#Yandere cultivator

[in-the-name-of-love-or-obsession]

{Can I even trust you?}

-Yandere cultivator- /Yandere x Gn Reader/

<How did the two of you meet?>

♥️ You never believed in transmigration, but here were, finding yourself holding onto a rock for dear life, as water was surrounding you, splashing everywhere.

♥️ You tried to look around, but it was really hard to see with water everywhere, getting into your eyes. This sounds of a storm could be heard everywhere, rainfall and wind, making it even harder for you to hold on. You didn’t know what was going, all you remember was going to sleep and all of a sudden you woke up in the situation. You begged, wished that this was all a bad dream. Unfortunately, this seemed “dream” a bit too real. You tried to scream but to no avail. Your screams were drowned out by the sounds of waves and thunder.

♥️ You knew that you needed to stay calm, so will you try to take some deep breaths in, and looked around to see any possible way for you to get out of this ordeal.  Unfortunately you didn’t find any, but something did peak your interest. A young boy who is also in the same situation as you, holding on to a rock nearby.

♥️ This made you worry; yes you were in danger, but someone so young was also in the same situation as you, you didn’t want to see him hurt. So using all your strength you try to hold on to the rock with one arm, extending the other arm towards his direction, shouting at the boy.

♥️ “Hey! Kid!” You screamed, hoping he would hear you even if most of your shouts were drowned out. Luckily for you, he noticed you, he turned his head as he looked at you, with a… calm expression on his face? He looked like there was nothing going on around him, only staring at the stars. However, this didn’t matter as of now, your objective was to save yourself and him.

♥️ “Grab onto me! That rock looks unstable!” You shout again, hoping he would be able to understand what you were saying. Your body was getting colder and colder as the water thrashed around everywhere, making it hard to even think.

♥️ The kid looked at you for a second, before also reaching out his arm, you quickly grabbed his hand, pulling him towards you. The rock behind him crumbled as soon as he let go. You held onto the rock even harder as you tried to find a way to climb on-top. Using quite a bit of strength, you pull the boy on top of the rock, before you use your upper body strength to pull yourself up, arms and shoulders crying out in pain.

♥️ Once you manage to pull yourself up alongside with the boy, you wobbly stand up and look around you, waves thrashing around you, the cold wind chilling you to the bone. You notice that you were on a river, you then look down and see the boy just… looking at you with the same neutral expression.

♥️ “Uh… Hey kiddo, do you… do you know where we are?” You ask a bit out of breath. He nods at your question.

♥️ “Well?” You wait for his answer, only for him to not say anything. You sigh as you try to look for an escape, the water level rising by the minute. Swimming this would be near impossible, and with a small child it would definitely be a death sentence.

♥️ You notice some sturdy planks, thrashing around the water, if you time this right, you might be able to jump on it for a split second and manage to the other side, on land. You knew that this was extremely risky but it was better than die without trying.

♥️ Without asking you grab onto the boy and tell him to hold on to you for dear life. You wait for the perfect opportunity, looking around to see, the planks getting closer and closer. You get ready, using all your strength and jump onto the first plank, quickly hopping onto the second one and onto the third. Everything was extremely unstable, but you couldn’t afford to make any mistakes, so used every single bit of strength in your body.

♥️You were lucky to only have sprained your ankle, your body feeling cold and sore from all the strength used. Once your feet touched the ground, you immediately fell to your knees, dropping the kid as well. He didn’t seem fazed and only stood back up as he stared at your exhausted state, panting and shivering in the storm.

♥️You knew you couldn’t stay here for long, the water level was rising so you wobbly stood up as you tried to walk, only to feel pain on your legs. You hissed at the feeling before touching it out, whatever it took to survive this whole ordeal and find out what in the ever-loving fuck is going on here.

♥️ “Cmon, kiddo… it’s not safe here… we need to move.” You pant as you motion him to start walking. “Oh… do you know the way around here kiddo?” You add.

♥️The kid looks at you and starts walking in a direction, towards a dense forest. Maybe he wants you to follow him? You start following him with some difficulty but are glad that at least he knows the way of getting out of here.

♥️You walk for a while, the storm not faltering, you keep shivering in your night clothes as you try to warm yourself up. By some point, the two of you reach a… village? Town? You don’t know anymore, you’re too exhausted to even bother to think about it. The two of you go inside a random building.

♥️The kid turns back to you, looks at you with bored eyes before finally speaking “Why did you save me?” Hearing his question, your eyes widen as you sneeze before responding. “Why? Cuz you were gonna die” You look at him baffled.

♥️The kid squints his eyes, frowning before speaking “Don’t lie to me.” He sounded a little irritated.

♥️ You sigh, also a little frustrated, the pain, the soreness and the cold was making it so hard to concentrate, even move or speak properly. “Look kid, I’m not fucking lying, I’m not heartless enough to leave someone die in front of me when I know I can prevent it.”

♥️He stares at you before you see his eyes glow yellow. Your eyes widen as you gasp a little. Before you could do or say anything, you felt as if you couldn’t control anything, as if your body isn’t yours anymore. You stay in a dazed state.

♥️ “I’ll ask again, why did you save me.” He repeats, this time in a much much deeper voice, almost as if it’s one of an adult. You felt your lips move, even if you couldn’t control anything.

♥️ “Because you were going to die. You’re too young to die.” Your body responds, the same answer from before. Immediately after you regain control of your body. You immediately look at him in shock “Wha- What? Huh? What was that?”

♥️You were beyond confused, brain not being able to comprehend what was going on. You look at him with your jaw on the floor.

♥️ “You… weren’t lying to me.”

<Who is he?>

♥️Having been reborn after getting defeated by other cultivators with all his memories and powers in the body of his 10 year old self, he held strong resentment towards anyone and everyone who crossed his path.

