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yanaleese · 4 months

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Meet Karma, your new Yandere boyfriend!

Originally from El Salvador, Karma was born into the Sangre family - a line of totally innocent people who have no infamous connections whatsoever! He is the eldest out of his five brothers, and enjoys playing regular sports, including some...questionable ones.

However since that terrible, unfortunate day - things have never been quite the same. Now isolated and alone in an apartment somewhere in North Carolina, Karma has a new goal in mind: To never ever befriend a fucking vampire human ever again!

It's simple. All he has to do is (1) offer his black-hat hacking services on some shady websites, (2) steal some shockingly juicy government and state files (3) blackmail a few higher-ups and (4) use that gossip money to fund his exercise and gaming equipment by delivery-

Oh. Wait. Delivery?

"Puchica!" Karma cursed in his head, his fangs momentarily grazing his lip . He must've have fallen asleep a couple hours after working overtime. Brushing his bangs, he fully covered the bags under his eyes, before staring into the door's peephole, revealing your presence.

And there you were, impatiently tapping your feet in annoyance. As the minute hand kept ticking, your face gradually became distressed, your cheeks revealing your bloodshot eyes. You wanted sleep, and you wanted it now. After all the setbacks and inconveniences on your busy shift, this was your last delivery - and you were not going to let this customer shit on your parade.

As the door began to creek open, you flashed a plastic grin whilst waving the delivery in his face.

"This your delivery, Sir?"

Karma nodded, giving a genuine smile back, pen in hand. Your eyes almost bulged out of its eye sockets. You felt yourself bit your lip hard, causing it to bleed. Lowering your gaze, you prayed that your beating heart didn't combust into a malfunctioning, bumbling mess.

In your head all you could think about what was one thing, and one thing only.

Holllllllllllly shit. Those FUCKING T I T S -

"Cool. Just sign here, and you got yourself a present."

You heard a low chuckle out of him, causing a slight blush to form on your face. You cursed under your breath, trying to keep it together. Karma's eyes twinkled with amusement, loving the professional façade you retained on your already tired face. However, if you looked closely, you could see a hint of worry flash on his face as he saw you have a nosebleed, along with a bloody lip.

Noticing his concern, you wiped the blood of your nostrils. "Oh Sir I am so sorry-"

Without even waiting on your apology, he returned with a bundle of paper towels in his scarred, parched hands. Embarrassed, you mouthed a million apologies before shyly requesting for him to sign the blood-stained paper.

"Once again I am so sorry-"

"Don't be."

You nodded, avoiding his gaze. As he finished signing everything off, you lowered your polyester cap, your name beautifully sewn in cursive at the top - just like your shirt. Scarlet strands of hair shifted as he tilted his head, his eyes engraving your name into his head. That way, he could run a background check later.

As you hurriedly walked away, he glanced at the fresh droplets along the ivory paper before revealing a wide range of pearly, sharp teeth.

"Ah mierda..." He bit his finger, Karma's tongue salivating. Feeling the heat growing in his cheeks, he became dazed, as thoughts of you began to fill the crevices of his mind. "No puedo esperar para devorarte entero, [Y/N] ♡ ~"

--------------------Alternate versions---------------------

If you are interested in more of his lore, my inbox is open (lol)

and yes, the bulge was intentional 🥰

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #my ocs #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere #yancore #yandere drabble #yandere art #karma #intro post #qc #lc #sc #karma lore

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sisterspooky1013 · 5 months

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Gaslight, Chapter 38/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

When Mulder walks out of the restaurant with Cal and the kids trailing behind him, Frohike and Byers, who are standing beside the van, exchange a worried look.

“Calvin Rose, this is John Byers and Melvin Frohike,” he says, gesturing to each man in turn. “And this is Abby and Peter.”

The Gunmen regard Mulder with wide eyes.

“Calvin Rose?” Byers repeats, extending his hand for Cal to shake. “As in Dana and Calvin Rose?”

