#Yandere Star Wars

[threepandas]

Counting Down: 3 [<-Prev][]

My eyes were getting worse. There was nothing the healers could really do. Because, ultimately? There was nothing actually wrong, with my eyes. They were working exactly as nature intended. Exactly as my genetics designed. It was just... badly designed. Poorly suited, unfortunate perhaps, ill optimized in every way, for my environment.

If I had been living alone? Or in a sparsely populated, low growth environment? Subterraneanly? Well, THEN my eyes would have been perfect. Perhaps a bit on the over sensitive side, but otherwise perfect. I would have been a Sage. Elevated to Pathfinder, for my ability to safely lead my tribe through the dark.

But here? On Coruscant? Amongst the constant flow of billions? It is AGONY. A disability of the worst sort. Like two ice picks, slamming light and information into my brain. At the rate I am developing...

At... At the rate I am developing?

I may eventually be as good as BLIND. Be forced to wear a glorifed blindfold. And... and when THAT, inevitably fails? As it WILL fail? There have been... been somber, serious, terrifying talks? On if I wish to first try removing myself to a remote Temple for seclusion (and risk the lack of medical care that comes with it.) or if? O-or if?

Medically, it would be better to just... replace my eyes.

T-They can't even guarantee? That it would work. There are species that see through the Force. My problem may BE that I am somehow one of them and simply not physically built for it. That I developed the needed mutation. I... I could lose my eyes for NOTHING.

Yet...?

The headaches. The LIGHT. I can not take missions anymore. Can not even help in the Crèches. Their unfiltered, unshielded Force presences? Are like staring into search lights. I can not even help with Initiate classes, having grown too fucking sensitive! How will I EVER find a Padawan?!

I... I wanted one. Someone to guide and teach. Someone to watch grow.

Maybe that grief, (that I might never have one, that I KNOW he can do better,) is what makes me so short with Qui-gon. Obi-Wan is a youngling, damn it! Not a crutch for you mental health! Something which? Of course leads me to chasing Yan's Padawan down. REPEATEDLY. (Stop running! Boy! I KNOW YOU CAN SEE ME, QUI-GON! You better STOP RUNNING!! Listen to your Aunty while she SCOLDS YOU!) Because SOMEONE needs to beat that into the stubborn, heart sick, fool's head!

Why not me? I'm stuck on medical leave! Possibly FOREVER.

(Have a treat, Obi-Wan. You're too skinny.)

It's not productive. I KNOW it's not productive. The harder I push, the more Qui-gon digs his heels in. Yan's old Padawan was many things, but weak willed? Even in the depth of his grief? Hardly one of them. The whole LINEAGE was stubbornness made manifest. Literal STONES we more agreeable and subject to change.

I just wished Padawan Kenobi wasn't the one paying for it.

So, I helped. Without judgment. No harrasing him about his weight or his injuries, no demands he explain this or that. Just... there, if he's ready. If he trusts me. Bacta and pain relief, a safe place to sleep, someone to guide a peaceful meditation. And of course, Food. Ration bars by the basket. Take and hoard as many as you need. Here, both rich and mild foods to choose from.

Hugs and safety, I could do that. Be that. Put my emotions aside, for the sake of a child. Did his mere presence hurt? Yes. A LOT. But I would sooner die then let him know that. Bright and beautiful as his soul was, young and growing as he is? There is no pain, that is merely the confusion of crude matter. I am FINE. This... is FINE.

(Dispite the drugs, the meditation, it still HURTS.)

Neither Yan or Sifo like it. In fact, Yan is? Both in turns, heart sick and furious. His old Padawan entirely too good at dodging him. Dispite Yan being on the HIGH COUNCIL. Dispite BOTH Yan and Sifo, being on the High Council. It's genuinely impressive. Alarming, yes, that he uses such skill to avoid any attempts at therapy... but, well....

I've SEEN what the Mind Healers here consider a job "well done", with Sifo. Their definition of "help". So... granted, I understand completely. But he could just as easily take his Padawan on a "healing retreat"! Sneak away to get ACTUAL help from one of the other Sects! Illum perhaps? The Whills?

He KNOWS I'm right. It's why he's avoiding me.

(The little SHIT.)

Breathing in filtered, earth rich air, I tried to breathe out my stress. The Thousand Gardens do not just extend upwards. They went down as well. And they will continue to go upwards if ever another Temple is built upon the current one. Just like the last gardens, in which I sit, the light requiring plants that can be moved will be brought upwards. Those that can't? Get solar lamp systems.

Tiny biodomes, here in the dark. We do not kill our ancient trees, after all. Our plant and gardens. They are precious heirlooms. Living, breathing, friends. And besides? In the places they abandon, for the light up above? NEW gardens can be made! Subterranean ones. Glowing lichen and mushrooms, cave shrubs and parasitic low light trees.

It is peaceful, down here. Glowing plant life and distant lamps, like so many stars in the dark. The sound of running water and quite murmurs of the few who prefer such low light meditations. There are more then a few knights napping, having found gardens that speak to them. Their various light sensitive visual organs, finally having found relief.

Somewhere above me, Sifo is pacing. Erratic. Another vision of death and despair, of clones marching upon us all. It is getting to him. Like the slow eroding of a cliff face. Death by a thousand cuts. Over and over and OVER. Despair. Won't you do something? DESPAIR. Don't you CARE? DESPAIR. I can offer the power to FIX things. Don't you want it? Don't you WANT it~??

The Dark Side is a cruel and insidious thing. A riptide. An undertow, which drags you out to sea, then drowns you. It offers sweetness, safety, freedom. Only to deliver oblivion and pain. Power without control, it corrodes you. Destroys all that you were. Giving voice to your worst impulses, silencing your better nature.

You become a mockery of yourself.

I... I am scared for him. For Yan. I can see the outline of their ends, beginning to line up before them. They are pulling away. Growing frustrated. Their discussions with me are growing less philosophical difference with the Order, and more... dangerously immoral. Heretical. Nothing actionable, of course, but... I wouldn't expect their to be.

Both are High Councilors. They, of all people, know how to toe the line.

What do I DO? I ask the Force. Meditation after meditation, seeking guidance. How can I help them? And yet... I get no reply. No insight. Only nudges towards Obi-Wan. Towards teaching and compassion. Slipping him lessons on how to help slaves cope with the trauma. Philosophical debates on the doctrine of attachments. And, of course? Showing him my completely personal project, that HE will in no way someday need, of creating lesson plans for my hypothetical future Padawn.

How VERY thoughtful of him! To help me get some of those data pads! To help me research and revise my plans. He'll make a great mentor one day~ Amused? Me? No, no, dear. I was just thinking of a funny joke. Have ever given thought to Form Three?

Also! Never trust the Senate intelligence, dear. They are full of shit and couldn't spot a slaver if the sale was happening right in front of them. Do your own research whenever possible and NEVER rush in. NEVER.

(Yan refused to rush the assignment. Was in the Process of contacting the Armorer of Little Keldab for information. A Team was sent behind his back. On the word of the Senate alone. They almost completely DIED and the rightful Ruler of the Mandalorian people? Enslaved. Force knows where. Are you HAPPY now? Was rushing WORTH it? Your "regrets" mean NOTHING to the dead.)

It's building. I can feel it. The darkness is growing, my friends drifting farther and farther from the light. All, while? I am stuck. Disabled by my eyes. By the pain my so call "blessing" gives me.

Giving up on another useless meditation, I rise. Head for the lifts. The hallways down here are... quite. The old temple towers a peace place. Filled with the ancient echos of long dead Masters. There are room down here. Apartments. They are unassigned, yes, but no one truely cares if they are used. Granted, I would have to dust them myself.

I consider it. The light, (or really, the lack there off) is much more comfortable down here. The quite, less stressful. If Sifo didn't have such traumatic associations with darkness? I would honestly suggest moving down here with me. It might do us both some good.

As the lift rises, I tap the side of my lenses. Momentarily blinding myself in preparation for the increasing light. Soon enough, vision returns. The cacophonous press of noise. Oh dear, it's mid-meal. I should have waited. No wonder it's so loud and bright. Gritting my teeth, I keep my expression calm and pleasant. My shoulders relaxed.

It is not the younglings fault, that it hurts to be near them. They should NOT have to carry that guilt nor knowledge. I walk calmly but swiftly. This is fine. This Is Fine. Ow, ow, ow, OW, OW! This Is Fine!

Relief. I get passed them. The healers are right. Damn it. It really IS not just my eyes that are growing more sensitive. I... I so badly wanted them to be wrong. But as days go by? As weeks pass? Everything has slowly gotten... gotten so LOUD. Sharp and shrill, grating and rumbling, barks and squeals. Just? Just ALL of it. Too much.

Loud.

At the rate i'm going? I'm going to end up in a Force damned helmet like some sort of Mandalorian! And... and yes, I know there is no shame in that. That each race has their own specific needs. That it is humanist to think certain traits are somehow BETTER then others. I just... just feel like I am slowly losing myself. My freedom.

I am scared.

My body feels like it's betraying me.

Somewhere, near the High Council's chambers, I can feel Yan seething. How long has it been? Since the three of us coexisted in simple peace? Before Sifo's accident? Their appointments to the Council? Or was it as recent as Xanatos and the disaster of his Fall? How... How long have I been a pillar? For the mental and spiritual strength of others?

It's grinding me to dust. I'm so tired. Just... just want to rest. For just a moment. Without the fear, that my moments weakness? Will condemn a good man. Will irreversibly harm, a growing child. I.. Force, I am so tired.

Sifo is waiting for me, in my apartments. My plan for a moments rest? A fleeting, impossible, dream. He is pacing, pacing, pacing. Lines of tension and darting eyes. Hands clenching and unclenching. Running through his already ruined hairdo, again and again. It was easy to see what someone might think him mad. He certainly looked it.

"I saw them again. Bastards! I don't-! What am I doing wrong?!" He gasped the second he laid eyes on me. Already ranting before the door even closed. "I vow not to step foot on Kamino? They still appear. Avoid Mandalorians? Still! They exsist! But, oh! What if I plan Temple defenses? Surely THEN, right?! No! They somehow get passed them! Is it me? Am I the problem!?"

"TELL ME!"

He spun, eyes wide and manic, arms spread. As though inviting a blow. Inviting his own destruction. Hair falling from his careful hairdo in mad whisps, clothes disheveled, hands faintly trembling... he did not look well. Looked near tears. Teetering on the edge of something ugly.

How long could he hold out? I wondered.

I didn't have a comforting answer for him. No sweet and gentle words. But I could offer a hug. A hand to hold, as he faced down the dark. Sometimes... sometimes there WAS no right answer, Sifo. Sometimes the pieces were all on the board yet. Or the very act of try to stop Fate, made it so. I don't know. Can't know. Neither of us can.

But I can be there WITH you, until the end. And we can do our best.

Have you eaten yet? Had any tea? When was the last time you slept? Terrible things do not become easier to bear, if you burn yourself up, trying to face them. You have to take care of yourself too. I stepped forward, into that desperate stance, and pulled him into my arms.

"You believe me. You BELIEVE me. It's just inevitabe, too you, isnt it? That's what your trying not to say, isn't it? That you've run out of options. " Sifo's arms wrapped around me in a desperate grip. Like a drowning man holding onto the only life raft at sea.

"You're just afraid. Don't want me to break myself, destroy myself, chasing something that can't happen. Because we're Jedi, and you know we have to try. Try and try and TRY! Until it destroys us. Destroys everything. Hoping against all hope that they'll just... just LISTEN! But they WON'T, will they? They won't listen. It's inevitable. A cleansing. Purging of the old, to give rise to something new. The will of the Force itself."

Cleansing? Purging?! Alarm bells started to ring in my head. Nothing good came of talks of "cleansings" or "purgings" of ANYTHING.. NOTHING. I opened my mouth to refute him. Never got the chance. Yan's Force presence slammed into ours. The equivalent of crashing open doors and stomping feet.

Startled and alarmed, I turned just in time to see him sweep into my apartment like a raging, high society, storm cloud. The expression on his face could peel paint.

"Apparently," he snarled, barely holding together. "my Grand-Padawan has SUPPOSEDLY left the Order! Despite showing no prior interest in doing so, sending no missives to friends or fellow Creche-mates, and? Of course? Let us not forget? SUPPOSEDLY doing so? For some TART in the midst of an ACTIVE WARZONE!"

Horrified, I felt the blood drain from my face. No. NO! I thought I had more TIME! Please! Dear FORCE! Tell me, Qui-gon did not LEAVE his Padawan on-!

"Oh yes! CLEARLY, this is but a childish desire to wet his-!" Yan visibly struggled to beat back the surge of incoherent WRATH and fear. The disappointment. They HORROR at a child, in such unimaginable danger. "The Council won't even HEAR that there could be anything amiss! Won't even CHECK. A supposed WASTE of RESOURCES, when already we are stretched too thin! A CHILD, potentially ABANDONED in a WARZONE! And they-!? THEY-!?"

My mind races as I pull away from Sifo's grip to face Yan. The Order won't authorize use of their ships to go check. But... But? Are we not Jedi? We serve the Force. Our mission is to PROTECT. Minimize suffering, bring Light to the universe. Take a sabbatical! NOW! In fact? We ALL will. It will be GOOD for me, to be away from Coruscant's crowded population.

Call your Family, Yan. We need a Serranian Ship. Ask if we can borrow the Senator's, since it's on planet. We aren't slaves. They can't stop us, if we simple decide to GO. Punish us? Perhaps. But not STOP us.

An almost roguish grin settles poorly, under the near manic glint in Yan's eyes. Too expressive. Too unhinged. He has never been anything but composed, he values it too highly. Sifo's answering grin is just as manic. Just as... slightly wrong. Too much. Fitting both too practiced and ill fitting on their faces.

Like they are feeding off each others madness... some part of me hisses in concern. A feedback loop, we aren't strong enough to stop.

I try to ignore it. Focus on the now. There is a child in danger. It's... it's fine. Probably. All I have to do, is keep them away from the Sith! They... they won't Fall. They WON'T.

R-Right?

Yet... watching them plan our trip? Calling in favors and gleefully plotting. Casually threatening. Feeding of each others energy, as they do. I... I am not so certain. Once again, that moment of dissonance strikes true. Like looking around and realizing I am an actor on the stage of a Tragedy, ready line after line, as we march onward to the inevitable End.

Attachments are going to condemn you. Seems to whisper the Force. Like chains that choke and squeeze.

I know, I whisper back. But I am foolish and still want to save them.

Please let me try.

Please.

Let me TRY.

[yandere-wishes]

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡Acolyte⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

𐙚Yandere! Qimir/The Master x Reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plot: Your loneliness is suffocating, engulfing. Qimir is the only one who seems to subdue the pain. But every forbidden fruit has its price.

