🎀

Need sleep so badly 😋

[izu0m1i]

Savage Game (Mafia!MHA x Reader)

Warning: description of weapons (knife & guns), paranoia

Author note: I have no excuse. School is keeping me away from writing (very much an excuse)

Anyways enjoy the new chapter, hope you all enjoy! Translation at the bottom! Also I’ll try to make a schedule to when I upload and which story! Other stories are also in the work and i hope i can release them soon!

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Date: Saturday, 19th of Oktober xxxx

11:30 am

Location: Roppongi district-Mustafa district

———————————————————————

The city smelled of damp pavement and gasoline, a normal smell that clunked on to this dammed city. Traffic was hell. People honking, flipping others off or creating more colorful insults.

To much noise

To much smell

She loved it

It kept her mind at ease. The noise was overthrowing her thoughts, but her mind was still vigilant (unfortunately). The smell kept her grounded reminding her she wasn’t there.

(Y/N) weaved through morning traffic, Jun clinging to her back. The wind whipped against her helmet, the steady roar of the motorcycle drowning out everything else. The roads of Musutafu were familiar now, but her mind still mapped them out—alternate routes, dead ends, open spaces that left her exposed.

Jun's voice cut through the noise, the radio crackling first. "După ciriclum, mergem la clubul de teatru! O să avem o piesă luna viitoare și ajut la decor." Her voice disoriented by the radio.

(Y/N) hummed, only half-listening. Her eyes flicked to the side mirror, paranoia choking her mind. That blue sedan was suspicious. Maybe that white Toyota will rear-bump the tire. Her mind swirled with many thoughts, many plans on how to escape.

Nothing new really

She pulled up to the school gates, letting Jun hop off. The girl stretched before taking the pink helmet off, looking at her reflection through (Y/N) visor. "Încearcă să nu te bagi în necazuri cât sunt plecată." she said with a grin after fixing her hair. Her raven hair messy from the helmet, her braid now lose, hanged down on her shoulder the fake flowers flat from the helmet.

Is she trying to be Rapunzel?

The school might call later….she mentally reminded herself to turn her phone off.

(Y/N) smirked under her helmet. "Nu pot promite asta."

Jun huffed, rolling her eyes. "Ești imposibilă.". With a final wave, she jogged off, disappearing into the school. Only when she was inside did (Y/N) rev the engine again, taking off toward home.

——————————————————

The moment she reached her apartment complex, something felt off.

The street was quiet. Too quiet. No old man smoking on his balcony, cursing at passersby for even being on his “property”. No distant hum of a radio playing from the open windows. The usual background noise of daily life was absent.

She parked the bike, killing the engine, and swung her leg off. She took her helmet off, putting it on the steps of her apartment. No one would steal it, and if they did she would find them. As she climbed the stairs to her floor, her muscles tensed, her body slipping into an old, familiar state of awareness. Every sound, every shadow, every shift in the air registered in her mind.

She climbed the stairs, movements slow, controlled. Her fingers twitched at her sides, resisting the instinct to reach for the knife hidden in her boot or the gun hidden in her leather jacket.

Paranoia was a real bi-

Then she saw it.

The apartment door was slightly ajar.

No damage to the lock. No scratches, no forced entry. It had been opened cleanly.

She knew she locked it.

She wasn’t forgetful. Always triple checking.

Always

Someone had a key.

Her heartbeat didn't spike, her breathing remained steady, but her body coiled like a loaded spring. She pressed her palm flat against the door, nudging it open silently.

The living room was untouched. The blinds were still half-drawn, the couch was still messy with Jun's jacket that she had discarded earlier before leaving, and the white shirt that (Y/N) had to wrestle her sister for. But the air inside was different.

It smelled like cologne. Something expensive. Something foreign.

Something rotten

(Y/N) took a slow step forward, scanning her surroundings. The kitchen was in full view, nothing out of place. But then—

A faint clink. Ice settling.

Her eyes flicked toward the living room coffee table.

A glass of water. Ice floating at the top, half-melted. Freshly poured, with a hand on top of it, with rings on its middle and index finger. The hand retreated as-

Clap

Clap

Clap

Slow, deliberate applause echoed through the room.

"Well, well. You're as sharp as ever,  louve rouge"

(Y/N) exhaled slowly through her nose.

Yuga Aoyama

She took a stepp closed to the living room, turned her head and found him lounging in one of the chairs of couch chairs, hidden by a corner of the wall, legs crossed, his usual smug grin plastered across his face not quit reaching his eyes. His blond hair was neatly combed, his baby blue eyes sparkled with fake happiness. His white crispy suit was a stark contrast to the red armchair he sat in. Behind him, two of his henchmen stood, their beige suits crisp with spiky diamonds on their baby blue tie, their eyes unreadable.

Did he fold his legs so she wouldn’t see him?

Image flashed in her mind, him hugging his legs so it wouldn’t be noticeable, while his henchmen were pressed against the wall.

What a dumbass

Now she needs to clean her chair- or better yet burn it.

(Y/N) heard the door click shut behind her, from the corner of her eyes she saw a men step out from the coat closet . "Tu as du culot." Aoyama's smile widened. "Oh, ma belle louve rouge, ne sois pas si froide." (Y/N) scoffed, walking toward him with measured steps, only stopping before the coffee table. She picked up the glass of water, swirling it lazily in her hand before taking a slow sip. Eyes never leaving his.

"Je devrais être surprise, mais je ne le suis pas." She set the glass down with a sharp clink. "Tu es toujours aussi dramatique." Aoyama sighed in mock disappointment. "And here I thought you'd be happy to see me." The man behind her stepped closer, his hand resting on the noticeable bulge of the gun, hidden poorly by his coat.

What a rookie

(Y/N) sat down on her couch, leaned back, arms crossed, and her legs spread. "What do you want?" she asked already done with his mere presence.

God does his cologne stink

Aoyama tsked, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. "Tsk tsk, toujours si impatiente." His eyes flicked to the henchmen before returning to her. "But fine, I'll get to the point."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The playfulness in his tone didn't match the weight in his gaze.

"I need you for a job."

(Y/N) didn't flinch, didn't move. Just tilted her head slightly. "Not interested."

Aoyama chuckled, shaking his head. "You haven't even heard the details,  louve rouge."

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes. "Doesn't matter. The answer is N O. Or would you like it in French?"

Silence.

One of the henchmen shifted slightly, just a fraction of movement, but (Y/N) caught it. Tension in the air.

Aoyama sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "Quelle tragédie." Then his smile faded. "But let's be clear,  louve rouge. You don't have a choice"

(Y/N) remained still. Calculating. Weighing her options.

She could kill him. The henchmen don't look that strong. But the carpet is new. And the neighbors are very noisy. Even though it's the wrong place to be noisy.

Aoyama watched her, his grin returning but colder this time. "And if you refuse further, well..." He glanced around the apartment. "It would be such a shame if your cozy little life were to be... disrupted."

(Y/N)'s jaw clenched.

Jun

Aoyama wouldn't kill her—he knew better. If she went down, she'd take him with her. But Jun? She was defenseless. Untouched by this world. And Aoyama didn't need to say it outright. No threats, no ultimatums—just reminders. A well-timed visit. A lingering presence near her school. A quiet suggestion that safety was only an illusion. That was enough.

His voice softened, a cruel mockery of concern. "Come now, Blood Hound. Let's not make this harder than it needs to be."

Silence stretched between them.

Then (Y/N) inhaled slowly, her expression unreadable.

"Parle."

Aoyama smirked. "That's my girl."

————————————————————————

"După ore, mergem la clubul de teatru! O să avem o piesă luna viitoare și ajut la decor." = "After class, we're going to the theater club! We have a play next month, and I'm helping with the set."

"Încearcă să nu te bagi în necazuri cât sunt plecată." = "Try not to get into trouble while I'm gone."

"Nu pot promite asta." = "Can't promise that."

"Ești imposibilă." = "You're impossible."

louve rouge = red wolf

"Tu as du culot." = "You've got some nerve."

"Oh, ma belle louve rouge, ne sois pas si froide." = "Oh, my beautiful red wolf, don't be so cold."

"Je devrais être surprise, mais je ne le suis pas." = "I should be surprised, but I'm not."

"Tu es toujours aussi dramatique." = "You're as dramatic as ever."

"Tsk tsk, toujours si impatiente." = "Always so impatient."

"Quelle tragédie." = "What a tragedy."

"Parle." = "Talk."

