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yanderedrabbles · 2 days ago

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Yandere Seasons of the Year

Autumn is the nerdy girl in your book club. Pigtails, pleated skirts, too thick glasses. Whenever she's forced to speak up in class, she almost always stutters. Getting softer with each word until the teacher finally has mercy on her and let's her trail off. She has few friends, mostly other slightly dorky kids who band together because otherwise they'd all be stuck eating alone. You don't really notice her at first.

But then you read Jane Eyre and for once she isn't shy at all. She tells your whole book club all about the symbolism, the themes, how she doesn't fully consider it a gothic novel but that it definitely has gothic elements. Her cheeks are just a little flushed, her hands darting around when she talks. She's pretty, you realise slowly. When she isn't folded over herself or scurrying through the hall like she doesn't want to be caught.

Afterwards, you strike up a conversation with her. She's all shy again, not really meeting your eyes.

"My dad's got a whole collection of classics. Special edition prints, with these hand painted edges," you tell her. "Why don't you stop by and you can borrow some?"

She narrows her eyes at you like she thinks you're making fun of her. "Maybe. If I have time."

She doesn't drop by. When you see her in the halls after that, you always stop to greet her. But she looks so uncomfortable that you never get to have a conversation. Always running off with her head bent so far down that you wonder how she sees anything past the tips of her shoes.

After a few weeks of half finished sentences and always keeping her books clutched to her chest, you're about ready to give up. To take the hint that she doesn't want to be your friend.

But then... she starts seeking you out. Tentative at first. Waiting outside your class and only saying hello if you're alone. Changing her route so that it takes her past your locker. Sitting just a little closer to you at lunch, almost always two tables away so you're in her line of sight.

Maybe she realises you aren't setting up some elaborate prank by talking to her. Your hurried hellos become actual conversations. She starts walking you to class every morning. When you again invite her over to borrow some books, she actually shows up.

Standing on your doorstep with the trees flaring yellow and orange behind her, her hair pushed out of her face with a red Alice band.

"Hi."

You lead her up to your room and she perches on the edge of your bed like she's scared to touch it. Scared to be in your space.

You were in the middle of sorting through your makeup before she showed up and now you look over at her with a twinkle in your eye.

"Will you let me do your makeup? Please?"

Her eyes go all wide behind her glasses. "Uh I don't know...I don't really wear that stuff..."

You sit in front of her, your kit spread on your lap. "Come on! You'll look so good. You've got such a great bone structure, it's practically a crime to not try some bronzer."

"I guess..."

You carefully reach up and take off her glasses. She flinches. "Shh, relax. It doesn't hurt."

You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and tilt her chin up with your finger. When you smooth primer over her skin, she subconsciously tilts her face into your palm.

"That feels nice..."

Her eye makeup is the trickiest part. She flinches every time you bring the eyeliner even close to her. Eventually, you slip your free hand around the nape of her neck. She freezes just long enough for you to add some wings. Her ears turn a bright red and she ducks away from you, stuttering.

"Ah sorry. Were my hands too cold?"

"N-no. No, your hands are...perfect."

You end up so close to her face that when she finally opens her eyes after mascara and lashes, she gasps. You run your thumb across her cheekbone to clear away a little spilled eye shadow.

"All done."

Even after you step away, it's takes her a few seconds to move.

"Do you like it?"

"I look so different."

You stand behind her in front of the mirror and rest your chin on her shoulder. "That's the magic of makeup! It's a good different. And besides, we're matching."

"Oh." She touches her fingers to her lips and looks down at the lipstick smeared on her fingertips. "I didn't notice. I...I really like it."

You pull away and grin at her. "Aren't you glad you let me do it?"

"Yeah," she says, still staring at her fingers. "Really glad."

When your lipstick and then your lip balm go missing, you don't even notice. What was it the kids used to say back in elementary? That if your lips touch where someone else's did, it counts as a kiss?

Autumn walks home through the falling leaves and wonders if you realise you're her first kiss.

Winter is the student council president. Confident, clever, a guy everyone says is going to be a great leader someday.

Oh, but he's cold too. Doesn't have any real friends, only achievements. Everyone knows him. Everyone respects him. But being respected and being liked are not at all the same thing.

You wonder if he ever gets lonely. You walk past the student council office during lunch one day and see him at his computer, a half eaten apple forgotten at his elbow. You shouldn't feel sorry for him. He's on the fast track to an ivy league and a career in finance. In a few years, he's going to be richer than you could ever hope to be. He takes home every performance award in every subject.

You shouldn't feel sorry for him. But you do.

"Hey, you got a minute?" You lightly rap on the doorframe and he turns to face you, not at all ruffled by your sudden appearance.

"Sure. You're y/n, right? I think we had algebra together a few years ago."

"Yep. Before you started taking AP classes and leaving all us peasants in the dust."

You're not surprised he knows you, despite never being introduced or even having a conversation before.

You grin at him. "Is an apple really the only lunch you're having? You've got to keep your energy up if you want to protect your title as smartest guy in school."

He frowns at his apple. The parts he's bitten are already starting to brown.

"I'm not that hungry."

You lean in the door frame and cross your arms. "I'm supposed to let our student present starve? If I let that happen, who's going to be around to defend our debate title? Stand up to the tyranny of the chess club?"

He scoffs and uses the tip of his pen to nudge the apple into the waste paper basket.

"Come eat lunch with me. I've been wanting to join some clubs and you can tell me what looks best on a college application. You can call it community service if you want," you offer.

That gets you a slightly raised brow. The most expressive you've seen him yet.

"What are they even offering today? I don't really stop at the cafeteria."

"Oh, you're in luck," you say. "Mashed potatoes and gravy. And it's only slightly congealed this time."

"Yum." Still, he stands up to follow you. He's much taller than you realised, and when he picks up his backpack his muscles flex in a way that tells you he isn't afraid of hitting the gym. Again, unsurprising. Except for his lunch, he seems the type to have his life in perfect balance.

When you finally sit down in the cafeteria, it isn't long before the other kids notice him. You're scarcely two bites into your lunch when the student magazine editor starts asking him about the budget for next semester. When that's settled, the chess team are next in line to complain about the state of their boards and to ask pretty please for some new pieces. It's only when the bell rings that they finally leave him alone. His lunch sits untouched in front of him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realise."

He shrugs and shoots you a half smile. "Thanks anyway. This was...nice."

It's only when he's gone that you start to wonder if anyone else has ever seen him smile.

You start taking him lunch in the office a few days a week. Mostly sandwiches and chocolate milk. Not exactly the pinnacle of good eating, but anything is better than nothing, right?

You always end up on his desk, ankles crossed while he reclines in his computer chair, chin tilted up slightly to meet your eyes. It's casual, easy. He's funny, in a deadpan kind of way. You end up learning a ton about college admissions, about extra credit, about Ivy League rankings.

When applications open, he's the first person you go to when you need help. Eventually, he just sighs and plucks your half finished essay from your backpack.

"Just let me handle it, jeez."

"Really? Oh my god, thank you!" You stand on your toes and pull him into a hug. "You have no idea how stressed I've been."

He freezes. And then slowly wraps his arms around your waist.

" 'Course," he mutters into the crown of your head. "I'd be happy to."

The thing about Winter as a season is that it can be so insidiously misleading. You assume the greatest danger is the ice, the cold. You don't realise that most deaths are from broken gas lines, from excess alcohol, from persistent coughs. You prepare yourself for all the wrong dangers.

You assume that if Winter wants something, he'll pursue it outright. You don't notice that your college applications are only being sent to places he's applied to as well. You don't notice the way he sneaks your name into the records for the debate team, the chess club, volunteering hours - a blatant forgery just so you have a better chance of being accepted at the institutions where he wants you.

You don't notice the way he always comes up to you when other guys are talking to you, dragging you away with a tight smile and an excuse about scheduling issues or needing your help with the budget.

You don't notice him falling for you until it's far, far too late.

Spring is the ultra cool, earthy girl in your art class. Always sporting a full afro or long goddess braids. Effortlessly chic, with gold jewellery in her hair no matter how busy school seems to get.

She moves through everything at her own pace. Not part of a clique but never alone either.

You've always known each other a little. Had a few classes together over the years, shared lunch once or twice. But life is hectic and your paths don't always cross as much as you'd like. So when you end up in art class hoping for extra credits, you're more than a little glad to see her.

She's talented. Her portfolio has art schools all across the country drooling, practically on their knees to offer her a full ride.

It would be easy to get jealous, and you have no doubt that more than a few of your classmates are. But you? You're just glad to see talent being appreciated.

It's a beautiful spring day when she comes up behind you and offers to give you some private lessons. Your hands are covered in charcoal, there's streaks of black on your cheeks and despite your efforts, your canvas is an unartistic mess.

You smile at her like she's heaven sent.

"Would you really? I know art is subjective and all, but I'm afraid everyone thinks I'm objectively bad."

She tilts your head at your canvas, beads in her braids clinking.

"Not as bad you think. I can see what you're trying to do. You just don't have enough technique yet."

When you meet her after school, the classroom is gold and hazy with the late afternoon sun. She makes you sit at her easel and leans on the back of your chair.

"Draw some perspective lines for me."

You try to, but by the third line her hands are already coming up to guide yours.

"No. Always try and stick to your vanishing point. Like this."

Her voice is low in your ear and you can smell her perfume, something sweet and flowery that makes you want to bury your face in her hair.

"See?"

"Mm-hmm. Easier when it's so direct."

"Good."

She stays right by your chair for the rest of the lesson, occasionally leaning down to adjust your grip. When the day is done, your hair smells like her perfume and your fingers ache from work well done.

She doesn't seem like the type to have a boyfriend. Maybe you're being unfair, but you just can't see it. She's so nonchalant, so very much herself, that the antics of teenage boys seem so very beneath her. She must like someone though, because a few weeks after she starts tutoring you, you get a glimpse of her latest piece. A sketch of her leaning down to kiss someone, their face obscured by the fall of her hair.

If it were anyone else, you would tease them relentlessly about it. Who do you got a crush on so bad that you want to draw them?

Not her though. You respect her art too much to make light of it like that. And when her portfolio starts filling up with love poems, with tributes, with re-interpretations of Le Printemps and Le Sommeil... Well, you pretend not to notice.

It's only at the very end of the year that you start to really wonder who it's all about. When you finish your final piece - the best canvas to date, the one you and her poured hours of work into - she leans down and presses her lips against your signature. It leaves behind a lipstick print in a deep, gorgeous red. Somehow brings the whole piece together.

"I love it," you tell her, eyes on your art.

"So do I," she says, eyes on you.

Summer is the tanned, laughing jock who's always filling up the hall with his voice. Friendly, likeable. Just about everyone has a crush on him.

Not a bully, though he has the size and strength for it. Helpful, in his big, well meaning way.

His future is clear for everyone to see. Working in his dad's construction company until its time to take over, marrying a girl just as pretty and golden as him, becoming the kind of father that other kids look at and long for. It's a good life. It suits him. Days filled with sunshine and love and laughter. He deserves it.

So when he asks you to tutor him, you assume he doesn't want anything more than a better grade. Books and calculators spread out on the bleachers after practice, the smell of fresh cut grass in the air, summer sun warm and gold over the football field. If you were more his type, you'd call it romantic.

As it is, you just appreciate the good weather and the good company. When his teammates joke that he's tanking his grades on purpose just to spend time with you, you laugh and say you're sure he's got better things to do with his time that that.

It takes a few months, but his grades do improve. And when you go through the homework together, it's clear that he understands what he's doing.

"Well champ, seems my work here is done. You're ahead of the class, you understand the methods and your papers have all come back with Bs and above."

You shrug, smile at him. "You're free to go. Have your afternoons back."