⁀➷Warnings: Yandere behavior, gore, angst (at the end), author having an anxiety attack over this fic  

🪐Note: Why is the longest thing I've ever written for a fandom that barely exists? Anyway, here's the long-awaited Qimir piece!

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ : Disturbia - Rihanna, Dark Vacay & Motion Picture Soundtrack - CAS

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆🍓⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Your master's anger is tangible. You harbour it stubbornly on your tongue. Relishing in the frustration. You aren't sure how many times you've cut out your soul to place at a master's feet. Gnawing on perfect lips to keep quiet during another scolding. Your new master's disappointment reverberates through the room. Thick and oozing like an infected wound.

You messed up again.

"We do not injure other padawans during training. We do not lash out and attack, especially when your training partner has fallen. How have you trained for so long without comprehending these basics?"

The rage that boils inside you is not Jedi in nature. It's something else, a bizarre second, something ancient, ghoulish. An all-consuming fire that burns inside your veins. It shouldn't feel so welcoming, so familiar.

You roll your eyes.

"With all due respect master. How is one to win, if they do not strick when given the opportunity? That too should be a basic notion, no?"

You see the anger snake across your master's face. A defeated, disgruntled, glance that you've become a bit too acquainted with. This is the look that all your previous masters give you. And yet none have yet to master its eeriness quite as well as your first master. Master Sol.

Your master sighs, a piercing noise, deflating every ounce of his willpower. You are exhausting to be around, his annoyance is becoming discernible. "Master Sol is coming by the temple to check your...progress. He's requested a few items to take back with him. Please go fetch them from the apothecary."

Progress is a gentle word and Jedi love using gentle words. It's easier to say than the full truth. Sugar-coated things always taste better.

But the sugar refuses to stick to you.

It burns away in your bitterness.

Coruscant is a distant memory, it was never your home to begin with. But the high bustling volume is something that is hard to forget. Here things are quiet, you slip through the bazaar undetected. Small basket clutched tightly. You wonder what's dragging your former master halfway across the galaxy. You wonder if it's really just to see you.

You gaze blankly at the holographic list. A few rare herbs and some medical roots. This planet grows them in abundance, and the local apothecary carries more than its fair share.

The apothecary is an old, disheveled thing. The older Jedi say that its presence is as old as the temple itself. Odd how some things have a will of iron. You gently rap at the worn metal door, waiting for an invitation to enter. The hinges cry as the door opens ever so slightly. You squeeze in, surveying the cluttered den. Careful to avoid the half-empty bottles and neon puddles scattered across the floor.

"Excuse me" your voice holds an urgent annoyance. Where is the pharmacist? What kind of store owner abandons their shop in the midday? You run your fingers across the strange bottles, letting your nails pick at the murky glass. The colors flash, begging to be freed, strange space pinks, and summer oranges all trapped inside square prisons. Baby poisons dying to taste the world, burning it if they must, but experiencing it nonetheless, tasting their own form of freedom. Funny, they almost remind you of yourself.

Trapped and fatal.

"Hello?", the voice behind you is languid, dozy. Mirroring a late afternoon nap. When the man next speaks you notice a lyrical lint "What brings you here little lady?". You turn to see it, the voice, or rather the man harboring the voice. He's loosely robed and shaggy in the way that only the most spirited vagabonds are. He smiles tenderly upon seeing your face, strange red fruit caught between his teeth. "I um...I" you click your tongue anxiously against the roof of your mouth. Feeling around for those pesky words, in the end, you just shove the hologram holder forward, hoping he'll understand.

"Oh, I see, out here doing some chores?" You nod, mind preoccupied with the otherwordly fruit. "what's that?" you ask, schoolgirl curiosity lacing your voice. "What, this?" he asks holding the freckled thing between his fingers, it's only in the mild light that you notice the shimmering gold scattered across its red skin. The stranger laughs, walking closer, he places the hologram base on the black table, clicking it on as he studies the list. "They're called strawberries. They're from the forest planets, not many grow here in the mid-rims." He's nimble as he packs the herbs and roots, fumbling with the straw ties. "care for a bite" he asks, handing you the bitten fruit.

Hesitantly you bite.

Letting the sweetness erupt on your tongue.

"Thank you" you mumble trying not to moan at the foreign taste. The stranger laughs, it's a cheery noise like birds chirping in first bloom tress. "you're a Jedi, aren't you?" he asks stepping around the table, eyebrows furrowed, caught in a dream he doesn't seem to understand. You choke on the rogue static as he steps closer, eyes half-lidded dreaming of nothing. "Here..."

"Wha-" your voice catches in your throat, it's getting harder to breathe.

"Your supplies" He hands you the brown paper bag, motion a little too phlegmatic to be right.

"Oh, right...thanks" You anxiously shove the bag into your basket and scurry out of the shop. Holding your breath.

"Come back soon." the voice chirps behind you.

Your old master arrives by spaceship, a newer, albeit worn model. The landing pad ejects to reveal a small escort.

Master,

Knight,

Padwan,

Apostate,

You stand still watching as they descend. Bits of envy bubble in your throat watching your former master and his band of little heroes. You wish you had their belonging. Forgoing the loneliness to find kinsmanship with your coterie. You swallow down the bitter thoughts as they finally approach you.

Master Sol's smile reaches his eyes. Gentle and wise. The true epidemy of a Jedi in every sense of the word. Funny how he now has two failures under his belt. None of which are capable of scratching his shining repute.

His hands are on your shoulders, bright smile. "My padawan, it's been too long." You try to bow, awkwardly and stiffly. "Mater Sol, I'm grateful you've come to asses my progress". If he hears your doubt he doesn't show it. Instead, he reintroduces you to Yord, Jacki, Osha.

You try to be polite. Gulp down the awkwardness

You imagine the taste of strawberries on your tongue.

Remember their stiff sweetness and prickly tasteless freckles.

You smile. Easier this time.

They'll stay here for some time. Hunting assassins and documenting progress in their free time. Jacki seems more invested in your training than you are, trying to teach you everything she knows. At least she doesn't mind the rough play, the violent strikes, and sloppy prideful defenses. She speaks in pointers and parries. She's the one to drag you along these assassin hunts. Welcoming you...or at least trying to.

But there is something else at play. Darker, broader, Sol and Jecki welcome you into the fray. Yet you still feel your old master's hesitance, he's still wary of you. Worried about your anger, your defiance.

The distance grows, some icy void.

Sol used to tell you fairytales. This was back when you'd been young and bright-eyed. Freshly welcomed into the order and still overflowing with artless hope for a colorful future.

But even back then, he had known there was something wrong with you.

Looking back it was evident.

Every story started and ended the same. Little princess against the big bad world. Holding out until her prince came along. Only problem was the morals never registered right in your little messed-up brain.

Why didn't the princess fall for the dragon, the wolf, the tyrant king with a crown of bones? Why didn't she swoon and sigh over someone rousing, compelling? A paradox wrapped in black ember? Why settle for a sun-painted prince, with no complexities, no mysteries to unravel?

You would have married the dragon, or the wolf, or the tyrant king with a crown of bones.

Even back then, it was evident something was wrong.

The temple's roof isn't restricted per se.

It's rather abandoned as opposed to forbidden.

Maybe that's why you find solace here. The abandonment feels familiar, similar. The chipped cement kisses the soles of your feet, you imagine it's something like walking upon the rough terrain of a star.

You breathe in the night air deeply.

Expecting the fragile scents of moonshine and star glitter.

Instead, you choke on heavy mist and blood-drenched air.

The thing standing in front of you isn't human. It can't be human. It's created from the blackness, ebony in all the ways a living thing shouldn't be. For a second you think you're staring at a black hole. No doubt this creature crawled out of one.

What sheer willpower one must need to drag themselves out of endless nothingness?

"Little Jedi should not brave the night alone."

It speaks

"There are far too many monsters roaming in the dark"

Its face never moves, statue in all the ways the figures towering over the entrance aren't. This statue is something else, a lost page to some forgotten epic. Carved from gems born in darkness. Evil and rotten.

"What are you?" your voice susurrate, quivering in this surreal scene. The air is thicker now, overflowing with raw static.

Your fingers itch for your saber. Only when the cold metal kisses your palm do you regain some semblance of reality.

The hiss, the green light.

The figure chuckles.

Its voice bouncing from every direction. Everywhere all at once. When it speaks the air cackles, raining as if it were a frightened child.

"I am something akin to you, another child of the force" His voice comes out distorted, uneven in tone. "I am what's birthed when one learns of the true strength of the force."

Your body moves on its own, feet kicking the ground sprinting faster and faster before the final leap. You aim for the helmet, for the morbid toothy grin permanently etched within steel. In a flash the word stills, floating around you like fluorescent bubbles, the rain tumbles around you, curving and diving for the wet ground. It dares not land on something within his grasp.

You feel the slithering across your body. They start from the ground, summed from the unknown depths. Clinging firmly to your ankles before inching up your knees, your hips, your neck.

long, slipper tendrils curling around your body. The figure watches, bare arm outstretched. You should probably be focused on how the unseen things are inching closer to your mouth. Not on the toned muscles and limber fingers of the monster. Not on how, for a fraction of a heartbeat, his smile appears genuine, caring, aimed straight at you.

Only You

They finally reach your lips, prying your teeth ajar and flooding your mouth. Sinking deeper and deeper into your soul, your mind, you.

The smile grows.

In a blink you're suspended in the space between worlds, dark damning thing cradling your body.

"The dark side once belonged to the Jedi, yet they chose to discard it. Deeming it malignant, ungovernable."

Your weightlessness unnerves you. You're malleable in this void.

"Those few who embraced its calling were dubbed Sith." He says the word with such fervent pride. Devoted to it's weight and all it carries. You try to roll the word off your own tongue only for it to burn the roof of your mouth.

The stranger stalks closer, lethal and lithe.

The void vibrates, the darkness bends to his will.

He reaches down to cup your face. His fingers feel warm, welcoming. You nuzzle into his palm, fighting the urge to kiss each finger and suck on the dark force they emit. "You..." he starts, his voice shakes you to the core. Its horror amplifies with the proximity. You wonder if it'll cut through steel, armor, flesh.

your flesh.

"You aren't like the other temple dwellers. You have potential."

His thumb presses your lower lip, demanding entrancing. You comply, needing to feel something solid.

Something you've been denied your whole life.

"They keep you locked away. Trading you between craven masters. Seeing who can tame you first."

He nicks his thumb on your teeth,

Pressing bone into dentin.

His essence drips into you.

He tastes of power.

Of dark, dreadful things you can not name.

"They do not know how to train you. How to use your power..."

The world crumbles, ebony midnights giving way to reality. You feel yourself fall, plunging through the air like a comet bent on destruction.

"They only break you further"

Your knees collide with the harsh ground. Skin splintering in the aftermath giving way to bruises and bloodmarks.

The ground feels too solid beneath you.

A poly, a ruse.

You all but expect to melt through it. Slipping and falling into the vacuum, into him, once more.

He hovers above. Absolute in his strength. You're beginning to believe that blackholes birth divinity. Eyes shimmering with fanatic fidelity, staring up at the holy creature commanding the storm.

"Teach me..."

You've never begged for anything so terribly in your life.

But you need this.

this power

this control.

him.

Sol never told just how the princess met the villain.

He never said it wasn't love at first fright.

Sol insists that the local apothecary knows the truth behind the Jedi-killer. Definite that the unseemly man can tell you something important. He sends Osha inside to play Mea. To get the man to talk.

You crowd around the communicator urging back giggles. Yord's chin is placed upon your shoulder and Jecki's cheek rests against yours. Their touches come so early. And yet they are utterly alien.

"He will be so pleased." No sooner have the words chime from the corroded speakers that Sol is ushering you all towards the small metal hut.

Yord entwines his fingers with you as he runs.

Jacki wraps around your arm.

You feel at times they are trying to tame you.

Befriend the feral puppy they found in the backyard.

The apothecary's face is utterly stunned. He's stammering over his words fear glistening in his eyes as he stares at Sol. "Please, please don't wipe my memories. Or whatever it is you Jedi do." A rosy blush colors your cheeks, at his terror. It's terribly amusing seeing someone so carless, anxiously list off everything he knows. You almost feel bad for the poor scared man.

There isn't anything important here. But Sol decides that you will all return at midnight. The Jedi-killer will be back. Apparently, Qimir -that's his name, that the strawberry-eating, disheveled pharmacist's name- is holding something of value for her.

There's a tug on your wrist as you go to follow the others. Gentle and firm as he pulls you to his chest. "Come by tonight. I'll have some strawberries waiting for you." why does he feel too genuine? When you turn to look at him, he's painted in his usual sweet carefree smile that tugs at your heart.

He looks so innocent...

Starlight really brings out his eyes. He's laughing with a nervous smile,

School-boy crush on full display. You're licking strawberry juice from your hands as you listen to him talk. Backs pressed against the rusty wall and bodies half sprawled in the dirt. He's telling you about the first time the Hutts made him retrieve a plushie for their son from another solar system.

Qimir's voice feels like rose peddles melting into your skin. Sweet, jejeune, free. You offer him a berry from your pile. Watching tentatively as he submerges the red fruit into his mouth. Missing your fingers by an inch. He's laughing after the fact, head thrown back as if he's about to engulf the stars. You decide to laugh too.  

"Are you really that lonely," he says in a voice that's almost not his own. You're not expecting the invasive question, although you guess he means well. The words still cut deep. Piercing through the laughter, stunning you for a breath too long. "No...I'm a Jedi, we do not-"

"Form personal connection. I know...But you just look so lonely." He shuffles closer, the dirt particles almost look celestial in this light. Your fingers pitch a civil war. Pinching and clawing at each other. "No, yes. I don't really get along with the others." He rolls his eyes, bored and amused in the same breath. "Yeah, no wonder your money." He's picking at another strawberry, letting the crunch fill up the silence. You're beginning to think he just likes having something to chew on. Gulping down the anxiety with something toothsome.

He's a little closer now, fingers gingerly tucking back your hair. His fingerprints reverberate across the shell of your ear. Lips gliding against yours. You swallow as his lips fall across yours, pushing sweet stars past parted lips. He tastes of odd things, whimsy things. Everything you'll never come to understand. Xeno fruits and asteroid fields. His fingers glide up your arms, leaving moondust in their wake. He slowly parts, holding you softly with his soulful dark eyes

"You taste so sweet"

Strawberry, Starberry, You kiss him a little too deeply.

Maybe your new master is right.

Maybe there are other ways of being a Jedi.

The movie playing is doused in shades of rose and lilac. Gentle in all the ways. Everyway. The twi'lek girl is in love with the zabrak boy and their families do not approve. You think you remember Sol telling you a similar tale.  

