#forced adoption

[littlelambramblings]

Parental Yandere Underboss x GN reader

Summary: After your parents were killed by Noah, a merciless underboss, you were determined to avenge your family. But fate seemed to have another plan as the man practically adopts you. I guess you have a new dad? Congrats?

CW: reader not having a good time emotionally Masterlist here. Part 1 here.

---

Noah was conflicted. 

You were getting better, skipping less school, and there were moments Noah spotted you smiling with friends from classes he hadn't noticed before. Now, this was all good, of course, but for some reason, it had begun to irritate him. 

He didn't know what was wrong with him! He should feel happy, glad, relieved even, that you were bothering him less. You hadn't broken into his home in three whole months, your attempts at avenging your parents having died down, reduced to scathing verbal remarks. 

And now whenever you saw him coming, you went the other way without a second word. Perhaps you were getting worn out from how brutally your attempts were thwarted, but still you couldn't have given up so soon, could you? Afterall, it had been only seven months since Noah had murdered your parents. You….You couldn't be getting over him yet, right? Right??

Noah remembered the first night you had broken into his house. You were on your knees, looking up at him with such fire it stunned him for a second. At the moment, Noah had been annoyed. Now, he can't help the inkling of fondness that swelled up in his chest at the memory. 

The thought of never getting to see you again, of slowly drifting away until he became just a bad dream from your childhood… It made him sick. 

He needed you. 

He couldn't go an hour without asking for updates about you, he couldn't sleep at night when you weren't here, at his home, in your room. He wanted you to need him the same way he needed you. He wanted you to tell him about your day, to help you with homework assignments, and to hear about friend troubles, just… normal things. 

Was that too much to ask for? 

He stared at the paper in his hands. It was thin and trembling in his grip. Exhaling a breath he didn't know he was holding, Noah picked up his ball-point pen, gripping it in a firm grip, and signed the paper. He cleared his throat, "Milton."

"Sir," the man responded right away, stepping up to stand in front of Noah's desk. 

Noah slid the signed paper towards his subordinate, expression resolved, "Submit this to the courts, make sure Judge Hartz is assigned to the case." 

"…Yes, sir," came Milton's practiced response, although Noah could hear a smidge of surprise in his voice. 

"Excellent," Noah nodded, stepping out of his chair and looking out of the window in his office. "Have we gotten the newest shipment of Fentanyl and Cocaine from the cartel?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, good." Noah ruffled through his pocket, digging out a pack of cigarettes. Instead of taking a cigar out to smoke though, he walked back to his desk and threw out the pack in the trash can beside his office chair. "I want five bundles planted at the address recorded on line four of the document you are holding."

Milton's eyes widened for a moment, a flash of understanding crossing his face. "Yes, sir," He bowed. "It will be done by tonight."

"Dismissed."

----

It was getting dark. You knew you should have called your uncle to pick you up from the library after you missed your bus, but you didn't want to bother him. While he wasn't cruel or mean to you, you hadn't exactly been close with your uncle before your parents passed away, and now that your mom, his younger sister, had been murdered, your relationship had only gotten more awkward. 

It was hard seeing a stranger grieve a person that meant everything to you, so you tried to give him space. 

As you approached your house, the sound of sirens alarmed you. Instantly, your chest tightened, unpleasant memories of cops, interrogations, and blood bombarding you. You took off, making a wild dash for your house, praying to whatever god there was that those sirens weren't coming from your home. Deep in your heart though, you knew they were.

Your house was blocked off in yellow tape. At least three cop cars were parked outside, flashing red and blue. You stared, and stared, and stared some more. It felt like a terrible joke, and you were always the punchline. You felt an odd urge to laugh. 

Of course, something like this had to happen the moment you had begun to get settled into your new life. It was your fault for expecting anything to get better. 