"What?" He frowns at you, water bottle halfway to his mouth. "No. The year isn't over yet."

You laugh, a little flattered that he seems so upset to see you go. "I know. But you don't need me anymore. Just practice the problems I marked out for you and you'll be just fine."

For once, he seems at a loss for words. You stand, sling your backpack over your shoulder. It's just you and him left on the bleachers, the empty football field a behemoth between you and the school building.

When you're halfway across, he catches up with you. Grabs your backpack and stops you in your tracks.

"What about English? I really need some help with the novel. And my chemistry is a mess. Seriously, we can't stop now. You can't just...leave me like that."

If you didn't know any better, you'd say he sounded almost panicked.

"I think Jackson from homeroom is your best bet with chemistry. Oh, and I'll send you my English notes. I did a whole section on themes and stuff."

He frowns again. "No. No. I don't want any of that. I want you."

The skin at the nape of your neck prickles, despite the late afternoon sun being full on your back. Was he always so much bigger than you? How didn't you notice it before?

"Hey, listen. I know you're worried. But we've put in tons of effort. You know your stuff. When exam season rolls around, you'll be just fine."

You try and walk away but he's still holding onto your bag.

"I can pay you."

"I don't want money," you say, irritated and offended both. "I never wanted to be paid for any of this. You're a great guy. I'm happy to help you out."

"Then stay."

Why is he being so persistent? His hold on your backpack tightens when you don't immediately answer.

"Please."

That decides you. How can you say no when a nice guy is practically begging? You're not a monster.

You sigh. "Fine. But only until after homecoming, 'kay?"

"Sure," he says. "I'll let you go when I'm done. Promise."

In the last light of a long summer day, you make the mistake of believing him.

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #reader insert #x reader #yandere oc #Oc x reader #tw yandere #male reader #Fem yandere #yanblr

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fangdokja · 2 days ago

Note

Which other yan blogs do you like the most? Got any recs? ❤️

From Smut to Storytelling: A Comprehensive Guide to Tumblr’s Yandere Content Creators

♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

Since I focus on high-quality, impactful works, I will not be including every blog I’ve ever read but rather those that have stood out over time. My goal is to provide a strategic breakdown of each blog’s strengths and key appeal points for different reader preferences.

Before proceeding, it’s important to note:

These recommendations are specific to Tumblr. If you are looking for erotic horror or truly intense horror narratives with a realistic risk of death or severe, permanent consequences for the protagonist, I recommend exploring AO3 instead. Even then, such content remains scarce, which is why I primarily create my own.

I do not engage in networking. My interactions with content creators and readers are purely based on personal enjoyment, and I do not expect or seek anything in return. My reviews are not influenced by personal relationships or mutual support. These are purely objective evaluations of writing and engagement styles.

Every blog has its strengths and weaknesses. While I focus on strengths here, I am aware of areas where improvement is possible. However, I refrain from sharing critiques unless requested, as my primary intent is to highlight what each blog excels at.

Best Blogs for Socialization, Networking, and Friendliness

For those looking to engage with friendly, social, and network-oriented yandere content creators, two blogs stand out:

@yandere-romanticaa

@suiana

These two blogs offer distinctly different yet complementary approaches to social interaction, content creation, and audience engagement. Below is a comprehensive breakdown of their strengths, characteristics, and what to expect from them.

1. @yandere-romanticaa – The Genuine, Passionate Creator

Social and Networking Strengths

Most Genuine Approach to Networking: Unlike many content creators who network primarily for exposure, @/yandere-romanticaa engages with others purely for enjoyment and natural connection. There is no sense of transactional networking or expectation of mutual benefit. Her interactions with both authors and readers appear completely sincere.

Balanced Communication: She interacts regularly with her audience without overwhelming them. The communication is neither excessive nor lacking, making her blog an ideal space for both active and passive engagement.

Warm but Not Overbearing: While welcoming and social, she does not force interactions. Her friendliness feels natural rather than performative.

Content and Writing Approach

Fandom-Centric Yandere Writing: Unlike many yandere-focused blogs that primarily produce original content, she focuses on fandom-based yandere writing, including characters who are not commonly explored.

Writes for Herself, Not for Trends: She does not chase popularity or tailor content for mass appeal. Instead, she creates what she enjoys, which results in more genuine, passion-driven content.

Diverse Character Selection: Some of her chosen characters are lesser-known or underrepresented in yandere content, offering a fresh perspective for readers seeking variety.

Overall Blog Atmosphere

Welcoming and Comfortable: The atmosphere is inviting to both new and returning readers. While she does not engage in forced networking, she remains open to discussions and interactions.

Relatable and Transparent: Many readers, even those with serious personalities, may find aspects of her self-expressive content relatable.

Consistent but Not Overly Structured: While her blog has a general sense of organization, it does not follow an overly rigid structure. This flexibility allows for a more relaxed experience.

Who Should Follow?

Those looking for a genuine and friendly content creator who interacts naturally.

Readers who enjoy fandom-based yandere content, whether mainstream or lesser-known characters.

Those who appreciate creators who write for themselves rather than for engagement metrics.

2. @suiana – The Chaotic, Lighthearted Entertainer

Social and Networking Strengths

High Engagement and Accessibility: @/suiana actively interacts with her audience in a way that feels casual and approachable. Her blog has a similar social dynamic to @/tonycries, making it ideal for those who enjoy an open and relaxed community.

Effortlessly Humorous and Entertaining: Her approach to audience interaction is playful and unpredictable. She does not follow a traditional structure when engaging with readers, which results in a unique and entertaining social experience.

A "Laughter to the Soul" Experience: Unlike many yandere content creators who focus on darker themes, her presence is lighthearted, often comedic, and unpredictable in a way that feels refreshing rather than forced.

Content and Writing Approach

Chaos-Driven, Unstructured Content: While some authors adhere to strict formatting and structured writing, @/suiana embraces spontaneity. The lack of rigid consistency in her writing reflects her personality—free-spirited, lively, and unfiltered.

Meme Culture Integration: A significant portion of her content is influenced by meme culture, making it more digestible and engaging for casual readers.

Light and Easy-to-Consume Yandere Content: Rather than producing heavy, deep psychological yandere narratives, her content leans toward entertainment and humor, making it ideal for those who want something less intense.

Overall Blog Atmosphere

Informal and Fun: The atmosphere is chaotic yet welcoming, making it suitable for readers who enjoy casual interactions without pressure.

Highly Interactive: She frequently engages with her audience, creating a dynamic space where interactions feel personal rather than distant.

Unstructured but Authentic: The unpredictable nature of her content means that followers never know what to expect, adding to the blog’s charm.

Who Should Follow?

Readers who enjoy humor, chaos, and lighthearted yandere content.

Those who prefer highly interactive blogs that engage directly with the audience.

People who don’t mind lack of structure and enjoy spontaneous, unpredictable content.

Conclusion

Both @/yandere-romanticaa and @/suiana offer unique and engaging experiences, but their styles cater to different audiences.

If you prefer a genuine, naturally social creator who focuses on fandom-based yandere content, @/yandere-romanticaa is the ideal choice. She does not network for clout but engages sincerely with others, making her blog a strong recommendation for those seeking real interactions.

If you enjoy chaotic, lighthearted, meme-filled, and interactive content, @/suiana provides an experience similar to @/tonycries but with her own quirky twist. Her blog thrives on humor, making it an entertaining space for casual engagement.

Ultimately, both blogs offer friendly and welcoming environments, making them excellent recommendations for those looking to connect with others in the yandere community. The best choice depends on whether you prefer structured fandom yandere writing with organic socialization or spontaneous, humorous, and highly interactive content.

Best Blogs for Long-Form Content and Committed Readers

For those who appreciate long-form storytelling, detailed character studies, and in-depth analysis, two standout blogs in the yandere community are:

@darkbluekies

@cinnamonest

These blogs offer rich, immersive content that rewards committed readers willing to invest in well-developed narratives and detailed exploration of character psychology. Below is a comprehensive breakdown of their strengths, writing approaches, and the overall experience they provide.

1. @darkbluekies – The Classic Long-Form Storyteller

Core Strengths:

Long-Form Narrative Structure: Unlike many yandere blogs that focus on short drabbles or rapid content bursts, @/darkbluekies prioritizes fully developed storylines. This allows for deeper immersion and a stronger emotional impact, making her work well-suited for those who prefer slow-burn narratives rather than quick gratification.

Character-Driven Stories: A major highlight is the focus on characterization. The characters feel like actual people rather than plot devices, which is a testament to strong writing. Silas, in particular, is a great example of a well-developed yandere whose actions are dictated by internal logic rather than mere trope execution.

Commitment to Depth: Her approach allows the plot to "simmer," which is a major strength for those who enjoy binge-reading after the buildup. The detailed nature of the writing ensures that when events unfold, they feel meaningful rather than rushed.

Consistency in Writing Quality: The prose is polished and demonstrates a commitment to careful execution rather than surface-level writing. There is no reliance on shock value or overused tropes without justification; instead, every element is deliberately placed for effect.

Ideal Audience:

Readers who prefer slow-burn yandere fiction with fully realized characters rather than instant gratification.

Those who enjoy structured, thought-out narratives over quick headcanons or one-off scenarios.

Readers who prefer to binge-read rather than consume sporadic short content.

Why It Stands Out:

Many yandere blogs prioritize high-volume output, focusing on quick drabbles or low-investment posts. @/darkbluekies, in contrast, values long-term engagement and immersion, making her blog ideal for those looking for deeper storytelling rather than surface-level content.

2. @cinnamonest – The Analytical Dark Smut Specialist

Core Strengths:

In-Depth Character Analysis: This is arguably the most valuable feature of the blog. @/cinnamonest takes a methodical, research-based approach to yandere characterization, deconstructing characters from multiple angles while ensuring their portrayals remain as accurate as possible to their original source material.

Comprehensive Character Profiles: Unlike general fandom posts, which often apply a one-size-fits-all approach to yandere characterization, her work focuses on precise and well-reasoned breakdowns. These analyses are particularly useful for understanding how different characters would realistically behave as yanderes without distorting their personalities.

Dark Smut & Psychological Depth: While she does write fanfiction—including dark smut—it maintains the same level of intellectual engagement and structural integrity as her analysis work. The psychological depth in these works makes them feel purposeful rather than just shock-driven or formulaic.

Commitment to Accuracy: Many blogs impose personal interpretations on characters that contradict their canon traits. @/cinnamonest instead grounds her assessments in the actual source material, making her blog one of the most objectively reliable when it comes to character-based discussions.

Ideal Audience:

Readers who enjoy analysis and intellectual breakdowns of yandere characters rather than just surface-level tropes.

Writers who want to study character profiles and deepen their understanding of yandere psychology.

Readers who appreciate accurate, well-thought-out interpretations of characters as yanderes rather than generic fanon distortions.

Why It Stands Out:

There are very few yandere blogs that take an analytical approach rather than an emotional or trope-based one. @/cinnamonest bridges critical analysis and fan engagement, offering content that is both intellectually satisfying and narratively compelling.

Conclusion: Two Different Strengths, One Common Thread

Both @/darkbluekies and @/cinnamonest excel in long-form, immersive, and substantial content, but they serve different purposes:

@/darkbluekies is the go-to for structured narrative-driven yandere fiction, where storylines and characters are developed over time.

@/cinnamonest provides analytical depth, offering breakdowns of yandere characters with objective accuracy and structured thought.

For readers who value long-form engagement, well-constructed narratives, or intellectual analysis, these two blogs are among the best options.