“Cal received a letter, purportedly from Scully,” Mulder explains. “It instructed him to get on the train at the Henryton tunnel at noon.”

Frohike checks his watch. Cal hands Abby the keys to their car.

“Ten, mijita. Go see if there are any more M&Ms in the car.”

The four men watch the children go, waiting until they are out of earshot to speak again.

“We need to hit the road in fifteen minutes if we’re going to make it by noon,” Frohike says urgently. “What’s the plan, Mulder?”

“Cal is coming with me to look for Scully,” he says. “You two need to stay back with the kids.” He hesitates, then adds, “Their chips haven’t been removed yet.” The Gunmen’s eyes widen, and Mulder can see the questions and concerns running through their heads. “You said it’s not real-time tracking, right?”

Byers swallows nervously.

“Based on the size of the device, they’d only be able to triangulate a rough location, maybe within about five miles, every thirty minutes or so.”

“So if you keep moving you should be safe?” They don’t respond right away, just look at him and then at each other reluctantly. “We don’t have time to second-guess, guys,” he says, irritated.

“In theory, yes,” Byers finally says.

Mulder turns to Cal.

“Do you know how to fire a gun?”

The corner of Cal’s mouth quirks a little, the closest thing to a smile Mulder has seen on the man.

“Yes.”

“Okay, let’s gear up and go. The kids stay with the van, and we’ll take your car.” He turns to Byers, who looks entirely uncomfortable with the last minute change in plans. “I’ll call you when we make it back to town so we can arrange a place to meet.”

Byers touches Mulder’s upper arm, turning them slightly away from the other two.

“I hate to ask this,” he says quietly, “but…what if you don’t come back?”

Mulder gives him a significant look.

“I trust your judgment,” he finally says, and Byers briefly closes his eyes.

Each man is outfitted with two weapons, one to be worn at the hip and the other strapped around an ankle as backup. Cal moves the children’s bags from their car into the van and then beckons them both over, crouching down to bring himself to their eye level.

“Eschúame, niños,” he begins, taking one of each of their hands. “These are my friends, John and Melvin.” Abby glances at the Gunmen and leans in to whisper something in her father’s ear. “Yes, Melvin is kind of a funny name. I need to go with this man to pick Mommy up.” He gestures to Mulder, who smiles reassuringly. “It’s not safe for kids, so John and Melvin are going to take you on an adventure while Daddy and Mr. Mulder go get Mommy, okay?”

Peter lets out a long, petulant whine.

“I was gonna ride the train!” he complains.

“I know, Pete. I’m sorry. We’ll ride a train some other time, okay?”

“Promise?” Peter asks, scowling.

“Pinky promise,” Cal says, holding up his fist with the pinky out so Peter can link it with his own.

“When will you be back?” Abby asks, her bottom lip plumping up and her eyes wet.

“I’m not sure. Hopefully soon,” he says, and she nods.

Frohike slides the van door open and Frenchie pops her head out, her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. Abby sucks in a breath and moves closer to her father, grabbing on to his arm.

“Daddy,” she whimpers, and Cal follows her eye to the dog.

“Puchica,” Cal mutters. “I’m sorry, Abby, I have to get going or we’ll be late. The dog won’t hurt you, I promise.”

The child only tightens her grip.

“This is Frenchie,” Mulder says, patting the dog’s head. “She’s a very gentle dog, and she loves kids.”

“It’s 11:33,” Frohike points out.

“Daddy has to go,” Cal says again. “I need you both to be brave for me, okay? Can you be brave?”

A tear slides down Abby’s cheek, and she wipes it away.

“You can be brave and scared at the same time,” she says in a tiny voice, and a pained smile stretches across Cal’s face.

“That’s right, mijita. You can.”

“I’m not scared of dogs or alligators,” Peter says proudly, and Cal pulls him into a hug.

“Be good, okay? Listen to Melvin and John.”

“Okay, Daddy,” the children recite in unison.

Cal sits back on his haunches and gives them both a long look.

