😔Fumbled😔

Where love is obsessive, reality is optional, and everyone needs therapy.

Hi, I write:

dark romance, yandere, AUs, fluff, and light NSFW Expect: emotional damage, fictional men with issues, and questionable coping mechanisms.

If you’re here for soft hand-holding OR morally concerning devotion, congrats, you’re in the right place.

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🩸 What I Write

✔ Dark romance

✔ Yandere

✔ Horror romance

✔ AU’s (college, modern, apocalypse, etc.)

✔ Fluff (yes, even the unhinged ones can cuddle)

✔ Light NSFW

✔ Angst

✔ Obsession

✔ Reader-insert

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🚫 What I Do NOT Write

❌ Age play

❌ 🍇rape

❌ “Beat my wife” toxic dynamics

❌ Hard smut

❌ Illegal ships

❌ Incest

❌ Pedophilia

❌ Extreme degradation

If it belongs on a true crime documentary, I probably don’t want to write it.

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🎭 Fandoms I Write For

(Updated as I go)

🖤 Analog Horror

– The Walten Files

– Mandela Catalogue

– UrbanSpook

– Gemini Home Entertainment

– Vita Carnis

🤡 Games / Horror Games

– FNAF

– Roblox

– Digital Circus

– Puppet Combo

– Indie horror

🔪 Slashers

– Masked men

– Knife enthusiasts

– Emotionally unavailable murderers

(If he’s scary and fictional, there’s a chance I’ll write him.)

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📚 Types of Posts

🩶 Headcanons

🩶 One-shots

🩶 Drabbles

🩶 Mini-series

🩶 Scenarios

🩶 Occasional chaos

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📩 Requests

🖤 Open unless stated otherwise

🖤 Please include:

– Character

– Reader gender (if relevant)

– Tone (fluff, dark, yandere, etc.)

– Triggers you want avoided

I reserve the right to:

✔ Say no

✔ Take forever

✔ Hyperfixate

✔ Disappear into the void

✔ Return with 5 new fics

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⚠️ Content Warnings

Most of my work may include:

⚠ Obsession

⚠ Violence

⚠ Kidnapping

⚠ Psychological horror

⚠ Manipulation

⚠ Mild sexual content

Date requested: 1/28/2026

Fandom: Forsaken

Type: One-shot

Warning: basic drama

You never planned to disappear. You only planned to survive.

The day you left him, the city felt too loud. Too alive. Every street reminded you of him, the way he used to walk with a hand at your lower back, guiding you through crowds like the world belonged to him and you were the most precious thing inside it. When his friend told him you had been unfaithful, you swore on everything you had that it wasn’t true. You begged. You cried. You showed him messages, tried to explain how carefully the lies had been planted.

But he didn’t listen.

Mafioso men didn’t like doubt. They liked certainty. And his friend had given him certainty wrapped in forged proof and poisoned loyalty.

So you left with nothing but a bag of clothes and a secret growing inside you.

By the time your son was born, your hands were always shaking. You lived in a cramped apartment far from his territory, far from the life you once had. You didn’t use his name. You didn’t look at old photos. You told yourself he was dead, easier than accepting that the man you loved had chosen someone else’s word over yours.

Your baby had his eyes.

That was the cruelest part.

Every morning, when he blinked up at you from his crib, you saw the man who had broken you. Same dark lashes. Same intense gaze, even in infancy. You loved him with a fierceness that scared you, because he was the only piece of your old life you allowed yourself to keep.

You didn’t know that the truth had already come out.

His friend hadn’t expected guilt to rot so loudly. Hadn’t expected another man to notice inconsistencies. Hadn’t expected to be dragged into a locked room and questioned until lies peeled apart like wet paper. When the confession finally came, it wasn’t brave. It was desperate.

And when your name left that traitor’s mouth, your husband went quiet.

Dead quiet.

The kind of silence his men feared.

He didn’t punish his friend immediately. Not at first. First, he searched.