Collapsing on the sidewalk, you threw up the hasty lunch you had eaten that day at school. Suddenly, you couldn't contain the bubble of laughter that erupted from you, followed by wet tears and even more laughter. You must have looked deranged, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care much about anything at the moment. 

You ended up in a cop car somehow. You stared out of the window. You blinked once, twice, but your thoughts didn't clear. You felt…strange. This was nowhere near the hysteric sensation you felt when you were standing in front of your house. No, instead of hysteric, you felt… calm? Tired, dazed? You weren't sure. There wasn't a textbook to help categorize the emotion you were feeling at the moment. 

You ended up in a familiar looking room. The victim's room, your mind helpfully supplied. It was the same room you had been questioned in the night your parents were murdered. Not that anything came of that interrogation… not with Noah pulling the strings.

Someone was speaking to you. A police officer, a detective? You tried to read their lips, but quickly gave up. It wouldn't matter in the end. Nothing would. 

The door opened and closed, and then you were left all alone once more. You could have sat there for hours or just a few minutes before the door opened once more. 

You blinked slowly, then looked up. There before you stood Noah. The look on his face shocked you right out of your stupor. It was a grim mix of relief and guilt and pity, and it absolutely infuriated you. Before you knew what you were doing you shot out of your seat and grabbed onto his trenchcoat, screaming, "You! You had something to do with this, didn't you?!"

Noah just looked at you, with that terrible look on his face. "Y/n," his eyebrows furrowed as he spoke, "I'm sorry."

Hot tears trailblazed a path down your cheeks and you lifted your fists to beat at his chest. "Don't!" you hissed. "Don't. you. dare!" You raised your fists over and over, hitting harder and harder. "Fuck you, Noah! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! You liar! You…" you hissed as your hands continued to hit him, your knuckles turning red. You tried to smack away Noah's hands as they came to wrap around you, but failed, and then the two of you slowly began to sink into the floor all while you continued to punch at him. "You," your voice quivered with tears as you hiccuped, "you promised me you wouldn't. N—Not if I behaved!"

Your hands flopped uselessly to your sides, bloody and bruised. Noah was left unscathed. As always your struggling was futile, harming you more than anyone else. An empty silence filled the room before Noah spoke, "I'm not… a good man, Y/n."

You laughed. A short, bitter laugh that came out closer to a sob. You ignored the way Noah wrapped around you, the way his hand came to pet the back of your nape, the way you were sitting on his lap on the cold floor. "I hate you," your voice was thick as it came out. Your cheek was pressed into the shoulder of Noah's coat and you hiccuped, tears still racing down your face. You could taste the salt of them as they pooled onto your lips. "I hate you so, so much. I hope you die."

Noah was silent for a very long time before he nodded, accepting your words, "I know." His voice was quiet and gravely. "But I love you, Y/n. So much. I'm not a good man," he continued, hands reaching up to tenderly swipe away at your tears, hands that caused so much pain to you, your family, the world, now seeking to comfort you, "but to you I could be so good."

He leant closer, pressing a delicate kiss to the arch of your eyebrow, "I promise."

---

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this touch of angst :3 I like making reader crash out

Taglist: @stove-top96 @whump-bunny @fr3dsw0rld123 @whatwasmyprevioususername @please-help-this-little-lesbian @unforgivenn @gaychaoticraccoon @jadejadejadejad3 @scholar-in-drowning

[calicodrabblesaboutmonsters]

parental werewolf yandere 141 x fem werewolf foster kid reader

saw this picture in pinterest and got inspired so new fic

it's a picture of a wolf pup in a circle of adult wolves being licked by them and it's looking at the camera like it's our fault

