me personally I shifted from writing for my oc to writing for the reader, cause when you write for an oc it’s literally hit or miss. I would say I got more famous on wattpad for my oc fanfics, but I got more famous on here for x reader. Sorry for being a yapper guys.
The moon boys and Y/N definitely go as Morticia and Gomez for Halloween, bonus if they have two kids cause they’re gonna be FORCED to be Pugsly and Wednesday. I’m not talking about the new tv show or the movies I’m talking about all the old tv shows and I guess Konshu could participate as well and be the hand or whatever🙄
The apartment smelled faintly of tomato sauce, burnt toast, and whatever disaster Steven had just tried to save from the pan.
“Steven!” Lyvia laughed from across the kitchen, waving a wooden spoon at him like a sword. “You were supposed to stir it, not cremate it!”
“I was stirring it!” he protested, looking helplessly at the smoking pan. “Well, sort of. I might’ve gotten distracted when the documentary said Cleopatra had her own perfume line.. which, honestly, I think is just brilliant, innit?”
Lyvia groaned, trying not to smile. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah, but you love me anyway,” he said, grinning as he grabbed the spatula from her hand to flip something that used to resemble a meatball.
She smirked. “Barely.”
He gasped dramatically. “Barely? You wound me, Lyv. Right through the heart.”
She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Steven, ever the romantic, leaned across the counter and pressed a flour-dusted kiss to her cheek. “That’s what I keep telling you.”
The kitchen was small barely enough room for the two of them but it felt like home. There were mismatched dishes, half-read books stacked on the table, and an old radio playing a soft tune in the background. The kind of domestic chaos that somehow worked perfectly between them.
Lyvia was stirring a pot of sauce now, humming quietly, her ginger hair glowing in the warm light. Steven watched her for a moment, a soft smile creeping onto his face.
“You know,” he said, “I read somewhere that cooking together strengthens emotional bonds.”
She looked over her shoulder. “Did you now?”
“Yep. Ancient Egyptian couples used to prepare meals as offerings together. Sort of symbolic of unity, I think. You know, working in sync.”
Lyvia tilted her head, amused. “And is that what this is?”
“Absolutely,” he said proudly. “A sacred ritual of love and… slight culinary catastrophe.”
She laughed, stepping closer to wipe a smear of sauce off his nose with her thumb. “You’re ridiculous.”
He caught her hand gently, eyes soft. “Only for you, love.”
For a moment, everything stilled just the simmering of sauce and the low hum of the radio. Then Lyvia leaned up, brushing her lips against his. It was quick, but it lingered like the taste of spice and something sweeter.
“Alright, Chef Grant,” she murmured. “Let’s see if we can save dinner.”
He grinned. “Yes, ma’am. Team effort.”
By the time they sat down, the food was uneven, half overcooked, but neither of them cared. Steven poured the cheap wine he’d been saving, Lyvia clinked her glass against his, and they ate by the glow of the kitchen light laughing between bites, teasing each other, absolutely content.
At some point, Steven leaned back, watching her with quiet wonder. “You know,” he said softly, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy making such a mess.”
Lyvia smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s because you’re making it with me.”
And when she reached across the table to take his hand, flour still dusting her fingers, Steven decided that if this was chaos, he wanted it forever.
You thumped down the basement stairs, already hearing the muffled sounds of gunfire and explosions from the TV. Sure enough, Adrian was slouched in his gaming chair, headset tilted halfway off his head, completely absorbed in his match.
“Adriaaaan,” you drawled.
He groaned immediately, not even turning around. “No. Whatever it is, no. Go upstairs.”
“Mom said you have to take me with you when you go out later.” You crossed your arms with satisfaction, knowing you had the ultimate trump card.
That got his attention. He paused the game, slowly spinning around in his chair to glare at you. “What? No. Absolutely not. I’m not babysitting. I have plans. Real plans. Important plans.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Sitting in your friend’s garage and arguing about which Mortal Kombat character is better doesn’t count as plans.”
“Okay, first of all, it does. And second of all…ugh.” He flung his arms in the air dramatically. “Fine. But you don’t talk. You don’t embarrass me. And you definitely don’t mention that one time I cried at the end of E.T..”
“I would never,” you said innocently, even though you definitely would.
A few hours later, he was dragging you into said garage, muttering under his breath like you were some embarrassing backpack he was forced to carry. His friends looked over, raising eyebrows.
“Uh… hey,” one of them said. “Who’s the tagalong?”
Adrian groaned so loud it sounded like it came from his soul. “This is my… sibling. My mom made me bring them. Don’t..don’t say anything. Just pretend they’re not here.”
You grinned and gave a little wave. “Hi. Adrian said I’m not supposed to tell you he cried during E.T.”
Adrian’s head snapped toward you, eyes wide in betrayal. “BRO. I trusted you for like… two hours!”
Later that night, after the mockery had died down and Adrian was still sulking, he tried to make it up to you by showing you one of his “cool tricks” in the garage. He pulled out a lighter and a can of hairspray with a conspiratorial grin.
“Okay, so if you do this—” He clicked the lighter, flame flickering to life, then sprayed a small burst. Fire whooshed out like a tiny flamethrower.
Your eyes went wide. “That’s so dangerous! Mom would kill you.”
“Yeah, well, Mom’s not here. And you better not tell her.” He pointed the hairspray at you like it was a deadly weapon. “Swear it. Or I’ll never let you have the good controller again.”
You smirked. “Deal. But only if you let me try it.”
Adrian’s horrified gasp could probably be heard three houses down. “Absolutely not. Are you insane? What kind of older brother do you think I am?”
“The kind that cries during E.T.?”
“…Okay, you’re officially never getting the good controller again.”
Thank you for reading! Don’t be afraid to request something!
Can you write Adrian Chase x reader but a platonic way. He gives off older brother vibes who lives in basement, playing videos. Like he groans when he has to take us with him because mom said so and not to embarrass him in front of friends or show us a dangerous trick and not to tell mom. Maybe he finds out reader is a hero of some sort and teaches us useful tips.
The oven hummed, filling the kitchen with the smell of dinner cooking. Music drifted softly from the speaker on the counter something from one of Steven’s playlists that fit perfectly, mellow but with a steady beat.
You were checking on the food when you felt his hand brush yours. “Hey,” he said, almost shy, “wanna dance while we wait?”
You raised a brow. “In the kitchen?”
“Yeah. Why not?” He was already stepping closer, reaching for your hand with that small, crooked smile that made it impossible to say no.
You let him pull you in, his arms circling your waist as yours slid around his shoulders. The two of you swayed slowly, the tile cool under your feet, the light overhead soft. He wasn’t trying to impress he just held you close, moving in time with the music like it was second nature.
When he spun you, you laughed, nearly tripping, and he caught you against his chest. “Careful,” he murmured, grinning.
“Your fault,” you shot back, but your smile betrayed you.
The timer on the oven dinged, sharp against the quiet song. Neither of you moved. He just rested his forehead against yours, swaying a little longer, as if the food could wait and the only thing that mattered was the music and you in his arms.
Then the burning smell started and you pull away quickly, despite loving the feeling of being in his arms. You quickly go taking the food out of the oven with a slight laugh
“God, I just get so lost in you, everything else disappears, my handsome man.” You said softly watching him become flustered with your praise towards him.
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and feel free to make more requests.
Should I start writing fanfics again? Like x readers this time? Now that I’m back? I’ll really write for any fandoms I’ve seen like shows and stuff and I’ll pin up the fandoms im in so y’all know what to request from me. I will also!! Take ideas!!