[izu0m1i]

Savage Games (Mafia!MHA x reader)

Warning: description of weapons, blood mention, body mutulation, description of scars (nothing crazy), Not Proof read, very much angst

Author note: exam week is over finally, can relax and finally post here and there! Sorry for the wait, I was slammed with work and personal stuff so my mental health was not good so yaaaaaa

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Date: Saturday, 19th of Oktober xxxx

10:00 am

Location: Apartment building 801, Roppongi district

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Blood

Hot sticky blood

Metallic tasting blood

Blood on her hands while she blankly stared down at her friends, her comrades, her companions, lying there in various positions. Some missing their hands or fingers or legs or their entire torso. Their faces were frozen in a horror look of pain, mid-way scream. Their jaws barely hanging on their faces. She shudders at the feeling of hands grabbing at her legs, murmurs of help and whys. She stared up at the clouded sky as it rained red. Droplets of blood splatter her face as hands slowly wrap themselves around her neck and then around her mouth, inching closer and closer to her wide dead eyes. "Help..."

Waking up with a sudden jolt, the (h/c)-haired stared up at the soft blue ceiling of the bedroom. She sighed, looking to the side, finding her sister, back facing her, curled up with blankets draped over her body. (Y/N) slowly took her arm from underneath her sister's neck before slowly standing up. Avoiding the homework and gym bag from the floor, she's silently makes her way to the bathroom. Locking the door, holding onto the rims of the sink as she stared down at her reflection.

You know, she used to be lovely as a kid. Bright blue eyes, that had that twinkle of mischievousness in them. Her raven hair that was longer, reaching her hips. Her face was brighter, even with no lack of sleep. Happy to see life and live. But now, she is just a husk of her formal self. Her blue eyes were hollow, no light shining in them. Using (e/c) contacts to hide what they look like. Her luscious hair was now with red highlights with (h/c) dye, chopped to some kind of wolfcut/bob hairstyle. Furthermore, her face looked tired, with dark circles underneath her eyes. Another thing was the scar underneath her right eye going from her ear till her nose bridge. That wasn't there before. Never was. 

She looks dead.

She WAS dead.

And SHE IS DEAD- legally, anyway.

She sighed, turning the faucet to the right as ice-cold water poured gently into her cupped hands. She washed her face and her teeth before turning the faucet the other way till no water was dripping. She sighed, stretching her arms above her head, watching as the loose shirt she had on lifted, revealing small and big scars around her toned torso, before they were hidden again as she dropped her arms, after she heard the satisfying pop from her joints. She ruffled her hair, unlocking the door, staring down at her half-awoken sister, huddled with blankets around her shoulders that were dragged on the floor. She sighed, ruffling her sister's hair before letting her go in the bathroom.

The morning sun peaked through the balcony's blinds giving the living room a soft glow of light here and there. She rolled the blinds up before opening the glass doors of the balcony, basking in the sun's soft glow as it raised. She felt calm. Almost forgetting the dream. The nightmare.

Almost

Almost forgetting it

The kitchen wasn't big, but it was efficient, blending smoothly into the living room without any dividing walls. White cabinets lined one side, their glossy surfaces reflecting the soft morning light that filtered through the balcony doors. A compact refrigerator stood in the corner, its door covered with mismatched magnets and a crumpled grocery list, some items already crossed out. Above the stainless steel sink, a small window overlooked the neighboring apartment buildings, letting in just enough light to make the space feel less confined.

(Y/N) stepped barefoot onto the warm-toned laminate flooring, moving easily between the kitchen and living room. She flicked on the range hood with one hand while opening the fridge with the other, her eyes scanning the shelves. Eggs, milk, more rice... she mentally noted. She grabbed a pack of salmon, letting the fridge door swing shut with a quiet thud. The magnets rattled slightly, one nearly slipping off.

The black frying pan was already waiting on the stove. With a flick of the dial, blue flames leaped to life beneath it. The familiar scent of oil and metal filled the air as she set the pan back down, letting it heat while she measured rice into the cooker. Water splashed as she rinsed the grains, the sound blending into the distant hum of traffic outside. She pressed the start button, and the machine hummed softly in response. She then put some toast out from the cabinet, sliding them in the toaster before turning it on.

Behind her, the living room sat in quiet stillness. A low TV stand faced the simple gray sofa, which still had a blanket draped over one arm from the night before. A small dining table, pushed against the wall to save space, stood between the kitchen and living room. From where she stood, she could see the glass doors leading to the balcony, where a few potted plants sat, their leaves barely swaying in the early morning breeze. A purple orchid sat on the small shelf, standing proud as she basked in the suns loving embrace.

She turned back to the stove, unwrapping the salmon and placing it onto the sizzling pan. The sharp crackle of oil broke the silence, filling the room with the scent of cooking fish. She reached into the fridge again, this time pulling out a small steel pot filled with two-day-old seaweed soup. Grabbing a ladle, she transferred the broth into a ceramic bowl painted with delicate blue flowers, the edges worn from years of use.Flipping the salmon, she listened to the satisfying hiss as the other side met the heat.

————————————

After the salmon was grilled right, she platted it everything, neatly as she could. The salmon with a bit of rice on a hello kitty plate, the soup besides it and on the opposite was a small bowl with formatted cabbage. Hopefully her sister would eat it all. Hers was a bit plainer. Some toast with butter. And a cup of coffee, which was almost empty. She took a sit at the table, sighing as she looked at the digital clock. Glaring at her, were the white numbers of 8:30. She rubbed her scarred hands together, the rough skin scrapping against each other. Her bruised knuckled ached as she massaged them. She needed some new hand cream and some antiseptic cream. Maybe some new bandages as well.

She rolled her shoulders back, her gaze drifting toward the living room. The morning sun slipped through the blinds, casting soft golden patches on the floor. It was peaceful. Normal. If she stayed in this moment, if she let herself focus on the small, familiar motions of daily life, she could almost forget.

Flashes of red

Flashes of familiar faces

Knife and gun

Hot steering pain

She closed her eyes tightly, breathing in deeply, a headache slowly building up. Goosebumps rising on the back of her head.

Ya, almost.

She was playing with the rim of the glass cup rim when she heard something fall from the shared room.

"Everything ok?"

"Yap! Doar mi-a căzut o carte!" came her sister's voice, before she emerged from the room, wearing a red hoodie with pockets, black leggings, and black jogging shoes. Jun's raven hair was in a bun, her square glasses were sitting snugly on her nose making her green eyes look doe-eyed, her smile wide from ear to ear as she explained what she would do in the curricular classes.

Innocence

Pure

Oh, how she wishes that she could stay in that moment. Not going back to the horrible horrible feelings of dread, guilt, fear, and anger.

She watched her sister laugh, eyes bright and full of life. For a moment, it's easy to pretend this is normal. That nothing waits for them beyond the walls of this small apartment. That life hasn't already sharpened its teeth.

Oh, how cruel can life be to two sisters?

Two sisters who were sitting at the table eating breakfast, laughing at once's joke and chatting about anything.

But life is a game.

It was a savage game at that.

No mercy for the innocent I suppose.

—————————————————————————————————————————————————-

"Yap! Doar mi-a căzut o carte!" = "Yap! I just dropped my book!"

Me when I try to write but writers block hits:

[izu0m1i]

Savage games (Mafia!MHA X Reader)

Author note: yes hello hi! I’m back sorry that I took a long pause but when personal stuff get in the way you can’t really change it. But I will slowly try to update everything so anew chapter for Mercy be done! (Yan!Batfam x religious!cult!reader) will be posted this week or the next! I’ll try my best to have a schedule for the fic but if writers block hits then it hits.

Anyways I hope you enjoy this fic cuz I personally had fun writing this! I hope I can find more au with mha because it’s fun to read such things along side the fantasy au!

Warning: describing of violence and blood (minimal), slight political view (money wise), vey jcuh Romanian talk translation at the bottom!

Everyone is aged up!!!

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Date: Monday 16th of Oktober xxxx 11:30 pm

Location: Unknown

————————————————————————-

Thump

Smack

Thump

Smack

Wham

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"9...10!! Tigress is down! Bloodhound  strikes again everyone!!!" yells a man in the microphone, while loud cheers, whistles, and applause, were echoing in the underground area. Whipping her forehead with her forearm, while her other gloved hand was raised, she felt the  blood trailing down from an open cut under her eye.

Hearing her investors scream in delight, like the pigs they are from the money they won from betting on her, made her roll her eyes while staring down at the crowd with a blank face.

Money

Oh sweet old, money

It's the thing that pleasures the human race

It's the thing that everyone wants

No scratch that, what they desire the most

Money is like poison, that everyone wants.

Yet the human race doesn't care about its effects. They just want more and more of it, till!! The money disappears.

When the money disappears, then you are nothing. You are just a human without cash.

Trash in some people's eyes.

Yet she likes money, even though she earns them with blood, she still likes it.