P2 AO3

first world building, werewolf bites do not turn humans there is a way to turn them but it's not biting and illegal in modern society,

werewolves live in packs which are typically family groups they own their own territory which other packs can challenge them for werewolf packs cannot settle themselves in other packs territories however if pack a gave pack b permission they can settle in that territory but must listen to pack a's rules and pack a can kick out any member of pack b for any reason,

werewolves have very strong instincts making it hard for them to blend into human society they must shift regulery, they need to hunt, they cannot hurt young and their all instinctively wary of newcomers

if a pack looses a challenge for their territory they either leave or die if they die the kids are sent into foster care with a specialised case worker who will try to get that kid fostered by werewolves however the kid can request human fosters and if that human foster parent live inside a werewolf packs territory the werewolf pack cannot challenge or drive off the pup

circling back to territories you can only claim towns, villages and other small civilisations or forests cities cannot be claimed as thats where werewolves who want to live as humans live, the average human does not know werewolves exist

in this au none of tf141 ever joined the military price inherited the territory, Ghost had a werewolf mother and his father was human (in my lore its so deeply ingrained in werewolf dna to not hurt kids that his dad has to be human) after the whole ordeal with his family he moved to the city but stuck on the outskirts where price spotted him and courted him, Kyle was a city wolf born and raised he craved the life style and pack bond of more feral wolves so when he was old enough he took off to the woods ghost and price couldn't in good concious let such a pretty, strong smart wolf go so they courted him aswell (imma glaze gaz he's my fav) now soap was originally human and did join the military but after a head injury was forced to retire and seek out physical therapy the most apealing one he could find was in roseberry in the local hospital that gaz voluntired at when bored they got close and the pack kidnapped and turned Johnny (ooh super secret turning method) so none of them know nikolai

your 17 you have one more year until you get out of foster care, your case worker is sweet really but you wish she'd stop trying to get you into werewolf homes you hate that part of yourself you want to go to the city and forget it, fully pretend to be human, you watch the trees go but as your case worker pulls into the new town roseberry it's in the middle of a forest and apearently your new foster parent retired here after his time in the air force you didn't get much of a brief on him but as the car pulls up his gravel driveway you inspect his yard

the yard is overgrown theirs a car on the lawn bushes growing up the wheels a clear sign it hasn't been driven in a long time theres other hunks of metal in the bushes theres a dusty swing chair on the porch you notice the house is placed just infront of the forest handy for when you'd need to shift

you hop out the car when it stops trailing behind your case worker knocks on the door you wait for a minute rocking on your feet heel to toe, heel to toe, heel to toe-

"ah good morning" the door opens standing there is a tall man leaning into the older side a few grey hairs and a russian accent, he tilts his body letting you two into the house and leading the way into the kitchen you and your social worker sit down at a small dining table he stands the table only has two chairs and the one your sitting in is newer like he brought it recently a clear sign he doesn't get many visitors

"so Mr Nikolai you are aware of y/n's situation correct?" your case worker questons

"ah yea she's a dog sometimes?, and im not meant to tell people" Nikolai answers sounding unsure the use of the word makes you grunt a little annoyed

"yes, how about you show y/n up to her room while we go over the rest of the paper work"

"right yeah come on kid" everything nikolai does and says is somehow both confident and questioning you get up following him up the stairs your door is the first to the left, he opens it and follows after you into the room it's all very... girlish

your greeted with pastel pink walls white ikea shelves on majority of the walls and a loft bed with a desk under it on one of the walls is a pair of sliding doors presumably the closet this room would sort a younger girl better but you can make it work it's decidedly one of the better rooms you've been put in, when you turn around nikolai is gone so you put your back pack down next to the desk and exit the room nikolai is helping your case worker carry in your suitcase