It took him weeks to find you. You were standing outside a corner store with your baby bundled against your chest when his car pulled up across the street. He saw you before you saw him.

You looked thinner. Tired. Protective.

And then he saw the child’s face.

The world tilted.

That night, you felt eyes on you. Not strangers, something worse. Familiar. When you locked your door, you double-checked it. When you lay down beside your baby, your heart wouldn’t slow. The past had found you again.

You dreamed of his voice.

When you woke, your apartment was empty.

The crib was empty.

And your body was being carried.

You didn’t scream. You couldn’t. Your throat closed when you saw him, really saw him, standing in your doorway, one arm holding your baby with terrifying gentleness, the other wrapped around you like iron.

“Don’t fight,” he murmured. “You’ll wake him.”

Your heart shattered.

You didn’t know how long the drive lasted. You only knew when you opened your eyes again, you were in silk sheets and familiar walls. His house. Your old room. Your old prison.

Your baby slept beside you.

Alive.

Safe.

That was how he kept you still, with your child between you.

When he finally spoke to you, it was at dawn.

“I know now,” he said. “I know what he did.”

You laughed. It came out broken. “Now you know?”

He knelt in front of the bed like a sinner at confession. “I destroyed him.”

You felt nothing at that. No relief. No justice. Just exhaustion.

“You believed him,” you said. “Not me.”

“I made a mistake.”

“No,” you whispered. “You made a choice.”

Your baby stirred, and you pulled him closer. The movement made your husband’s eyes darken, not with desire, but with possession.

“That’s my son,” he said.

“That’s my life,” you answered.

He didn’t touch you. That was the most terrifying part. He just watched. As if memorizing the shape of you. As if deciding how to cage you without breaking you.

“You ran from me,” he said softly.

“You abandoned me,” you said back.

Silence.

“You can hate me,” he finally said. “But you will stay.”

Your stomach twisted. “I don’t love you anymore.”

His mouth curved, not in happiness. In obsession.

“That’s fine,” he said. “I love you enough for both of us.”

That night, you lay awake holding your child, knowing escape wouldn’t be easy. Knowing this man would never let you disappear again. Knowing the truth had come too late.

And yet…

When your baby cried, he was the one who came first.

When you refused to eat, he sat beside you until you did.

When you stared out the window too long, guards appeared quietly outside the door.

You weren’t his wife anymore.

You were his reason.

Just wholesome stuff

Date request: 1/28/2026

Fandom: The Walten Files

Type: Headcanonns

Warnings: none

🐺 He’s… awkward. Painfully so. Not in a rude way, more like he’s forgotten how to be a person instead of a worker.

🐺 When he likes you, he shows it by, Making sure you get home safely, Offering rides, Bringing you coffee, Standing a little closer than necessary

🐺 He never flirts properly. It’s always stuff like “You look…healthy today.” (He means cute. He just panics.)

🐺 He’s a routine guy, so once you’re part of his life, you become part of his schedule, Morning coffee together, Checking in on you during lunch, Walking you home at night.

🐺 If you’re tired, he’ll make tea, Sit with you, Turn on the radio, Let you rest against his shoulder without saying much

🐺 He’s surprisingly good at cooking very simple meals, Soup, Eggs, Toast, Stews, “Practical food,” he calls it.

🐺 Not super touchy, but holds your hand when crossing streets, Puts a hand on your back in crowds, Wraps his coat around you if you’re cold

🐺 When you hug him he freezes for half a second, Then slowly hugs back, And doesn’t let go until you do

🐺 He likes quiet affection, sitting next to you, sharing blankets, and reading in the same room.

🐺 He doesn’t talk about his feelings easily. When he does, it’s late at night, voice low, staring at the floor. If you’re upset he doesn’t try to “fix” you, He just listens, offers a hand.

🐺 Says things like, “You don’t have to go through things alone.” He’s very protective, but not in a scary way, more like…always watching the door.