"Bloodhound still keeps her title as the 'champion of the underworld'!! No one can defeat her. Try and you will be met with a fist in your face!!" roared the man as the crowd got louder by the minute. Getting out from the chained ring, the ones who were betting on her, were yelling in excitement as she walked passed them. Multiple eyes stared at her figure, as she walk past them.

Opening the door of the changing room, she flings her towel on the bench while opening her locker. Taking out her hoodie and gym bag, she stopped as she felt eyes on her. Sighing she look at the exit door only to be met with her sister, who was leaning against the door.

"Jun, draga im pare-"

"Taci." Jun sight out while walking towards her sister. Her red oversized hoodie covered her body to her knees. Her black combat boots were rattling as the chain around it was whipped around as she walks." Stai jos și lasă-mă sa văd dacă tei rănit tare." She ordered while taking her older sister's gym bag out of her hands, looking through it for the first aid kit. Her sister didn't complain and shut her looker then took a seat in front of it.

Jun took out the kit, then her sister's water bottle which was thrown at her. Catching it, she looked up at the (H/N) teenager in front of her.

"(Y/N) nu te mai uita și bea odată."

"Da doamna." muttered (Y/N), taking a sip from her water bottle.

Rummaging through the first aid kid, taking out some band aids and some alcohol wipes, Jun took her sister's face in her hand while the other wiped the cut under (Y/N) eyes. Gently wiping the infected area, Jun then took another alcohol wipe to clean the cut on her sister's lower lip.

Hissing a little, she tries to push Jun's hand away but the latter gripped her chin tighter. "Stop squirming." hissed Jun, letting go of her sister's chin to unwrap the plastic from the bandaid. Her voice was threatening if it weren't for her face, which held a pounding experience with her eyes almost tearfully and her lips bitten by her to keep her from not crying, she would have taken it seriously.

Oh, who was she kidding! She never takes anything seriously.

Chuckling she pats her sister's waist, while Jun put the bandaid carefully on the cut under her eye. She then takes out an oilman and gives it to her sister. " Puneți pe buza, să se facă mai bine." she murmured while putting the rest of the things back in the first aid kit and her sister's water bottle in the gym back.

Opening the locker, where a mirror was put on the inside of the locker, she noticed something. "Really? 'Hello Kitty' bandaid?" spokes the

(H/N) to her sister while applying the oilmen on her lip.

"Da. Problemă?" 

"Nope, nici una."

(Y/N) then throws the oilmen in the gym bag, closing the locker simultaneously. Putting on her black hoodie, (Y/N) then took her sister's hand, with the other she sling her gym bag over her shoulder and took her red boxing gloves in her hand, dragging her towards the exit.

"Mai luat cumva  motocicleta?" Jun pointed at the dark parking lot where the shadow of her motorcycle can be

The cold night nibbled at her flushed cheeks, indicating that winter coming closer. Walking towards her motorcycle she was stopped by a browned haired man. He wore a blue suit with a matching black tie and scarf. His blue eyes were staring intensely at her, then they moved toward her sister, which made (Y/N) stand in front of her with a stern look decorating her (S/C) face.

"My boss sends me to thank you, for another win while also, delivering  your paycheck. 215,548.57 yen (1500 dollars in us) is in the paycheck. The boss thought your performance was fascinating that's why the little bonus." he said while handing out the paycheck which was grabbed by Jun. She looks and conforms the amount with a nod.

"Also..." he continues while his hands were behind his back. "Boss wants me to remind you that this Friday will be your next fight. He wants you to be in perfect shape like today. He is counting on you to do such a thing and he hopes that you will win, again, like always. " with that he turns around and walked towards the other side of the street where a car was waiting for him.

"Măgar." stiffing her laugh, she turns to Jun and takes the paycheck which she puts in her gym bag. "Well that 'donkey' is paying me well, so we can't complain now do we?" she said and resumes her walking towards her red street motorcycle.

"Whatever..."

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Translation

Jun, draga im pare-"

                 =

Jun, darling/honey I'm sorry

"Taci."

    =

Shut up

" Stai jos și lasă-mă sa văd dacă tei rănit tare."

      =

Sit down and let me look to see if you're badly hurt

"(Y/N) nu te mai uita și bea odată."

                                 =

(Y/N) stop looking and drink already

"Da doamna."

           =

Yes mam'

" Puneți pe buza, să nu se se facă mai rău."

                                =

Put it on your lip, so it won't get bad.

(Infected)

"Da. Problemă?" 

           =

Yes, problem?

"Nope, nici una."

            = 

Nope, not at all.

"Măgar."

      =

Donkey

[izu0m1i]

Bunny hop hop (SCREAM 1996 x serial killer!reader)

Warning: descriptions of killing, stalking behavior, blood, weapon description, "disposal of body" (youll see what I mean), mutilation, "surgery", yandere behavior (reader briefly), curse words

AUTHOR NOTE: I do NOT condone to this behavior! If you notice something weird (like something isn’t right) please be careful! The world isn’t a safe place. Regardless of what gender, build, knowledge or age you are!

Promolog: Softest Touch

Lurking

Stalking

Killing

Choking

Stabbing

Disposing

Hiding

Looking

Researching

And again

And again

And again

Looking down at my hands, blood everywhere.

On me

On her

On them

On the carpet

On the floor

On the wall

Everywhere you look

RED

Just RED

Sighing

Cleaning

Disposing

Burning

Running

Hiding

"..."

Curling

Hugging

Crying

"Y...."

Wrapping

Taking

Holding

"Y/n..."

Looking

Touching

Stabbing

"Y/N!"

Snapping out of the trance, Y/N looked up at the teacher, who was standing in front of her desk, arms crossed, looking fumed. Eyes narrowed, nose crinkled, glasses on the bridge of her nose, lips sealed with a frown, and wrinkles more noticeable. "This is the third time today that I have had to get your attention. If you have something on your mind, please share it with the class."

Her lips lifting in a smile, not kind, not soft but cruel.

What was the subject?

Ah history

Topic?

Romanian Prince Vlad III. Dracula

"The name Tepes, was given to him by his adversaries, not enemies, and not because he had any connection with vampires. He was an extraordinarily sadistic ruler who would torture his adversaries and had countless of them, including children, staked on his castle's fence so everyone could see, that if they opposed him or crossed him, they would have their head or body put on display on that spiky fence. You would have known that if you had read the biography and the tales of Vlad Dracula..." Y/N delivered back with a tired tone, simultaneously standing up and packing her things. After a moment of silence, the teacher spoke again, her smile long gone and replaced by a furious look.  (No, but real talk, someone told me that he had sharp teeth, and that why the name-)

"Go to the pri-"

Principal office. Ya, I got it." Passing the rows of desks with students with shocked looks, with the teacher fuming in the back, she pushed the door of the classroom wide open, slamming it against the wall, the sound echoing in the empty hallways that she walked through. Walking past the principal's office and going towards the empty cafeteria, which someone had left open.

"Idiots...." Y/N muttered and let out a puff of air, going inside and closing the door behind me. The cafeteria was small with a few metal tables and benches to eat at. The kitchen was closed and locked up. It looks so much like a prison that she wants to laugh. That's why most people eat their lunch outside.

She went to the last table in the back, where her back was against the wall. She would be out of view with the pillar of the food stand covering the table and her. Y/N lay down on the metal bench, her backpack on the floor against the wall.

She needs to get a grip.

Cant let this happen again

She needs to find a new toy soon...or she might really go mad

The last one was so savory

It was a successful night two days ago

The thrill of hunting and almost getting caught was a drug for her

She had studied her little bunny carefully.

What they do, their little hobbie, likes and dislikes.

Oh they were just so cute! Like a little bunny

So scared when she got into their house

Oh, so afraid and shaking like a leaf as she tilted her head to the side, her face covered by an old, ruggedy bunny mask. Her axe glimmered from behind her.

The screams that they let out were so delicius that she had to stop and just listen to the melody they let out.

The best thing she hears whenever she does her little hobby

But the thing is, she didnt even start!

Such a silly bunny

She could practly picture it again

How her heartbeat spiked up with each step she took towards HER victim

How they trembled as they begged for their life almost made her knee buckle

How she could only hear her own heartbeat while plunging her axe over and over again into the victim's chest. Tearing apart their arm, making small slashes against their side with their small pocket knife... engraving them with HER signature.

Marking them as HERS.

ALL HERS

EVERYTHING HERS

Chopping them into big sloppy pieces and then rearranging them how SHE wanted. After all, it was hers, no? Her victim, her kill. Hers to do what she wanted. Then, as a final touch-up, he put her gloved hands inside the chest of the still, open-eyed, mouth wide-open bunny, gripping the side of the deep wound she inflicted and pulling it more apart, making blood splash more on her already blood-soaked nightgown. And she could see it.