“I love you,” he says tightly, and Mulder feels a sudden kick of guilt. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He gives them each a last hug and kiss on the forehead, and then stands and walks purposefully toward his car.

“Let’s go,” he says over his shoulder, not looking back. “We’ve got a train to catch.”

It takes them twenty minutes to get to the tunnel. Cal is silent for the entirety of the drive, and Mulder can’t think of anything to say to fill the silence that wouldn’t feel painfully frivolous given the situation, so he stays silent as well. The small-town scenery gives way to an even more rural area, houses becoming further and further apart. They’re bumping down a pitted dirt road when Cal sits up and his mouth falls open.

“What?” Mulder asks, looking between him and the road. “What is it?”

Cal shakes his head as though disoriented.

“I’ve been here before,” he says. “I remember this road with the tracks up ahead. There’s going to be a little gravel lot on the left up here.”

Sure enough, a small gravel lot appears to their left just as the road runs up against a set of train tracks, and Mulder can see the train tunnel about fifty yards beyond it. He makes a U-turn and heads back down the road a short ways, pulling the car into a small clearing that will obscure it from the view of anyone on the train. The men exit the car and walk quickly back to the gravel lot, and Mulder looks at Cal expectantly. The sun sits high in a cloudless sky, and sweat is already beading on both men’s foreheads.

“What should we do now? What do you remember?” Mulder asks, shielding the sun with his hand. Cal is scanning the surrounding landscape, his jaw jutting out to the side unnaturally before his shoulder quirks. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Cal says cooly. “I was brought here in a transport van. The train passed partway through the tunnel and stopped. I was walked into the tunnel and told to get into a boxcar.”

“So should we wait in the tunnel?” Mulder asks, and Cal shakes his head.

“We gotta get through it,” he says, then sets off jogging toward the tracks. Mulder follows after him, and they quickly approach the opening of the west end of the tunnel. “There will be men in the boxcar,” he says breathlessly, his arms pumping. “We’ll have to get on a different car and ride out there without anyone seeing us. Better odds of that at the back of the train.”

The interior of the tunnel is dank and covered in graffiti. As they near the halfway mark, Mulder hears the distant, muted hiss of a train whistle and his heart jumps into his throat. When they emerge from the east end of the tunnel, the headlight of an engine car is close enough that Mulder can make out the silhouette of the engineer as he reaches up to blow the whistle again, warning them off the tracks.

“Down here,” he directs Cal, and the two scramble down a small embankment, flattening themselves against the ground as the train begins to pass by above them.

Dry grass tickles his nose as the wind generated by the train sends it whipping against his face, and he feels the sheer mass of the locomotive rumbling in the ground beneath his chest. The brakes screech and he winces, resisting the urge to cover his ears. The clack and rumble of the train over the tracks becomes slower and slower for several minutes until finally they hear the sequential bang of the cars coming to a stop. They wait and listen, their faces turned toward each other. Mulder flicks his eyes up toward the train, suggesting that they go now, and Cal shakes his head.

There is the crunch of boots on gravel, and the men lock eyes, holding perfectly still.

“Anything?” a voice calls out from inside the tunnel.

“Nah, nothin’,” someone answers, so close that Mulder can hear them sniff and clear their throat. The crunch of the boots becomes further and further away, but they keep waiting.

“When the train starts moving, we go,” Mulder mouths, his voice less than a whisper, and Cal nods.

They hear a door slamming shut, then several minutes of silence. The train whistle blows and a few seconds later, loud clangs sound off along the track as each car lurches forward and the train begins to move. When they hear a clang just above them, Mulder gets up on his hands and knees and Cal does the same.

The freight train is carrying so many cars that the caboose is still miles down the track, hidden from view. Boxcars, flatbeds, and tanker trucks start to slowly move past them, and Mulder considers which would be the most practical to ride on.

“This one,” Cal says, pointing to a white hopper car.

They begin to jog beside it as it slowly picks up speed. Cal guides them to the rear of the car where the slope of the hopper leaves an empty space they can sit on and be protected from the wind. He grabs hold of a ladder and runs alongside the car until he can pull himself up and get a decent foothold, then slips through the beams supporting the structure of the car and holds his hand out to Mulder.