Blogs with the Best Overall Writing Quality (Plot, Style, Pacing, and Timing)

⭐Fang Dokja's Personally Fav Fanfic Blogs: @/yanderenightmare & @/yanderedrabbles

In assessing the best overall writing in terms of plot structure, writing style, pacing, and timing, two Tumblr blogs stand out:

@yanderenightmare

@yanderedrabbles

Both of these blogs consistently deliver short, impactful, and highly engaging content that makes them ideal for readers who prefer bite-sized, yet immersive yandere fanfiction.

While long-form writing is a different experience, short-form content requires a precise balance of storytelling, character impact, and pacing efficiency. These two blogs excel in this area, maintaining quality while keeping stories digestible.

These blogs excel in concise, well-crafted stories with strong pacing, making them ideal for readers who prefer high-impact short-form content.

1. @yanderenightmare: The Gold Standard of Organization & Precision

1. Blog Organization & Readability

Among all the Tumblr fanfiction blogs, @/yanderenightmare has the cleanest and most structured format. This is a highly underrated strength, as blog clutter can significantly affect readability, ease of access, and long-term engagement.

Separation of reblogs from main content: Unlike many fanfiction writers who mix reblogs, asks, and external discussions into their main page, @/yanderenightmare keeps everything separate. Readers searching for purely original content will not have to filter through unrelated posts, ensuring a smooth reading experience.

Minimal wasted space: Every post has a clear function—whether it's a story update, an announcement, or a clarification ask. There is no unnecessary filler or excessive personal discourse that disrupts the content flow.

Content-focused approach: This kind of tight content curation is rare, making her blog the most efficient for readers who want to consume content without distractions.

2. Strength in Timing, Pacing, and Narrative Flow

A major factor that makes @/yanderenightmare’s writing stand out is her precision in story delivery. She has an innate sense of pacing and timing, knowing exactly when to introduce tension, escalate conflict, and deliver resolution—all within a short-form format.

No wasted words: Every line contributes to either character development or plot advancement, making her writing compact yet immersive.

Worldbuilding without unnecessary exposition: She manages to incorporate background details and setting depth without long-winded explanations, making the stories more engaging.

Impactful endings: Short-form writing requires a strong conclusion, and she consistently delivers memorable final lines that leave a lasting impression.

3. Classic Yandere Characters & Entertaining Worldbuilding

Beyond pacing and organization, her characters have a classic appeal that resonates with hard dom, non-con yandere fans. While shorter stories often limit depth, her characters remain vivid and recognizable through subtle but effective characterization.

Classic yandere themes executed well (possession, control, obsession).

Balanced mix of worldbuilding and action, ensuring that even shorter works feel immersive.

Distinctive writing voice that sets her apart in the genre.

For readers who prioritize clean blog organization, strong pacing, and an engaging, distraction-free experience, @/yanderenightmare is the best choice.

2. @yanderedrabbles – The Titan of Short-Form Yandere Fiction

Strengths in Writing and Story Execution

Pioneer in Short-Form Yandere Fiction: @/yanderedrabbles is widely recognized as one of the most well-known and respected short-form yandere fanfiction blogs.

Perfectly Executed Bite-Sized Content: Each piece is designed to be short yet immersive, making her works ideal for on-the-go reading without sacrificing quality.

Strong Narrative Cohesion in Limited Word Count: Despite the brevity, her stories manage to maintain solid plot structures, clear character motivations, and immersive tension, which is difficult to achieve in short-form writing.

Content and Writing Approach

Easily Digestible Stories Without Excessive Complexity: Unlike long-form writers who focus on drawn-out plot development, @/yanderedrabbles excels at delivering immediate impact, ensuring that each short story leaves a lasting impression.

Consistent Theme and Style: Her writing style remains reliable and easy to recognize, making her works ideal for binge-reading.

Classic Non-Con Dom Yandere Characters: Her portrayals of yandere characters align with the dominant, possessive, and obsessive archetypes, making them a go-to for fans of intense yandere dynamics.

Overall Blog Atmosphere

Quick and Readable Content Structure: Her blog is designed for readers who prefer fast but engaging stories, making it one of the best choices for those who don’t have time for long-form narratives.

Perfect for Re-Reading: Due to the short nature of her works, they are highly re-readable, making it easy for readers to return to their favorite pieces without needing to commit to an extended story arc.

Classic Yet Evergreen Writing Style: Even though her works have been around for a while, they remain just as relevant and enjoyable as when they were first posted.

Who Should Follow?

Readers who prefer short, easy-to-consume stories with satisfying plots.

Those who enjoy classic dominant yandere characters without unnecessary narrative complexity.

Fans of fast-paced but well-written yandere fiction that can be read in one sitting.

Conclusion

Both @/yanderenightmare and @/yanderedrabbles provide top-tier short-form yandere content, but they excel in different areas:

@/yanderenightmare is the best choice for readers who value structure, pacing, and a clutter-free reading experience. Her blog’s organization and efficiency make her stories easy to consume, while her pacing and timing create a strong narrative impact.

@/yanderedrabbles is ideal for those who want quick, re-readable, high-quality yandere fiction without unnecessary complexity. Her stories are designed for immediate enjoyment, making them perfect for on-the-go reading.

For readers who appreciate structured storytelling and a well-organized blog, @/yanderenightmare is the best fit. For those who prefer classic yandere short-form content that is fast and impactful, @/yanderedrabbles is unmatched.

Both blogs cater to short-form yandere fiction readers while maintaining a high standard of writing, pacing, and readability, making them essential follows for fans of the genre.

Other Notable Mentions

Anime Short-Form / Easy-to-Consume Content

1. @animeyanderelover

Overview:

One of the most beginner-friendly yandere blogs, specializing in short-form, anime-themed content. This blog serves as a foundational entry point for those new to yandere works, offering easily digestible content that does not require deep emotional or psychological investment.

Strengths:

Wide Variety: Covers a broad range of anime characters, including both mainstream and lesser-known figures, ensuring continuous content expansion.

Accessible Writing Style: The writing is light and easy to follow, making it suitable for readers who prefer casual consumption rather than long-form, intricate plots.

Frequent Updates: Due to the short-form nature of the content, posts are frequent, offering a steady flow of material for casual binge-reading.

Ideal For:

Readers who are new to the yandere genre and want introductory content.

Those who enjoy anime-based yandere scenarios with a mix of mainstream and niche characters.

Readers who prefer quick, on-the-go consumption rather than long narratives.

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2. Niche Manhwa / Long-Form Yandere Content

@cassanderasblog

Overview:

A blog dedicated to niche manhwa-inspired yandere content, typically centered on dominant love interests who regret their past actions and attempt to reconcile with the reader. The storytelling aligns with the classic "angsty ex-lover redemption" trope, making it appealing to those who enjoy emotionally charged narratives.

Strengths:

Manhwa-Inspired Writing: Content structure resembles plotlines commonly found in manhwa, making it a strong fit for readers familiar with the genre.

Regret & Redemption Tropes: Appeals to readers who enjoy dominant characters with a softer side, seeking atonement.

Longer Narratives: While some readers might find longer posts less digestible, those who enjoy immersive storytelling will appreciate the depth.

Ideal For:

Readers who prefer manhwa tropes and structured narratives.

Fans of regretful dominant yanderes seeking reconciliation.

Those who enjoy character-driven emotional development.

@forbidden-sunlight

Overview:

A blog known for its manhwa and isekai-inspired yandere works, offering a balance between soft yandere romance and meaningful, long-form storytelling. Compared to others, this blog’s tone is less intense, making it a good choice for readers who enjoy subtle, nuanced character interactions.

Strengths:

Soft Yandere Dynamics: Unlike more extreme depictions, this blog’s approach is gentle yet persistent.

Long-Form but Easygoing: The writing is lengthy but maintains a light, introspective tone, making it ideal for relaxed reading sessions.

Manhwa & Isekai Tropes: Content often integrates classic tropes from these genres, such as reincarnation, fate, and noble settings.

Ideal For:

Readers who prefer soft yet devoted yanderes.

Those who enjoy long-form narratives with a more poetic, slice-of-life feel.

Readers looking for meaningful but not overwhelmingly intense yandere content.

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3. Smut-Centric Yandere Blogs

@yandere-daydreams

Overview:

One of the most well-known blogs for yandere smut content. It has built a reputation for its expansive collection of erotic yandere scenarios, covering a wide range of settings and character dynamics.

Strengths:

Extensive Archive: A large body of work spanning multiple years, making it ideal for binge-reading.

Diverse Smut Scenarios: Offers various approaches to yandere relationships, from slow burns to more intense dynamics.

Consistently High-Quality Writing: Each piece maintains a strong level of execution, ensuring reliability in content quality.

Ideal For:

Readers seeking an extensive archive of yandere smut.

Those who enjoy a mix of character-driven narratives and explicit content.

Fans of darker romance with strong erotic tension.

@youryanderedaddy

Overview:

A blog that focuses on short, easily digestible yandere smut with an emphasis on dominant, bullying love interests. The writing often includes scumbag male leads, which aligns well with more aggressive and sadistic yandere portrayals.

Strengths:

Short and Concise: Ideal for quick consumption without long plot build-ups.

Dominant & Bullying Yanderes: The characters often embody possessive, aggressive traits, appealing to those who enjoy such dynamics.

Unique Settings & Plots: While the core themes remain consistent, the scenarios are varied enough to remain engaging.

Ideal For:

Readers looking for quick, intense yandere smut.

Fans of dominant, borderline cruel yanderes.

Those who prefer shorter narratives over drawn-out emotional arcs.

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4. Yandere Art & Storyline-Driven Illustrations

@lan90

Overview:

An artist-blog that pairs concise yandere narratives with illustrations. The balance between visual and textual storytelling makes it an engaging experience.

Strengths:

Art & Story Integration: Unlike purely text-based blogs, this one enhances the reading experience with visuals.

Short, Plot-Driven Works: The narratives are brief yet well-structured, making them easy to follow.

Dopamine-Boosting Content: Due to the fast-paced storytelling and art, it provides quick enjoyment.

Ideal For:

Readers who enjoy art-based storytelling.

Those looking for short, engaging yandere content.

Fans of aesthetic, well-drawn yandere character depictions.

@danijaci

Overview:

Primarily focused on Genshin and Honkai: Star Rail content, this blog blends lighthearted yandere scenarios with comedic elements, making it a refreshing departure from purely dark content.

Strengths:

Fandom-Specific Content: Appeals to Genshin & HSR fans.

Comedic & Lighthearted: The inclusion of humor makes the scenarios more approachable.

Strong Art Quality: Even for non-yandere content, the artwork is consistently well-executed.

Ideal For:

Fans of Genshin Impact & Honkai: Star Rail.

Readers who enjoy a mix of yandere and comedic elements.

Those who appreciate both text and art content.

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5. Yandere Recommendations for Manga, Manhwa & Games

@ystrike1

Overview:

This blog serves as an information hub for yandere content across different media, including manga, manhwa, and video games. It functions similarly to the Male Yandere Reddit community, providing updates and recommendations on yandere-related works outside of fanfiction.

Strengths:

Highly Updated Recommendations: Ensures followers stay informed on new yandere-related media.

Covers Multiple Mediums: Unlike blogs that focus solely on fanfiction, this one extends to games and original works.

Curated for Yandere Enthusiasts: The content is tailored specifically for those interested in discovering new yandere characters and series.

Ideal For:

Readers looking for yandere content beyond fanfiction.

Those interested in manga, manhwa, and games featuring yanderes.

Fans of structured, update-based content rather than narrative-driven works.

Final Thoughts

This list is structured to help readers find content that aligns with their specific preferences. Whether you enjoy social engagement, in-depth storytelling, short but impactful narratives, or smut-heavy content, each of these blogs brings something unique to the table.

Again, these reviews are purely objective. While I have my personal preferences, this breakdown is based on the strengths each blog demonstrates within their respective categories. If you are new to yandere content on Tumblr or looking for specific types of stories, this should serve as a comprehensive guide.