The heart.

Her hands greedily hold it and pull at it, cutting the arteries with the pocket knife. She observed the heart with at most love. That was what had beaten and pumped blood in her victim. The delicious blood that is now covering her, sticking the clothes to her clothes. On her little bunny sleepers (which she may have stolen from her darling).

"How messy of you, bunny!" she cooed as she cradled the heart close to her, slowly standing up, looking over her new rearranged masterpiece.

She never disposed of the victims. Why would she? They are perfect! It captures the essence of the playtime. Even though the arm might've been ripped and placed somewhere else, the left leg was bent the wrong way, and their chest was giving a peekaboo of her heart having been ripped out, and maybe in the process she messed with the organs....but they are perfect! Its a masterpiece! HER MASTERPIECE.

She cooed, smiling while stroking the heart, stroking it and pushing against its soft, blood-coated flesh.

Another heart to the collection!

Hello loves! how you all feeling? hope you all like this story which will be a long one...maybe even expanded to other sequels? WHO KNOWS

[izu0m1i]

Kiss me, Miss me! (Spider-Man:ITSV & ATSV x Prowler!Reader)

Warning: Mentioning of bullying,

Promolog: That’s rough buddy

Name something that you are afraid of: starting somewhere new

You feel anxious, terrified and want to disappear

Or you might feel happy to start somewhere new

New preschool means new friends and new playgrounds.

Well our protagonist felt nothing at the moment

Her small frame swayed gently on the yellow swing set, her stare was downcasted on the sand that she kicked whenever the swaying stopped. She was new to Brooklyn Preschool St Nick, recently orphaned at the age of 9. She had to change schools since the orphanage didn't have the resources to pay for her old school.

Her aunt is trying to get custody of her but the process takes longer than it should.

She cried and cried, holding on to her aunt's arm desperate to be with her. Yet she was ripped from her aunt's secure arms, into a social worker's arms. Her aunt could only let tears stream down her face, as she stood rooted in place.

She didn't have time to say goodbye to her friends and teachers. She was ripped from her safe world into reality, giving her whiplash. Well, at least the workers at the orphanage were nice, and her aunt could visit her. Even the kids at the orphanage were nice...a contrast to the kids at school. 

"What is she wearing?" a boy said to another, as he kicked the ball in the air

"I heard she is from another planet...look at her eyes."

"I heard her parent didn't want her because of her eyes, that's why she is an orphan" a girl whispered before giggling with her friend

"Really? My mommy said that I should stay away from her"

Weren't so nice.

She could only drop her shaky shoulders, her bottom lip quivering while tears formed in her eyes mismatched eyes. She didn't like it here. 

At all.

She stood up but fell when the kid with the football kicked the ball, hitting her squire in the face. She hit her head against the swing seat going down, her vision blurry from the hit. Her eyes welled up with tears, sitting up and rubbing her nose but flinched as the pain was unbearable. The kids who saw what happened were laughing and pointing at her. The boy that had kicked the ball, looked disgusted as he picked it up and rubbed it against her purple-white dress dirtying in the process. "Eww, your face touched my ball!! Now it has your germs on it!"

The crowd of kids that had gathered around them continued laughing and making comments about the situation at hand. She could only look down and let the tears fall on her pretty dress till-

"Hey leave her alone!" said a voice from the back of the crowd. A boy, with warm brown skin and a twisted hairstyle(crows) wearing some blue basketball shorts, and a red Nike shirt matching his shoes, stepped in front and pushed the boy who hit her with the ball away. The boy stumbled and fell, losing his ball in the process. The red shirt boy then picked up the football and threw it away. "You are all bullies! I will tell on you!" he shouted as he pointed at the fallen boy and the kids who were taken aback by his action. The crowd dispatched with murmurs of apologies, while the boy got up and pushed past the red shirt boy. The boy huffed as he helped our protagonist up, dusting off the sand of her dress before taking her to the teacher.

As the boy explained to the teacher what happened, she could only admire him as he squeezed her hand in reassurance.

His name was Miles Morales and from that day on he became friends with Y/N L/N.

The wonder duo

When one goes the other follows. They were attached to the hip so to say.

Miles was an interesting fella so to say

Outgoing but shy 

Creative and smart but some of the choices he made were...questionable

Real questionable 

Yet every time she looked at him, joy burst into her heart. 

Y/N was, on the other hand, calm and collected, keeps to herself yet had a mischievous side when she was with Miles.

In a sticky situation, she has a plan for how to get out fast (20 plans for one situation) or how to use her surroundings to her advantage (gratitude to her aunt). While hanging out with Miles she felt free.

Like nothing could stop her.

Hopefully that will last.

Hopefully

So yaaaaa….not proofread sue me 😭

[izu0m1i]

Okay I lied 😭 um so because of being stuck in exam week I have to put the series on hiatus at the moment but I have drafts for the other two stories that I had made a poll on…

Forgive meeee 😭😭😭

[izu0m1i]

When you have to write down every detail of your story for later use/lore accurate information.

I swear the next chapter will arrive in a few days (after a quick revision of the grammar which I should slowly fix for better understanding 😭)

Expect the chapter to arrive in two days!

[izu0m1i]

MERCY BE DONE (YANDERE!BATFAM X RELIGIOUS!CULT!READER)

Warning: Hallucination(nightmare), Blood(briefly mentioned), horror theme and vibe, yandere tendencies, curse words

Chapter 4: Round and Round and Round and Root and Round and-

Tim awoke from his dreamless night, one that didn't bring his restless mind any peace. He felt more tired.

Getting out of his tent, he noticed that the field where his family and he had set camp was gone. The forest was gone. Only red grass, with a red sky and a blood red moon, was in sight. He scrambled back, turning to go back to his tent, but it was gone.

"What the fuck?" he yelled twisting around to look at his surrounding, only to be meet with a tree??

The tree sits hunched in the center of a sunless hollow, its massive trunk blackened like charred bone. The bark is ridged and split like burned flesh, weeping a thick red sap that smells faintly of rust and roses. Its roots do not burrow—they coil and twist above the ground, wrapping around old stones, long-buried bones, and the remains of past offerings.

The branches do not rise. They bend downward, hanging like the arms of something in mourning—or waiting.

The leaves, if any remain, are brittle, sickly gray, and whisper even without wind.

Beneath the tree’s base is a wide spiral cavity, like the earth itself opened its throat. This tree....a maw lined with gnarled roots and black soil that pulses faintly, like it breathes. But who was kneeling in front of it? Y/N

She had a white night gown on, dirty from sitting on the ground. Herr long dark (H/C) was in a low braid, with vine thorns braided in the hair. She was whispering.

"Y/N?" Tim asked, confusion swirled in his mind. Why was she here? Where is here? What is that thing? Lots more questions popped into his mind but Y/N didn't answer when called out

Against his better judgment, he stepped forward, one, twice....till he was behind her. Now he could see the black veil obscuring her face, while on her lap was a small dagger with blood coating its blade. He swallowed and put a hand on her shoulder, kneeling down to her. "Y/N" he tried again, this time firmer, earning him a slow turning of her head to him. She slowly raised her right hand to his cheek, holding it gently, stroking it with her thumb. He ignored the wet and sticking feeling forming underneath his left knee, how something wet was being rubbed against his cheek. His sole focus was on her and her obscured face. "Tim" she said softly, sighing in contempt, as if his mere existence brought her joy. Like something hollow was filled.

Warmth spread down his chest, making his heart beat faster with each stroke of her thumb. He didn't know why. He doesn't even know her. Yet this feeling....

He slowly removed his hand from her shoulder and went to take the veil off. He wanted to see her face-nay he needed to see her face.

Just before his fingers touched the edge of the veil, the breath in his lungs stopped—not from fear, but reverence.

Beneath his knee, the ground pulsed. Wet warmth seeped into his pants, not like water. Thicker. And it pulls.

“Tim,” she whispered again, but her voice was layered—his name echoed back from the roots, warped and doubled, as if another voice wore hers like a mask.

“Do you want to see?” she asked gently. “It’s all right. The Root already sees you.” she said in the sweetest tone, putting her hand on his chest pushing him on the ground, him not even resisting to focuesed on the feeling of something curling around his chest.

To warm

To tight

Y/N straddled his lap and leaned close to him. The dagger had fallen on the ground, but no sound came. Only the heavy breathing of the young man. Lifting the veil only to reveal her pretty pink lips as she whispered, coming more and more closer to his own lips. "You're perfect." and as their lips almost met-

Something wet was thrown over him, waking him up with a jolt. Jason laughed at him, a bucket in his hands indicating he was the one who threw the water. "JASON!" he yelled, scrambling to get out of his now-wet sleeping bag. Tim groaned, getting out from the tent, dragging the wet sleeping bag behind him before throwing it at Jason, who was distracted by Dick calling for him.