The train is picking up speed, and the gravel is loose under Mulder’s feet as he begins to run to keep up with the car. He reaches for Cal’s hand but only manages to brush the tips of his fingers before the train enters the tunnel. It’s dark now, and there are just a couple feet between the wall of the tunnel and the train car.

“Come on!” Cal shouts in the dark, bracing his shoulder against the support beam and extending his arm as far as possible.

Mulder pushes himself harder, kicking up gravel as he struggles to keep pace. Soon, the train will be moving too fast for him to safely get on. He has barely any clearance between his body and the tunnel wall on one side, the fast-moving train on the other. If he so much as stumbles, he could be easily thrown under the wheels of the train and crushed. He pulls in a huge breath and forces himself to run faster, his arm extended. The light at the other end of the tunnel is beginning to reach them when he sees Cal’s hand close around his wrist and his feet lose contact with the ground. He flies up, tethered to the car by Cal’s hand and brought airborne by the momentum of the train, but soon enough his feet smash down against the gravel surrounding the tracks and he cries out.

Cal slips his other arm between the rungs of the ladder, fumbling to get a better hold on Mulder as his feet strike the ground and send him flying up before he crashes down again like a rock skipping across water. Cal manages to get a fistfull of his shirt and tugs on it violently, and suddenly Mulder’s chest is pinned against the rungs of the ladder, his feet dangling just above the ground.

“You gotta get your foot up!” Cal shouts, his body crammed against the metal beams on the train car that are preventing them both from falling to their deaths.

Mulder bends one leg and scrambles to find footing, and finally he lands on something solid. Slowly, he pulls himself up until he is supporting his own weight and Cal is able to release him. Both men fall into the empty space at the back of the hopper, panting and exhausted.

“You good?” Cal asks, looking him over.

Mulder’s shirt is stretched out around the collar and his boots are scuffed to shit, but aside from some soreness he appears to be unscathed.

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly. “Thank you.”

Cal nods, and they are quiet for a time as they travel alongside the river, each catching their breath and taking in the picturesque countryside while the train gently jostles them.

“Do you remember what comes next?” Mulder shouts over the noise of the rails as he uses the bottom of his T-shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead. “How long were you on the train?”

Cal stares out into the distance, contemplating.

“Less than an hour,” Cal shouts back, leaning in. “I know we didn’t stop at all before we got there. There weren’t any windows in the boxcar so I couldn’t see what we passed or anything, but I remember that when we stopped it wasn’t at a train station. It was just kind of in the middle of nothing, like the tunnel.”

Mulder nods. Less than an hour until they arrive. He feels some sickening combination of excitement, fear, and nervousness, and he checks to be sure that both his weapon and backup weapon are still present and properly secured. He can’t wait to see Scully again, to feel the way he feels when he’s with her. Like someone really sees him. Really knows him.

“Do you remember what’s after the train? Where they took you?”

Cal shakes his head, looking disappointed with himself.

“Hopefully when I see it I’ll remember. It’s like I have to see or hear things to remember them. Something has to jog the memory,” he explains, and Mulder nods.

“That’s what Scully said too. Dana, I mean.”

“They didn’t get you?” Cal asks, touching the back of his neck.

“They did,” Mulder tells him. “But for whatever reason, very little has come back to me.”

“You remembered Dana, though,” he says, as though it’s a given.

Mulder doesn’t see any reason to get into specifics, at least for now.

“She’s hard to forget,” he says by way of an answer, and Cal flashes him a knowing smile that sends a stab of jealousy shooting through him.

When they hear the brakes screech a short time later, they exchange a look. The train begins to slow and they ready their weapons, just in case.

“I think it will be safest if we wait until the train starts up again before we jump off,” Mulder suggests, and Cal nods his agreement.

“If this is the spot, there will be a dirt road right off the tracks,” he says, and Mulder is grateful for his steadily unraveling memory.