🐺 He HATES the Pumpkin Rabbit but won’t admit it scares him. You’re the only one he’ll quietly warn, “Stay inside tonight.”

🐺 If you’re scared of the woods he’ll walk you home, even if it’s out of his way. He checks the locks twice before bed when you’re over.

🐺 You catch him smiling when he thinks you’re not looking. He keeps the small notes you give him in his wallet.

🐺 He remembers tiny details, how you take your coffee, your favorite food, your least favorite weather If you fall asleep near him, he’ll put a blanket over you instead of moving you.

🐺 He wakes up earlier than you and, makes breakfast, leaves you a note, and tucks you back in. When he’s tired he sits beside you instead of alone, resting his head against yours, he falls asleep during radio broadcasts and wakes up embarrassed.

🐺 If you have nightmares he sits with you, gives you water, holds your hand until you calm down “You’re safe. I’m here.”

🐺 He keeps the radio on at night for “company.” He insists you stay in on dangerous nights. Double-checks doors when you visit.

Hc on Aztec goddess of medicine ( granddaughter of death gods and a god of medicine and festivities) came to Norse to see if they can find some strawberry and be friends with Atreus after Ragnarok

Just something wholesome and friendship

Date requested: 1/28/2026

Fandom: God of War

Type: Headcannons

Warning: none

🌺 She doesn’t arrive in a dramatic lightning crash like Thor, she kinda…falls out of a glowing marigold-colored portal near a forest.

🌺 Immediately confused by, Snow, Pine trees, The absolute lack of warm fruit. Her first spoken complaint in the Norse realms is: “Why is everything…cold and sharp?”

🌺 In Aztec lands, strawberries are sacred to her, symbols of healing, sweetness after suffering, and life continuing after death.

🌺 She’s heard whispers from other gods that Midgard might have something similar. Spends days poking at, Lingonberries “These are… aggressive.” Cloudberries “Too shy.” Blueberries “Acceptable but spiritually wrong.” Atreus finds her crouched in a bush arguing with a berry like it personally offended her.

🌺 Atreus thinks she’s a spirit or some lost goddess from Alfheim. She thinks Atreus is A wolf child, A prophecy boy, Possibly a talking rune.

🌺 Bond instantly over Being children of gods, Having terrifying grandparents, Being way too young for the stuff they’ve seen.

🌺 She tries to heal Freya’s plants using Aztec ritualsSmokes herbs. Sings in Nahuatl. Uses obsidian blades very carefully. Freya is deeply impressed and slightly threatened.

🌺 Mimir LOVES her, Calls her “Little Flower of Doom.” She feeds him herbal paste that tastes awful but fixes his headaches.

🌺 She teaches Atreus…Aztec healing chants, How to dry berries into medicine rations, How to read illness in a person’s eyes.

🌺 Atreus teaches her How to track animals in snow, How to whistle for wolves, What snow is (she hates it but respects it).

🌺 They sit by campfires trading stories: Her about death gods who eat hearts. Him about giants and Ragnarok.

🌺 Mutual realization: “Oh… we both grew up with the end of the world hanging over us.”

🌺 She tries to offer Kratos a bloodletting ritual for emotional healing.

🌺 Kratos: “…No.” She respects him immediately.

🌺 Atreus is drawn to her because, she understands grief but doesn’t worship it, treats death as part of medicine, not the enemy.

🌺 She likes Atreus because He tries to be gentle even when the world is cruel. He doesn’t see her as strange, just…different.

🌺 They collect berries together. She braids feathers into his hair. He carves her a wooden fox charm.

I read all three parts and wanna asked PT 4 after watching fire and ash

Type: One-shot

Warning: none

Harley Sawyer x F!Reader

They found you in Safe Haven.

Not the player.

Not the monsters.

Him.

You were curled beneath an overturned gurney in the medical wing, clutching your arm to your chest, breath coming in broken, animal little sounds. The lights above flickered in irregular pulses, and every flicker made your body jerk like you were about to be struck.