The makeshift auditorium is cozy. Brown couch housing the three of you and your armada of blankets and popcorn buckets. Jacki's head is in your lap, you're playing with the end of her braid imagining the hair to be the lace of a Love-sick girl's ballgown. Yord's arm traverses the length of your arm, absentminded as he studies the motion picture, poking holes in the lose rose-tainted plot. Your head rests against his broad shoulder taking in his new cologne.

Maybe you really did miss them.

Jacki reaches for the popcorn, offering you some before shoving a handful into her mouth. You think the little symmetry-less kernels would taste better with a strawberry glaze. Qimir flashes across your mind, smiling sweetly as he tilts his head.

You think you're a little too similar to the star on screen.

Pinning after forbidden love,

Forbidden power.

Master Sol is growing acutely aware of your drastic improvements. He's noticed the betterment in your offense, your defense. To the way, you wield your saber, your techniques, and yourself. There is esteem in the way he smiles. In the words of praise, you've longed to hear. But you notice the lingering glances, the undertone of skepticism and worry when he asks about practice. He doesn't need to know of the black-glad creature that trains you in the unholy hours.

He doesn't need to know how beautifully your new master sculpts your rage into lessons. Teaching you how to wrangle the force and control it. How to use it to make the world bow.

These things will remain secret. For you fear Sol and the others will strip them of you. Strip them of the new master you've come to worship.

"Do you think people glow when they fall in love?" Jacki's voice is filled with sleep. Eyes closed as she murmurs remnants of movie memory. "No, I don't believe they do" you answer. "too...bad" There was a yawn there darling and vigorous like the rests of her. She looks so sweet like this, infantile in all the ways she can't be. Little girl dreaming of something impossible. You wonder if Sol's told her the fairytales too. You kiss the crown of her head, your baby sister you think. And big brother Yord, snoring with his head thrown back.

Maybe you should test her theory. rising softly from the couch you make your way to the door. Throwing one final glance at your sleeping siblings. Before going to find Qimir.

His lips ghost over yours, spilling star-clad secrets between each kiss. The apothecary has never been so dark, so secret, so secluded. Qimir's lips glided across your neck biting the flesh and licking the little diamond droplets of blood. Your nails rack across his spine, the wool of his throw-over itching the backs of your hands. "So precious" he mumbles, voice ridden with want, need. it's criminal how desperately he needs to feel you. You writhe under him, "Qimir, kiss." you whine. His lips feel like a lifeline, something keeping you sain. He pushes fireflies and lava pearls inside you, carving you open and enjoying you

He always enjoys you.

It's foggy outside when his tongue clashes against yours. A thick unsettling mist banging against the darkened window. "You're custom-made for me" Qimir mumbles against your lips. "Custome tailored" you boldly correct. "ummm, sure" his hands pinch at your hips, clawing mindlessly and leaving tails to your thighs. But the sensations are growing distant, you hear the heavy hum of saber activation. You psyche cracks

The world is dark,

He alone is absolute.

Your master's mask flashes dangerously across your mind. "Master Sol would be disappointed". You've heard that line a million times. Still, the words cut a little too deep coming from your demiurger. "Gullible" you don't understand, what have you done to earn his rage? He's gone, leaving you in the emptiness, you taste the charcoal from the landscape under your tongue.

Still, you long to call after him.

"Master"

The darkness subsides with the feeling of softness across your muscles. A breeze stirs you from the clutches of slumber. "Good morning" Qimir chirps, soft smile greeting you as you open your eyes. "Qimir, when did I?" he laughs, it's such a pretty sound this early in the morning. Sweet like caramel tea. He kisses your forehead. His quietude is commendable, he tries to calm you with feather-light kisses. You laugh pushing the covers away and still. Frozen.

What's this

The nightgown is lacy and short. It drapes expensively against your skin. Marring it with its tenderness. "Qimir, what's this!" he chuckles, "I couldn't let you sleep in those robes, they looked uncomfortable." You want to argue, to scream, and be angry. But the rage boils down slowly as you notice something dangling around your wrist. A bangle, and an anklet you notice later, black and gold entwined in patterns mirroring lighting stricks. "They're from Korriban, I had some relatives there." oh, why does that planet sound so familiar? "Thanks, but ask me next time before you go playing dress-up doll with my sleeping body" He pouts and can't help but trail a string of mouthy kisses across his neck. Qimir shuffles pulling you onto his lap. Pushing his nose under your chin. His eyes are honey-deo, adoring and scheming. "But you're mine." The possessive ness that flesh across his face is alarming. So is how tightly he grips your waist. It's only in this state of half-undressed that you begin to notice the taut muscles of his arms.

During your most recent lesson, your master gifts you a ripe juicy strawberry. He says it'll focus you, replenish your wither strength. You eat it a little too quickly, forgetting to savor the pink blush within. You believe too ferociously in everything your master says.

He can never be wrong.

You love the way your new master splatters blood across your sleeves. Be it yours or his enemies. He's started taking you out on his kills, having you watch as he hacks and mauls. His enemies must die, no one who doubts such marvels should be granted the privilege of life.

He's only ever spoken in half-riddles.

"Unfortunately legacy is a fickle thing. Tenacious, fervent, yet frail and erratic. No matter how hematological, we all read our bones differently."

The rain falls to your ragged heartbeat. Fast one minute and slow the next. You stick out your tongue desperate for a few drops. Your body is on fire, every muscle pushed to its limit. But the Force is screaming inside you, thumping dangerously between your fingers. You're ready for the next round. Saber ready and only half mesmerized as your master pulls out another blood-red saber. You charge, rage pumping deliciously through your body.

You forget to ask him where he got the berry from.

The next Jedi to die will be Kelnacca. That's why Sol is dragging all of you to the forest planet of Khofar. You think the name is utterly hilarious, the others don't understand the mirth.

Between briefings and Jacki and Yords packing quarrels. You sneak out to say goodbye to Qimir. Scribbling a half eligible not to leave for your master. But the apothecary is deserted upon your arrival, only a taped note on a half-full mortar.

'Gone to get more Strawberries.

Be back soon.'

You wonder if Khofar has strawberries.

Strawberry, Starberry, you're falling between the cracks of so many.

The Sun on Khofar is red, barely breaching the thick canopy. Maybe it's for the best. This scene is not one to remember, but how can you make yourself forget?

Death looms.

Permanent, Eternal

The fighting began in twilight.

The sky has grown two shades darker since.

He had floated in from the high reaches. You'd almost called out to him, 'master', the words die bitterly on your tongue. His saber ignites in the carnage, light growing redder after each kill. The bodies fall haphazardly stirring the quiet night.

Your saber falls onto the woodchip ground. No sound. He has followed you here. Yet it is not you, he seeks. Your master mask is haunting, in the dark the silver mouth glows bright white. Even against a massacre

the smile never relents.

He twirls the red saber with lethal accuracy, red arc severing another life. 'Take the right!' Jacki screams through the force, her eager voice bouncing inside your cranium. 'Don't' you scream but she's already attacked.

Saber sings saber.

Golden light flickers.

Forward. Backward. Lunge. Parry. Flunge.

Just like you practiced. Back in the quiet of the training room. Is it too late to return to the matted ground and wooden swords? Too late for safe comfort?

You won't take it for granted this time you swear.

Your master attacks with vicious zeal, cutting through the light. His black robes bleeding into the night. Jacki, scurries backward, trying to block with every ounce of strength. In one swift move, she spins freeing herself and assaulting his head with the metal of her weapon.

The mask clutters to the ground.

You scream.

He looks every bit the villain here. Blood drenched, water drenched. Smiling like the wolf in a child's picture book. Qimir's face stares back at you, hair matted to his forehead. He's panting, spent. You've never seen him toil. Dreaming him incapable of harm.

Yet he stands above the corpses. Wolf's teeth bared as he slices through the little girl.

It's been years since Master Sol tucked you into bed. Years since he's read you a story and listened to your baseless questions about romances.

You've finally gotten your answer. Painted in a shade of red indistinguishable from black.

Because the villain is too vile to be loved.

You run, catching the limp corpse before it joins the rest, you cradle her close. Tears landing on the orange of her face. There are no strawberry romances here. No sweet forbidden fruits. Just pain, hollow, empty, rotten. "Jacki" your voice muffles into her robes, rain-soaked, tear-soaked.

"Was that its name?" his voice doesn't sound right. No cheerful hellos or drowsy laughs. It's all menacing now, grating and hollow lilt. "Qimir" you wail, sob half caught in your throat. "It can't be you." He shakes his head, smile crooked and maniacal. "I'm afraid so, little one." The force pushed you up, pulling you to him. Qimirs head tilts, his fingers dancing around your throat. Squeezing squeezing squzing. Your glossy eyes take in his unruly appearance. Even now your master looks utterly perfect. Muscles relaxed as he steals your breath. "Master" you whine, your heart shouldn't be hammering like this, leaping through beats like something lovesick.

"(Y/n)" golden light fills the clearing. Yord runs, Prince Charming in every way you should have loved.

Qimir releases you, only to nestle your neck in the crook of his arm. "Don't worry darling. I'm almost done." He blocks the first attack.

Second, third. Yord scrambles to pull you away, missing each time. "Let her go" The urgency in his voice rattles you. He did love you.

Little sister, little princess.

Why is only starting to make sense now?

There's a crack, so loud it echoes across the woods.

"NO"

Yord's body joins the rest.

no no no

"Where were we?" Qimir is every bit the villain.

The dragon, the wolf, the tyrant king with a crown of bones.

"You lied to me, you killed them. Why, why would you do this."

"Because the Jedi say I can not exist." Sith, right those things were supposed to be evil. Hailing from Koriiban, the evil Jedi forced to flee. And here you were having so readily given yourself to the enemy.

The blood flows free in the rain. Dozens of bodies drained.

There's a river of blood. You kneel by the holy thing, dipping your cupped hands into the crimson. You drink deeply from the massacre thinking it'll taste sweet. Qimir pulls you in holding your throat as he submerges you.

Baptized in blood

The world flashes red.

It feels so free here. Floating weightless, letting everything be. The rage can not find you in these depths. Free like an adrift astromech. Free to float amongst the stars.

When you emerge again. The world has grown brighter. You see the wide-eyed bodies, even Sol is among the dead, you swear you see disappointment in his lifeless orbs. You gulp, swallowing the euphoric faint. You see your new master before you. Swimming to him carefully, following the gentle tug of the force. Prey meets predator. Qimir chuckles, the water is shallow by the banks. He sits awaiting, on his makeshift throne.

There is no sympathy here you should know better

"You took adorable" Qimir rasps. Hot breath fanning your ear. "Master Qimir" you mumble shifting as he pulls you onto his lap. He laughs this is submission, a breath away from grasping his desire. He cups your cheeks, drifting his hands to your shoulders. Pulling you closer, bodies melting into one.

His kisses still taste like strawberries. Sweet and metallic. All possession and domination. Biting lips and tongue and flesh. Spilling fresh poison with each snip of your neck. He licks the blood from your fingers with feral pleasure. Swirling his tongue around each digit and pulling it further down his hungry mouth. You swallow the darkness from his tongue, letting him snuff out the little embers of light. The stars are burning away bit by bit. He pushes you under again.

Mornings on Khofar are dark, caught in a perpetual twilight. Qimir wraps his robes around you letting the midnight sink into your bones. "The ships a bit of a walk. But we should be there before noon." You paddle after him. Fingers lashing awkwardly at his hand. He turns and offers you that tilted smile once more, mask bouncing in his free hand.

"Master qimir" you confess, it feels so light on your tongue. Like clutching dying white-dwarf-stars behind your teeth. He chuckles, snapping a berry from a nearby bush. His smile sings of triumph, victory, earned in blood. He places the fruit amongst your teeth. You, his little war prize.

"My little acolyte"

ᯓ♡ : @feedmestraycats @moonlovefairy  @wicked0clouds @phoenixes-and-wizards @peridedarling @morax-on-my-mind @magikmaik @lov4gor3 @manchuria @bucksdonkey @embersofimagination @hauntedhedgehogs @peter-laufeyson @papitas-con-sal @f0odie @boredtone @bluechissbrain @yourfilthydevil @n0t-skywalker @xsister-serpent @gabriqllas @zionysuss @i-love-my-babygirls @pagingoswin @jxp1ter @faebirdie @deezhutts565 @thesithdiaries @pagingoswin @hauntingwolf @scentedbanditlampwobbler @uwingdispatch @mask-knife-is-buggys-girl @lunarsvertigo @scintilla-morningstar @carpinchootaku

[yandere-toons]

Yandere: "is that your family?" S/O: "nope, nah-uh, nada. I've never seen those people in my life"

Years of hard data say you're lying, but they're not about to incriminate themselves by revealing so: Huey Duck, Hunter | Golden Guard, Aziraphale, Sheldon J Plankton, Doctor Nefarious, Tenth Doctor, Shang Tsung, Dr Flug, Perry the Platypus, Midoriya Izuku

Suspects the lie but rolls with it: Ian Malcolm, Louie Duck, Anthony J. Crowley, Nick Wilde, Nagito Komaeda, Captain Jack Sparrow, Lightning McQueen, Ratchet, Kaa, Bugs Bunny, Mike Wazowski, Johnny Loughran, Klaus Hargreeves, Sans Undertale, Arataka Reigen, Tyrion Lannister, Legoshi, Rouge the Bat, Wallace Wells, Kendall Roy, Connor Roy, Finnick Odair

Races over to introduce themselves: Toga Himiko, SpongeBob SquarePants, Dewey Duck, Judy Hopps, Kokichi Ouma, Beetlejuice, Celia Mae, Gaston, Mavis Dracula, Undyne, Beast Boy, Deadpool, Alvin Seville, Phil Dunphy

Believes you: Pinkie Pie, Bluey & Bingo, Jataro Kemuri, Chick Hicks, Caligosto Loboto, GIR, Daffy Duck, Bill & Ted, Olaf, Shigeo Kageyama, Starfire, Scott Pilgrim, Ken, Castiel

Laughs at your thin deceptions: Emperor Belos, Bill Cipher, Black Hat, Scar, Shere Khan, Tai Lung, Lord Shen, Pagan Min, Invader ZiM, Shao Kahn, Eleventh Doctor, Rainbow Dash, Shenzi, Randall Boggs, Duncan Pepperidge Anderson, Agent Smith, Doctor Eggman, Han Solo, Alastor, Izaya Orihara, Gideon Graves, Roman Roy, Shiv Roy, Gristol Malik

Alternative interpretation is equally funny — the yandere is pointing out random groups of people and slowly narrowing down their choices.