He rubbed his face, stopping to touch his lips before looking down at his hands that were trembling. He wasn't mad or angry (a bit at Jason but not for it to tremble like that), he wasn't afraid of what he experienced...in fact, he wanted to go back.

Back to her

Back to the tree

“Morning,” a soft voice said.

Tim flinched, turning—and there she was. Standing a few feet from camp, a woven basket cradled in her arms. She wore a pale blue dress, simple cotton, with a white apron tied around her waist, still barefoot. Her hair was braided again—tighter now, neater—but he couldn't see the traces of vines tucked between the strands.

“I thought you all might be hungry,” Y/N continued, stepping forward. “Fresh bread. Blackberry compote. Eggs. And tea with honey. All local for the city folks.” She smiled—gently, as if she’d never seen him in a dream, never whispered to him, never touched his cheek with bloodstained fingers.

Stephanie cheered and thanked her, Bruce giving her a small nod before saying his thanks as well, which only made her laugh.

Soft

Melodic

Like a hymn hummed from a place deeper than breath.

Tim stared, heart in his throat. His lips still felt warm.

She tilted her head. “You look pale, Tim. Bad dreams?”

He swallowed. “I… yeah. Something like that.”

She smiled wider—too perfect.

“Then it’s a good thing you’re awake.”

Muahahahahaha another chapter fresh out the oven. Idk why but i keep linking Y/N with Ellen (Nosferatu's) and Perle(Perle) .... but you know thats just me. Anyways, the next chapter (its in the making! I swear!) might be updatet in 5 days? a week tops! If my schedule clear up. If you don't hear from me expect it in 10-15 days a new one. This one is half profread, half not (my friend who helps with my grammar had quit after seeing how many grammar mistakes I make- love them though) Have a good day or night and stay safe out there!!

Promolog <3

Chapter 1 <3

Chapter 2 <3

Chapter 3 <3

Chapter 4 (you're here babes!)

[izu0m1i]

MERCY BE DONE (YANDERE!BATFAM X RELIGIOUS!CULT!READER)

Warning: Canibalism (briefly mentioned), horror vibe, blood(nosebleed)

Chapter 3: The Echo beneath

“Blessed is she who does not speak, for in her silence the earth remembers. Beneath her feet, the buried Word stirs, and it is not death that answers—but God.” — The Spiral Gospel, Psalm of the Still Mouth

Night fell like a curtain over Enoch’s Hollow, smothering the horizon in velvet dark. The warmth of the village dinner dissolved into shadows and silence, the only light coming from oil lanterns flickering in windows and the soft red glow of the chapel's spiral window.

The Batfamily had returned to the edge of the forest where they’d pitched their tents, close enough to remain polite, far enough to sleep without eyes watching. Or so they thought.

Cicadas buzzed low in the brush. A fox passed through the undergrowth, stopping long enough to stare at Damian before vanishing into the trees. Seemingly running from something.

Richard tossed a blanket down and lay back, staring at the stars. “I’ll admit it,” he said. “They’ve got a cozy little cult vibe going, but the food was good.”

Jason grunted. “Too good. You ever noticed how horror towns always feed you first? You think they are cannibals?”

“Sleep with one eye open,” Stephanie said, nudging him. “And maybe don’t eat any midnight stew.”

Tim muttered underneath his breath, "If they are cannibals, you'd be the first one to be eaten. Or not. Rotten meat dont taste good." He had to hide behind Cassandra, who stifled her laugh, as Jason stood up in a quick, rolled tumble backwards.

"Whatchu say replacement??"

Bruce could only shake his head and sigh. Some might say he aged 20 years and 50 pieces of his raven hair turned white that instant.

Barbara sat near the firepit, her wheelchair beside her, head tilted. “There’s no birdsong. Not even now.”

“I noticed,” Tim said after the situation was calmed down (though Jason might throw him a stink eye here and there). “And the tree line—it shifted.”

Damian looked up sharply. “What?”

Everyone stopped what they were doing, frozen by the young detective's statement.

“I marked a tree before dinner. The mark’s gone.”

The fire popped.

From somewhere deep in the woods, a faint hum carried on the wind. A woman’s voice—soft, layered, and far too old.

It didn’t sound human.

No one spoke. Then Cassandra turned her head toward the woods and signed: We're not alone.

Bruce stood, scanning the trees with a quiet intensity. “Everyone in pairs. Eyes open.”

A faint glint—a reflection?—moved between the trees, then vanished. Duke grabbed a flashlight. “Something’s circling us.”

They found nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

But the mark Tim had made earlier? It was carved back into the tree.

Backwards.

..............................................................................................................................

Meanwhile, in the dark chapel, there stood Y/N.

The dinner had faded, the guests returned to their corners of the world. Her bare feet moved silently across the stone floor, toward the altar draped in shadow and dried herbs.

She knelt on the cold stone where the spiraled symbol seemed to stretch out.

Longer

Wider

It felt warm

Too warm

The spiral window behind her bled red light across her white dress, turning it the color of old flesh.

“Forgive me,” she whispered.

She reached under the altar and pulled out a small wooden box, putting it on the ground in front of her kneeled self. Inside was a strip of cloth—a linen veil, stained in faint brown. With deliberate care, she wrapped it around her eyes.

Then she placed her hands on the cold stone, and pressed her forehead down.

“I listen. I am listening.”

The floor trembled.

A crack formed beneath her fingers—no wider than a thread—and from it seeped a warmth like exhaled breath.

A deep sound rose—not music, not words. The groan of something ancient shifting beneath the chapel. Something that remembered.

Y/N’s nose began to bleed.

She didn’t flinch.

A breath touched her ear. There was no one else in the room.

“Daughter,” the voice rasped, not spoken but felt, pressed into the bone like a fever dream.

Her hands clenched the altar’s edge. She whispered:

“Take the hunger from my brother. Place it in me instead.”

The crack sealed. The warmth faded.

But the whisper lingered.

“Soon.”

Y/N unwrapped the veil with trembling fingers, her eyes calm.

The blood on her upper lip she wiped away with the back of her hand.

She stood, slow and reverent.

The root had not just answered.

It had spoken—as it always did.

Only to her.

And she, as always, had listened.

The others might have forgotten how to hear. But Y/N had been raised in its voice. Shaped by its whispers. Bound to it not by chains, but by choice.

She left the chapel not as a girl returning home, but as a vessel filled again. With a BIG smile on her face.

Muahahaha, another chapter here! I think this one is my shortest yet, but... the idea sprang to me literally, on a cold Monday(now Tuesday it's 00:57 am right now) night. While being sick and terrorized by the demon (my sibling). Anyways....Have a good day or night and stay safe.

Promolog <3

Chapter 1 <3

Chapter 2 <3

Chapter 3 (your here babes!)

Chapter 4 <3

Also, though I should summarize this short chapter with two memes.

[izu0m1i]

Welcome….to the which fic I should post (while still working on MERCY BE DONE)

Up first we have: BUNNY HOP HOP (Scream 1996 x serial killer!reader)

Synopsis:

Hunting was something you liked.

Looking for the pray(short and buff? Let’s goooo)

Studying it(hm they like bio? Damn, twins!)

Keeping tabs on it (went to the cafe shop and got Americano around 14:30, that’s getting jolted down)

Taking trinkets and knickknacks from their collection (like the saying “what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is MINE)

Having their schedule memorized (to the point where you know their sleeping schedule)

The things they like and don’t like (they like romance? Twins! They don’t like horror movies? Mm understandable I guess…)

And finally your favorite thing

The hunt

The thrill

The blood

Oh the color red was your favorite

Of course you liked other colors too. Pink the second best of course. Blue third. Green forth-

Point is you like colors.

Especially the color of their insides….

Animated header from the intro of Future Diary (Mirai Nikki)

Next we have Kiss me! Miss me! (Slider-man:ITTSV, ATSV Miles Morales x Powler!Reader)

Synopsis:

Losing someone can be hard

Family

Partner

Friends

Mentor

The five stages of grief hit you like a truck

denial "No...No! Please no! It can’t be!”

anger "HOW COULD YOU?! You were my friend!"

bargaining "Please give him back! TAKE ME! Give him back...please"

depression "Just-leave me alone. I can't face you right now"

and

acceptance "I guess it was always destined this way huh?"

Animated header from the song Villains by K/DA

Which one should I post?