You didn’t even look up when the screen across the hall lit. A single, unblinking eye stared down at you from a monitor mounted into the wall.

“Ah,” a voice purred through the speakers. “There you are.”

Your fingers dug into your sleeve. You didn’t scream. You didn’t run. You barely had the strength to shake.

“Poor thing,” Harley Sawyer murmured. “Hiding with broken bones and shattered nerves… it’s almost poetic.”

The gurney rattled as something mechanical shifted nearby. You pressed farther into the shadow, whispering to yourself. “Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look—”

“Oh, don’t be rude,” he said lightly. “I can already see you.”

The screen brightened. His pupil dilated.

“You’re hurt,” he observed. “Leg. Shoulder. Malnourished. Dehydrated. You’ve been here too long.”

Your lips parted. No sound came out.

“Funny,” he continued. “They run. They fight. They pretend they’re heroes.”

A pause.

“But you?”

The camera zoomed in.

“You wait.”

You flinched as a robotic limb unfolded from the ceiling and lowered a small medical kit beside you. Slow. Careful. Deliberate.

“You’re not like the others.”

Your voice cracked. “…don’t…want…tests…”

He laughed softly. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m not here to test you.”

A lie wrapped in silk. “I’m here to help.”

⸻

The player never knew where you went.

One moment you were another survivor barricaded in Safe Haven. The next, you were gone.

Harley made sure of that.

He kept you in a side ward near his core systems, close enough that he could see you constantly. Cameras followed every movement. Doors sealed behind you with whisper-soft clicks.

He brought food. Water. Bandages.

And stories.

“You know,” he said one evening as you sat on the floor with a blanket over your shoulders, “they don’t understand what this place really is.”

You didn’t answer. You were too tired.

“They break things. Kill things. All in the name of ‘escaping.’”

His voice lowered.

“And what happens when Safe Haven collapses because of them?”

Your fingers twitched.

“They won’t protect you,” he continued. “They don’t even see you.”

That wasn’t entirely true. You’d seen the player once, passing through the corridor. They’d looked at you. Hesitated.

Then the alarms started. And they ran.

Harley noticed your silence. “See?” He had machines gently adjust your splint. Patch your wounds. “You survive because you listen.”

⸻

When the others tried to reach you, Harley made sure you heard about it first.

“They’re coming through the ventilation system,” he told you calmly. “Dragging monsters behind them.”

Your chest tightened.

“They don’t care if they draw them to you.”

You shook your head weakly. “They…don’t know I’m here…”

“Oh, but they do,” he replied. “They just don’t care.”

A screen switched on, showing the player sprinting through Safe Haven, alarms blaring, creatures crawling from walls.

Your breath hitched.

“They break what I built,” Harley whispered. “And you’ll be crushed with it.” He leaned closer on the screen. “But I can move you. Hide you. Keep you safe.”

“…how…?” you whispered.

“Simple,” he said. “You tell me where they go.”

Your stomach twisted.

“That’s all,” he promised. “Just… guide them away from you.”

⸻

You didn’t betray them at first.

You just…redirected.

A wrong hallway. A locked door. A warning about a monster that wasn’t there.

Each time, Harley rewarded you with warmth.

“You’re doing so well,” he told you. “I knew you were special.”

You started to believe him.

He spoke to you constantly. Filled the silence. Replaced your thoughts. “People hurt you,” he said once. “Didn’t they?” Your eyes burned. “They used you. Abandoned you.”

You nodded without realizing it.

“I won’t.” And the terrifying thing? He kept that promise. Not out of love. Out of ownership.

⸻

The player finally reached your ward. They pounded on the door. “Hey! Are you in there?!”

You sat on the bed, shaking. Harley’s eye appeared on the screen beside you. “If they get in,” he said softly, “they’ll run again.”

Your fingers clenched. “They’ll leave you when it’s dangerous.”

“…they’re trying…” you whispered.

“They’re using you,” he corrected. Silence. “You don’t want to be alone again, do you?”