The train eventually comes to a full stop, and they listen to indiscernible voices in the distance, doors opening and closing, and the mechanical roar of vehicle engines for several minutes. The engines fade away, as do the voices, and when the cascade of clangs signals that the train is starting to move, they put away their weapons and prepare to jump.

The earth beside the tracks is covered in bramble, but the dirt beneath it is soft enough to effectively break their fall. They carefully drop down, first Mulder and then Cal, and pick burrs off their jeans while the rest of the train chugs along beside them. There do not appear to be any other people around.

“This way,” Cal says, un-holstering his gun and taking the lead.

Mulder follows behind him, pistol in hand but with the safety on, as they approach a hard-packed dirt path that disappears around a bend into the woods.

“Is it far?” Mulder asks quietly.

Cal shakes his head.

“Not very. Let’s stay off the road though.”

They make their way into the edge of the woods, keeping the path in their line of sight as they follow it deeper into the lush green of summer in full bloom. Acorns crunch under their shoes and birds sing a carefree song overhead, and it all feels so tranquil and out of place for their mission.

The dirt path curves generously to the left, then dead ends in a small parking lot. The two men crouch down at the edge of the woods and watch as a woman in medical scrubs walks back and forth across the lot, intermittently holding her cell phone up to the sky before bringing it to her ear to shout, “I can’t hear you!”

The parking lot itself has only six spaces, three of which are occupied by a golf cart, a van, and a motorcycle. In front of the spaces there’s a stone retaining wall of some kind, and seemingly nothing else.

“Where is it?” Mulder asks quietly, and Cal shrugs.

“I headbutted the guy who was walking me in and tried to run, and I think they knocked me out or something. I don’t remember anything after this except waking up in a hospital bed.”

“Hello?!” the woman shouts, bending forward as though that will somehow cause cell service to materialize. She finally gives up and stuffs her phone into the pocket of her scrubs with a huff, stalking towards the retaining wall.

“Where is she going?” Mulder wonders under his breath.

When the woman reaches the wall, she walks around the edge of it and disappears into the forest. Cal looks over at Mulder and he looks back.

“You know what I just remembered?” Cal says. “That place didn’t have a single damn window. Not a one.”

“Let’s just hope these guys have more regard for fire code than they do for human life,” Mulder says, and Cal quirks his head at him. “There’s gotta be more than one way in. And out.”

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #dana scully #txf #fox mulder #xf fanfic #x files #the x-files #xfiles #thexfiles

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snowfloral-lake · 13 hours

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hola

MAI HIJA DE LA MIL HIJUE LA GRAN MIL PUCHICA

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cokowiii · 9 months

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Puchica is just an expression you can use for literally anything and the patatush is for when someone scares the shit out of you so you say "me va a dar el patatush"/ imma get a heart attack or sm like that

These are expressions from where I'm from so idk if they mean anything else in another culture or sm lol

thats rlly cool. This is literally a first im ever hearin about this!

#asks and replies

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eliza-bethvc · 2 years

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Di una frase a lo salvadoreño

Ajaja puchica bicha si sos pasmada!!

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pupuseriazag · 3 months

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Cosas que ha dicho mi mamá mientras vemos Dungeon Meshi juntes:

"Puchica pero con ese enano no se mueren de hambre, si es tremendo chef"

"Puta ese enano es bien burro" (Senshi ignorando lo que pidio chilchuk)

"Y que es lo que andan ahi?" "el murcielago 💀" "... Yo pense que alla lo habian dejado"

*viendo como Chilchuk frie las mandragoras* "Vaya Zag, aprende a cocinar asi"

"Esta bonita, no esta sangrienta como yo pense" *inmediatamente apuñalan a Laios*

"A la puta se las va a comer tambien?!" (las armaduras vivientes)

"Y porque no corre? En todo lo que la armadura se pone la cabeza pudo haber corrido el dundo"

"Me convencieron estos no se mueren de hambre, ya me quisiera yo llevar al enano para que me cocine todos los dias"