[yanderes-galore]

Fandom: Star Wars

Character: Darth Vader

Pairing: Romantic

Type of Fic: Concept (HCs)

Oh no... Anakin giving into the Dark Side... Hope I get things right :( Doesn't really go into it so you can imagine him non-burned if you want.

Yandere! Darth Vader Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Controlling behavior, Manipulation, Violence, Murder, Isolation, Possessive behavior, Forced relationship.

Darth Vader is an Anakin who lost... everything.

His morals, his wife, his mentors, his mother, everything....

He is now a being of ruthless violence to try and justify his actions.

In a way he still wants to protect...

Even if it means stomping out rebellion for the Empire.

Vader no doubt knows he's become a monster.

Part of him wouldn't blame his obsession, whoever they are, for hating his presence.

But a lot of what he does would be for them... you.

Anakin... Vader... doesn't like change.

He has trouble with attachment and that was his downfall.

He has trouble letting go.

He used to be such a nice person.

Now... much has corrupted him.

Anakin has always had trouble with love.

He never wants to lose the people he loves.

Allowing him to have an obsessive and possessive attachment to those he loves.

I imagine Vader is the same way... deep in him.

He's driven to crave power to try and prevent anything similar happening to anyone with The Empire.

He thought he lost his ability to love when he lost Padmé.

Yet... he finds someone new.

Meaning, as always, his love is only harmful towards those he loves.

Vader would fear losing the one he loves again.

In fact, at first he tries to ignore such an idea.

He can't be attached to another.

A Sith Lord like him doesn't have time for another like Padmé.

But deep down... Deep down he craves it again.

Vader is one of the most powerful Sith Lords in the galaxy.

He is a man who takes what he wants.

Power, love, vengeance...

If he really wanted you, he could have you.

But why does he struggle?

All he feels is suffering.

When he sees you, a Jedi, a civilian, a rebel, someone who works under him... whoever you are...

He thinks of those he loved before....

He... He can't do it again, can he?

He's a selfish man.

A selfish man who hurts and kills those he loves.

If he truly respects and loves you, if he isn't just using you to cope...

He should let you go...

Yet as always he can't.

Darth Vader is powerful, arrogant, impulsive, ruthless, impatient, intimidating... and most of all...

Selfish.

Compared to Anakin, he's quiet no matter how you decide to see him.

It doesn't matter if you see him as you do in canon, or if you choose to use the fandom's un-burned version.

I still imagine he wears the helmet, the suit... and you hear that twisted breathing.

You may never truly know the man who took you from your home, who isolated you for his own benefit.

All you know is a cold mask and deep voice.

Along with his cold touch.

Vader is a man full of conflict.

His feelings for you do not help.

Vader is still a man who refuses to let go.

Once he obtains these new feelings for you, he can't just... get rid of them.

No, part of him still wants to love.

He doesn't deserve it, he knows that...

It never stops him from treating you like you're made of glass.

When the Death Star was around, he gave you your own room.

If not, you're never far from him.

I would not be surprised if he was more overprotective and possessive than he was as Anakin.

Now he's determined not to lose you like Padmé.

He may have been unable to save her.

Yet he'll succeed with you, he refuses to see otherwise.

Those who interact with you are closely monitored.

Any harm that comes to you is swiftly punished.

You're given a high security room and Vader often prefers to visit himself.

Vader likes his privacy with you.

By this point, it doesn't matter if this is wrong.

Vader finds himself obsessed with you and your safety.

He feels he can find love in you.

He wants to love again even if he can't.

It pains him when you flinch away.

He tries desperately to cup your cheek, to hold you close.

Frustration keeps bubbling within him when his attempts to change you, to make things work, fail.

Which often leads to him scaring you when he uses the Force to pull you into his arms.

He needs to be careful with his anger.

He could easily kill you if left unchecked.

Then he'd be repeating past mistakes if he wasn't already.

Vader expresses... desperation towards you.

Desperate for a love he can no longer have.

He can't force what he had to happen again.

You may always hate him... He'll always be a monster.

But he's too selfish to let you go.

Even if you hate him, he still holds on to his twisted view of love.

Vader would kidnap you from your home, slaughter all you love, and isolate you beside him...

He'd do it all if it meant he could feel something again... If it meant he could have you.

Murder isn't something he thinks much about anymore. There's not much guilt now.

He's done it so much already for a cause he believes in.

A safer galaxy.

Don't you want a safer galaxy?

While originally dedicating this all to Padmé, he now makes his purpose revolving around you.

Affection is no longer something he really expresses like he used to.

He'll caress you, hold you close, squeeze you like his life depends on it as you sit on his lap.

Yet kisses are impossible, so is anything else.

You feel like you're just being used to cope.

For the most part... you are.

Vader just would never admit it.

He wants you safe, cared for, and loved.

All by him.

Sure, view him as a monster, he knows he is one.

However, this monster is doing all he can to keep you safe.

You may not be happy now... but you will be.

Soon you'll trust his words, won't you?

If he didn't want to love you, he would've disposed of you for being a distraction.

Unfortunately, his view of love isn't much better.

Vader's new view on love is preventing all harm.

That means killing people in front of you with his saber or powers.

That means isolating you.

That means locking you away for his eyes only.

He calls this love...

In reality, he's still a man afraid of loss, and he can't afford to lose you like everything else.

[animeyanderelover]

hello! happy new years! thank you as always for the great work! here come my two requests, which are repeats of old ones ive made before

1. Darling is in love with the yanderes, yet when they confess, darling rejects them because of their bad reputation with romance in general (yanderes of your choice)

2. Darling asks yandere to fake date them, and by the time they become obsessed, the darling is already done with whatever they needed (yanderes of your choice)

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, manipulation, stalking

Tags: @flaming-vulpix @iloveeyanderes

Please pretend to date me!

Matsuoka Rin

🦈​You have no choice but to seek him out as you don't know who else you should approach in college with your recent problem. Rin and you attended the same highschool and you dare to think that the both of you are somewhat close. Initially Rin is against the idea, unsure if your plan to fake date him is the right way to solve your problem but ultimately he caves in when you start turning upset and desperate to the point of tears. Both of you set boundaries though as neither of you wants to make the other one too uncomfortable. You manage to successfully fool everyone with the act as Rin is quite convincing with his act and you are just as convincing. It's the first time both of you have spent so much time together and you're somewhat glad for this chance as you secretly always wanted to get to know Rin better but never could because he was so preoccupied with swimming during highschool. Rin feels similar to you. He never realised just how sweet and adorable you are until now and he has already decided that he would like to stay in contact with you even after this act is over. Weirdly enough the thought that this all is going to be over soon has been bothering him more and more recently...

🦈​Just when Rin has started to realise what has been happening to him lately you suddenly announce to him that you have gotten what you wanted and that the both of you don't need to act like a couple anymore. You may as well have just punched him in the gut without any warning, the news having him forget how to breathe for a couple of seconds before he slowly gains a semblance of control again and gives you a nervous smile. That's quite sudden, don't you think? Are you sure that the problem has been solved? Maybe the two of you should pretend for a while longer to be absolutely sure. He wants more time, needs more time, to come up with a plan on how to proceed with his new feelings that have recently bubbled to life yet you cut him off without giving him any chance to work this out. You brush all of his attempts to coax you into giving it more time off though and Rin has in that moment no other choice but to force a grin on his face and let you off the hook, the smile only dropping as soon as you are out of his sight. He knows that this was only a temporary thing from the beginning but you can't just expect him to act like nothing happened after you made him fall in love with you.

🦈​He's not going to kid himself, he knows that what he is feeling is not an ordinary love. It's something that could potentially turn into something really ugly and if possible he would like to avoid using dirtier methods. That's why he has a talk with you alone where he confesses his feelings for you yet once again you shoot him down and make it very clear that you have no interest in him. The wide grin revealing all of his pointed teeth gives you a bad feeling though he merely states that he understands before he leaves you alone there with a bed feeling in your stomach. He doesn't leave you alone from that day on, always next to you as soon as he sees you with a carefree grin on his face whilst a possessive arm is suddenly swung around your body, pressing you closer to him. You have little tolerance for this and soon reprimand him, demanding him to stop acting like the both of you are actually a thing and confusing people around you. Rin only gives you a deceivingly sweet grin before telling you bluntly no. The both of you are a thing. Or would you like him to reveal the truth to the people you had him pretending to be your boyfriend for to bring back the troubles you avoided because of him?

Komaeda Nagito

⚪​From all the students that you could have asked for help you somehow decide to settle for Nagito. He is rather strange and weird yet you have a keen eye and have noticed that he seems to not see himself in the same light as other Ultimates, as undeserving to be in this school and you plan to use that as an advantage as an Ultimate yourself. It is just as you expected and your acting skills only add to this all as you come to him as a damsel in distress and beg of his help, tears swimming in your eyes and your lips wobbly as you tell him that he is the only one who can help you. He agrees swiftly, answering in his own dramatic rambling that an Ultimate like you shouldn't have to despair like this and that he will happily be of asset to you so that you may find your hope again. Deep down Nagito latches on quickly to your idea, willing to be a stepping stone for you to shine even brighter as a bringer of hope. He wants to be useful, wants to help you and deep down a part of him hopes that his help may even lead you to give him appreciation and love, something he secretly craves for.

⚪​As weeks pass by and both of you pretend to be a couple you start getting to know him better and soon you start feeling guilty for the way you previously thought of him. You realise that a lot of his off behavior seems to be a coping mechanism due to his own luck that always beings tragedy with it, his cheerfullness not genuine and his own self-loathing going deeper than you expected it to be. It is this guilt that causes you to be nicer to him, your attempts genuine as you try to understand him better and help him with this cursed luck of his. You couldn't have done a worse thing in that moment. The attention and the care you feed him quickly festers an obsession within Nagito. The way you look at him, talk to him and even gently touch him at times to stop him from talking down on himself soon has him beyond addicted as he swears to be your stepping stone to help you shine as the brightest hope out there. Only you can be the hope he has been wishing for. Only you can be his hope he has been yearning for for so long.

⚪​It's his disturbing obsession that ultimately causes you to quickly cut ties with him as soon as your problem has been solved and initially you fear for the worst when you tell him this, a careful distance between the two of you. You do not expect that calm smile on his face, a blissful look in his eyes as he starts talking about how glad he is that he could be of use to you and that it's alright that you don't want to be with him anymore. He does not demand your love but the only thing he wishes for is for you to keep on using him for your own gain. He'll sacrifice his sleep, his reputation and his health for you as long as he can keep on being useful to you as he goes down on his knees, his hands clasped together as he looks at you with a disturbing amount of reverence that has you running away. Degrade and insult him all you want or even fear him if you want to, it won't stop him following you around and clinging to you like a leech. He's your obedient lap dog who will do even unspeakable crimes for you if he believes it to be in your own good. He will never reach your greatness nor does he think that he is deserving of your love but he shall cherish the little time he got as your boyfriend forever.

Han Solo

You have met enough people to know how to convince someone like Han Solo to agree to your conditions. With the right price, a few compliments to feed into his ego and a tad bit of seduction you have him agreeing to your condition to play along in your little game long enough until you have resolved your problems in which case both of you can go your separate ways then again. You harbor no interest to keep in contact with him after everything is over but you do take your time to get to know him a bit considering that the both of you will have to act like a couple for a certain amount of times. Han Solo does his job though as he flirts with you, hangs around with you and dares to even touch you at times though you quickly let him know that he shouldn't be too handsy with you unless he wants to risk a bruised eye. Sometimes you have a feeling though that the bastard riles you up on purpose simply for the fun of it and that actually proves to be true when he eventually admits that he thinks it's quite cute to see you struggling to hold on to your self-control.

Han Solo has never been the type to see himself settling down or taking a permanent partner. His only partners are Chewbacca and his beloved Millennium Falcon and whilst he does enjoy the company of beautiful people and flirts with them, ultimately for him it is all about the money. That's why it takes him by surprise when he realises that he has started developing actual feelings for you that go beyond his usual light-hearted flirting. He may not show it but Chewbacca definitely notices that something is wrong with his partner and the Wookiee has known his partner long enough to realise what it is that is troubling Han Solo so deeply as he catches him secretly looking at you with almost longing in his eyes though the conflict is just as apparent. Luckily you do not understand his language or otherwise Chewbacca would have blown his secret already as the Wookiee starts teasing Han Solo sometimes about his new crush only for Han to give him a glare before telling his friend to shut up.

When you pay Han for his service and let him know that you are done with what you needed to do he is almost offended with how easily you just drop him off. Sure, this was the plan from the very beginning but have you not learned to appreciate him even a tiny bit during the weeks the two of you were togeher? Apparently not and initially his pride gets in the way as he just marches away, muttering curses as he foolishly assumes that perhaps travelling through space with his Millennium Falcon and entertaining himself on other planets will help him to forget about you. It only takes him a few weeks to return to your planet though with the grim realisation that his attraction has gotten out of hand though he scoffs when you ask him if he has returned for you, playing his feelings down as he merely states that he is free to go wherever you want and that not everything is about you. Needless to say though, it's going to be a new step for him as Han has to learn how to handle his newfound feelings as well as his increasing jealousy when you hang out with other guys. Are you really settling for just any loser?

Fred Weasley & George Weasley

It is quite hard to catch the twins in a moment alone as they are basically together all the damn time. That's why you instantly jump on one of them as soon as you catch him alone, truly not caring who it is. From all the people you could think about the Weasley twins seems to be the best option as they love pranking others and what you are about to do is essentially also a prank which is why you think that those two would be up for it. It's George that you have in front of you and as you beg him and to help you you can only be releaved when he tells you that it sounds quite interesting and agrees to help you. You don't know what you expected but somehow you aren't surprised when the next morning him and Fred both approach you with Fred telling you that your plan sounds quite devious as you essentially plan to lie to your own family to save yourself some serious trouble. Count him in. Well, perhaps it's not too bad that both of them are there to assist you with your plan as one can simply pretend to be the other without anyone noticing who doesn't know them closely. They even fool you like this at times to mess with you a bit, your angry reaction always adorable.

Both of them share essentially one heart and brain so neither of them is really surprised when they find out that somewhere along the line both of them have become quite fond of you. They don't even have to say it out loud. Both of them merely share a long look before nodding, instantly agreeing to share you. It's perhaps time for the duo to become a trio at last. They do not tell you that yet though, the pranksters inside of them wanting to mess with you for a bit longer whilst also planning how to keep you by their side even after the situation for you is finally over. They turn their flirty behavior around you up a couple of notches though to perhaps tease their feelings a bit to you without confirming them which leaves you at the end of the day always second-guessing everything. Yet you still remain unsure if you're just imagining things or not until the very end where you have solved the crisis and thank both of them for their help. Both of them just give you a grin with a thumb up, telling you that it was nothing and that they gladly helped you. You kind of look at them for a few seconds, expecting something only to leave slightly confused.