BUNNY HOP HOP (Scream 1996 x Serial killer!Reader)

Kiss me, Miss me! (Spider-Man:ITTSV, ATSV Miles Morales x Powler!Reader)

just finish MERCY BE DONE (YANDERE!BATFAM x CULT!RELIGIOUS!READER) 😤

Voting ended onJun 9, 2025

doing this for fun btw (and to get inspiration for the next chapter) the story’s that might appear are from my wattpad account (which have been sitting there….for ages….)

Btw look at teh meme i made

hehehe pic from the Scream 1996 Movie and text is by moi

[izu0m1i]

Omg 😭 I love it!! Thank you for this masterpiece @oh-nowo-i-got-uwu <3

[izu0m1i]

MERCY BE DONE (YANDERE!BATFAM X RELIGIOUS!CULT!READER)

Warning: cult behaviour, weird behaviour

Chapter 2: The Strangers at the Edge

“All who enter must kneel. If not in body, then in soul. If not in soul, then in silence.” – The Spiral Gospel, Verse IX

The road into Enoch's Hollow narrowed until it was little more than a dirt path veined with roots and whispering weeds. The SUVs slowed, then stopped entirely, tires crunching over gravel that had long since been swallowed by the forest. Mist clung low to the trees, coiling around the trunks like smoke. Even the birds had gone quiet.

Bruce Wayne adjusted his cuff and stepped out first. Behind him, the second vehicle emptied in familiar rhythm: Richard, Jason, Tim, Damian, Cassandra, Stephanie, Duke, and Barbara, who maneuvered expertly from the back seat into her wheelchair. They carried gear, clipped walkie units to their belts, and joked quietly with one another.

Officially, they were here to scout land for Wayne Enterprises. Privately though? Whole other story. They'd followed a trail of strange forest signals, missing persons, and satellite images that showed structures where no town should be. Gotham's edges always held secrets, but this... felt different.

"Well," Jason muttered, stretching his back, "this is definitely where horror movies start."

"Don't say that," Stephanie said. "You'll jinx us."

"Too late," Damian added, eyeing the mist. "Look at this place. It’s practically a horror film set. Plus...." he paused before looking behind him at Stephanie with a deadpan look and continued "Todd's existence is jinxing us all." He had to promptly side-step to avoid the hurled stone aimed at his head after the comment.

The archway they passed under looked hand-carved, its crossbeam notched with strange spiral patterns and sun symbols. Flowers—real ones, dried and bundled—hung in clusters.

"Charming," Barbara said, settling more in her wheelchair, being careful where she wheeled her chair, ignoring the banter behind her. "In a lost-in-time kind of way."

..............................................................................................................................

They stepped into Enoch’s Hollow.

The village appeared slowly, like it was deciding to let them see it. White cottages lined a circular road. Windows with lace curtains. Wooden wheelbarrows full of potatoes. Chickens wandered past, clucking softly. A thin horse stood tethered to a post, swishing its tail. A collie barked once and then sat down, unmoving. Everything was in place. Yet the stillness pressed into their skin like static.

The villagers were dressed plainly—cotton dresses, suspenders, flannel, long braids, sun hats. Some men worked with saws in a small lumber shed. Others pulled vegetables from garden rows. They looked up when the outsiders passed, nodded politely, then returned to their tasks. No one rushed. No one panicked. But no one looked surprised, either.

A man approached them. Broad-shouldered, middle-aged, wearing a tan sheriff’s uniform and a wide-brimmed hat. He looked more like a farmhand than an officer, but the badge was real.

"Afternoon," he said, tipping his hat. "Visitors, are ya?"

Bruce stepped forward with a polite smile. "We’re surveying land for a conservation expansion project. Just exploring the edges of this territory."

The man offered a slow nod. "Sheriff Abraham Hale. You're welcome to look. Not much out here but old fields and good soil."

"Exactly what we're hoping for," Tim added, already glancing around.

"You're welcome to rest, eat, walk the land. We take care of our guests."

He turned, leading them past the square.

"Hollow’s a quiet place," the sheriff said. "Always has been. Good people. Honest work."

Stephanie murmured to Richard, "Is it just me, or does this feel like a reboot of Children of the Corn?"

He grinned. "You're just mad there’s no signal."

They passed a family hanging clothes. A little girl stared too long. A chicken let out a warbled noise and then ran back under a porch.

And then they saw them.

At the top of the chapel steps stood two figures. One was a girl in a simple white dress, her feet bare on the stone, long dark hair loose around her shoulders. Her dress flowed with her every step, modest but striking in its stillness. The boy beside her wore a crisp white shirt tucked into brown pants, leather boots laced high. Their eyes were the same shape. Their posture mirrored. But the stillness in her held something older.

Twins.

They stepped forward together. She bowed slightly.

"These are my children," Abraham said, pausing beside the group. There was a note of pride in his voice. "Y/N and Gideon."

"Welcome," Y/N said, her voice gentle, precise. "To Enoch’s Hollow."

Gideon remained quiet, his eyes calculating. He offered a nod.

Bruce introduced them casually.

“These are my children—Richard, the eldest, followed by Jason. Cassandra is our eldest daughter. Tim and Duke are our middle sons, and Damian is the youngest. Our close friends, Stephanie and Barbara, are with us as well. And I’m Bruce. Thank you for welcoming us.”

"Of course," said Y/N. "I’ll show you the chapel and gardens. And after you can talk to grandfather about the land." she offrered before taking her twins hand in hers and started to walk ahead.

Richard leaned in slightly, smirking. "You always greet strangers barefoot, or is that just a small-town norm?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, amused, looking back at him. "You're funny for a city boy."

Jason raised a brow. Damian looked away.

..............................................................................................................................

As they walked, Y/N pointed out growing fields, spring wells, an apiary. Bees buzzed quietly nearby. A crow sat perched on a fence but didn’t caw. A dog licked at a bowl of dried herbs and then lay down, eyes on Y/N.

The Batfamily tried to make small talk. Duke cracked a joke about the local goats. Steph asked about the village’s food co-op. Barbara took notes on her lap tablet, fingers flying.

Y/N answered them all kindly, but never elaborated. Her answers were short, never dismissive, but impossible to pin down.

Stephanie lingered beside a set of wood carvings nailed to a barn—all spirals and trees. One of the villagers, an old woman, watched her with mild disapproval.

"Is that a local symbol?" the blond girl asked curiously.

"We believe in growing things from the center out," Y/N said. "Everything worth saving begins in silence."

Silenced settled after that

..............................................................................................................................

By sunset, the village square was transformed. Strings of paper lanterns lit up the path, and a long wooden table had been set out. The whole town buzzed with activity. Children ran between benches, men carried baskets of apples and root vegetables, women poured fresh cider. Laughter rang out. Music played softly from an old radio powered by a generator.

"Now this," Jason said, "feels almost too normal."

"Exactly," Barbara murmured.

The Hale family sat at the end of the table, Abraham with his hat in his lap, Judith dressed in stark black. Y/N and Gideon sat to one side, still in white.

The villagers ate heartily. Bread, stews, roast squash, spiced nuts. Dogs barked softly. A cat curled on the chapel stairs.

Bruce made polite conversation with the sheriff. Stephanie animated chatted with the teenager that sat beside her, who was mostly listening. Richard and Jason laughed at Damian, who had a fly land on his soup, making him scowl and flick his bread crumbs at them.

Duke chatted with one of the local boys about the old hand-crank radio playing soft jazz nearby. “No Spotify, huh?” he joked. The boy looked confused but smiled politely.

Tim leaned in toward Barbara, who was sampling a slice of something that smelled like honey and pine. “You scanning anything?”

Barbara tapped the side of her tablet. “Still dead. It’s like the moment we hit their fence line, the signal just gave up.”

Across the table, a girl no older than eight approached Cassandra and handed her a flower crown of wildflowers—lavender, heather, and something pale green and unfamiliar. Cassandra smiled, signed thank you, and putting it on her head.

“She likes you,” Y/N said gently from beside her. Cassandra tilted her head, curious.

Y/N glanced toward the girl, who had already run off giggling. “The children say you walk like quiet rain.”

Richard blinked, amused. “That’s… poetic.”

“I didn’t say it,” Y/N replied tilting her head to the side. “She did.”

Gideon said nothing, but his gaze remained trained on the new family, eyes following the way they laughed and leaned into each other, familiar and chaotic. Like a language he didn’t speak.

As bowls were passed down the table, someone struck up a slow, melancholic tune on a fiddle. Several villagers hummed along. A few clapped in rhythm. Stephanie nudged Jason. “You dance?”

“I fight crime in body armor. What do you think?”

“I think you’re scared.”

Jason scoffed, then stood up and held out a hand. “Come on then, troublemaker.”