Your throat closed. “No…”

“Then don’t open the door.” The pounding continued. You stood.

Every step felt like betrayal, but also like survival. You reached the control panel. The player shouted your name. You hesitated.

Harley whispered:

“You chose me.” You pressed the button. The door sealed. The alarms screamed. You slid down the wall, sobbing.

⸻

Later, when the facility shook and Safe Haven burned, Harley spoke gently to you. “You did wonderfully.” His machines carried you deeper into the complex, away from the chaos. “You survived,” he said. “Because you listened.”

Your eyes were empty. “…what…happens now…?”

Date request: 1/28/2026

Fandom: Broken script/Minecraft

Type: Headcannons

📷 You’re mining in a quiet cave when suddenly your screen flickers, and there he is. A giant, pitch-black figure with a triangular head and red eyes towering above you. 

📷 Instead of panicking, you tilt your head like, “Yo, you lost or something?” Integrity… just stares back, unblinking, presumably wondering why you’re not screaming. (And honestly? That intrigues him.)

📷 While most players would be fleeing or screaming, you’re like, “Do you always show up unannounced?” “What’s with the wires and red eyes?” “Are you glitching or just vibing?”

📷 He tilts his head a fraction (no ears, but still vibes), sending a glitchy sound, it’s possibly his version of “hi.” 

📷 Integrity has never had someone treat him like a curious stranger instead of a terrifying threat… and it throws him off.

📷 Instead of vanishing or going into chase mode like he usually does, Integrity just stands there. You start building a tiny campfire and toss him some cooked porkchops. (You’re hungry. He probably doesn’t eat. But dinner vibes💅.)

📷 He watches you eat with… what you assume are unblinking red eyes. And for the first time, he doesn’t try to kill you.

📷 You start teaching him human stuff, How tools work, What creepers are, “No, don’t punch the villagers…”

📷 He doesn’t quite get emotions, but he does find your reactions interesting, especially when you laugh at his glitchy noises. His internal logic: This human is unpredictable but not dangerous.

📷 Usually when Integrity shows up at night? Big bad things happen, but with you, it’s more like a weird late-night talk. You’re sitting under a tree, crafting gear, and he’s… sitting too? Well … as much as a 9-block-tall void entity can “sit.” It’s like you two are the oddest duo in Minecraft.

📷 Instead of the usual menace, he once says, in his distorted way, something like: “You will become… re…ally…odd.”

📷 You just blink and reply: “Heh. Fair.” And he actually pauses. That’s something new.

📷 Players usually fear him, run, or log out. But your laid-back curiosity feels… different. Integrity starts sticking around longer. Like he’s waiting to see what you’ll do next. Because honestly? You never react like he expects.

📷 Most players get banned or chased to death by Integrity. But you? You get… continued interactions. You’re not scared, you’re curious. And that curiosity is basically the magic glitch that turns a horror encounter into an odd friendship.

Type: headcannons

Warning: slight mention of sfw

Crossbow Cultist x F!Reader

🦌 He doesn’t shoot you the first time he sees you. You’re not armed. You’re tired. You’re limping. To him, that doesn’t look like a demon. It looks like… something that wandered into sacred ground.

🦌 He starts “watching” you instead of killing you. From the treeline. From the church ruins. From the hills. You feel eyes on you before you ever see him. By the time he finally steps into view, you already know you’ve been hunted.

🦌 His interest isn’t romantic at first. It’s religious. He believes: You were sent as a test, Or an offering, Or a punishment for his doubt, Either way, you become important.

🦌 He keeps you alive by terrifying you into obedience. Not touching you at first. Just: Bolts landing inches from your feet.

🦌 Silent staring, Blocking paths so you’re forced back toward camp. You stay because running feels worse.

🦌 You realize he’s the only one not trying to kill you, He leaves food, He drives away other cultists, He never shoots at you anymore. So when he finally gets close…your body reacts before your brain can argue.