♡ A/N. This took so long to do ughhhhh. Hope it helps though.

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ For Reader-Inserts. I only write Male Yandere x Female (Fem.) Reader (heterosexual couple). No LGBTQ+:

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Book 5 [you are here]. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Notice #1. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution

♡ Book 6. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.

♡ Notice #2. This masterlist is strictly for non-con smut and serves as an exercise in refining erotic horror writing. Comments that reduce my work to mere sexual gratification, thirst, or casual simping will not be tolerated. If your response is primarily thirst-driven, keep it to yourself—repeated violations may result in blocking. Read the RULES before engaging. The tag list is rese

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hana-no-seiiki · 2 days ago

Text

READER: Do it

YANDERE: Do what?

READER: Say the line. Say it.

YANDERE: . . .

READER: Please it’d be so funny.

YANDERE: . . . *in the most awkward/stiff way* You belong to me, you’re mine.

READER: Pffft

YANDERE: *cries and hides themself in a corner*

#based on an actual conversation i had #soph can attest #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagine #yandere fic #yandere oc #yandere core #yandere oc x reader #yandere scenario #tw yandere #yandere concept

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thattallpan · 8 minutes ago

Text

CANNOT WAIT FOR PT 2

Always the Bridesmaid

Male Ghost Darling Prologue

Word Count: 1.7k

[Major Character Death, Angst, Darling is a male who wishes to dresses and hinted to appear more feminine]

Stolen words sow seeds of resentment and hatred in an affair never meant to be.

In school, the pretty ones received the most attention.

Friends, admirers, confessions hidden between the pages of their books and in their lockers. The old you would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous, but the spotlight was not what spoke to you in whispers.

“Oh my god- Oh my god… Y/n… He asked me to be his date for prom! He said I was the prettiest thing he'd ever laid his eyes on…”

Pretty…

Within the sanctity of your mind, just one time - you dreamed that someone out there would use the same words to describe you.

Beautiful.

Angelic.

Irreplaceable.

All the lyrics sung by the infatuated heart of your best friend's secret valentine. The mystery of his identity was solved after the first note. It wasn't your intention, but you couldn't help but point out how similar the writing looked to a boy's that sat behind you in math. The two of you hardly ever spoke, but after passing his tests to the front for a quarter of the year, you wouldn't mistake that handwriting for anyone else's.

You'd later find out your best friend had had a crush on him since her family moved into the house next to his. It stung to witness how protective over him she was, but after pinning over the same person since you were small - you guessed you'd be a little overbearing if your feelings were reciprocated after all this time.

It was like a fairytale. Your best friend as the common maiden transformed into a princess for one evening, and her prince waiting with bated breath at her arrival.

“If your feelings for me are the same, meet me in the corner of the auditorium. I'll be waiting for you with baby's breath.”

You'll never forget the look as you both walked into together. Like he had seen the stars for the first time in all of his years. The twinkle in his eye dwindled as your friend rushed forward to embrace him. Still, he welcomed her with open arms.

As the night ended, she left with him on her arm, while you stood alone with his jacket draped over your shoulders. He had noticed you shivering even with that puffy jacket of yours and offered it to you as they left.

You begged on your hands and knees for the teachers to give you a minute along while you searched for something you had forgotten. Ensuring that you were the only soul in that auditorium that night - the stuffy hoodie you wore the entire night was ripped clean of your body and tossed into the ether.

It wasn't much. A cream shirt dress your friend had lent you for the occasion. In the dimmed light of the room, the dress almost appeared white. It wasn't much, but in that single moment - swirling to your heart's content til the stage lights above you sparkled the same as a starry night sky-

You felt…

“Gorgeous…”

The voice was barely audible over the music blasting in your ears.

“Forgive me… Think my keys are still in the pocket of my coat… It looks like you're having fun in here all by yourself… Would be nicer with company.”

Your heart hammered in your chest. Your best friend was the only one who knew. You didn't know him. Despite what he said, there was no telling what he would say tomorrow with his boys.

“May I have this dance?”

His outstretched hand may as well been a dagger to you - a bundle of the same flowers he gave your friend rested in his palm. She wasn't with you, so why had the light returned to his eyes as he gazed endlessly into yours. You were scared. To this day, that fear lingers deep in the trenches of your chest.

Collecting your discarded hood, you rush out of the auditorium as quickly as your feet will carry you - never looking back.

The events of that night were not a blip on your relationship with your friend's new boyfriend. As a matter of fact, the three of you were practically a trio. You were often the third wheel on their dates. If he bought her something, you frequently received a duplicate- sometimes before she received hers. The gifts were primarily sweets and stuffed toys, but there were a few outliers.

“This skirt is for me?... You know I'm a guy.. Right?”

“Well aware.”

You figured he was just being nice. After the whole fiasco at prom, there was no hiding from him. He knew your exact measurements and everything. She must've helped him.

With college rolling around, it appeared as if their bond was growing by the day. Upon the confirmation that you all would be attending the same school, your best friend took the big leap herself and proposed to her boyfriend of almost two years. He never looked at her once as he spoke. You were standing right behind her.

“I'd give my very life to spend even a day more with you. To have you by my side forever would be a dream come true.”

You couldn't be happier for the two of them.

Venue hunting, cake testing, dress shopping. As the brother she never had, and the second most important man in her life, you joined her for it all. As you were out shopping for a day centered entirely around herself and her groom to be, your friend had one big surprise for you.

“Pick one.”

“I….I can't.. What if?...”

“If anyone says a word to you or even looks at you the wrong way I'll drag them out myself if I have to. You're not just my best friend, Y/n. You're family. And you deserve to be with us, comfortable in your own skin.”

You already knew she accepted you as you were, but it was the first time you felt seen.

The pleasantries didn't end there-

Spirits high from the touching moment between you and having found the perfect dress for her on only the second day of searching, your friend had one more gift for you.

“Try it on.”

“W-what? But it's your-”

“And someday you'll wear one on your big day. That's what you want, isn't it? A glimpse into your future won't hurt, will it?”

It wouldn't. Even if there's no one waiting for you at the altar, you've always wanted to be that picture perfect bride on top of wedding cakes.

With tear eyes, you sit before her vanity as she dresses you - styling your hair for the veil's crown, painting your lips with a glossy shine that bleeds through the cloth’s transparency, shading your eyes with a shadow that would steal even the toughest hearts with a single glance.

“How do you feel?”

You don't just feel it.

You are beautiful.

“You could've been the one marrying him instead of me. Just thinking about that makes me so jealous…”

Her words fly overhead as you gaze longingly at yourself in the mirror.

“I….I think I have some jewelry in the basement that would suit you nicely. I'll be back in a minute!”

Jewelry?...

Rising up from your seat as she departs, you dig through the contents of your book bag - fingertips lacing the plastic band of a fake ring you won months prior during an outing with your friends. You had an inkling the games at the arcade were rigged which is why you were lacking in tickets. It was between that and a piece of candy. Your best friend's boyfriend thought it was the funniest thing if he proposed to you with it in front of everyone.

Slipping the ring onto your ring finger, your image is complete. No greater amount of jewelry would change how ethereal you were. The veil hid your insecurities, imperfections that with emotional growth and age you'd come to accept and love about yourself. Once you love yourself, perhaps you'll seek a love like that shared between your friend and her soon to be.

Your heart swells in your chest, it beats as if its readying to burst-

Enriching the blood that streams down your torso like the tears of a bride abandoned at the altar.

It hurts.

Your legs give out before the pain fully registers.

You gasp, every ragged breath growing wetter with the blood filling your throat. Through the veil's mask, you cannot see your attacker's face. You can hear it- The virtual rage and anger in their snarl, poison seething through their clenched teeth.

“I can't stand the sight of you.”

They grip the veil’s crown.

“For two years I've lived this lie. All while he's been right next to me this whole time.”

Your hands perch over your chest in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding - a foretelling of your impending fate.

“Did you really think I'd ever be happy with you?”

Your vision flickers as the veil is torn clean - your worst suspensions proven true. You couldn't forget that voice.

“....”

“....Y/n?”

All the anger, the bottled up spite and disgust depletes from his body as he crumbles to the ground behind you. The additional pressure to your wounds does little to stop the bleeding. It's already too late.

“Y/n?.... Y/n?! No, no, no! What are you doing here! It was supposed to be her! It was supposed to be her….”

It's raining. Droplets rain down on your palling face as he slips his fingers between yours - a puzzle that fits perfectly in place. His finger rolls over the cheap, fake ring on your finger - the droplets increasing in frequency.

“It was always supposed to be you. Ever since I saw you from her window. I've always… but she… she took every note. Even ones I didn't write. Everyone knew how beautiful you were.”

That can't be true…

“Am I… Am…I still….?”

“Yes, my love. You are, and always will be - the most beautiful person anyone has ever seen.”

With those words you could die in peace.

But there is someone who will never let you rest.

For as long as his soul still resides on this earth without you by his side.

His everything.

His bride.

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere #yandere x you #male reader #yandere drabble #yandere male #male yandere #ghost reader #tw yandere #yandere angst

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hannahbarberra162 · 3 days ago

Text

Emperor's Prize, Part 6 (Yan Alpha!Shanks x Omega!Reader)

18+ MDNI | On Ao3

All the other chapters

TW: Violence towards the end.

Despite a tightening in your chest at the idea of being on a strange island, you couldn’t resist the excitement that bubbled up in you at the concept of being on solid ground again. You had assumed Shanks would flake on his promise to you once you came back to your senses and you searched his face for any signs of this being a trick.. You were fairly sure that it wasn’t a test but prior experience had made you wary of accepting too readily. Shanks waited for you to speak with soft eyes as he held your hands in his. The two of you were standing in his cabin, the door open to air out the scent of sweat and heat as the ship bobbed gently in the water in the rays of the morning sun.

“So what about it, Little Omega? You want to check out the island? I’m not sure what’s around, we’ve never docked here before -”

“We have, a few times actually,” Benn called from out on the deck as he walked past the open door to the cabin, his ever-present cigarette dangling from his lips.

“We have docked here, a few times actually,” Shanks corrected himself with a bright smile, his red hair falling into his face in an almost endearing way. You gave a small smile back at his foolishness and his eyes shone brighter at the sight.

“You know, that’s the first time you’ve smiled at me outside of heat,” he said as he ran a thumb over the back of your hand. You ducked your head as your cheeks heated at being called out so bluntly. But it also made you wonder what he meant by outside of heat. Had you been so happy during your fucked out phase that you smiled frequently? You considered questioning him on it but you had learned your place on Kid’s ship. You answered his question instead as you did your best to push your concerns away.

“Yes, please, I’d like to visit the island,” you stated and hoped your tone was deferential enough for him not to take it as sass.

“Lovely! There’s nothing more fun than a day trip. We’ll get food on the island too, I’ll go grab some cash from Benn’s cabin. Let’s get moving,” he said as he turned and pulled you along behind him. You kept your eyes on the floor while you followed along meekly, too embarrassed to make eye contact with the crew on deck. After your heat abated, some of the crew had come back to the ship to sleep or gather belongings. Of course, they knew what transpired, it wasn’t like it was a secret, but it still made you feel self conscious to know they’d all been kicked off the ship because you had copious amounts of sex with their Captain. It seemed like Shanks did not have any of the same lingering shame that you did and carried himself as he always did. He was even wearing his Emperor’s cloak that you had in your nest through your heat, though he did wash it thankfully. Shanks pulled you to the middle of the deck while he continued on the way to Benn’s cabin.