Perhaps you really were just seeing things after all is what you tell yourself when you go that night to bed. The next few days are fairly calm with nothing exceptional happening until both twins suddenly pop up in your life as if nothing happened, both still heavily flirting with you and doing all their tricks. They have invented all sorts of magical trinkets solely for the purpose to fluster and flatter you whilst making it obvious to everyone else that things have not ended between the three of you at all. You have little balls exploding over your head before it rains rose pedals all over you, heart-shapped bubbles floating towards you that both of them blow your way and little paper birds flying towards you, containing cheeky notes and confessions. You're torn apart between annoyance and flattery but the both of you had a deal that is now over so you ask both of them to please stop what they're doing. Both of them only give the other a cheeky look before they simply "nope" your request. They'll keep on messing with you like this as well as anyone else who thinks that they have a shot with you now. You three are a trio now and you don't get to walk out of it now.

Monkey D. Luffy

🍖​The Strawhats are currently on your island to stock up on food and other stuff, taking a short break and to you there couldn't have been a more perfect time for pirates to appear. You have been lying to your parents for quite a while now to avoid an arranged marriage, told them that you were together with someone already who was just travelling around a lot. Luffy is simply the first one you happen to stumble upon and in your desperation you instantly kneel in front of him, begging him to help you so that your parents would finally stop in their attempts to marry you off to someone else you don't even love. You've always heard the scary tales of pirates before and normally you would be very hesitant to approach one as you have always only ever heard bad stories of them robbing, killing and hurting people yet you are surprised when this one tells you with a smile on his face to stand up and that he will help you gladly, his kind smile reassuring you as you wipe youe tears away and give him a tentative grin of your own.

🍖Never in your life would you have estimated the first pirate you ever meet in your life to be someone like Luffy. He's a grown child in almost every sense but as stubborn and gullible as he can be he is just as compassionate and kind which takes you by surprise. You were raised to believe that all pirates would be out for blood and chaos yet Luffy doesn't care about treasure and riches as his sole dream is to be the King of the Pirates and to find the One Piece. You can't help but support him in his dream and soon you find yourself spending time with his crew almost everyday, happily showing them around your island and what makes your home so special. You have fun with all of them but the most time you still find yourself spending with Luffy who seems to cling to you like a koala to a tree.​ Sometimes his clinginess tends to overwhelm you a bit, his hand excitedly clutching yours as soon as he sees something that sparks that childish curiosity within him. You tend to forgive it though as you know that he is only playing his role... Right?

🍖​It is far too late already when you tell him eventually that the both of you don't need to pretend anymore as your parents have reluctantly stopped now that they believe that you already have someone. Yet as soon as your words leave your lips Luffy merely tilts his head confused. Pretending? What are you talking about? Apparently Luffy has stopped seeing this as a mere act long ago. The both of you are together in his eyes, you are already part of his crew. You struggle to explain to him that he is simply imagining things yet you are caught off guard when he asks you if you haven't been happy with him and had fun with his crew. That's when you find your breath stuttering as he unbeknownst to him targets a sensitive spot in you. He's right though, you have had more fun with his crew than you had in your home yet it is the fear of the unknown and other pirates that leads you to reject his offer to join his crew. You'd be wrong though in your belief that Luffy would accept a no for an answer, especially since you are his lover. Don't you love him? You can only pray that your parents won't find out not only that everything was a bluff but also that you asked a pirate of all people for help.

[solelifauna]

What WIP should i post next?

[professional-yearner]

Can't help falling in love with you 🤍 pt.2

Yandere! Cheater! Clone officer x reader

Series TW!: cheating, mistresses, grief, murder, Evil-ish, being trapped, toxic relationships, forced relationship, obsessive love, obsession, general insanity, manipulation, disloyalty, crybaby Mc, sensitive and a bit whimpy Mc

The waiting was agonizing.

You passed the time washing dishes at the sink, trying not to strain your ears for any sign of the door opening, for his boots scraping against the mat outside.

It couldn't be too far off by now, only a few minutes at most until he got home.

As if on queue, you heard boots coming up the complex stairs, which creaked under his weight.

The key turned in the lock and it felt like someone had drenched you in ice water and shoved you out into the hoth tundra. How were you going to do this?

You hadn't even been married a whole three years, but he had become one of the only people you talked to or saw regularly, you had almost forgotten how to move through the world without him.

Almost.

You'd had to relearn in the past few months with the distance he had put between the two of you. Been set adrift and panicked by someone who you loved, someone who was supposed to love you.

You shook your head, resolve finally breaking as you shook, letting out soft cries.

You didn't dare to look back at him, already picturing his vaguely surprised look at your obvious show of how you had felt all this time, but not sure you could take a confirmation of it.

"I can't do it." You whimpered, gripping the counter.

"Do what?" He asked simply, tone the gentlest you had heard it in a while, but wary.

"This, Steel, this is- bad! This hurts. We need to end this, now."

You turned to him, watching with exhausted resignation as his expression turned from confusion to shock.

"What?" He asked in a small voice, eyes now glued to you like they hadn't been in almost a year as you held yourself, leaning against the sink as you cried.

"I don't know why I've been holding onto this so hard when it's clear it's just… gone. I guess I just-"

You sobbed, losing any hold you had on your emotions.

"I just wanted you to keep loving me, because I love you so much, Steel! But I know I have to let you go now, I need to let you be happy, let us both be happy."

"Wait- Cyare, honey, what are you saying?" He took a step towards you, making you look directly at him, trying not to bawl as you choked out the words you had been preparing to say.

"We need a divorce, Steel. It's obvious you're not happy, I feel abandoned and alone- this marriage is hurting us- both of us."

He closed the distance between the two of you quickly, expression now panicked, much to your surprise. Nonetheless, you shied away when he reached out to touch your shoulder, "Hey, hey, hey, baby- who said I wasn't happy? You're being-"

"Please, Steel, I saw the messages."

You watched the color drain from his face.

"Sweetheart-"

You glared, ducking away from him and heading for the bedroom, "Don't call me that! Please! I'm trying to let you out! Please, stop talking to me like I'm stupid!"

He followed, "No- what are you-"

He stood in the doorway as you pulled you suitcase out of the closet, cursing yourself for bot packing earlier. Putting it on the bed, you slowly began to make your way through the dresser that you shared, placing some clothes in the main compartment.

"I'll stay with Effie while we get things sorted. The apartment was yours to begin with, so I'll- I don't know- I'll figure it out."

You gathered your stuffed animals from the shelves in a daze, dumping them gently in your laundry bag.

"I'll come back for the rest of my things as soon as I find a place, unless you want them out sooner, just- please don't throw anything away."

You could see his hands beginning to shake as you looked back to him for confirmation.

"What?" His voice was light, still seeming in complete disbelief.

You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you zipped the suitcase, struggling to get it off the bed.

"I want you to be happy, Steel, because I really do love you, and as much as I hate it, that can't be with me."

Not able to stand looking at him anymore, you pushed past him with your luggage, trying quiet your crying as you closed the door to the apartment.

Hailing a cab, you couldn't bare the sight of the complex enough to take a look back for fear of your resolve breaking.

-

You stared at the ring that sat on the nightstand, still hiccuping from your latest crying session since arriving at Effie's.

He had saved up his credits from various betting pools at the 79's to buy it, you had found out from his brothers. Of course, the shimmering diamonds that adorned it were fakes, but it was still a gorgeous ring, plus, you hadn't loved it for it's beauty.

You'd loved it because he had placed it on your finger that night in the backrooms of the 79's.

That thought process sent you into another round of sobbing, burying your face in the pillow beneath you so you didn't disrupt your friend in the other room.

You had even crying almost constantly since arriving at your friend's place. Luckily for the both of you, she worked a cushy advertising job, so there were no roommates to stare as you had collapsed into her, wailing and exhausted.

She'd had to escort you to her guest room just so she could cook dinner after a while, which you felt even more terrible about.

Since then, you had been going between crying and sleeping, barely able to keep track of which you were doing at the moment.

Despite your efforts to keep quiet, the door opened anyways, revealing the worried and lovely face of your friend, Effie.

"Hey, honey." She said, pushing the door open more with her hip. You saw now that she had a tray with her. A steaming microwave meal and glass of blue milk lay next to eachother, looking the most unappetizing you had ever seen something edible look.

You must've been making a face, because her frown only deepened.

"Come on, babe, you need to eat." She urged, placing the tray on the side table and sitting by your feet.

You nodded, guilt twisting along with the grief in your gut, "I'm sorry, I'm trying, it's just-"

You sniffed, embarrassed that you were crying again, 

"Hard."

She nodded sympathetically, squeezing your ankle over the covers.

"I know, I'll get you more of that anti-nausea stuff soon, you said that helps a little?"

You nodded again, giving her a weak, but genuine, smile, 

"Thank you, babe."

Fiddling with your hands, you mumbled, "I know you don't have to be doing this, so thank you, again."

She smiled slightly at that, bumping her shoulder with yours playfully, "Maybe not, but remember how you took care of me when I finally broke up with Hertz? How could I not do the same for my best girl?"

You snorted, a bit of humor slipping it's way into your tone, "I still don't know how you were so hung up on someone who looked like that!"

"He was very sweet when he wanted to be!" The Rodian pushed you softly in mock offense, laughing.

"He drooled!" You exclaimed, making her laugh harder.

Slowly, her laughter faded until she was just smiling softly at you.

"You know I love you." She took your hand, squeezing it, "Please just let me know if you need anything, you're not a burden."

At this, your eyes welled with new tears. It was impressive how the woman almost always knew what you needed to hear.

"Thank you, Effie." You sniffed, squeezing her hand in return and allowing her to pull you into a hug.

As you held eachother you felt that, if you had people like her in your life, maybe, maybe, you would make it through this.

[aphroditelovesu]

can you write a love letter from yandere Anakin Skywalker since I read that you write fanfics of Star Wars and can you make reader a male please and thank you 😊🥰

My beloved (Y/N),

From the moment our paths crossed in the stars, my heart has been beating in time to the melody of the Force. Every time our eyes meet, I feel an explosion of feelings as intense as the energy of a lightsaber.

My love for you is like the darkness and light that coexist within me. I am willing to do anything to ensure your safety and happiness. If anyone dares to come between us, I will use the Force to protect what's ours, no matter the consequences.

Every day that I spend with you is a gift that I value more than words can express. I feel jealous even of the stars that share their shine with you. But remember, my love, that my desire is to protect you, not imprison you.

Loving you consumes me in a way I can't explain, but it doesn't matter. As long as we are together, facing each challenge hand in hand, I know our love is true and eternal.

Our journey has been marked by challenges and trials, but facing them by your side makes me feel invincible. You are the light that guides me, the flame that burns in my heart, and I will never allow that flame to go out.

May the Force continue to unite us, my beloved, for together we are stronger than any battle that may arise. My love for you is as deep as the gulf between darkness and light.

With all my love,

Anakin Skywalker.

[littlest-dark-age]

Obsessed!Luke who always knows where you are due to him reaching out to you with the force. It brings him a sense of peace to know where you are, and being able to tell if you're in distress or not. He will gladly use his training to keep a tab on you.

Obsessed!Luke not knowing why you have such control over him but you do. He'd get on his knees and crawl across the hot sands of tatooine, swim through the swamps of dagobah if you so much as hinted to wanting it. Luke will come to you with decisions that have no need involving you but he'd never wish to do something that you don't agree with.

Obsessed!Luke telling you of his parentage and what he's had to do because of it to get a glimpse of pity. He doesn't care if it makes him look weak, the way you coo over him with care after hearing what he did. How strong he is and how much courage that had to have taken. He'll play it up, tears welling in his precious eyes when he mentions his father, just to get a simple kiss on the cheek.

Obsessed!Luke grows anxious when he sees you talking to han for too long, having to insert himself into your conversation. It's not you, oh no, not his dear starlight, it's han. He knows han would steal you away, wanting you all to himself like the selfish man he knows him to be. Luke needs you to live, needs you to survive. You've become his home, how could he go on without you?

[threepandas]

After The War: Foxx Hunting (Prev <-)

"Commander."

On anyone else, the tone would suggest simple statement. But there was a lilt. A slight inflection, I had long learned to spot, at the end of the word. That made it a greeting. A call. Monotone filled with subtle, near untraceable mocking.

"Tired of running yet, Commander? Or do you want to struggle more? You can, if you want. I can let you. We have time. After all, it really won't change much. There's no where you can go."

Head tilted ever so slightly, at an almost an invisible angle. Posture, military perfect, impossibly so. That perfection bought with pain, torture, born out of brutal necessity. His lips quirked, in an amused curl. At just that same, impossibly slight amount. Too small and indistinct for his tormentors to notice. To take from him.

Just enough to stay human, I had thought. Too stay sane, I had hoped.

I was wrong.

My biggest mistake hunted me. Had all the power in the GALAXY now, to hunt me. All the time he could ever dream, in which to do so. And it was all my fault. Me. It had to be. I... I was the only thing that changed. Tried to make things... things BETTER!

How arrogant. Hubristic. Who the fuck was I? To think I had the RIGHT, to shape and change the fate of an entire GALAXY to my whims? I didn't even know the story. Had been GUESSING, based off STAR WARS. So... so fucking confident. A-and what did that get me? Oh god. O-Oh god!

The blaster burns on my arms and legs screamed, as I forced myself up, one more time. Always, please god, always! J-just one more time! Don't give out on me yet. Not.. not until we are safe. Then. Then! We can cry. Howl and weep, break down and scream.

(My fault. My Fault. MY FAUL-)

None of the characters were an exact match. People were and weren't where they should be. Plots happened out of sequence or not at all. So why? WHY? Did I believe so hard in the Clones? IS it because I loved, still LOVE, the Vode? Did that trust transfer? That emotional connection? Was I tricked? Or was I just a fool? Does it MATTER in the end? If the result is the same?

I brought a monster, straight to Power.

Now they're dead. All my brothers, my sisters, my mentors and friends. Dead, dead, DEAD! Glowing weapons on the ground and a temple filled with DEATH. D-Did the nurseries get out? Please, oh god, let the children have survived my mistake.

Blood stains my robes. Only a tiny fraction of it, is mine.

Sticky and slick, oily and so many colors. The blood does not mix. Too many species, too much ash from the air. If I do not clean or remove it soon? I am likely to get chemical burns, from the reactions developing on the cloth. But again and again. My mistake finds me. A pursuit predator. Intent on wearing me down.