"Pero el bicho vio que ahi va el monstruo!" "por eso, se quedo calladito" "hay dios a saber que desmadres les va a hacer esa cosa despues"

#zagreus rambling

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diderots · 4 months

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hot fuckin take but ppl complaining about something becoming popular when it was already super popular and mainstream ??? like i get super niche super indie shit but like??? y’all realize this was one of the most popular shows/films/books/bands in its time and will not only have old fans but continue to generate new ones??? if the community dies that’s when you have to worry and if you don’t like the “bad/surface level/poor” content or interactions, well that’s on you baby. you build and create and dig deeper, puchica

#nobody here but us dogs #I SAW A POST SAYING THEY DIDNT WANT OASIS TO GET POPULAR UMMM DO YOU REALIZE?!!?!!?#IGNORE OR JOIN THE CONVO WHATEVER

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sivarestilo · 2 years

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A la gran Pachuca vos 😄😄 Disponible en nuestra Etsy shop ♥️ . . . . #elsalvador #puchica #puchicavos #smallbusiness #losangeles #sivarestilo #sansalvador #latinoownedbusiness #puchicasv #guatemala (at Los Angeles, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CegaxKRr4iF/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#elsalvador #puchica #puchicavos #smallbusiness #losangeles #sivarestilo #sansalvador #latinoownedbusiness #puchicasv #guatemala

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strippedowntothebone · 11 months

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A la puchica

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yanaleese · 2 months

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◈ Love Me, Kidnap Me, and Love Me More ◈

Yandere! OC Karma x Calculative! Gender Neutral! MC

VER EN ESPAÑOL. MUY PRONTO

Synopsis: You put blood, sweat, and tears into your work. Little did you know, your secret admirer, Marka does it too.

Content warning: Yandere and literally anything that goes with it, violence, hypnosis (not on reader), drugs (implication), and yes there will be a Part 2

PLEASE SUPPORT PALESTINE WITH MONEY, OR WITH A CLICK

Scores, talents, personas.

THESE are the factors that classify the education system. Although not immaculate, it serves its purpose - to send vulnerable people into the workforce, and devour them whole. Their livelihoods, their time, and the minuscule bits of energy left inside of them.

But there are some who are born with advantages, and some who have to work their ass off for it.

I, unfortunately, have the latter. Things don’t come easy, instant, or perfect. I am actually quite idle, I enjoy the freedom of gaining knowledge and insight. Uniquely, tried and tested knowledge that is critical for survival.

And that, is how I manage my late nights. By listening to “Advice to Survive” with its host, McGregory Callahan.

Back in the 60s, he was a CWO-4 Navy Seal officer, a rank given to an exclusive few. And now that he’s retired, he humbly shares his advice to the community, and showcases guests every now and then to keep the show alive. But majority prefers to listen to his voice, which I strongly agree with.

“And so, ladies and gents…” His voice was smooth and husky. “It’s time to sign off, folks. Stay safe, and always remember…” I chuckled, saying his closing lines with him.

“Live, not die, and try to survive. Thanks everyone.”

As the radio chipped off, the sun poured its rays into my window, as if the heat wasn’t enough. I groaned, my eyes leading me to my collection of “wake-up” capsules. Tempted, and deceived, I slithered my way over to it, dropping another 2 or 3 in my mouth.

I grumbled. Regret seeped into my veins, my body woozy and tense. Once again, I stayed up.

And of course, it happened to be a Monday morning; where I had a morning class. “Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw.” I began stuffing my bag with my utensils, paperwork, snacks. I could never get used to this shit. “I hope nobody pisses me off for the rest of the day.”

◈

“The bell. Ugh, the damn bell. Never have I wanted to smash that thing into pieces.” You could barely make out the crowd, more or less. Not even your best friend’s face.

“Wait. You had a rough night…again?” Heidi glared, her eyes were practically glowing with concern.

“Maaaaaaybe.” You slurred, taking baby steps to your seat. “Good thing my seat mate is a quiet kid.”