“Stay right there, I’ll be back in a moment. Unless Benn changed the locks to his safe again, then it’ll take me a few minutes to pick them,” he called out as he left you standing near the main mast. Left on your own for the first time in days, you shifted your weight from foot to foot and looked down at your feet. You were still wearing Shanks’s far too large clothes rolled up at the wrists and ankles along with being barefooted. Luckily the fair weather made it easy to tolerate the breezy clothing until Shanks purchased proper clothing for you. You stilled when you heard footsteps approaching you and a familiar pair of shoes made their appearance in your field of sight.

“Hiya,” Hongo said as he stopped in front of you. You weren’t sure how much Shanks wanted you to engage with his crew but, he had allowed Hongo near you in the past.

“Hi,” you rasped quietly with your eyes still trained on his boots, waiting for the Beta to tell you what he wanted.

“Look up please,” Hongo requested in a clinical tone. You immediately raised your head but were careful to avoid eye contact. You flinched back when he reached for you, old memories rising to the surface as your back hit the mast behind you.

“It’s alright, I just need to do a quick assessment. Quite the heat, no?” he said conversationally as you felt a familiar warmth crawl across your face. You gave a small nod in response as he tilted your head to look at the old bite. “Looks better, maybe healed faster during a heat with a new Alpha. I read that can happen sometimes, kind of interesting,” he hummed to himself while he ran a finger over the stitches. You heard rumbling in the background that pulled a laugh from Hongo.

“ ‘S alright Cap. Just checking her old bite before your date,” Hongo said before he removed his fingers from your skin. A familiar scent wafted to your nose as Shanks’s arm came to rest on your shoulders. You could still hear the rumbling from his chest but it subsided as his fingers drummed on the column of your neck, pulling you closer to Shanks’s chest. You peeked up at the large Alpha and felt your skin start to crawl at the sight of Shanks’s smile. It wasn’t the bright one that he had given you before that had the skin by his eyes crinkling, his stiff jaw and hard eyes making his expression look almost feral. You fought the urge to cower but Hongo just laughed again as your anxiety wound tighter.

It didn’t feel like the time to ask if this was a date or what your relationship with Shanks actually was. The questions concerning your next move or whether you would stay were something you’d been turning over in your mind since your heat started to wane. Yes, the Emperor had saved you from Kid and taken you from the ship before sinking it. He’d also helped you physically and guided you through your first heat, but you weren’t sure what that meant for the future. He hadn’t given you a claiming bite so you were technically still free. Shanks had also mentioned that you couldn’t reintegrate into society but, maybe he would be open to setting you free if you negotiated some kind of quid pro quo. You couldn’t be completely alone again but maybe there was some kind of alternative to being with Shanks on the seas. You didn’t hate Shanks, but you didn’t love him either. You’d gone unwillingly from one Alpha to another and you wanted to regain some of your independence that you’d worked so long to maintain.

“Gotta work on that jealousy, ‘s not gonna help you,” Hongo teased Shanks while taking another step back. Shanks huffed but the tension between the men eased as you snapped back to attention. Shanks’ arm tightened around you and he kissed the top of your head for good measure before you both started walking towards the dinghy that would take you to shore.

A short boat ride and walk later, you were strolling down the main boardwalk of the island with your hand still tucked within Shanks’s larger one. He hadn’t let it go and you hadn’t pulled it away, the familiar weight and warmth bringing you comfort. The marketplace was charming but it was overwhelming to be on land near so many strangers after months of being at sea with only a small group of people. On top of the bustle of the crowd, everything seemed to be intent on assaulting your senses as the smells and sounds of the market were more vivid than you remembered. You’d passed the trinket section before you neared the food stalls near the beach but everything was taking much longer than you’d expected. The villagers and vendors were excited to see the Emperor and often stopped him for small talk while you stood there silently.

Shanks, thankfully, never made you speak nor did he try to show you off. When people tried to address you or offer you some of their wares, Shanks allowed you to hide behind him like the coward you felt yourself to be. You felt the back of your neck prickle like someone was watching you and that every movement was being tracked. You weren’t able to catch anyone in the act but it felt like eyes were always on you, even without Shanks bestowing his attention on you.

Shanks had offered to buy you something to eat but you’d declined - the scents had grown to be almost nauseating and a headache had begun its steady throb across your temples. You didn’t remember everything being so much when you were on Beta Island. As you passed a particularly odorous food stall, you nearly gagged and had to use a hand to cover your mouth with Shanks’s sleeve to dilute the stench.

“You alright, Love?” Shanks asked as he quizzically looked between you and the food stall. They were selling taiyaki, which had been one of your favorite foods on your old island. Now the pungent odor of the sizzling oil and red bean paste made your stomach roll. You nodded in response but you kept your mouth covered with his shirt. Shanks’s eyebrows knitted together before he pulled you into a nearby alley away from prying eyes. Fresh air was still in short supply with the plethora of smells and scents so, you crouched down and put your head between your hands.

You felt yourself get pulled into Shanks’s lap as the Emperor sat on the dirty ground of the alley, his hand gentle as he massaged your neck while his strong arm pulled you to his chest. You leaned into his familiar touch and brought your nose to the crook of his warm neck to inhale his scent. It calmed you more than you were expecting and you were able to take more deep breaths of his strong Alpha scent. His musk replaced the cloying smells of the market and your body grew slack as the pounding in your head receded. It felt like he was cocooning you against the real world, the only thing you needed was your Alpha to help guide you through your troubles.

“ ‘M sorry, not sure what’s wrong with me,” you mumbled into his skin as you pressed yourself into his scent glands. A niggling desire in you had you wanting to bite them but the thought was shooed away as soon as it appeared.

“Hongo said it might take you some time to adjust to normal now that you’re not on suppressants. It’s alright, we can take it easy. We’ll sit here for as long as you need,” he replied softly while his hand continued to rub slow circles on your neck. You nodded and his scent washed over you to soothe your aches as you scooted even closer to Shanks. Maybe you could see a future that included Shanks, you thought as you laid your head against his collarbones.

Shanks POV

All too soon the little Omega opened her eyes and showed she was ready to continue the trip when she pushed herself back from Shanks’s neck. Shanks allowed her room to stand up before did the same himself and settled his hand on the small of her back to guide her back to the marketplace. He usually enjoyed meeting the people in his territory and hearing about their lives. Shanks took pride in his people being happy and his most common way to spend time on islands was to plop down in some tavern and socialize. The laughter and conversation often became boisterous with the people who would come and go as they bought him drinks all day long.

This time the experience differed as a strange itch caused by the little Omega grew under his skin. She wasn’t doing anything to upset him with her timid nature; she would hide behind him as he spoke with vendors and citizens. Shanks suspected it was the lack of claiming bite on her neck that bothered him and it made him set his usual carefree behavior to the side. She wasn’t bound to him in any true way, even though she clung to his hand like a life preserver as they wound their way through the stalls. Shanks could claim her at any time but it was said that a bond made during a heat cycle was the strongest of all and the least likely to reject. When he claimed the Omega it would be done properly.

Shanks had spoken to Hongo, who had started researching ways to bring the Omega into heat faster than her cycle would normally call for. Hongo wasn’t sure exactly when the Omega would go into heat again since it was already beyond irregular, so he didn’t think it would be a bad idea to force it into some kind of regular rhythm with medication. There weren’t a lot of medical resources available for Omegas but Shanks had faith in his crew’s abilities to perform the jobs he requested of them. He would claim her once the Omega went into heat again and, they’d both feel much more comfortable with their place in the world. Shanks’ thoughts continued to paw through possibilities as he led her towards the textile area of the market when you drew to a sudden halt.

“Look, they have a barber,” she said in her low tone. Shanks was curious about the voice she had lost but the permanent rasp in her voice never failed to send a shiver down his spine. He wouldn’t have let her change it even if she could. He peered in the direction she had turned her head and Shanks saw the familiar red and blue pole indicating a barber shop.

“So they do,” Shanks said while he kept his tone carefully neutral. He mentally flipped through his current options and decided to acquiesce to her request as it could only benefit his attempts to build trust with her. “Would you still like to cut your hair?” he asked as he turned her to face him. The way her eyes brightened paired with the almost appearance of one of her rare smiles told him he made the right call. “After you, Darling,” he said before he opened the door to the bright interior.

“My Emperor! To what do we owe the surprise? Are we to be honored enough to cut the red hair off Red Haired Shanks?” A pudgy middle aged man called out and bowed deeply. Shanks sheepishly smiled at the man’s dramatic greeting before he moved the Omega to stand in front of him. Her nose wrinkled at the scent of the antiseptic used for the combs as her eyes swept around the small, but neat, barbershop. A young man hovered by the barber and snapped to attention when Shanks came in. The barber smacked him out of his reverent stance before he sent him off on an errand, and the young boy skidded out the back door in his hurry.

“Ah, not for me, but would you mind cutting my Omega’s hair? She would like a trim,” he stated as she looked down at herr feet and wiggled her still bare toes.

“O-of course, dear Emperor. Please, please have a seat,” the man hurriedly said as he ushered the Omega into a barber’s chair and Shanks into the one next to it. “Unless, er, perhaps you would like her to sit with you? I apologize, sir, I’ve never encountered an Omega before. I’m not sure what the rules of engagement are and I don’t want to -” Shanks laughed and clapped the barber on the shoulder lightly.

“Not to worry friend, I know you mean no harm. Besides, my Omega can bear to be without my touch for a few moments,” he said, tossing his sweet Omega a grin. She returned his grin with a blank face but nodded, the addition of a stranger having brought back her silence. The barber looked over the condition of her hair as he sprayed it down with water. She flinched at the feel of the soft spray against her skin and gripped the arms of the chair as she did her best to ignore the barber’s movements. Shanks reached out to soothe her and stroked her hand, sorry he hadn’t thought to warn her about the water. Shanks considered the overgrown mane she currently sported as he sat back in his chair. Shanks was loath for the entire length to go since he wanted most of it to remain for her next heat. Still, he wanted her trust in him to grow so he reasoned a small trim would be enough to mollify her .

“And how would you like her hair cut, Emperor?” the barber queried as he brushed out the Omega’s hair.

“I think cutting off the dead ends would be best, yes?” Shanks called out as he rested one foot over his knee. The Omega had opened her mouth to say something but had closed it as Shanks responded for her. The barber didn’t ask her opinion of the Alpha’s request and she didn’t offer it as he began to cut quite a few inches off the ends of her hair. It was still long enough for him to wrap around his fist, so it would be okay. The young boy came back with a cold six pack of beer which he presented to the Emperor with a flourish.

“That’s awfully kind of you, thanks, kid,” Shanks said with a grin as he took one of the bottles. He popped the top off with Gryphon’s hilt and the metal cap clinked to the floor. “Would you like one too?” The kid looked at the barber who issued him a parent’s silent command with a wide eyed look and a firm nod.

“O-of course, Emperor, thank you,” the young man said while he grabbed one for himself.

“And one for Dad too, yeah?” Shanks said and tossed another at the boy. The kid caught it with a broad smile which Shanks returned with the same enthusiasm. Shanks could feel it in his bones that this kid was a troublemaker. The boy opened his father’s bottle and set it on the counter as the older man worked on the Omega’s hair.

“Whatcha want to do when you get older, kid?” Shanks asked before he took a swig from his bottle.

“I’m gonna leave this island and become a pirate!” The young man proclaimed and thumped his chest. The older man clenched his jaw hard enough to make his salt and pepper mustache wiggle but stayed silent.

“Is that so? You think you have what it takes?” Shanks continued to drink as he teased the young boy.

“Yeah, I do! I’m strong, brave, and I wanna be free!” He exclaimed and did his best to mimic Shanks’ casual way of drinking. He made a face after his sip but Shanks was content to let him have his moment.