"oh y/n im just gonna put your stuff in your room why don't you head out to the forest get yourself situated sniff around" your case worker says cheerfully waving you out the door you shift into your wolf form more of a pup really in the awkward stage of growth but between the fluff and healthy layer of fat you don't look too lanky you pad your way thru the hallway and out the back door, the fence is high you probably can't jump it so instead you focus your attention digging under it and slipping out into the forest trotting thru the trees

the forest is rather uneventful a few smaller game animals the occasional deer foot print you find a fallen log and sniff around it the inside is big enough to fit so with nothing better to do you stick your head in sniffing around until a set of teeth grip your back and drag you out you yelp and swipe at the ground but you can't get free that is until your carried further from the log and dropped on the ground you snarl turning to look at the offender to find a big reddish brown wolf with peircing blue eyes he circles you slightly tail wagging he crouches chuffing playfully at you snarl at him and he just lowers further, the hair along his spine is longer then the rest making it look like a type of dorsel fin he hops closer batting at you, you bat back at him and you circle each other, he clearly want's to play but your not eager to play with a strange man in the woods werewolf or not which he clearly is you can smell the human on his so run at him pretending to try get around him only to fall back turn around and run full speed back to nikolais fence you stop just infront seeing the wolf pause at the treeline watching you longingly you growl one last time which only makes his tail wag you crawl under the fence

@pixopix, made the divider

ooh mohawked wolf i wonder who that could be ooh mysterious

[emmasmoke8]

Robert sits on the floor in front of an old, busted couch that's more springs than fabric. He has small, twisted tissues shoved into his nostrils to soak up the blood, but he's constantly rubbing the side of his head against his lips in a refusal to taste the excess. He would pay more attention to his nose if he wasn't intently focused on bandaging the rest of his body, hoping to keep the stains left on his living room floor to a minimum. He's out of cream, so the bruises will just have to heal on their own... if he ever lets this patchwork of discoloration he calls skin heal.

When he's finished, Robert grabs the edge of the couch. He's more concerned with keeping his hand from getting stabbed by a spring than he is with keeping the mess off the cushions. Honestly, he can't even remember what color the couch originally was after all the times he's curled up on it, seeking a comfort that will never come.

The couch, however, is able to give him just enough support for him to stand up. Blood loss and starvation (and likely some dehydration, too, just as a treat) leaves his head cold and his vision blurry. His hands aren't as shaky as they could be when he starts picking up the bandages, cotton balls, tissues, and other poor excuses for medicinal care off the ground and couch. He gathers them all into his arms and brings them to the closet, arranging the pitiful amount into something that could, in theory, be an acceptable first-aid kit.

Before Robert can spiral or even go deal with the nosebleed (that he wouldn't mind so much if the dripping blood would at least take his headache with it), there's a firm knocking against his door. Robert frowns slightly. He approaches his front door, expecting to see an angry landlord here to harass Robert about rent again.

But when Robert opens his door a crack, it is not his landlord who looks at him or even one of his neighbors. It's an older man—at minimum, forty years old, but likely even more than that. He has a few black strands in his short ponytail, but his hair has mostly gone ash gray. It frames his deep, amber eyes and dark skin. Possibly Middle Eastern? Somewhere sunny, at least. His clothes fit and are well-worn, so it's between those being his actual clothes or him getting lucky with finding someone of his exact body type (broad-shouldered, muscular, heavyset) to steal the clothes of. Neither option disqualifies him as a spy, but Robert can't figure out what his cover would be since he's openly holding grocery bags filled with... well, it looks like actual groceries.

"...can I help you?" Robert asks, trying not to sound as distrustful as he feels. He doesn't know who this man is, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's a bad person. Given his age, maybe he's just confused, or maybe Robert has a new neighbor or—more likely—one of his neighbors has a few friend/paramour/something.

"Oh, Robert," The man whispers. There's a familiarity to his tone and a wonder in his eyes. Robert immediately wants to question that, but the man takes a step forward. Robert is about to slam the door shut when his body instinctively releases the door handle. He stumbles back, realizing belatedly that his skin feels hot. The man forces his way into the apartment. He shuts the door with his heel, but Robert checks and—the handle isn't hot. It likely wasn't in the first place... so why did he let go? Why is his skin pink from the lingering heat?