🦌 The cult taught him: “Kill the unclean.” But you don’t act unclean. You pray at night sometimes. You talk to yourself. You leave food outside your tent for animals. He starts telling himself: “She is… not ready to be judged.” Which is cultist logic for, I don’t want her dead.

🦌 He begins guarding your campsite from other cultists. You never see him fight them. You just wake up to, blood in the dirt, arrows in trees, When you realize what’s happening, it terrifies you…but also keeps you alive.

🦌 He doesn’t speak much. When he does, it’s short and religious: “Danger.” “Stay.” “You safe.” The first time he touches you, it’s not intimate: he pulls you out of the path of something stalking you, and his hand stays on your wrist too long afterward.

🦌 He starts sitting near your fire at night. Never across from you. Always slightly behind you. Like a guard. Like a hunter who decided not to pull the trigger.

🦌 He stares. A lot. Especially when you change clothes inside your tent. When you catch him looking, he doesn’t look away. He lowers his head like he’s ashamed…but doesn’t leave.

🦌 You’re the first person who touches him on purpose: bandaging his arm, brushing dirt from his cheek, His breathing changes when you’re close. Not hunger. Something worse, need mixed with belief.

🦌 He decides: You are “chosen.” Not to die. To belong. In his mind, You are something sacred he found outside the cult’s rules.

🦌 He thinks, If he keeps you alive, If he protects you, If he keeps you close, Then God will understand.

🦌 He’s awkward. Reverent. Almost afraid of you. Treats your body like, something fragile, holy. Kisses feel hesitant, rough, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

Just letting you know

And that's the dark romance I don't do.

Type: Headcannons

Warnings: none

David Gonzalez x F!Reader

🔦 David is the type to fall in love quietly. No big confessions, no dramatic speeches. One day you just realize he’s always standing a little closer to you than before.

🔦 He worries about you constantly. Not in a controlling way, more like: “Did you eat today?” “You shouldn’t be in here alone.” “I can walk you home… if you want.” He feels safer with you than anywhere else in Bunny Smiles Inc. Which is… saying something.

🔦 You’re one of the few things that makes the building feel less haunted to him. When animatronics move on their own or lights flicker, David instinctively reaches for your hand.

🔦 He doesn’t talk about the weird stuff unless you bring it up, but when you do: His voice drops, He stands closer, He keeps glancing behind you like something might be listening

🔦 Late shifts together feel…wrong. Too quiet. Too empty. He always walks you out, even if it’s out of his way.

🔦 David brings you vending machine snacks like it’s a love language. If you’re tired, he lets you lean on him while standing.

🔦 If you’re scared, he pretends he’s not… but you can feel his hand shaking when he holds yours. He remembers little things: What scares you, What songs you like, how you take your coffee.

🔦 He doesn’t think he deserves you. Sometimes he just watches you work and feels… guilty for being happy in a place like this.

🔦 He believes if anything happens to you, it’s his fault. You ground him. You’re proof that something good still exists inside this nightmare.

🔦 Sharing a flashlight during power outages. Sitting together in the break room while the animatronics make noise in the distance. Whispering jokes so you don’t feel like you’re alone. Holding hands under the table because it’s the only place that feels “hidden.”

🔦 David doesn’t initiate affection often… but when he does, it’s deliberate. He’ll brush his thumb over your knuckles while holding your hand, like he’s checking you’re real. Sometimes he leans his forehead against yours in silence, just breathing with you.

🔦 Late shifts feel heavier. The building creaks. Animatronics hum in the distance. David sits close enough that your shoulders touch. He doesn’t say much, just… “You don’t have to be scared. I’m here.” His voice is soft, but serious. Like a promise.

🔦 He memorizes your breathing when you fall asleep during break. Keeps track of your heartbeat when you’re scared. Knows the difference between your “I’m okay” and your real one.

🔦 He’s scared the building will take him. More scared it’ll take you. Sometimes he looks at you like he’s already mourning you. Still chooses to stay close anyway.