“Being a pirate is the ultimate freedom, it’s true. Nothin’ like it,” Shanks mused and polished off his beer with a final swig. The Omega’s cut was nearly done, the barber now fussing over her hairstyle as he ran the brush through her slightly shorter hair.

“What do you think, Emperor?” the barber asked and turned her to face Shanks. He had a mirror near the back of her head to conveniently show Shanks the complete cut without having to turn her around again.

“Lovely as ever, wonderful job,” Shanks replied as the Omega stood up and softly touched her hair before she pulled it forward to see the results. Shanks pulled some beri out of his pocket and handed it to the kid.

“See ya on the seas,” Shanks said with a wink. The kid blushed so hard Shanks thought he was going to pass out as the two of you left the shop.

Your POV

You tried to get a look at your haircut via the glass as you left the barber shop, still being pulled along by Shanks. You weren’t able to see the back but then again, you weren’t asked what you had wanted anyway. Additionally, Shanks hadn’t offered you a beer out of the six pack or even asked if you were thirsty. You pressed your lips into a thin as you cataloged the various slights but did your best to ignore them as you continued down the sidewalk.

“Ready to go clothes shopping, Love? Bet you’re tired of wearing my stuff,” Shanks asked as he looked down at you, his arm around your shoulder. The sidewalk you were on had few people, the streets had cleared out for people to take their midday break. You nodded and after a few minutes of walking in silence, Shanks guided you to a women’s clothing store and held the door open for you. The racks of premade clothes, the bright lights, and the scents of lotions and perfumes were a lot for you to take in. You took a step back into Shanks, who simply kissed the top of your head as salespeople began to swarm you and the Emperor.

“We’re in need of women’s clothing, bring us a selection,” Shanks boomed out to the employees in the store. He wasn’t trying to be rude or intimidating but the nicely dressed Betas looked at one another before they gave you an assessing once over. They dispersed to all sections of the large store in a flurry, some going for shoes, others for dresses, shirts, pants, anything you could ever want. The nicest dressed man of them all calmly approached Shanks with his palms up in supplication. As he neared you noticed that the thin man’s upper lip was beaded with perspiration despite the cool temperature of the store.

“Emperor, I am Kuro, and this is our humble establishment. Please allow us to serve you and your Omega to the best of our abilities. To that end, would you prefer to observe from our comfortable couches while the Omega tries on our wares?” he said with a simpering tone and adjusted his circle framed glasses with his long fingers. You didn’t like the reedy man- while the barber had also only addressed Shanks, the salesman felt slimier somehow to you and you fought the urge to recoil further into Shanks. His scent was amiss too, but it was difficult to discern why it smelt wrong with so many perfumes in the air. Shanks didn't seem to notice anything odd and guided you down the hallway towards the dressing rooms in the back of the store. There was a large cushy couch in front of a coffee table, laden with champagne, hard alcohol and canapes that was adjacent to the try on rooms.

“It’ll be like a fashion show, pick what you want and show me how it looks,” Shanks suggested as you gripped the velvet of his cloak. Your gut told you that being seperated from him was a bad idea though you couldn’t articulate why. He glanced down at your fist clamped on his cloak and he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right here the whole time,” he reassured you as he gently pried your fingers off, and sank down into the couch before he kicked his feet up on the pristine table.

You walked to the changing area while the slender man held the door open for you, three saleswomen already bringing you armfuls of clothes. You were practically pushed into one of the stalls as saleswomen handed you assorted items to try on. Some underwear and a bra were the first items pressed into your hands before they herded you towards the private changing room. You closed the door and removed Shanks’s clothes, taking care to fold them neatly and place them on the small chair inside the dressing room. You put on the underwear, thankful to whoever thought about it. Even if you bought nothing else in the store, at least you’d have some coverage now.

You used the next few minutes to look over your haircut in the floor length mirror since you hadn’t had a chance to get a good look yet. It was alright, you supposed, but it wasn’t really what you wanted. You had wanted it really short, above your shoulders but this was more of a trim that kept your hair longer. Maybe you would be able to convince Shanks another time, you thought as you frowned at the strand you held between your fingers.

Turning your gaze to the mountain of clothes set out for you, you picked up the first shirt from the pile. It was more feminine than you tended to prefer, the cut designed to hug your body rather than the baggier clothes you usually wore. In fact, if Shanks’s clothes had been closer to your size, you and the Emperor could match every day. You liked large, breezy garments that allowed for movement and ease of mobility without showing off your body. Maybe there would be something else for you in the growing piles outside the dressing rooms.

“How’s it going in there?” Shanks yelled from the lounging area. With a small sigh, you grabbed the first pair of pants you saw from the pile as well and barely gave yourself a glance in the mirror as you pulled them on. They hugged your curves and clung to your legs in a way that left little to the imagination to your immense dislike. You opened the white painted wooden door, the scent of fresh paint strong in your nose. But it wasn’t strong enough to hide the faint odor of a Beta somewhere close to the small changing room. You hadn’t heard any footsteps going to any of the other dressing rooms and an alarm rang in your head as the proximity of the smell fully registered with you.

You nearly ran down the hallway that separated you from the Emperor to the lounge area. Shanks gave you a whistle and moved his finger in a stirring motion, so you obediently turned in a slow circle to show off the whole outfit. It was far from the worst thing that had ever happened to you but that didn’t make it any less demeaning as Shanks shamelessly ran his eyes down your body. The closeness of the unseen Beta made your skin prickle while a cold sweat began to dot your forehead. Your instincts screamed at you that something was wrong and you wanted to leave, now .

“Love it, get the outfit if you want,” Shanks said while he emptied a flute of champagne. “Try on some dresses too,” he suggested before he set down the glass to grab some hors d'oeuvres. You sat down next to him on the couch and gripped his knee as the salespeople looked at one another.

“Sh-shanks, there’s someone there,” you whispered to him. He smiled at you and wiped his hand on his shirt, then he settled his hand on top of your own in a failed attempt to placate you.

“Love, there’s a lot of people here. Are the scents too strong or-”

“Is everything alright here? May I refresh your beverage Emperor?” Kuro, just beyond your reach. Your eyes bounced between him and Shanks as your throat threatened to close from fear.

“N-no, there’s someone in the changing room, I could smell them as I came out. Please, please d-don’t make me go back there,” you begged while you gripped his pants with your fists. Shanks’s smile dropped as his gaze tightened at your frightened plea. He looked as much the Emperor as he had been the first night you’d met him and you shrank back from him on the couch. He stilled for a moment as his eyes seemed to focus on something you couldn’t see.

Before you could react Shanks whipped towards Kuro and sank his fangs into the thin man’s neck. Kuro’s garbled wail was replaced by the sickening sound of tearing flesh and sinew as Shanks ripped out his throat and spat it on the floor. The hunk of flesh landed on the now bloodied floor with a wet smack that broke you out of your frozen state. You opened your mouth to scream in horror but nothing came out as you watched the blood drip from the Emperor’s mouth. Shanks seemed unphased when he pushed the now dying man over, where he slumped on the floor as blood gurgled out of the open wound in a steady gush.

“Bad outcome,” Shanks stated as he wiped the blood still dripping from his fangs onto his cloak. You responded to the gore just as you had on the Victoria Punk; you closed your eyes, covered your ears, and curled as small as you could.

Shanks POV

Shanks sensed there would be a problem at the clothing store even before they entered. Something wasn’t hadn’t been quite right and Shanks had spent enough years on the sea to know to listen to his gut. Still, his Omega needed clothes and if Shanks couldn’t protect her from whatever it was, she’d be dead either way. So he’d allowed himself to be lured to the couch, drank the champagne, and pretended to be interested in whatever the pirate was trying to sell him. Better to play along while she was out of sight and keep his ears pricked for signs of trouble than potentially put her in worse danger.

When she returned from trying on her outfit, his fangs elongated of their own volition at the sight of her. He made sure to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible while he took in her tense posture and pale face before he beckoned her closer. He stiffened when he heard her hushed warning about a Beta lurking near the dressing room and allowed his future sight to wash over him.

A searing rage erupted in him at what was intended for the Omega. The store, though it did sell clothes, was a front for a slaving operation led by the main salesman, Kuro. Kuro had heard that an unclaimed Omega was on the island and had already located a buyer willing to pay billions of beri for her. Kuro tried to separate you from Shanks as another pirate waited in your dressing room, ready to gag and restrain you and take you back through the secret door in the mirror.

How Kuro was so arrogant to think he’d be able to take an Emperor’s Omega, Shanks didn’t know. What he did know was that seeing his sweet Omega bound and terrified in that vision, crying as someone kidnapped you again had his fangs in Kuro’s throat before he could think. The metallic tang of the Beta’s blood filled his mouth as he ripped out the pirate’s throat as easily as biting into a peach. The store erupted into chaos as blood gushed from their boss’s neck, the other slavers fleeing through secret exits as they screamed. Kuro’s body crumpled to the ground with a small shove, his final breaths a dull wheeze as his throat landed on the floor beside him.

When he turned to the Omega, she was curled up on the couch in a shaking ball. She cringed away from him when he put his hands on her and peeked her eyes open to peer at the Alpha. She put her hands up in front of her like Shanks was going to hurt her but didn’t bolt away. Pale and shaking, she whimpered as Shanks picked her up and left the store, passing Yasopp and Lime Juice on his way back to the marina.

“The clothing store’s a front for slavers. Find the people already taken, and free them. Still need women’s clothes from the store, bring some back to the ship. Deal with everyone else as you see fit,” Shanks said and jerked his head back towards the clothing store. As an Emperor, it was his duty to prevent slavery in his territories and to send a message that Red Haired Shanks wouldn’t allow his people to come to harm. The islands that flew his flag were under his protection and such behavior going on under his nose was an insult to his reputation. Shanks looked down at the still quivering Omega as she buried her face in his neck and her arms maintained a weak grip on his broad shoulders.

“Hey, nothing bad happened. It was going to, but I stopped it, yeah? I’ll always help you,” he murmured and placed a kiss on the top of her head as he walked her back through the market. The small gesture was one of his favorites, his way of showing you that he cared about you. The tenderness was tainted this time by the blood stains left in your hair from his face, your new cut now ruined. Shanks frowned but didn’t have another hand with which to wipe it off.

She didn’t respond either, not that he expected her to. She’d been quiet all day, overwhelmed by your senses and struggling to readjust to life without suppressants like Hongo had said. Shanks guided her through it all, glad to be her safe harbor in stormy weather. He’d enjoyed caring for her, spending time with her, and showing her that there was still some fun to be had in the world. He was so proud that she had sought him out to help her when she needed it, showing how much more reliant on him she had already become.

“Love, look at me,” he requested in a quiet voice and gently nudged her head with his chin. She shook her head in a rare act of defiance and nestled further into him. Normally, Shanks would revel in this sensation, but he wanted to reassure her verbally. Shanks frowned at her behavior and repeated his request with a Command behind it.

“Love, look at me.”

She pulled back just enough to reveal her face as she glanced up at him through her eyelashes. She didn’t seem herself, even the overwhelmed or scared versions he’d already witnessed. Her eyes had a glazed, absent look like your mind was far off in some other place that Shanks couldn’t reach. Though he had arrived at the marina and could take the dinghy back to the Red Force, Shanks instead sat down on a bench facing the water with her on his lap. Her eyes were still trained on him as he’d told her to but that did nothing to distract him from the unsettling blankness behind them.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he Commanded. Shanks knew it wasn’t fair - Commands weren’t meant to be used to have Omegas express their thoughts or feelings - but Shanks needed insight, needed to know what to do to bring that light back into her eyes. After the Command registered, she finally came back from her thoughts. She blinked several times and bit her lips shut to try to avoid the compulsion to answer. All the while she still stared at Shanks, as if truly seeing him for the first time.