As the two danced among the fireflies and flickering lanterns, even Damian smiled—just barely.

But Y/N watched it all with a soft detachment, hands folded in her lap, head tilted as though listening to something the others couldn’t hear. Beneath her feet, the stone was warm. The laughter above was a pleasant disguise. And far below, the root pulsed slowly, content… for now.

..............................................................................................................................

Okay, so Hi! Hello. I might have forgotten to update the story- Upsie

But anyway, here is a not proofread(when is it ever?) chapter two! Took a while to edit it cuz when I first made it.... let's just say it was not marvelous (still aint but you know...writers block :) ) Have a good day or night and be safe out there! Dont join a cult people. Another chapter is in the making (might update tomorrow but no promises)

Promolog <3

Chapter 1 <3

Chapter 2 (your here babes!)

Chapter 3 <3

Chapter 4 <3

[izu0m1i]

MERCY BE DONE (YANDERE!BATFAM X RELIGIOUS!CULT!READER)

WARNING: nude description, blood, cult and religious theme, horror themes, obsessive behavior, body mutilation? (Burn marks and description of it)

Chapter 1: THE ROOT CALLS

The blood puddled slowly, thick as honey, seeping between the carved stones beneath the altar. It pooled around her bare feet, darkening the spiral sigil etched into the floor—one spiral for every death judged by divine law, each execution another ring in the spiral of salvation.

She did not move. She did not blink.

Y/N, stood still beside the corpse of Caleb Rowan, his breath silenced, his sin cleansed. The Deliverer, her sacred axe, hung heavy in her hand. Its double-edged blade still dripped with warm blood, the crimson falling with slow, sacramental rhythm.

She wore the robe of her office—The Weeping Veil.

It was long and parchment-colored, like holy scrolls left too long in candle smoke. Deep red trim bordered every edge, not bright like fresh blood, but the dried, rusted red of old martyrdom. Across the chest, embroidered directly over her heart in thick red thread, was the spiral—the sigil of descent, sacrifice, and return.

Her sleeves hung long, their insides lined in black silk, catching flashes of shadow with each motion. Stitched into one sleeve in sacred script was the word milă—mercy. The other bore its twin: judecată—judgment.

The hem of the robe, soaked through and dark from the execution, brushed the floor. She was barefoot, as all Executioners must be. The sacred ground must feel every step, every act, every soul taken.A long column of red stitches trailed down the back of her robe. Each one sewn by her grandmother. Each one a name no longer spoken.

After a belated silence she moved

She stepped back and bowed, the Deliverer held above her head, the blade dripped with blood. Humming of approval rang out, with whispers following it as she lets it down beside her, raising her head to look up at her grandfather.

He started down at her, with cold, calculated glaze, which it slightly softened as he nodded at her. Judith, closed the book of charges before stepping towards her husband where he was standing with the rest of her family.

Y/N dropped her glaze before turning, her voice rang clear across the chapel.

“Păcatul a fost curățat. Carnea a fost eliberată. Fie ca rădăcina să primească ce i se cuvine.” (The sin has been cleansed. The flesh has been released. May the root receive what it is owed.)

As she chanted, six figures emerged from the shadowed hall behind the alter-hooded and robed in red, their faces hidden behind bone-white masks carved from the skulls of unrepentant sinners. These were the Acolytes-silent, sacred servants of the Root. Their mouths were sewn shut beneath the masks. They spoke only through ritual, only through their act for the Root.

They approached the body in perfect silence, bowed to grandfather Ezekiel before getting to work.

They lifted the headless body with care, wrapping it in thick white linen soaked in anointing oil and ash. The severed head was bounded separately- so that the Root may choose which part speaks last.

Y/N started to walk, the sea of people stood with each step she took towards the door.

The masked Acolytes followed, carrying the body in their midst.

¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨

The wind was heavy as the left the chapel

No one else followed them

The people of Enoch’s Hollow understood that what happened next was not for their eyes. The procession of the dead was a quiet thing—a holy thing. And no one, not even the devout, dared to follow the Executioner to the Root Pit without reason.

Only the dead, and those who bring them, may walk that path.

Torches flickered on either side of the forest trail, the flames struggling against the thick fog that slithered low over the ground. The woods smelled of iron, damp bark, and something older.

As the walked, Y/N began to chant

“Pământul primește, sângele curge, rădăcina bea, păcatul fuge…”. (The earth receives, the blood flows, the root drinks, the sin flees…)

The chant was soft but ready, like footsteps echoing from beneath the earth itself. Y/N walked barefoot on the dirt, her hand still tight around the Deliverer. She felt the weight of the woods press in on her from every side. It was always like this after a judgment—something unseen followed her steps, like a second shadow.

But she never looked back-the Root Pit came in view, her glaze only focused on it. It wasn’t a grave. It was a monument.

It was alive.

A massive, ancient tree sat hunched in the clearing like a sleeping beast. Its bark was dark as charred bone, its roots thick and twisted, wrapped around a yawning cavity in the earth—a hollow where no grass grew, where no light dared remain.

And from those roots… came heat.

A pulsing, unnatural warmth that rose through the soles of her feet and coiled behind her ribs.

Y/N stepped forward and raised The Deliverer once more.

“Trupul s-a golit. Cuvântul s-a împlinit. Rădăcina, mănâncă.” (The body is emptied. The word is fulfilled. Root, eat.)

The acolytes lowered Caleb’s wrapped corpse into the hollow.

The roots twitched.

Just once.

But Y/N felt it.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t blink.

Her heart throbbed once.

¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨

The cleansing room was calling out her name, as she stepped inside the room.

Beneath the church’s stone belly, behind a door carved with old symbols, lay the Chamber of Return—where the Executioner is made whole again, or not at all.

Y/N walked into the inner sanctum, flanked by her mother Ruth, her aunt Judith, and her grandmother Miriam. None of them spoke.

The room was round and warm from candlelight. Dozens of them flickered on ledges carved into the stone walls. At the center of the room sat the Basin: a spring-fed pool of black water so cold it was said to steal the breath from your lungs.

The Basin sat in the center, its water still and black as shadowed ink. Dozens of candles floated on the surface, flickering red and white. The air smelled of ash and pine, of old blood and wet stone.

Her mother unfastened the bloodstained sash around her waist.

Judith peeled the robe from her shoulder and folded the blood-soaked fabric with ritual care, and Ruth stepped back to let the candlelight reveal what lay beneath—the marks they all knew, but none dared name aloud.

Across Y/N’s back, seared into the flesh between her shoulder blades, was a burned cross—not ornamental, not symmetrical. It was raw and jagged, the mark of iron scorched into skin long ago during her rite of ascension. Its edges had never fully healed.

Around the burn wound, etched in permanent black ink, wound a spiral of ancient prayers—tattoos in both Romanian and Old Latin, wrapping down the curve of her spine like a litany coiled in bone.

The outer ring read in Romanian

„Sângele sfințește. Tăcerea mântuiește. Rădăcina judecă.”

(Blood sanctifies. Silence redeems. The root judges.)

Further in, the script shifted—Latin now, older, crueler

“Non ego, sed ferrum. Non mors, sed transitus.”

(Not I, but the blade. Not death, but passage.)

And at the base of her back, smallest of all

„Tu nu ai fost aleasă. Tu ai fost făcută.”

(You were not chosen. You were made.)

The words circled the cross like serpents around a crucified saint.

Miriam took The Deliverer and placed it on the shrine of stone, whispering a line of scripture in Romanian, her voice soft and gentle as she caressed the blade, whipping the dried blood.

“Scoate întunericul, Ferește-i carnea de blestem, Leagă-i sufletul de lumină, Și fă-i pașii sfinți. Amin.”

“Nicio sabie nu doarme. Niciun păcat nu merge neatins.” (No blade sleeps. No sin goes untouched.)

Y/N stood naked before the water.

Then, slowly, her mother, aunt, and grandmother took each other’s hands. They formed a half ring around the Basin and began to chant.

“Curăță-i sângele, Spală-i oasele, Arde-i păcatul, Fă-o nouă din nou…”

Y/N did not join them.

She whispered only to herself. A small comfort in a way.

“Bone to blade, Blood to root, Sin to water, Water to silence. I cut so others may kneel. I kneel so others may rise.

She unwrapped the holy dagger—the Ulciorul Focului—given to her by Miriam, its blade a crescent of black iron that shimmered like obsidian in the candlelight.

She whispered the final line:

“I carry the cut so they do not. Let me bleed. Let me burn. Let me disappear. Then let me return. New. Hollow. Ready.”

And cut her palm clean.

The blood dripped into the Basin.

The water did not ripple.

It drank.

She stepped in.