Robert whirls around. The man is... in his kitchen. He's unpacking the groceries because that what they are—groceries. For some reason, the man knows where to put everything like he's familiar with Robert's apartment. Antsy, Robert keeps his composure, "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Ah," The man throws his hands up. He sets one over his heart and lets the other reach toward Robert without touching. "I forget, I forget. I am Faizan." He has a thinned Afghanistan accent, so he's likely been training it away or it's naturally gone away through time in America. There's no telling which it could be, especially since 'Faizan' sounds like a normal name. It isn't something a supervillain would call themselves. "I brought you food. I wanted to bring more, but very, very hungry stomachs make for small ones. We must make more room, and then I will make you your favorites."

Favorites? What the hell is this man talking about? Robert doesn't have a favorite food, and even if he did, why does Faizan sound so confident that he knows what it is?

"Look, Faizan, sir, I believe you're confused. I'm not the person you're trying to find. There must be another Robert you've mixed me up with. It's fine, though. I'll help you find the other Robert."

The amber-eyed man shakes his head. "There is no other Robert, silly. Only you. What other Robert would live like this because he is Mecha Man?"

Faizan laughs humorlessly. Robert feels all the blood drain from is body. Okay, maybe Faizan isn't confused. No, no, he's well-informed. Robert doesn't know how sold him off, but as he quietly pulls open the drawer beside him, he's about to find out.

When Faizan shuts the refrigerator door, he turns around. Robert aims a handgun at the man. His hands are steadier than he thought they would be given everything he's gone through today (and because he really, really doesn't like guns). "Who are you? What do you want from me? Who sent you and why?"

Faizan frowns. He's upset—more sad than angry. Robert swallows thickly. He's not afraid to shoot. This man broke into his apartment. He poses a threat to Robert. It's self-defense. And he won't do anything if Faizan would explain himself and get the fuck out.

"I'm sorry. I did not mean to scare you." Faizan's amber eyes narrow at the gun. A soft glow appears in the irises. It doesn't take long for Robert to realize why when the metal starts heating up in his grasp. Robert tries holding on for as long as possible, but his body rebels against his mind when the pain becomes too much. He drops the gun, pulling his hands to himself. The outer layers of the bandages are ashy, and his skin might have a first-degree burn.

Faizan caught the gun, so it did not hit the ground. He sets it away, showing no signs of feeling the heat. Robert prepares himself for a fight, pushing down the mounting terror at the situation. He reminds himself that this isn't all that different from his usual fights—it doesn't matter that the mech isn't ready for him or that this enemy knows his identity.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Robert," Faizan promises, far too honest and downright wholesome for this situation. Robert tenses as he approaches. He doesn't step away even when Faizan's hands cradle both of his cheeks. There's nothing forceful or painful about the touch, yet it hurts so awfully all the same. "I'm here to take care of you."

Why the fuck does he mean that?

---

@spacedace 's au about Flamdad going back in time and basically fixing his children's lives (you know, his actual kids and Z-Team). In my head, he woke up in his past verson's body, so there isn't two of him running around

Also, I used the same name "Faizan," but this is NOT the reverse social distancing au's Faizan. In my version of this AU, Faizan has amber eyes. When he focuses his attention on something through his sense of sight, he can increase its temperature

I'm vaguely considering making him a former minor supervillain just because I've really missed reading supervillains adopting abused superheroes as their sons (it's so good every fucking time), but I'm hesitant because I completely normal civilian going through all of this to save his children is hilarious and could be interesting to explore

I don't have an interconnected plot in mind. Really just random moments scattered throughout, like his first encounter with everyone. I mean, like, imagine a young Herman coming home to find his grandma and this stranger talking about him with so much pride in both of their voices for... no reason? Or that Prism plot thread I've mentioned before. Just having fun with it

[macsen-y-ceffyl]

Friendly reminder that adoptees are one of the least-recognised marginalised people in the world. Even though adoption is commonplace. There is unfathomable trauma to being adopted that shakes your world from day one. As an adoptee, please take the time to listen to us when we say that certain things are harmful.