“I - I -...” she started before she clamped her mouth shut again. It broke his heart to see her so unsure and scared.

“No matter what you say, I won’t be mad. I promise,” he said while he ran his hand up and down her back in an attempt at reassurance. She was still in the new clothes you’d changed into from the clothing store and the diminished smell of him on her made his primal instincts scream in indignation. There really wasn’t anything she could say that would sway his love but he knew she needed a lot of support and gentle handling given your background.

“What’s my name?” She asked quietly, her gaze on the sea as she sat on his lap.

“What’s that, Love?” Shanks asked in surprise at her simple question. He expected her to talk about the bloodshed, or his power, or how overwhelmed she was - anything but that.

“My name isn’t ‘Love.’ Do you know my real name?” She asked again in her deep voice. Shanks considered her for a moment before he flashed her a smile that made his scars wink across his face.

“Guess not! Didn’t ask you, huh? Oof, I feel like a real heel.” he said while he rubbed her cheek with his thumb in slow strokes. “I thought you were scared of what happened in the store but you’re just worrying about silly little -”

“It’s not silly,” she said with a blank face as she continued to look away from him. Shanks frowned as he shifted her closer to his chest and wrapped his arm around her middle. He had half a mind to Command her to stop her talking about this unimportant topic but he said he wouldn’t be upset by whatever she said. “I don’t - you treat me like….like I’m just an Omega,” you said in a small unwavering voice.

“You are an Omega, Love,” Shanks replied and his eyebrows knit together as the point of her statement missed him completely. Perhaps he should ask Hongo to better explain her designation, maybe knowing more would help her adjust to her new reality.

“I’m more than that. I’m a person first.”

“Of course. No one is saying you aren’t -”

“You don’t treat me like a person. You treat me like I’m an object, something to possess, a treasure -” Shanks’s eyes narrowed as his fingers tightened on her waist. He tried to collect his thoughts as they raced at her admonishment and express them in a way your frazzled mind would understand.

“Yes, you’re a treasure. You’re my treasure -”

“I don’t want to go back to the -”

“ Stop talking,” Shanks Commanded her, his jaw clenched hard enough for a vein to stand out in his neck even as he continued to hold her gently. Her mouth snapped shut as she avoided his gaze and she hunched her shoulders as she felt a rumble begin to vibrate along her back. Shanks wasn’t sure how much of what she’d said was because he compelled her but he didn’t want to hear the rest of those thoughts. How could she say she didn’t want to return to his ship, to return to him ? How could she reject him after all he’d done for her, trying to leave him after he’d just shown her how he would protect her, help her, guide her? The rumble that emanated from his chest was like a war cry, not the soothing purr she had become used to. Shanks wanted to roar his anger loud enough for other islands to hear it, to slice the island in two with Gryphon, to hide her away where she’d never be able to leave him again.

Tears streamed down her face as you remained silent under his Command. She sniffled and tried her best not to move, her strong scent of fear now wafting towards Shanks in a biological gesture of supplication to soothe his ire. Her fingers were intertwined tightly enough to whiten her knuckles as she tried to self soothe. Shanks’s anger deflated as he took in her pathetic form while he looked down at her.

Of course she didn’t want to go back to the ship , he thought, she was scared and confused. She probably had a flashback at the clothing store to her time with Kid and Shanks’s surge of possessive anger did little to help. He belatedly realized he didn’t tell her why he ripped out that man’s throat in front of her. At this point she probably assumed he was prone to erratic and extreme violence like Kid had been. He sighed and unwound his hand from her side to reach for her face. She flinched as he cupped her cheek but didn’t pull back.

“Love, I know you’re having a hard time adjusting. I’m not going to hold any of what you said against you, like I promised. Haven’t I kept all my promises?” Shanks asked while he wiped away an errant tear. She did her best to not dislodge Shanks’s hand when she responded with a small nod.

“How can we separate? Those people were slavers - they wanted to sell you to a Celestial Dragon, they already had a buyer lined up. I had to get rid of Kuro to protect you and the other people they’d already taken,” he explained gently as she sniffled again.

“You need someone to protect you, to prevent things like that from happening again. If not Celestial Dragons, you’d end up with someone like Kaido or Big Mom. You wouldn’t want that, right?” She shook her head at his questions, as the reason why she had to remain with Shanks finally hit her. He felt a little guilty but he needed to drive the point home, to make her see that she needed to stay with him.

“Besides, you can’t even walk around by yourself, right? Remember this morning when we had to take a break for you to smell me? We’re well on the way to bonded if you’re acting like that, it’s going to happen sooner or later. We’ll be bonded and we’ll settle down into a life of happiness together, yeah? Everything will be so much easier for us both. You need me just like I need you,” Shanks said in a low croon and turned her face toward his. “Look at me, little Omega,” he asked this time without a Command. Her red rimmed eyes met his own as he leaned down within a hair's breadth of her face.

“We were meant to be,” Shanks said before he captured her lips in a kiss that seared the reality of her future with him into her mind.

Taglist: @v1ennie @staarflowerr @treelogirl @rebeccawinters @nocturnalrorobin @mochiclouds @cursedforlife666 @epochal-oracle @whore-of-many-hot-men @one-piecelover @anemonyee @joana7654-blog @mfreedomstuff @littlelovebug98 @hannya-writes @babi-lamb @sanjisleggy @princessuta061108 @twismare @iamrgo @littlelovebug98 @anonymousmuffinbear

#op x y/n #x reader #tw yandere #shanks x reader #op shanks #red haired shanks #alpha shanks #omega reader #omegaverse #emperor's prize au #tw violence #tw mentions of violence #red haired pirates

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chris-prank · 1 day ago

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In my mind there are two types of yanderes

1) "You belong to me"

2) "I belong to you"

So what do you think the lil silly guys are?

- Anon💤

CW: Slightly suggestive in Esteban’s part

Here is more context for their placement!

Vincent thinks that you’re equally his just as he is equally yours, so he is the perfect middle. It comes from his submissive personality mixed with his identity as a mad scientist. Villains do have the reputation of obsessing over things they want for themselves.

Esteban does see himself as yours as well, but I think that his arrogant side, coming from the fact that he is a rich CEO, still makes him more the “you’re mine” type of yandere. It manifests in the sense that you’re the only one that can order him around, that can take care of him at his worst and the only one that can pin him down. So you’re his little boss.

Since Atlas still thinks of himself as nothing more than an android, he thinks he only deserves to be by your side if he can be useful to you. But being yours doesn’t mean he’s not ready to go to the extreme to keep it that way, you just need him to tend for you after all.

For Martin, you're his. His to protect, his to adore, his to love, etc. He is not to the extreme because he still sees his darling as an independent individual and not a thing to be possessed. It’s more a “If you’re by my side, you will be the happiest you can ever be” type of mindset.

It might surprise some that Jacce isn’t at the most extreme, but he is human, meaning he doesn’t think that he literally belongs to you like an unanimated object (he is at the very least your puppy, so still a living being). Plus, there’s a greedy part of him that wants you for himself, that’s one of the reason why he offered to be your pet, that way he can monopolize all of your attention.

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kiame-sama · 1 day ago

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Omg, the Clutch is just a bunch of silly babies

Would the Clutch be clueless enough that if they see their own reflection in a mirror they’ll attack it because they see a dragon that doesn’t look like their sibling and they’re like “WHO ARE YOU?!?” (They don’t realize that’s what they look like)

Like these;

https://youtube.com/shorts/Xd7UlxBQYUI?si=9WIdulxP3OaKKz0W

https://youtube.com/shorts/KxOsklVFLNs?feature=shared

I would be laughing too, especially if I got it on video and just encourage the babies to ‘Get them!’ because I know Lilia will be in stitches from laughter with me over the babies being clueless

They are not to the point of awareness to be able to identify themselves in a mirror yet, not until they are at least 40-50 years old. They will see this Dragon look-alike copying them and go nuts attacking it. Despite how young they are, they are strong enough to shatter glass, so take care in how you introduce them to their reflections.

Half of them hide from their reflections and half of them attack their reflections, so it has to be some sturdy glass to be able to withstand the Hatchlings attacking and losing their minds over their reflections.

For the ones that hide from their reflections, they need to be gently introduced to mirrors and encouraged to face their reflections. They will scream in fear at first and usually that scream tells their more dominant and confident siblings that something is wrong and they need help. The siblings that arrive to help the more timid will be shattering the glass for daring to make their sibling scream and cower.

For the Hatchlings that are more confident and proud, they will fluff up upon see their reflection- make their scales stand on end to look bigger than they are like cats do- and then subsequently attack the intruder. They don't understand that they are just attacking glass, but they will understand that this impostor needs to go. There will be squealing, and tail smacks, and clawing, and vicious headbutts, so they may need to be removed from the mirror to not break it and calm down.

Those that have seen their reflection are on edge until their Human parent calms them down and soothes them, so they will be fussy and moody with almost everyone. Malleus is unsure why the Hatchlings are so angry and doesn't really understand that they are too young to realize it is their reflection.

#kiame-sama #humans are extinct twst au #yandere #tw yandere #hae Clutch

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lovezbrownies · 9 hours ago

Text

Devout. (M!Yandere Scholar.) Part One.

General Masterlist - Pinterest Board

Synopsis: Ronan Solmere is a devout scholar, who only believes in logic. So what happens when he falls in love with an ancient god who is now forgotten in the middle of a cave and wishes to bring them back into remembrance? A story of desperation and pathetic men.

PAIRING: Yandere!Ronan X GN!Reader.

ALLERT: Reader is depicted with hair/hair long enough to flow in the wind, so a little below ear level at the very least. Other than that Reader is completely not depicted to be any race, gender, or size.

Ronan Solmere was born into a prestigious family of scholars, historians, and occultists—people who prided themselves on knowledge above all else. From childhood, he was surrounded by dusty tomes, flickering candlelight, and whispers of things that should never be spoken aloud. He was a prodigy, absorbing everything with a hunger that frightened even his mentors.

Yet, for all his brilliance, Ronan had always been alone. His mind was a labyrinth of theories and ideas, of half-formed thoughts and forgotten knowledge waiting to be unearthed, but none of it ever made him feel truly alive. Books were his only companions, their ink-stained pages the only hands that had ever reached out to him, and yet, for all the wisdom they offered, they could never answer the question that gnawed at the edges of his existence:

What else is out there? He had read every tome, studied every scrap of history he could find, but it was never enough—it would never be enough. The world was still too vast, too unknown, and the hunger in his soul would not let him rest. It was this hunger that drove him deeper into his studies, until days bled into nights, until the voices of the living faded into the background like distant echoes, until even the warmth of the sun became foreign to him.

And then, one day, he found it. A fragment of a story carved into the very bones of the earth, its meaning fractured but undeniable. Ancient inscriptions, written by hands long turned to dust, spoke of something lost—something buried within the mountain’s heart. The tale was incomplete, broken by time and erosion, yet even in its ruin, it called to him.

The idea of an unfinished story, of knowledge left to rot in the dark, was unbearable. What had they written about? Why had it been abandoned? More importantly, who had written it, and what had they tried to hide? These questions took root in his mind, growing like ivy, twisting and curling until they were all he could think about. The unknown was intolerable, maddening, and he could not resist the pull of it.

Thus, the ever-starved scholar in him made it his very life’s mission to uncover the truth. He spent weeks searching, tracing the edges of the mountain, following whispers in research papers and half-forgotten myths, until at last, his efforts bore fruit. At the mountain’s base, hidden beneath a thick curtain of tangled vines and wild shrubbery, he found an entrance—a cave, untouched, unseen, waiting. A place no map had recorded, no explorer had documented. The mouth of the cave loomed before him, gaping like the maw of some slumbering beast, the air around it thick with the scent of damp earth and something else—something old, something watching. But strangely, it was not Ronan who first disturbed the entrance.