Speak of the devil, Marka entered the room, his footfalls silent as he strolled to your direction. His timing was impeccable.

“Good morning, Marka.” You mumbled, your eyes not meeting his. Besides, there were no eyes thanks to his bangs.

“Heh…” In response, Marka gave an exciting grin, happily waving a good morning back to you. How he could be energized on a Monday morning, was a complete mystery to you.

Actually, a lot of him is shrouded in mystery. Or rather, in suspicion.

Other than the weird name, Marka was supposedly from the countryside of Honduras, Tegucigalpa. His parents were also from Honduras, and he worked as a pizza delivery driver, and stayed at a friend’s apartment for shelter, with the purpose of redoing college thrice to get a degree. While some of this is true, some of it didn’t add up.

For example, his idioms. Sometimes he would say “Puchica” , “Chero”, “Chivo” - and when I looked them all up, the common denominator was El Salvador. He said his parents came from Honduras, so how can this be true?

“[Y/N].”

Then him, being the pizza delivery driver. You don’t often order pizza, but you’ve never thought that pizza could smell so shitty. You could remember him rushing to one of your afternoon classes, and instead of smelling like oil and grease, he smelt like weed. What the fuck???

“Hello? [Y/N]?”

Plus, the fact that he is redoing the course a third time. And yet, every single exam he is perfectly scoring an average mark. He also ends before everyone else, as if he has all the time in the world.

That’s not normal.

Though you’ve never confronted Marka about this, you preferred to remain silent. Times are harsh, and you weren’t willing to stretch out a hand when you could barely help yourself.

But there is NO way that you’re befriending someone as suspicious as him.

“[Y/N]!!!” Heidi whisper-shouted, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“[Y/N], please answer-“ Mr. Dimmy paused, clearing his throat. “Actually. On second thought, please see me after class. Thank you.”

You bit my lip, letting it bleed. Fuck. You spaced out again.

“Sir I-“

“No buts, no coconuts.”

While cursing yourself internally, you decided to take out your vent book out of your bag, only to be stopped by Mr. Dimmy once more.

“[Y/N]. Can you please answer the question on the board for me, please?”

Shit, you just opened your bag.

“Give me a moment-“

“[Y/N].”

Clenching your fists, you gave a plastic smile. It was understandable where he was coming from, since he didn’t want his star pupil to daydream for the second time.

“My bad, Sir. Hopefully I’ll get this right.”

As you were busy solving the equation, Marka decided to do you a favor and close up your bag. So by the time you came back, Marka grinned, hoping for a thanks to come out of it. But you decided to ignore the kind gesture, continuing to pay attention to the board. You had enough attention for one day.

◈

If there was one thing you loved, it was clocks. It was nice to know how the time passed, whether it was rapid or abnormally slow. And of course, it was slow.

“[Y/N], this has happened on multiple occasions.” Mr. Dimmy rubbed his temples, exhausted from having the same conversation with you. “We, as staff, made it clear that you can take days off.”

“I’m very sorry Sir, but I can’t do that-“

“[Y/N], enough with the excuses. You are not enough getting enough sleep, and it’s affecting your concentration.”

Scores, talents, personas: nothing on this conversation applied to that. Kindness was a pain in the ass.

“And so, I’m going to ask the dean to personally give you a suspension. A whole week suspension.”

You had to hold your tongue. Why do you have to do triple the work???

“Sir. I’m behind on what I need to cover. I’m begging you, please just let it slide.”

“But [Y/N], you are three weeks ahead. Taking a week off is enough right now. Trust me.”

You glanced at the clock. It was 9:47, the minute hand approximately reaching the next minute.

“If I see you Tuesday afternoon, I will personally escort you outside. That is all.”

Rubbing your eyes, you ran to the top of the stairs, before making yourself out. You couldn’t believe what just happened.

“[Y]-[Y/N]…” It was Heidi.

“Heidi. I’m done for the day, so I’m going home. Text me later if you’re curious.” Your demands were quick and stern.