The water was colder than ice, but she didn’t stop. She lowered herself until the water touched her lips, then her nose, then her eyes.

Then she dropped beneath the surface.

The world went still.

Down bellow she sank, holding her body close to herself, the cold water nibble at her skin. She felt a sense of peace, as she floated in the Basin.

And in the deep end, she heard it.

Not a voice

Not words

A sound

A root cracking beneath the stone

A breath

Nots hers

Minutes passed by….

She surfaced slowly, with a smile on her face

Her eyes opened to candlelight

She got out, the water dripping down on the stone ground, as she put her hands over her face slowly rubbing her skin.

Her mother wrapped her in a clean white linen, helping her get dressed, while whispering praises to her.

“You did good my child. You saved the man from his doomed fate. You gave him mercy as you should.”

She cooed, while stepping away, her aunt taking the place of her mother as she helped her dr her hair.

Her grandmother stitched a red thread into the back of her robe-the newest soul.

Y/N whoever stayed quit and let them do what they must.

But behind her, the water rippled once.

Outside the chamber as she stepped out, Abraham Hale, her father and Gideon Hale, her brother, waited for her. The both straighten up, with Gideon going besides his sister, holding her right bandaged hand softly in his own.

“Y/N” her father greeted, as he took off his sheriff hat and putting it over his chest, in a greeting. She smiled at him, stepping closer to him and putting her left hand on her father’s arm. “Father” she greeted back before nodding at Gideon.

“We have visitors” her father said after a moment, putting his hat back on. That made her stop her walk with Gideon. The cold wind of the hallway, nibbled at her exposed neck. “Who?” She asked turning to him, with a gentle smile. “We don’t know….they are at the edge of the forest. Might be looking for something. Or someone”

¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨

Hello! Good day everyone! Thank you all for the likes in my previous post! Was shocked really 😭 Anyways this is chapter 1 of the MERCY BE DONE series and i hope you all like it! This is again not proofread (maybe the first two part but the rest….i just rolled with it) Have a good day and be safe! Next chapter might be uploaded in the next two to three days (hopefully)! Also does anyone know how i can like link my post together?? I am desperate at this moment cuz nothing works 🙏

Edit: Never mind figured it out-

Promolog <3

Chapter 1 (your here babes)

Chapter 2 <3

Chapter 3 <3

Chapter 4 <3

[izu0m1i]

MERCY BE DONE (yandere!batfam x cult!religious!reader)

WARNING: death, twisted religion and cult theme, weapon mentioned (axe)

Promolog: THE CLEANSING

The whetstone sang

It was a cold song. Quite. Repetitive. The kind of sound that could soothe would soothe a soul or hollow it out. Depending on what the hands of the perpetrator intended.

Over and over, Y/N Hale draws the blade across the stones edge. Her hands steady. Patient. She sat alone in the stone cellar beneath the church, her bare feet tucked beneath her, linen dress ghost-pale in the dim candlelight. Around her, the walls were lined with relics- chains, masks, hooks, books, bottles, all labeled in careful calligraphy. Y/N worked slowly, deliberately, slid in ding the curved edge of the axe along the stone.

The Deliverer.

Her inheritance, forged by the first priest of Enoch’s Hollow two centuries ago. Its handle was dark oak, oiled and worn by generations of holy hands. The blade, now freshly sharpened, was inscribed with verse she’s been raised to recite like a nursery rhyme.

“And upon the head of the sinner shall fall the weight of their judgment, and it shall be swift, and it shall be final, and it shall be holy”

Tracing the words carefully muttering the verse over and over again. She graced her fingers around the cross necklace around her, kneeling down and putting the holy axe on her lap, folded her hands praying with a soft whisper.

“Tatăl nostru,

Care ești în ceruri,

Sfințească-se numele Tău,

Vie împărăția Ta,

Facă-se voia Ta,

Precum în cer așa și pe pământ.

Pâinea noastră cea de toate zilele,

Dă-ne-o nouă astăzi,

Și ne iartă nouă greșelile noastre,

Precum și noi iertăm greșiților noștri.

Și nu ne duce pe noi în ispită,

Ci ne izbăvește de cel rău.

Că a Ta este împărăția,

Puterea și slava

În veci. Amin.”

Outside, the bell rang once

GONG

A summons, the beginning of the Judgment Rite,

Y/N, however didn’t flinch. She took the axe in both her hands carefully, slowly standing up. She’d already bathed that morning, already anointed her hands with frankincense oil. She walked barefooted through the stone corridor, passing under the carved archways that told the story’s of their founder- Prophet Enoch, who claimed this land after the fall of Gotham Hills. She knew each face etched in stone, each Devine punishment recorded in holy relief.

Up the stone stairs, through the oak door was the chapel. The congregation sat in rows. Silent. Still.

At the front her grandfather, Ezekiel Hale, presided like a high judge. His white robes hung heavy with red threads. Besides him stood Judith Hale, his daughter and her aunt- the towns lawyer. She wore black dress with red threads around the collar area and around the waist a red thick rope, tight tightly around her. In her gloved hands was a book of charges, which was open as she looked through it. In the first row sat the rest of her family. Ruth Hale, Y/N mother, sat with eyes low and hands clasped in a prayer loop, Miriam Hale, her grandmother, was caressing a white bloused with old dried blood spattered on it as she muttered prayers, Silas Hale, her uncle and doctor, stood ready next to her father, Abraham Hale if “The body was disobeying the holy judge”, and finally next to her father was Gideon Hale, her brother, poised and beautiful, watching the scene with empty eyes and hands clasped together tightly.

Y/N stood in the center of the aisle, her bare feet barely making any sound as she stood behind her brother.

Ezekiel struck the gavel.

“The court is now in divine session.”

The people whispered together

“Facă-we voia Lui”. (Let His will be done)

The accused, Caleb Rowan, was dragged into the spiral and forced to kneel down. Judith stepped forward, voice cold and sharp.

“The sinner stands accused of: filicide, wrath without provocation, blasphemy through paternal failure, and defilement of a home anointed by the Lord.”

Caleb sobbed, leaning more forward and resting his forehead. On the cold stone floor trying to bring himself comfort in it.“Please… it wasn’t wrath—it was fear—I didn’t know what I was doing…”

Judith held up her hand, looking down at him with hatred and disgust.“The sinner may speak when the gavel permits.”

Ezekiel struck it again, this one louder.

“Speak.”

Caleb raised his face, broken and wet with grief. “I didn’t want to hurt him. My son was sick—screaming, shaking—I just wanted it to stop. I didn’t mean to kill him.”

Judith stepped close, voice venomous but calm.

“And so, you killed a child to silence discomfort.

You were gifted a soul and chose to unmake it.

Is that not the act of one who plays God?”

Silence.

Ezekiel leaned forward.

“Is there any among us who would speak on behalf of the accused?”

No one moved.

Judith’s voice sharpened.

“He has no defender.”

Ezekiel turned to the doctor. “Silas Hale, was the child beyond healing?”

“No,” said Silas simply, standing up from his seat as he looked up at Ezekiel, speaking the truth. “The fever was passing. He would have lived by dawn.”

Judith closed the book of charges with a snap.

“Then the court has its answer.”

Ezekiel lifted the gavel once more.

“Caleb Rowan: you are found guilty by the Church of Flesh and Spirit.”

“Judgment: Cleanse through Blood.”

The people whispered:

“Sângele curăță. Moartea trece. Sufletul se înclină.” (Blood cleanses. Death passes. The soul bows.)

Ezekiel looked to Y/N.

“Executioner. Come forth.”

She stepped forward, her eyes blank and calm. The people looked up at her as she moved.

Ezekiel recited the final rite, his voice calm as he looked at his granddaughter with approval.

“By His hand, you fall. By her hand, you are freed.”

Y/N knelt behind Caleb and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He choked, “I’m scared.”

She whispered gently in his ear, rubbing circles on his shoulder, which left the man shivering.

“Shhh, you shall be cleansed by your sins.”

Then she stood, her eyes fixed on the mans head, as he whimpered.

She effortlessly lifted the axe and when the gavel struck one final time—

The Deliverer fell.

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Ok so hi! This is my first fanfic that I wrote on here, hope you all liked it! I took inspiration from another fanfic, about religion, ONLY INSPIRATION (I forgot the fic name 😭 but i think it was batfam x religious!reader. If someone knows the account please feel free to share the name!). I’ve wanted t write my own little fanfic about religious reader because of my own believes and such but I turned it more cult like. Anyways, this is not proofread, I plan to make another chapter or two of this series. Hope you all like it!

Promolog (your here babes!)

Chapter 1<3

Chapter 2 <3

Chapter 3 <3

Chapter 4 <3