"How long will you try, Commander? You know just as well as I do, that I can afford to wait you out. You'll drop eventually." His tone was so mild, even as his words were horrifying. Overhead, a transport kept steady pace, as I desperately ran from commandos on the streets. "How many days has it been without proper rest? Rations? To stop and think? We've survived far worse then this, Commander. For far longer. We can endure, can you?"

I pull my magic around me, through my screaming legs, to fling myself across a jump they shouldn't be able to make.

Despair surges, as behind me... I hear jetpacks. Ah. They've gotten better gear, at long last. E-Everything I've ever wished for them. Gear and food and safety, at long last! A-At long last. I have to laugh, hysterical and afraid. I just... I just never thought my wish? Would be fulfilled for the purpose of hunting me down.

(I'm so tired. Please, god. No more. Let it stop. Let this nightmare END!)

Jumping, I land in a roll on a level several floors down. The impact is ugly. Agony on my burns and bruises. I may have not taken any direct hits? But those glancing strikes? Still leave marks. Trails of seared, blistering, blaster burns. Like tiger strips. As though you hade been struck, by whip made of fire. Not to mention the concussion grenades.

Yeah, half way through the attack, the Clones had stumbled. Either broken free of the Not Sith's control or come to their senses, deciding to switch to non-lethal weapons. Probably trying to go for the capture instead of the kill. But given the sheer variety of the Knights? One Being's sedative was another's lethal toxin. And the gas attacks...

I... I'm still not even sure if... if Master Rim'Llahiy survived long enough, to get to the healers. The seizures were BAD. He... he didn't deserve that. All he'd ever done, was keep the gardens. Live a quite life. T...Try to defend his home.

Around me, as I run, screens light up. Somehow, I'm the focal point. I... I don't know how he's doing this. It has to be Sketch or Gear, one of the Slicers. Who else could hack into so many systems so easily? The... the knowledge that they're helping him? That everyone of the Guard is HELPING him hunt me? I feel sick.

Was any of it real? Was I friends with ANY of them? Or... Or was I just them happy little slave master, patting myself on the back, because I didn't beat them, unlike the others? Aren't I gracious. Don't you just love me? Say thank you for my grace. Let me feel good about my self! My pretty little charity of the day! Before I skip back off to fairy land! Leaving you all in hell.

Do I deserve this? I... I have to deserve this... right?

Even though I tried. Even though I fought and fought and FOUGHT. Even when that Not A Sith BASTARD tried to kill me at every turn, just to shut me the fuck up, and I WOULDN'T. Because they deserved to be free. Because it was WRONG. Because we took VOWS, remember? Days and days, convincing and campaigning.

I have to... to somehow, deserve this. Because? B-because if I DON'T?

Then What Have I DONE?

City levels and blocks blur together. I couldn't tell you where on this god forsaken ecumenopolis I am anymore. But the others! The others have gotten off planet by now. Surely... surely! They have escaped! Right? They HAVE too. I-It HAS to have been worth it. Becoming bait. M-making myself a target. This... this one last time?

It.. it was WORTH it. Right? Right?!

Please! Please god! Let it have been WORTH IT!!

I skid around a corner. Too tight, not judging it right in my panic, my shoulder clipping the wall hard. Scraping flesh through my robes. Just more bruises and hurt to add to the pile. I don't slow. Can't slow. Feel it but push the pain away. The crash later will be ugly, when I release the magics flowing through me. When the adrenaline fades. But... but either I will live to endure it? Or it will not matter at all.

Too late, though, I see the trap.

I have been corralled. Like a a sheep from my first life, harried by dogs into a pen. Tricked into a corner. No where left to go. The platform I thought was a street? Was an alley between two buildings, leading to a third. A perfect little killbox with only one way out. I stumble, horrified, as I register the truth too late. Spin, already knowing it's too late to double back. But hoping... HOPING....!

Jetpacks. The commando squadron of the guards, touching down at the entrance, a solid line of armor and skill. Better weapons, jet packs, upgraded armor. They... they even seem rested. For the first time in years.

A stark reversal. Now it is I, who is barely holding on. Now I am the one, who has been ground to dust, by the exhaustion of fighting without end. Of running and running. No real food and no real rest. No medicine. No help coming. I want to laugh, scream, weep. So it's to be poetic justice, is it?

But I can not give in.

Forgive me. But I can not, WILL NOT give in. Body exhausted, I draw my blade. The plasma humming as the magics charge. The alleyway fills with light. I took Vows. Owe my soul to the Galaxy and it's people. Regardless of Regime, I have service I must complete. And to do that? I have to be alive.

(I don't care, that they took over. Let them have it. But how could you? How COULD YOU?! The Temple was my home. I am a hypocrite. Here, at the end, I must face that. And now I know it to be true.)

The ship over head dips lower, kicking up a hurricane of wind. My robes whip around me, but I do not move from my opening stance. Ready, not ready, but resigned to it none the less. The Commandos are a silent wall as, from above, a rip cord descends. Clipped to it? Marshall Commander... no, Supreme Commander Foxx.

The Clones newly elected Emperor.

A man I THOUGHT was my friend.

He looked nothing like Commander Fox of the Vode. Hair too long and curling. Face deceptively young looking and boyish. Non regulation piercing hidden under the helmet all Guards wore, day in and day out. They hadn't been able to customize their armor like the others. So they customized themselves.

He wasn't in armor, now. It was somehow worse. The dress uniform an affront, a reminder, like a curse of broken glass. I... I hadn't even known he owned such a thing. It made sense, given his old position. Yet, somehow... somehow? I doubted this was the uniform he had been given. It looked... looked Regal.

"Are we done, now? Got it out of your system? Or should one of us put you on the ground first? Grind your face right against the filthy floor?"

His voice was mild as ever, as he calmly unclipped himself, let the cord retract. He tucked his hands behind his back. Strolled forward with measured steps, assessing eyes, like a general examining untested troops. Picking me apart for weakness, looking for openings in my stance. Injuries on my body. I had seen him do this before. Just... just never thought... it'd be used... a-against me. (How arrogant, I had been.)

"This can stop at any time, Commander. All you have to do? Is stop running. You don't have to worry anymore. I'm not going to hurt you. We're not going to hurt you. You've struggled long enough, don't you think? It's time to be done. To come home. Be taken care off. That's all we want to do, Darling. Commander."

"Surely you can see, that it's BETTER this way? No more war. No more Knights on sabotaged missions. Diplomats to war zones. Children where they shouldn't BE. The Order can be SAFE now. YOU can be safe now. Loved and precious as you always should have been. It's okay now, Commander. Come here. It's okay..."

Foxx's eyes blazed with conviction. They had been brown, like his brothers. They... oh god, they SHOULD have been brown. But as I stared into his face, at those unfamiliar eyes on what should be so familiar a form? Red stared back. The red, Red, RED, of the Fallen.

Foxx had been... had been Energy Sensitive. The Cloners had fucking LIED, when they said it wasn't possible. I had always suspected. Didn't dare bring attention to it. Didn't want my friend to be... to be KILLED. Experimented on. I should have trained him. Done more.

Desperate people will reach for anything, to stop themselves from drowning. And the Dark offers such tempting things. Vengeance and Power. Freedom, no matter the cost. It pays sweetly then corrupts slow. There is always a cost.

I can not risk it.

Shifting my weight to my front leg, in preparation to surge forward, I never get the chance. A two fold thwip! And sharp pinch in my upper arm. I got the first. But the second... a? Dart? No. NO! Panicked, I flood my body with the magics meant to purge drugs and... instantly the world spins. I have somehow just made it worse. W-what?

"Confiscated from slavers, 'bout five months back. It's a high end drug." The Commando with the dart gun said, as though commentingon the weather. "Fairly new, too. Made to react specifically to the Cosmic Energies. Our esteemed Chancellor, may he rot as he deserves, had them developed through several shell companies."

"Really wish you hadn't done that, Commander. Cause, see, the side effects? Are pretty nasty." Foxx commented. Various helmets nodded, the guards body language sympathetic but lacking any remorse. What ever it took to bring me in. To make me Safe.

"Now you're going to be sick for a while. But on the other hand? You are a stubborn one. So maybe this'll give you time to think, hmm? Time to enjoy the pampering a bit. You'll get used to it, learn to be good for me. I know you. You're a smart girl."

My legs couldn't hold me anymore. Despite struggling, I couldn't keep my blade at the ready. Helplessly, I watched as he watched forward. Used a single finger, on the hilt, to push my blade to the side. The lightest of tugs, stealing it from me entirely. At long last, the tears came. I... I was scared. Really, really scared. P-please... Foxx, please...

"Hunts over, Commander. It's time to stop running. You've lost."

"But, that? That's okay. You can lose now. Be weak. Wretched and pathetic and flawed. You don't have to be perfect any more, Commander. I've got you. You're Mine. Ours. Perfect, just the way you are. And today?"

"Today is the start of the rest of your new life, Commander."

"Welcome to the Empire."

[yandere-wishes]

⋆.˚ 𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕍𝕒𝕔𝕒𝕪 ⋆.˚

𐙚Yandere! Qimir X Reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ He steals you in summer. Castaway on a planet with no name. But the way his eyes shine under the hot sun has your heart beating out of your chest.

⁀➷ Does this count as "That's that me, espresso"?

🪐 Yandere behavior, obsessive tendencies, Stockholm syndrome, blood, and gore.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ Espresso by Sabrina Carpender

Dark Vacay by CAS

The heat licks at your neck dangerously. The scathing red glow cleaves through flesh, through bone.

Warm, warm, warm.

The sort of swelter befitting rampant volcanos and rebirthing suns.  

The man, no, the Sith has you pinned to his chest. His force,a dark pulsating thing, coiling through your body, keeping you rooted.

Sol's voice echoes through the canopy. Sending ripples through the blood-matted forest floor. "Release her." His saber is drawn, pointed.

Blue vs red.

Hot vs cold.

"Give me the relic." The voice lacks emotion, empathy. It demands, it takes. There is no room for formalities here, no chivalry you've long believed in. This monster deals only in dark. Taking and taking. "And I won't hurt her".

You try to push him away, to fight. Your force against his, clawing at the dark ether around you, hunting for an aperture, a splinter anything to infiltrate. But he is resilient, strong the way most volcanos are.

Impenetrable.

You moan against the tightening noose. He demands and you must obey. Such a dark thing can even make your master bow, make him give up the ancient blood-red relic. "You have your relic, now release my pupil." Behind you the monster chuckles, an airy noise overflowing with malice, "I said I wouldn't hurt her, not that I'd give her back."

The lights dull. Neon fading into a fuzzy mess of colors too tangled to decipher. Voices weave bending to the blaring buzz echoing from within. The world grows darker, you try to clutch onto something, anything. The cool colors of saber light, the soothing tone of your master's voice. The monster's dark cadence. But it's no use, the darkness prevails, pulling you under its crushing waves, burying you in a sea of nihil.

The world is dim upon resurgence. The air tastes of salt, fresh and dry upon the throat. The earth you lay in is warm, not like the smoldering heat of a bloodborne saber, but the warmth you imagine a mother's embrace to hold. Soft in every way that counts.

The place is alien and abandoned. No family, no monsters. Just rock upon rock and makeshift furniture to further the illusion of a makeshift home. The pounding upon your temples has yet to cease, you wonder if the outlines of a bruise have yet to bloom.

Slowly, you emerge from the cocoon of worn blankets. Bare feet scraping across the jagged floor. You feel the monster's presence linger, his essence strong within this place. You remember the dragon dens you used to read about in fairy tales. The gold-adorned caves where little princesses were forced to dwell.

It's funny you should feel like one now.

There are clothes sprawled across the floor. Vanilla ice cream in shade and shape, they feel too pure to have been chosen by a man like him. Too pure to have been tainted by the darkness of his fingertips. It's only now that the dress glares back that you notice your bareness, Jedi robes stripped and discarded.

That fiend...

You feel skinned, alone. No saber to grasp, no golden drapes. Nothing to paint you as Jedi. It's with reluctance that you lace yourself into the sweet dress, with utter reluctance that you step out onto the beach of rocks awaiting outside.

You spot the man,

the sith.

Qimir

His name reverberates within your head. You lick each letter, rolling them across your tongue and drinking in their condensation. "Qi-mi-rr" the name shouldn't taste of exotic fruits blended and bled. It shouldn't taste like fruit cocktails and coconut cubes but it does.

It does and it's disgustingly delicious.

He walks with the steady strout of a man who knows he is the most dangerous thing on this beach, on this island, on this entire planet. A volcano among mountains.

You follow behind bare feet on smooth rocks. Fumbling across the beach.

Chasing shadows. Chasing monsters.

He sheds his robes like skin, peeling away sabbath vestments to reveal cutis. Tanned and scarred, marred flesh risen like volcano veins cascading across his spine.

You shouldn't admit how desperately your fingers ache to trace the tragic thing. You glid your nails across the notched igneous rocks. Dreaming its soft flesh, his soft flesh beneath your touch. He would shutter under your fingertips as you pull apart his secrets. Nibbling on them like picnic cookies.

He's stripped bare, soft skin caught in the dim sun. His open wounds glisten under soft gold rays. You skate away from the sight, that forbidden sun-drenched sight. Eyes averted and hidden behind the rocks, twice locked, to avoid a rogue glance.

He is nothing if not haunting, forbidden in every way.

Odd how the memory of his bare ankles is what lingers. Carved too steep and too deep in a way that looks too marble. They merge into long robust legs. You can't help but imagine the sculpture of his thighs after, the thing at the end of those perplexing ankles. They too must be strong, carved to define each muscle. You imagine being trapped between them, their forceful push against your meaker body as his ankles intertwine with yours.

"You can open your eyes now."

You taste his darkness in your mouth again. Potent tropical fruits laced with sea salt. He couldn't have known you were trailing after him, you'd been quiet, silent like a whisper.

"It's improper to strip out in the open. What would you have done if someone should have come upon you?"

He treads in the water like a pearl unearthed. Shimmering alongside the blue-green of the lagoon. "You came upon me and nothing happened."

"That's because I had the good graces to avert my gaze from such a sight."

"I'd prefer if you'd look."

He pours water over his face, sparkly droplets cascading down sharp cheekbones. Eyes wide with an odd groggy wonder. The sky and the sea and him ethereally in between. He shouldn't look so magical. Some water nymph playing spike ball with the sun. Drinking in the clouds and blue. Before diving back down into his aquatic galaxy.

"Join me"

"I'd rather impale myself"  

he's treading closer, water shielding his body like liquid lapis lazuli. "I wonder what your lips will taste like blue?" and it's the first time you've ever thought of your order's regalia as something so macabre.

His eyes are half-lidded, licking over your body like a melting Sunday. Or maybe he actually is, you can feel something wet and sinister sliding across your body. Slipping over and under the dress, sucking at pulse points. Anticipating soft vanilla.