No, it was a rabbit.

A small, delicate thing, pure white against the darkened stone, its fur so pristine it almost seemed to glow. It moved without fear, weaving effortlessly through the vines, slipping into the cave’s depths as if it had done so a thousand times before. And Ronan, for all his logic and reason, found himself hesitating. Why did it feel like an invitation? He wasn’t one to believe in omens or fate, and yet, he couldn’t shake the eerie familiarity of it all—like a tale he had read long ago, or a dream he had nearly forgotten.

The image of Alice and her rabbit crossed his mind unbidden, a silly comparison, perhaps, but fitting. He, too, was being led into the unknown, driven not by fear but by curiosity, by an insatiable need to see more, to know more, to discover what lay beyond the veil of the ordinary.

And so, like a helpless, curious girl stumbling after a fairy tale, Ronan stepped through the vines and followed.

As Ronan followed the pure white rabbit deeper into the cave, an unsettling sense of anticipation settled within him, as if the very walls were watching. The air grew colder, heavier, and with each step he took, a strange energy began to pulse within him, sparking beneath his skin. Magic, untamed and restless, ignited the palms of his hands—flickers of flame dancing between his fingers, casting long, jittery shadows on the walls. His eyes, wide with fascination, traced the ancient carvings etched into the stone.

The drawings were crude at first, rough lines that spoke of a time long past, but the story was unmistakable: it was the tale of a lesser god, neither the weakest nor the strongest of deities. A being powerful enough to command worship but not enough to endure the tests of time. A good god, by all measures. A god who should have been remembered, praised for centuries, whose name should have been spoken with reverence, prayed to with desperation. Yet here, in this forsaken cave, there was no worship, no glory—only fading lines and forgotten dreams.

Ronan’s gaze fixed on the images: scenes of a god’s kindness, the god’s urgency to answer the prayers of their believers. But there was something strange about it—the only followers depicted were the villagers of the very mountain. How could this be? The drawings told a tale of a devotion so pure, so earnest, that it sustained the god through millennia. Villagers had lived here, praying at the foot of this mountain, offering their lives and hopes to the deity they believed in. It had been enough to fuel the god for centuries, to give them form and power. Yet, as Ronan’s eyes wandered across the walls, something felt off.

Where had the almighty calamity god gone? Where were their followers? The god had vanished, and with them, the village—once prosperous, as depicted in the wall art, is now lost to time. The deeper Ronan ventured into the cave, the more fragmented the images became. The artist, or more like generations of artists, it seemed, had grown weary, frustrated, perhaps even fearful. The lines became jagged, the symbols less detailed, the stories less full of life. It was as if the devotion that had once powered the god was fading from the walls themselves.

By the end of the cave, the drawings grew sparse, their edges fraying into nothing. The last few images were simple, almost chilling in their finality—a single lonely villager, their face obscured by sorrow. Around them, concentric circles, drawn in frantic strokes, seemed to represent a loss. The disappearance of the god, the disappearance of hope.

The final drawing was an image of grief—a broken figure, kneeling in despair, hands reaching out in a futile attempt to bring their god back. They wished for the return of the god, wished for their family, wished to revive the village to its prime, to restore everything they had lost.

But their god had abandoned them long ago, long before the villagers' hearts turned cold. In the beginning, the god had answered every prayer, every cry for mercy, for guidance, for blessings. But as time passed, something changed. The villagers, once humble and grateful, began to ask for more—more than they deserved, more than they needed. The greed festered within them, a dark seed that took root in their hearts. Their god, once generous and giving, became hesitant, cautious. The once pure desire for divine favor twisted into demands, tainted with sin, with selfishness. And the god, in their wisdom, began to withdraw, unwilling to nourish the evil blooming within their people.

The prayers grew quieter, then more desperate, until they became accusations. The villagers, once fervent in their belief, now spoke against the god they had once adored. The sacred name of the calamity god was no longer uttered with reverence but with mockery, with bitterness. Curses replaced blessings. They turned their backs on the god, forgetting the kindness they had once received, blinded by their own hunger for more.

And so, the god, wounded by the greed and disdain of those they had once cared for, made their decision. They left. With a heavy heart and sorrowful eyes, the god announced their departure. The villagers, now unworthy of the god’s love, were free to seek another, one who would answer every demand, regardless of how cruel or selfish.

A god who would grant wishes without hesitation, without judgment, without mercy. And so, the calamity god turned away, leaving the villagers to their fate, choosing instead to roam the roads carved by their Father of Omnipotence, seeking solace in the vast beauty of the world, leaving behind a broken village.

In time, the villagers found a new god, one who promised to fulfill their every whim. But the price of their greed was more than they had ever anticipated. The village, once thriving, began to wither. Famine came, followed by drought. The crops failed, the rivers dried, and even the children began to vanish. The villagers, who had once reveled in their new god’s promises, now found themselves on their knees, pleading for the return of the god they had forsaken. But it was too late.

The new god, a vengeful and bitter sibling of the calamity god, was not as merciful. Slowly, painfully, they began to exact revenge—killing the villagers one by one, torturing them with hunger, disease, and despair. The gods’ broken-hearted sibling paid them back in kind for their betrayal, ensuring that no one would escape their vengeance.

The cries of the dying echoed through the empty streets as the last of the villagers begged for mercy. Begged for the return of their true god, the one they had cast aside. But the calamity god did not answer. Or at least, that’s what it seemed. Ronan could feel the weight of the silence in the air, thick and suffocating. The abandoned wooden and straw houses, the remnants of a once-thriving village, stood as silent witnesses to the god’s final decision.

The god had not answered. Not in the way the villagers had hoped. And though the cries of the desperate echoed through the forgotten halls, Ronan knew the truth—they had been left to their fate, forsaken by the very deity they had once worshiped. And their new god, cruel and heartless, had avenged the calamity god’s broken spirit, ensuring that no one would live to remember the god’s name.

Ronan was unsure of how the story had truly ended, but in the silence of the cave, in the stillness of the forsaken village, he knew this: the god had abandoned them, and their vengeance had come. The villagers had made their choice, and now they would suffer for it, their bodies and souls alike taken by the wrath of the divine.

Ronan stood frozen, unable to tear his gaze away, his very breath stolen by the sheer divinity before him. At the heart of the cavern, carved with reverence beyond human comprehension, was you—a god once worshipped, once loved, now abandoned yet preserved in eternal stone. The cavern walls, though once filled with countless prayers and desperate carvings of your name, felt deathly silent now, as if waiting for the one being they longed for to finally return. And you, standing tall and unyielding, were the only one who remained.

It was clear that you had been cherished. Even in your stillness, even in the lifelessness of the cold, carved stone, you were mesmerizing—too perfect for mortal hands to have created without devotion bordering on obsession. Your hair, sculpted with delicate precision, flowed behind you as if caught in an unseen wind, every strand shaped with aching care, a lover’s touch immortalized in stone. Your expression was soft yet distant, your gaze tilted ever so slightly downward, as though you were once shy to meet the eyes of those who knelt before you. And your lips… a small, enigmatic smile curved upon them, frozen in time, caught between warmth and secrecy, as though hiding the echo of a laughter lost to centuries.

But it was your eyes that truly stole his breath.

The irises had been carved out, replaced with two perfect, polished pieces of gold, gleaming even in the dim, flickering light of his fire. Not merely decoration—a sacrifice. Gold was no trivial material, no cheap adornment. Whoever had created this had given up wealth, power, their very livelihood, all for the sake of capturing you, of ensuring that your gaze would never lose its luster. It was love. There was no other word for it. The depth of that devotion pressed into his chest like an unbearable weight, stealing the very air from his lungs.

And in that moment, he was no different from them.

His fingers twitched at his sides, itching to reach out, to touch, to trace the curve of your face, to feel even a fraction of what had driven an entire people to their knees in worship. The warmth of the firelight reflected in your golden eyes, making them glimmer like they were truly watching him, and an ache bloomed deep in his ribs. What was this feeling? This irrational, all-consuming, impossible sensation clawing its way into his heart? You were a god, a long-forgotten deity whose name had not been spoken in centuries, and yet—he wanted you. Not just to study, not just to understand, but to know.

Had you ever loved a mortal before?

The thought sent a sharp thrill through his spine, both ridiculous and intoxicating. Did gods… date mortals? It was a foolish notion, laughable even, and yet his mind refused to let it go. He imagined, for just a moment, what it would feel like to be the object of a god’s attention. To have those golden eyes look upon him not with passive observation, but with true interest, with the same tenderness that had once belonged to the people who carved this shrine.

And then, reality struck him like a cruel joke.

What did he have to offer? He was no one. No great sorcerer, no noble hero of legend. His magic was weak, barely enough to sustain him within the ranks of the Royal Scholars. His childhood dream of becoming a powerful mage had shattered years ago, crumbling beneath the weight of his limitations. He was just a man. Just a man standing before a god whose followers had once carved their love into stone—followers who had still lost you in the end.

But still, he was here, wasn’t he?

Still breathing in the remnants of your presence, still aching to understand you, still willing to fall if it meant knowing more. His heart pounded furiously against his ribs, the sound deafening in the cavern’s silence. His lips parted, a breathless whisper caught in his throat.

The thought sent a sharp, dizzying rush through his veins, something almost feverish in its intensity. Your savior. It was a ridiculous notion, yet the mere possibility of it set his heart ablaze. The idea that he, a mere scholar with nothing but ink-stained fingers and a mind consumed by obsession, could be the one to bring you back into the world… it was exhilarating.

His fingers hovered over the carved stone tablet at your feet, barely brushing its timeworn surface. Your name. It was right there, preserved through centuries of dust and decay, waiting—waiting for him. He traced each letter with reverence, whispering it under his breath, feeling the shape of it on his tongue like a sacred incantation. So many had once called upon you, prayed to you, offered their devotion to you, and yet… you had been forgotten. Left to gather dust in the darkness of this cavern, abandoned by the very people who had once adored you.

It made his stomach twist with something close to rage.

How could they? How could anyone willingly turn their backs on something—someone—so divine? The gods above must have been blind to allow this injustice to happen. He could almost picture it: you, standing before your people one last time, watching as their devotion waned, as their voices no longer lifted in prayer, as their faith crumbled into greed. Did you grieve for them? Or had you merely accepted it, retreating into the world, leaving behind only whispers of your name and a statue that would one day be forgotten?

No.

Ronan clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. He refused to accept that. You deserved more. You deserved to be known, to be worshipped, to have the world fall at your feet once more. And if no one else would do it, then—then he would.

The idea settled deep into his bones, solid and immovable. It was no longer a passing thought, no longer the foolish musings of an enraptured scholar. It was a conviction. A calling. If you had no worshippers left, then he would become the first of many. He would spread your name, carve your likeness into the hearts of men, gather followers until your presence could no longer be ignored. He would bring you back.

And then… then perhaps he would finally hear your voice.

The thought made his breath hitch, his cheeks burning with something dangerously close to longing. What would you sound like? Would your voice be gentle, like the murmuring wind through ancient trees? Or would it be rich and velvety, commanding and undeniable? Would you smile at him, whisper his name like a prayer? Would you… thank him?

His stomach twisted, a strange, delicious ache curling through his chest.

Would you love him for it?

He shook his head, pressing his knuckles against his lips as if to physically suppress the thought. Blasphemous. Utterly, shamelessly blasphemous. You were a god, and he—he was nothing.

But gods had loved mortals before. Hadn’t they?

Perhaps, if he was devout enough, if he worshipped you fiercely enough, if he proved himself utterly and completely yours—perhaps you would look upon him with favor. Perhaps, one day, you would see him.

A slow, trembling breath left his lips. Yes. He would make sure of it.

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