"You're adopted" jokes are harmful. Insisting adoption is always a good thing/nice and rosy is harmful. Using words like "fake" and "real" family is harmful. We are people with complex lives and most, if not all of us, develop some kind of trauma due to being adopted (whether it worked out for us or not).

Don't forget to include adoptee voices and the various intersections we inhabit.

[weighing-dish]

Fics or even short stories of Soundwave of any version where he just stole a random minicon or even a human to be his cassette is my jam.

I mean, he literally did that to Laserbeak in Cyberverse.

It's even better if it's a dark fic too.

I already love a parental soundwave, him taking care of his probably 40+ years old children are great ngl-

But like, can you see the potential of Soundwave just being this.. Idk, platonic Yandere of a bot that can just choose a mech to be his cassette? Like, you know he'll treat and care for the cassette really good, but the way he obtained them? Hmmm..

There is a fic- forgot the title of the fic, but the main plot is how the cassette carriers basically choose their cassette (first chapter is Soundwave, second is Blaster). And the whole thing is terrifying. Like, their cassettes used to be actual people, but Soundwave in that fic is like "nah" And forced them in their new form and personality.. And it's great! To read that is.

Im practically digging ao3 for that type of trope and lurking around blogs here in Tumblr to see if they have it but yeah.

We just need more parental yandere!Soundwave is what I realize I'm just saying when writing this..

[flinterwingx13]

i have a request.. make crescent :3 just a little mix of killer and nightmare(didnt read their names in the au) would be chaos you dont have to tho! i love either way

Finally…an excuse to draw the ship kids…

If anyone was wondering why I haven’t posted proper Undereden art in days. This is why

chat did I cook ???

sorry I mean: cat did I cook ???

And here be text

Context of what’s happening in this mini comic:

Kestrelstrike (killer) found Crescent trapped in a dumpster (carrionplace), and decided to get him out and take him back to Nightclan territory. When they got there, Nightstar appeared and questioned what Kestrelstrike was doing. Kestrelstrike explains, makes a really bad pun (wouldn’t want to waste a healthy kit), annoys Nightstar, and Crescent is offended at being called a kit (he’s around 3-4 moons old here lol). Nightstar asks for his name, and Crescent answers with “Croissant”, which was his kittypet name before he somehow got onto the streets (and later, the dumpster)! Kestrelstrike thinks his name is ridiculous and Nightstar is fed up with Kestrelstrike interrupting this important conversation. ‘Croissant’ is taken back to Nightclans camp, and soon (once he’s a lil older), ‘Croissant’ is renamed ‘Crescentpaw’ and apprenticed to Kestrelstrike, becoming the first proper apprentice in the clan!

ANYWAY, SOME OF THE SHIP KIDS DO EXIST IN THIS AU! Specifically any of my favs or anyone someone requests! Except most (if not all) of the ship children in this au are either adopted, apprentices (usually to one of the parents), or simply view one of their not-really-parents in this au as their guardian/parental figure.

So hehe….if anyone wants to ask me to draww more of the kiddos…I will do that 😼

Anyway now y’all can request me to draw the ship kids and ask them questions too :3

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

when she finally tracks him down

Oh my god I love this- and Yes its pretty fuckin accurate

(Out of all of Tims contingency plans- Babs deciding to hunt down his Vigilante form just because she grew attached was NOT on the roster)

[thecrocthatstoleurshoes]

It would mean the world if anyone reads my silly fic!

It's my first ever fanfic but I'm so proud of it already <3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66563311/chapters/171693553

fandom: Batfam/Batman

Synopsis:

A new villain crops up in Gotham and Batman quickly figures out where his base is and confronts him. However, when he discovers the villain is just a child, he refuses to fight him. Instead he does the natural thing: adopt him. Meanwhile, Jason Todd is making it his mission to make Bruce Wayne as miserable as possible.

OR

"You're just a child..."

"Nuh-uh!"