You want to rip out his tongue and harbor in your mouth. You want to devour him as if he were ice cream on a summer day. Butterscotch cone with drizzled caramel and star sprinkles. Your teeth ache desperately for just one small bite.

He's standing, growing into a full man, no longer just a boy nymph memorized by soft whites and bright blues. The water droplet clutch greedy to taut muscles, refusing to leave such a Promethean thing.

The wet thing freezes. Running water to ice cube. His force evaporates from you, you bask in the mist of him. Before the shadow roots behind you impenetrable all over again. Qimir steps closer and you close your eyes on instinct. Stepping back, following the flow of sand in breeze.

Such sights are not for us to love.

It tips you off balance, You can't see Qimir but you can feel him. He's closer and closer. That's why you're stalking back. But the plasmic thing behind you nicks your ankle. Lurching you back. In the blink of an eye and the start of a scream, you're suspended in mid-air. Floating above the sands, save in the gossamer of his black mist.

"Careful" Qimir jests

And you crack your eye open just enough to see his outstretched hand.

"I want to take a shower"

"The lagoone is over there" he throws over his shoulder all so causally. like spelling out sea cemetary.

the warmth of the cave is suffocating. Lacing through your body making it breakout into little pearls of hidrosis. You roll over, watching Qimir, solder the cracks of his helmet. The rampant sparks cast him in a galactic white halo. Some intangible creature from the far reaches of the universe.

You wonder back to the incident by the lagoon.

You wonder if his tongue, his real tongue, would feel cool against your flaring skin. Muscle-bound ice cube rolling across your arms, your chest, drinking in your essence in half kisses and open-lipped moans. Sucking tenderly on the veins of your neck.

But shouldn't the tongues of monsters be spiked? cutting deep in search of blood?

Qimir swats the sweat from his temples. Pulling up the back of his shirt in an effort to fight the humidity. His scars transcend so low. Rivers weaving through him, overflowing with treasured secrets. You suck in the force through your lips drinking in its cold confidence. Marching up to stand behind him, only half admiring the rugged skin below the sandy shirt.

"Ahem" Spine straight, head held high. Your stance is practiced, sculpted in the confidence that the order demands. Lightside in every way.

Jedi, Jedi, Jedi

"I know it is futile to ask a treasonous sith like you to abide by the laws of common decency. But I'd ask that you do not come to spy on me while I bathe" Your hands ball into firsts. Glaring death and shark teeth at his blemished back.

He leaves the workbench with all the grace of a crushing tide. Elegance carved from salt rocks and years of walking through stars and shadows. But this time you refuse to step back. There is no dishabille to fear, no sand lines that may be passed.

But he doesn't confront you. He doesn't bask in his rage and stands proudly in front of you. No, instead he paces, or rather almost floats. He's in front of you one minute and behind you the next. The eerieness of it all only comes from the feeling of entombment. He is your cage, your coffin. Burying you under the sand with his precious secrets and red relics. Your nerve beats out of you in little droplets.

Qimir's fingers lace with your own, his hot breath fans the shell of your ear, "How can I make such promises when you act so cute" his voice is coconut shavings upon white sand. You aren't even sure he spoke. " I thought Sith only dealt in absolutes?" his laughter cuts like fractured seashells. Cutting through heartstrings. You want to hear it again and again until you've memorized its melody. "That's what we want the Jedi to believe."

His teeth graze the nape of your neck. That's the last straw, gravity crushes your nerve, and you take off running.

The pearls that shine within his sockets are entirely too dark. You shouldn't be thinking such this as you disrode. But the glimmer of pure drown isn't a worldly sight, it's something unplaceable.

Sith can not be trusted, even if, until mere days ago they had been things of fairytales like dragons and sea monsters. Mystical monsters used to frighten little padwans into finishing their plates. But the stories are true now, they've ripped open the holobooks and sprouted from the screen. Your fingers flex, feeling the weight of his hand in yours.

The monsters are real...

You keep your undergarments on as you descend with the sparkling tides. Qimir may appear at any moment. And you wish to confront a Sith in a Jedi's skin, or what little is left of it.

You're sinking into the watermelon greens and crystal blues, sinking into him... because even so far from the grotto his presence haunts your thoughts still.

"You wouldn't mind if I invite myself in?" The water laps at his feet, he's standing over the liquid threshold.

"What are you doing here?! I told you not to come."

he shrugs and you can't help but notice the definition of his muscles. "It's hot in the cave. Plus you don't own the beach."

He pulls the shirt over his head.

You scream for him to stop.

But this time as he pulls the waistband down you notice something underneath.

Swim trunks.

Bell-bottomed and shaped like a nebula, but only midnight in hue. The cuffs glimmer with red intricacies, patterns from a different time, a different solar system. Each stitch tells some tale of horror or history. Sith things that you'd rather not know. But why engrave them into a swimsuit? Why paint a tapestry on something so jejune?

He treads through the water, deadset on you. And again in every step, you notice a mettle valor that can only come from having killed and kissed your greatest fears.

The rocks are slippery beneath your feet, running, swimming, gliding whatever gets you further from him. But the rocks form barricades of their own. Igneous confines housing prey and beast.

"I meant it when I said you were cute." He has you pinned to the mineral mountains, eyes prying you open, studying your inner workings like a gutted bot. "So fragile so malleable..." You feel his power rolled over your neck.

You didn't expect the kiss. The taste of coconut shavings and caramel. Your heart hammers as he tugs on your hips, pulling you closer. Your lungs burn, filled with salt water and dark force energy.

But suffocating is a small price to pay when he parts your lips and pushes iced star fruits in your mouth.

That night Qimir had tried to feed you soup. Boiled fish and herbs in a cauldron that looks, entirely witch. But the refusal comes not from the perturbation of poison or the primal mistrust shared between star-crossed enemies.

No the refusal comes because you simply do not like fish.

"Just try a spoonful, it's from a rare breed. Considered a luxury on most planets". His entreaties fall on deaf ears, outvoiced by the stubbornness of a crashing tide. You retire hungry, and maybe it's hunger that stirs you in the dead of night.

Or maybe it's the heartbeat echoing from his mask.

He called it cortosis. But it looks more terror than diamond.

You sink to your knees in front of the haunted heirloom, cradling it gently within your palms. The iron flavor upon lips makes you part them, tongue fleshed tracing every welded scar. Sucking in the solder and crystal and every other poison.

You want to be a part of it, to pry open your ribcage and shove the empyrean taj within.

Let its darkness mingle with your blood. You want to feel it's royalty in the marrow of your bones.

In the morning you do not speak about the pulsating thing within. But the mask stares at you as you eat mint and bread from Qimir's hand.

It knows...

It knows things you can never admit.

You'd been planning on narrowly avoiding him. Tiptoeing across the cave to evade stirring him. But the plans die when first light breeches the aperture.

Qimir's gone.

And in his place, he's left yet another raiment.

The dress is summer and doll. Bowed in the back and studded.

Bar'biee in every way.

The hysterically placed designs parody the crisscross of twilight roses and all their thrones. Checkered in shades of obsidian and ink.

But the black of your dress doesn't quite match the ebony of his robes.

It simply plays testament to your ripeness. You're starting to feel like his little doll.

He lies on a beach towel overlooking the sea. So ordinary it makes you choke. Beach ball in the corner by his feet, waiting to be played with.

Fearless.

You wonder just who he had to kill to reach this hubris?

You float down the little exclaves toes barely touching the ground.

He's adorned the rocky beach with a comically large parasol too dark to even have a name. Another towel, a picnic basket, and little coconut cups with straws. Despite his black tainted sunglasses, he knows you're watching him. Caught in the bosom of this haunted shore. Awaiting your capturer's orders.

"You can sit if you want." again he's saying words without realizing how crushing they truly are. Their full weight pulling your bones until they slip from skin.

Might as well have said shark attack and death at sea.

But you obey because despite everything, the towel looks nice and so does the drink.

"The sun doesn't come out very often. But I figured we could at least enjoy it today."

"Thanks," you mutter chewing on the pink straw. You shift your limbs rigidly. Plastic doll coming to life. Pushing tense bones straight as you rest your uneasy head. The waves hum in your ear and you swear you hear the rocks buzze like star songs.

"Why did you bring me here? Why not kill me."

"Well, you're not really any use to me dead" He offers you a melon slice.

"So I'm bait." Qimir sighs, your query exhausting. He simply sips from his own drink. You notice the jounce of his throat with each gulp. How you'd love to ring to those bones, feel them crack between your fingers.

He turns to you, lips a breath away. He hasn't kissed you since that day in the lagoon. But you wish him too so very much.

This isn't the Jedi way...

What?

Qimir's fingers trace over your thighs and hips. Finally, they land heavily on your shoulders, pushing you into the rocks with zeal. He blocks the sun and you can't help but think he's lovelier than any red goliath in the macrocosm.

Qimir's teeth gnaw at your throat, kissing the blood and smearing it with his tongue. Traling open-mouth kisses to the plinth of your neck.

Your nails, rasp curiously at his back, tracing scars, tracing cortosis veins.

His fingers dig into your ribs, painting it in seastars. Kissing starlights and pearls in your bones. His body is hot, scolding. And you wonder if the minerals he surrounds himself with were all nursed in the womb of a violent volcano.

The result of destructive habits is knife bites called kisses and a heart that's finally exploded.

When he pulls off, he poises himself on his knees before falling back to his side, searching for something in the basket. You stare, dress distorted, and breath hitched. You taste the exotic fruit blend again. Burning, caramel, and coconut that linger across your body.

"Hey, can you put this on me?" reality blurs back in, he's dangling a yellow bottle in front of you. "What" he shouldn't have this ease with you. He shouldn't be playing make-believe lovers on the beach with the girl he kidnapped.

But he does.

And you play along too.

"it's sunscreen, believe it or not, I burn easily."

"No"

"please"

"N-"

You don't control your hand as it pours the cream onto his chest. He touches you with such familiarity, the force on this planet is just an extension of him. But you shy away at the thought of running your fingers across his muscle bound chest. What is the force if not a child's toy? If not another doll.

He notices the shyness. Or rather reads it from the air. His force pokes at your arms, laughing at the discomfort. Before you know it he's harbored between your thighs. Large hands holding your wrist.

Firm yet delicate.

He moves your hand over his chest, charting every bump and muscle. Coating the blocker over his skin. It feels like piecing together armor. Preparing him for a battle you've never been invited to.

You don't want this.

Well not quite.

You want to feel his body jolt under your touch and hear the sweet little quips he offers to lighten the mood. You want to capture the fleeting moment where he bites his lip and preserve it for eternity.

But more than anything you want to peel away his armor, his flesh, and bury yourself beneath. Become another one of his secrets and staying inside him. Safe and warm forever.

"Qimir"

He makes pomegranate soup that night. As he nestles your body over his lap. Kissing the half-healed bruise on your forehead. He brings the spoon to your lips and gently nudges your mind to let him in. You part your lips, welcoming him in with the shyness you've been raised on. Blushing little bride-doll.

Legacy. You realize when the seeds erupt inside your mouth.

He's feeding you his secrets, his bequest. Boiling you like the fish and the fruit. And birthing you anew.

You sleep with your head buried in the crux of his neck. Listening to the lullaby of his tattered heart, singing psalms of conquest.

That night you dream of a river red. You blame it on Qimir, the pomegranate seeds were too maroon in color and flavor.

From the crimson water the helmet surfaces. Bobbing in the waves, beckoning you. You cup your hands inside the river, guzzling down the water and licking your fingers after. You let the red kiss your lips and fill your lungs choking you by essence alone. You want to die drinking from the bloodlust. Die in front of his helmet.

So maybe he can call it love.

Or Devotion.

Or anything else equally sweet.

The river doesn't taste like pomegranates, or fruit cocktails, or iced coconut.

It tastes of salty iron, volcanic diamonds and Qimir's lips.

You plunge into the red...

He's thinking about you again. You know it from the moment you awake. His voice is loud inside your head. Reverberating from wall to wall until it is the only thing you hear.

This time the garments are waterproof. Swimwear. Two pieces in black, just black. And adorned with red trees on the seams.

Right, because you beat me in the forest.

Clever.

He has left bangles too, jagged and bruised purple with veins of white. cortosis. Accompanied by a golden necklace that looks like a beating heart, ripped freshly from someone's chest.

"You look beautiful," he remarks after you've dressed in his colors. When did he come in? You need to get better at hearing the man born from shadows. The man who's walking between worlds unseen, unheard his entire life.

He pulls you close, nails picking at the soft flesh of your tummy. Scratching skin and leaving red crescents. He kneels and licks and bites, claiming this new chart of unmarked skin.

This has always been about possession, domination, damnation. "Qimir" you moan and it feels so wrong and so right. Like saber to the heart.

Oh force, how far you've fallen.

Qimir laces his fingers with yours pulling you outside the cave. The sun shimmers off his lopsided smile and he really does glow brighter than every star in the known cosmos.

The lagoon is red.

It shouldn't be red.

"You killed them" Since when have such dire words spilled so easily from your lips? Sol, Jacki, Yord. Are they in this pool? shimmering translucent awaiting a vengeance you do not think you can deliver?

"Yes...But not your Jedi, not yet. These were just some self-pious knights who got in my way."

He brings his arm up showing you a fresh saber cut, before pulling you into the water. It's so warm boiling, lava meets water. You think your skin will peel off.

But you stand your ground. Force directing your every breath. Spine straight head high. Darkside in every way

Sith, sith, sith

You grasp at his forearm, pulling it to your lips. Your tongue finds the slit in the skin and dives it. Mapping out the muscles and drinking in the red.

Exotic fruits bled and blended.

"I think I'm finally getting through to you," Qimir says, brown pearls glazed over with pride. "My sweet little acolyte."

You giggle at the term. It tastes so bitter, like a raw espresso before dawn.

"Oh, master" you moan. As you pull him under the red waters. Lips and legs entwined.

ᯓ♡ : @feedmestraycats @moonlovefairy  @wicked0clouds @phoenixes-and-wizards @peridedarling @morax-on-my-mind @magikmaik @lov4gor3 @manchuria @bucksdonkey @embersofimagination @hauntedhedgehogs @peter-laufeyson @papitas-con-sal @f0odie @boredtone @bluechissbrain @yourfilthydevil @n0t-skywalker @xsister-serpent @gabriqllas @zionysuss @i-love-my-babygirls @pagingoswin @jxp1ter @faebirdie @deezhutts565 @thesithdiaries @pagingoswin @hauntingwolf @scentedbanditlampwobbler @uwingdispatch @mask-knife-is-buggys-girl @lunarsvertigo @scintilla-morningstar @carpinchootaku @penny44224 @suburbanlegendzzzz @jihyos-wifey @reylo-imperium @ladyofyourdreams @sassybananaweaselpsychic @96jnie @@jxp1ter @sunnymoonxx @scintilla-morningstar @carpinchootaku @smutmaniac @alena1100 @marice23top @ohdearmaggie @strawberrycat69

[yandere-toons]

Yandere Anakin Skywalker (Platonic & Romantic Headcanons)

Warnings: Abuse of Power, Violence, Death, Mentions of Choking/Strangulation, Implied Stalking, Psychological Manipulation, Toxic Mindsets.