Poor Heidi snuggled her books, her expression shaping into pity and guilt. If only you could just take a break.

◈

“Giggles, after giggles. These fucking cuches don’t know when to quit it, don’t they?”

“Markaaaa…” She snorted, sounding exactly just like he called her: a pig. “Teach me a little Spanish, no?~ ❤️”

Marka shook his head, his face clearly showing discomfort.

“Come on, we wanna hear it! Maybe we can fuck it up, you know?”

Damn that Rico bastard. He never knew how to read a room.

“I said no.” Marka ran his fingers through his bangs, revealing the swirling darkness within his eyes. “Now learn to be good little shits, I’m in a bad mood.”

Immediately, the entire group stood completely still. Before seconds later, horrifying shrieks escaped people’s lips. Some froze in horror, sweating profusely. Others just ran away from Marka, while some fought with him. Luckily, thanks to his physique he could handle his attackers pretty clearly.

“Ha…shame…” He continued to hit Rico with every punch, starting to see blood oozing out of him. Marka couldn’t help but grin in sadistic glee. “This hypnosis is always pure luck for me.”

Grabbing the leg of one of his classmates. Marka twisted, fractured, and even jumped on her leg, which was perfectly in sync with his words.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.” Marka cursed out loud, growling in frustration. Every time he thought about you, the feeling wouldn’t go away. “I just wanted to do a good deed. Why. Won’t. They. Love. Me.”

Hearing the classmate’s sharp cry, Marka kicked the person away from him, heading to your locker. It was encased in a shitload of locks, all of them personally made by yourself. You knew how to be efficient and useful.

Too bad Marka knew lockpicking a bit too well. “It’s been a while since my last rejection…so let’s see what’s here now-“

With a clink, he guided his fingers to first few letters he made….only to find them….

Crushed.

“….”

He should’ve been used to this by now. The dust, the grime, the dead spiders. After finally getting a fresh new locker, it was understandable that you cleaned up the space.

But you didn’t. You decided to make your old locker your new dumpster bag instead - including his love letters.'

His scarred thumb clutched the pink envelope, or the crushed up ball that it was. He could remember the time he had to go off on business, missing college for an entire week. He had to stay low due to a shot out, which resulted him gaining a major injury in the shoulder and his left hand. He didn’t mind the injuries due to past experiences, but he was…depressed. Marka couldn’t see anyone, neither be online lest he got found out. It was a decision that both he and José made for his safety.

And so, to satiate his loneliness, he wrote to you. Even though his left hand was twitching in pain, he wrote. Even though his brain was telling him to stop because of the pain; he wrote. He wrote because he knew that you gave him the happiness, the hope that he needed for this world. Yes, you were flawed…but with each other, the two of you could heal one another’s scars. Right?

“….Ha….”

His hands shook in silent rage as dark droplets dropped on to the paper. I’m sure you didn’t know any better, it was simply a misunderstanding. Yes, yes - it was miscommunication.

It was understandable, since he didn’t make it clear. He didn’t flirt with you since it wasn’t your thing. I guess the letters weren’t either.

Maybe he’d have to try something…a bit more drastic.

“I need to know…do they love me…? Do they not? Maybe….”

Clutching the paper in his chest, he started chuckling to himself. No, grinning madly as he stared at the locker in front of him, his face contorted into something twisted and grotesque.

“Maybe it’s time I should pay your house a visit, hmm? ❤️~.”

NOTES:

Cuche = Means pig in Salvadorian slang. ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴʏ qᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴs ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴋᴀʀᴍᴀ, ᴊᴏsᴇ́ ᴏʀ ʜᴇɪᴅɪ ғᴇᴇʟ ғʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴍʏ ɪɴʙᴏx.

#karma #karma imagines #qc #karma lore??? not rly #i mean....I wouldn't say karma lore. Maybe Karma imagine?#yeah cause this relies on probability...so.#male yandere #yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere blog #yancore #yandere male #yande.re #yandere boy #yandere mafia #yandere x male darling #yandere x darling

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