Based on Clone Wars Anakin.

Platonic:

Anakin has tasted loss one time too many to treat this bond as anything other than a closely guarded treasure, one that he will break a great many rules to prolong. But the restrictive Jedi Order takes every opportunity to remind him: "The Jedi Code comes before friendship." Be that as it may, Anakin considers them family and will now guard them with his life.

If his friend claims someone is harassing them or Anakin witnesses what he considers blatant disrespect, he offers to straighten out the problem in a way that seems like a joke but is deathly sincere. Once the offender suffers a mysterious injury or sudden change of heart, Anakin cannot resist making a cheeky remark that arouses the suspicion of all who hear.

Obi-Wan senses his burning resentment towards the person and confronts him about harbouring forbidden attachments, which Anakin only proves by denying with such fervour. Chancellor Palpatine enables this volatility, pushing Anakin to take whatever extreme measures he feels necessary to exact justice, no matter how much it alienates him from the other Jedi.

If properly motivated, he will defend his friend's honour with a barrage of lightsaber strikes, cruel for a Jedi, or blows with his cybernetic fist at the hapless fool who crossed the line that day. The attack ends when he feels he has made his point and not a second sooner, not one punch less, because Anakin is not afraid to beat some people to death if he is not stopped or given a powerful incentive to restrain himself.

For lesser offences and when the object of his wrath is out of reach, Anakin practices passive aggression. He secludes himself in storerooms to tinker with various machinery, lies about his troubles to anyone who asks but Padmé, and later demands that this offender be shunned and distrusted by his colleagues.

Anakin lends his Padawan Ahsoka Tano a disturbing insight into the brunt of his protective fury when his friend comes under fire, whether from battle droids or Republic officials. He does his best to limit their role in missions he deems dangerous, and his voice of determination to expose and punish the culprit rings out after a threat falls upon them.

He proclaims their innocence in the face of accusations and rages at those who doubt them. Obi-Wan cautions him to have better control over his temper, but Anakin is outspoken about how absurd he finds the charges and will not rest until he has dragged the serpent who wants to scapegoat his friend into the light.

Until the rightful culprit from whom he wrings a confession is dead or rotting in prison, a cloaked menace that assaults and interrogates their known enemies besets the galaxy's underworld. Criminals are Force-choked left and right, while Chancellor Palpatine feeds Anakin's darkest urges after he storms into the Senate Building in search of guidance and validation.

Anakin will not hesitate to take the leaps no one else will when it comes to the special people in his life, and if his friend is a fellow Force user, he will abuse his ability to monitor them in this way. Anakin sees this as ensuring their protection from a hostile world hell-bent on making good people suffer, no matter that his retribution against those who try their luck with his friend grows worse with each passing day.

His perception of them holds more value in his eyes than their true nature. Even if they show a spiteful streak or manipulative tendencies, Anakin has long since convinced himself of their admirable character and springs into action to help them whenever possible. Perhaps he trusts them to make the right decisions after fighting together in the war, but Anakin tends not to think twice about the morally questionable actions they take on or off the battlefield.

Palpatine notices and exploits Anakin's willingness to bend and break the rules for someone, pulling some strings to put Anakin's friend in perpetual danger. He uses his network of cronies to force Anakin to make uncomfortable choices, such as sacrificing the life of another for his friend, which strains his other relationships and reflects poorly on the Jedi.

Romantic:

Every time some piece of scum manages to wound his partner, Anakin relives the agony of his mother's death and drowns in the fear that he will once again fail to save those closest to him. This desperation drives him to steamroll over entire battalions and lay waste to anyone who tries to dispute his right to act, Jedi or Sith. For Anakin, losing another person he holds dear is far more frightening than any punishment the Jedi Order could mete out.

Suppose he is indicted on war crimes or threatened with expulsion from the Order for leaving a trail of severed heads and limbs on his unauthorised journey to rescue the partner he is not allowed to have. In this case, Anakin calls the Jedi Council blind for not seeing things from his perspective and understanding why he had to defy orders and cut down that Separatist sympathiser.

Chancellor Palpatine informs Anakin that the Council must not trust him if it disregards his argument so thoughtlessly. On the other hand, he commends Anakin's resolve to fight for his emotions rather than against them. Palpatine even encourages him to follow his anger to its natural conclusions when he spots his partner in trouble, which nurtures further conflict in Anakin as the Jedi Order insists he does the opposite.

Anakin believes he is partly responsible for his mother's death. He blames himself because, as his guilty conscience tells him, he left her behind to pursue his own goals and returned only with weakness and insufficient urgency to help her. As a result, Anakin struggles with the lingering paranoia that he will make the same mistake twice when he cannot readily locate and confirm his partner's safety.

On the battlefield, Obi-Wan is one of the few people who can successfully talk Anakin out of putting the entire mission on hold until he finds them. On starships, clone troopers obey without question when General Skywalker gives the order to leave the room while he tortures a prisoner of war for information on their whereabouts and health.

Between missions, Anakin reaffirms that he values this relationship above all else in the galaxy, even promising to abandon the Order if his involvement in it becomes too great a hindrance. He fights for his comrades more than he fights for some grand peace, and if the options are honouring the Jedi Code or keeping his partner out of danger, Anakin will maim and intimidate his way to victory.

In his younger, more impulsive hours, he gave little thought to who might see his brazen displays, rushing to embrace his partner after long separations. As the war progresses, he grows more adept at hiding his affections from the stoic eye of the Council, even though his frustration at this leads him to arrange secret meetings and become increasingly defensive towards anyone who suspects the truth.

Of all his confidants, Anakin trusts no one more than his partner, but Captain Rex is a close second. Respecting his orders to comb the area whenever they stray a little too far from Anakin's field of vision, Rex does his part to watch over one of his commander and friend's favourite people. He makes no judgements of his own, though he does mediate between Anakin and other Jedi who might tell Anakin to cut his losses.

The clones under his command are not inclined to rebel when Anakin orders them to round up the populace he believes is involved in his partner's disappearance. Some troopers may be a little shaken when he starts strangling civilians with the Force until someone gives a lead; however, their training has taught them to follow all orders, even if it means raiding buildings and dragging people to face an enraged Anakin.

Too sick of the Council's deception to subject Padmé to the same backstabbing treatment, Anakin one day broaches the idea of bringing a third person into the relationship. He pretends not to have anyone specific in mind so that he can dismiss it as simple curiosity, only to betray his eagerness when Padmé asks for details.

She wants to see him happy, so she agrees to Anakin spending more time with them. However, Anakin applies a double standard: he would never tolerate Padmé or his partner being interested in someone else, let alone inviting that person into the relationship. This takes time and attention away from his emotionally starved self and implies to his abandonment-fearing mind that he is not good enough.

[yanderes-galore]

Hi, could you please do a yandere platonic darth vader? Thank you!

I can try, sure! If something is OOC, I'm so sorry, I still struggle writing Vader.

Yandere! Platonic! Darth Vader Concept

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Isolation, Brainwashing, Overprotective behavior, Violence, Murder, Forced companionship.

Vader, or even Anakin, would not be the best father.

If things didn't go wrong, he'd probably be loving to his kids.

Yet at the same time, he'd just make an action at some point to poison that bond.

Vader was under the impression his wife and child died.

Which made him who he is now.

In reality, he had three.

Luke, Leia, and you.

He never found out about any of you until much later.

I think it would be an interesting idea if you took a different path than Luke and Leia.

Like, maybe you went to help them during the Death Star and had no idea they were your siblings. (You could just have been raised beside Leia as a childhood friend or something or found them later)

Unfortunately, however, you end up being taken captive by Vader.

Which leads to Vader finding out you're his kid...

Which begins the obsession.

I'm assuming he knew you were his kid via looks and feeling drawn to you (The Force).

So, as OOC as this may be, imagine this...

Vader decides to keep you alive instead of executing you in order to "parent" you.

You hate him yet Vader feels you're a second chance.

This is before he even knew Luke was his kid.

I imagine it would be similar to when Vader said he could convert Luke to the Dark Side.

To protect your life, he'd tell Palpatine you could be useful in tracking Rebels.

Granted, you aren't going to like his plans...

But as a prisoner, your say doesn't matter much.

It would be even more interesting if you were capable of The Force, too.

Vader might've made you either an apprentice or had you help him in other ways if you were.

It's a hard pill to swallow when you learn the real reason Vader took you in.

He's your father.

Even then, you still struggle to play nice.

Knowing he's your father makes you feel sick.

He's never too affectionate, like he's unsure how to approach you.

Yet he teaches you and garners your obedience through manipulation and fear.

He's a quiet man, the only way you know of his presence is his breathing.

He doesn't expect you to like him, even after the truth.

He doesn't expect mutual love, either.

You make him conflicted... reminding him of his one true love.

Again, you may not care for him, but Vader shows he "cares".

He finds time to train you, he gives you Stormtroopers, he protects you.

He does strange little things that one could consider caring or attentive...

Yet you're so separated from one another that it doesn't mean anything to you.

Vader may view giving you guards as protecting you, but to you they're just wardens.

If Vader could ever will himself to say he loves you, it means nothing to you.

He's not a father to you.

Even if he tried he simply couldn't be.

Vader would end up brainwashing you as his captive.

He does everything he can to make you forget the Rebels.

He may not even tell you about your siblings, just to make it seem like he's your only familial connection.

Eventually you don't have to be kept as a prisoner.

He constantly gives you the option to be something more if you just listen.

He does his best to convince you he cares.

You're the closest thing he has to what could've been.

Luke and Leia want him dead.

Yet he's messed with you enough to confuse you.

Eventually, well, what other choice do you have besides joining him?

He's your father, he cares about you...

By now, he's all you have.

He'll train you to hunt Rebels, to be on his side.

He defends you from Palpatine, keeping you under his wing.

He's not afraid to kill, for both his cause and you.

If he killed in your name, he justifies it.

He tells you it had to happen.

You've seen him kill rebels, friends, those you considered family...

And he tells you it's necessary.

You aren't like them.

Rebels are not the good guys, you belong beside your father.

He'll ensure you know that.

He'll make sure you never stray from him.

That alone is another motivation for him to sear through the flesh of another Rebel with his saber, glancing back to make sure you watch.

You'll never leave his side.

Even if he has to lock you away, it's to ensure you stay with him.

So he never loses another one he loves.

Vader himself knows he's not a good man.

Let alone a good father.

Yet you both know he's your father...

There's no one else you can go to now that he has you.

[solelifauna]

is all of the above an option?

Eventually, all of these will be posted! but for now, i can only divide my focus to an extent.

[professional-yearner]

His little wife

Yandere! Shock trooper x reader

TW: for delusion, unconsensual relationship, homicidal thinking, wishing harm on others, yandere themes

They were meant for eachother, he was sure.

Angler knew he should've probably at least properly introduced himself before concluding so, but how couldn't they be? She was so lovely, sweet, and gentle. Perfect for him. He would do anything to keep her safe, to keep her comfortable and happy in their life together. His perfect little wife.

Well, once he had that set up for them.

Being a shock trooper with a packed schedule and little time off didn't help in the ways of courting one's love, but he was determined.

All the trooper could really do right now was bide his time, keeping his beloved safe from all that threatened her in the meantime.

Like that male friend of hers, always wanting to be so close and personal. Angler knew what he was really after, even if his girl was too good-hearted and trusting to believe it herself. He was proud of how convincing he had made that speeder crash look.

Or her landlord, who was always coming around when he wasn't wanted. Not only making his baby uncomfortable, but very nearly walking in on Angler when he had been going through her laundry basket on one of his breaks.

The shock trooper had needed his brother's help for this one, (seeing as the man owned several properties on Coruscant and therefore had many connections that would notice him missing) but they were no strangers to this game, the guard had him out of her life in a matter of days.

He smiled to himself as Coruscant skyway whizzed by him, taking a few turns down a familiar route. He liked her new landlady, a sweet, older Twi'lek who seemed to care for her genuinely. Not as much as he did, of course, but it was nice to know someone was looking out for his impressionable sweetheart when he couldn't. Plus, he was sure she was the type to let her out of her lease pretty easily when the time came for him to move her out of that run down complex and into somewhere nicer, somewhere their's.

Angler finally came to a stop, parking his speeder in an alleyway he knew had the perfect view. The trooper removed his helmet, propping his elbows up on the handle bars and resting his chin in his hands. He gazed up at her window, watching as she read on her couch.

Sometimes he liked to imagine, when they spent time like this, that they were the two protagonists in one of those forbidden romance novels she kept on her small bookshelf. Him waiting outside her window to talk sweet nothings to her under cover of darkness, to which she would come down and grant him a kiss.

He supposed the love they shared was forbidden, in a way, but he couldn't care less. In all his existence he had never felt so whole as he had when she had talked to him, the day they'd met. She had been so warm, so genuinely caring to a clone she didn't know.

He needed her, and it had become glaringly obvious that she needed him just as much.

It might've driven him crazy, the waiting, but there had been whispers, recently. Rumors of a place far away from Coruscant, where the clones could bring the ones they cared for, for those that no longer held loyalty for the Republic. A number that grew by the day.

It wasn't so much that Angler held no care for the cause he had pledged himself to from conception, it was only that his loyalty now rested solely with her, as it always should have been.

But no matter, soon, he would be making that up to her tenfold. Soon, she would finally know his love for her.

Finally, all his.

His little wife.

[tomriddleslovergirl]

Yandere Anakin Skywalker x Reader Headcanons

Warnings: Yandere behavior, kidnapping

Anakin is a very jealous person in general, and him being a yandere will only increase his jealous behavior.

He has a much more difficult time watching you be around other people. He wants to rip their eyes out. They don’t deserve to be around you, much less look at you.

Once he’s officially a part of the dark side, you can’t escape him.

It doesn’t matter how many times you try to escape him, he’ll always find you.

He won’t let you be around others. Of course, you’ll have stormtroopers/guards around to protect you, but if they fail to do their job at protecting you, he’ll kill them.

He worships the ground you walk on, and thinks he doesn’t deserve you, but his selfish side wins and he always takes you for himself in the end.

Anakin is very emotional, and despite everything he’s done to you, you still find yourself feeling bad for him and try to console him.