♥️His early life before being reborn wasn’t easy either, being treated as a slave, only to almost take over the cultivation world in his older years, being feared and hated by all. Dying at the hands of the person whom he trusted the most, his right hand man.

♥️After dying, he was utterly shocked at the fact that he found himself on that rock surrounded by water once again, the one where he almost lost his life in his previous life. He was even more confused when someone who wasn’t in his past showed up, trying to save some random kid they happen to lay their eyes on.

♥️After using his powers to force you to tell the truth, he told you his name; Lian Jun.

♥️He wasn’t a fan of being in his 10 year old scrawny body, weak in his eyes, so he transformed himself using his cultivation, back to his body before he was reborn.

<How does he treat you?>

♥️In the beginning, he looked at your weird, he was confused on who you were, what you were, but he offered you a place in his home as thanks for saving him.

♥️Slowly but surely, he started falling for you, hard.

♥️You noticed how he would spend more and more time with you, always speaking first and asking how your day went, asking things about you, your favourite colour, your favourite food.

♥️You indulged him and always answered his questions, mostly in fear because you’ve seen the supernatural (to you but normal everywhere here) and didn’t want to piss him off.

♥️But here’s the thing, he would never get angry at you! You never lied to him! Your intentions were always pure!

♥️He would look at you longingly as time passed, slowly forgetting about the sweet revenge he was planning on getting one everyone who wronged him. He didn’t want to waste his energy on useless matters. What mattered was you, only you.

♥️His obsession got to the point he would watch you sleep, you seeing his face right in front of you as you wake up, startled. He would always hug you right after, seemingly very happy.

♥️He would do anything for you, whatever you wanted, it was yours. You wanted some clothes you saw? Oh look! They’re on your room table. You glanced at a really expensive dish? He immediately would take you to that restaurant. If you ever wanted to be royalty? Then… he would take drastic measures for that to happen.

♥️He is extremely possessive, always having a hand on you, either your shoulder, hand or thigh.

♥️If he ever sees anyone looking at you in a way he doesn’t see acceptable, their head always ends up on a spike in town, seemingly as a warning. Tho no one knows what.

♥️He is extremely violent, merciless and won’t hesitate to kill anyone, but he is completely whipped for you, he worships the ground you walk on.

♥️ He's definitely obsessed with you, but he does a great job at hiding it. You can never predict how he'll react. He's always very calm, even in the most stressful situations he's calm and collected. He's always very polite and will treat you like a goddess, no matter how you treat him. He will try his best not to show you how obsessive he is, trying not to look crazy and desperate. He really wants to look cool in your eyes and tries not to show his vulnerable side.

♥️If you go anywhere without him, he can always find you without trying, teleporting behind you, hugging you from behind, surprising you.

♥️Even with all of this, he is extremely shy on revealing his feelings for you verbally, he doesn’t know how to tell you that he loves you!

♥️Once you tell him that you caught feelings for him, he would immediately pick you up, spinning you in circles, happily. He would then pepper your face with kisses.

{I hope you liked part one of Lian Jun!}

[cuppajj]

yknow while I don’t subscribe to golden cheese x burning spice, I think Spice having an unrequited, toxic crush on cheese is a fun and scary angle

(yap below, tw for possessive/obsessive themes)

Spice wouldn’t have taken her seriously before and during BY 5 and 6, seeing her as little more than a thief with squandered potential that he just wants to see changed. She’s not supposed to be weak, he’s supposed to be a legitimate adversary. He’s bored, and she’s supposed to excite him! It’s why he’s mad when she gets her ass handed to him, and why he’s elated when he learns she escaped her birdcage. That burning anticipation for a reunion continues throughout the story, with Spice hunting her down for their (what he assumes) final fight, not wanting to waste any more moments without her in his sight. Sure, he believes he’ll kill her then and there, and go on to destroy everything she holds dear. It’s par for the course for all the heroes he’s seen and slain. She’s more special, a little different, but the same. It’s even looking like that when he finally tracks down and battles her, seeing the lost queen desperate and hanging on by a thread.

But then she puts up a fight. She defies his expectations. She turns into something more powerful than he could ever fathom and Spice isn’t even mad, he’s not horrified, he’s ecstatic. The most ecstatic he’s likely ever been in centuries to millennia. Finally, finally, Spice has something new. After a long and tired quest to make his life more interesting, he has it. And then the temple collapses on him, and his new light disappears. It’s not the end of the road for him, though, no. He laughs under the rubble. It’s clear he’s not given up, and he wants to see her again. He will see her again. He must see her again.

Spice never stops thinking of the day Cheese came back from the edge of death and teased him with power that he’s desperate to get a taste of. He wanted her to be entertaining, and he almost doubted her, but she proved to be it and more. She surprised him. She amused him. She, just like his addiction to destruction, provided an avenue to cure his boredom. His imagination runs wild with ideas of what she could do and how she could entertain him, his bird, just like she did back then. He wants to lock her up again and watch her plow through his underlings again. He could play other dangerous games just to see how she’d do. And he wants another fight, he wants to see her on the edge, but then what? What other surprise could she give him? She could find a way for him, or else he’ll just force her to find a way for him. Maybe her new wings could be torn off too, and she’ll once again crawl and struggle until she rises up stronger than ever. Because she’s full of those surprises, isn’t she? They can do this forever. As immortals, they have all the time in the world for each other.

I like to think that Spice isn’t fully aware of his feelings for her, but he’s aware of how she makes him feel. The thought of her and her power makes his jam boil and chest flare with tingling heat. Remembering her limp in his clutch makes his dough tingle with fervor. Maybe he notices that his breath hitches in the smallest way when he thinks of how she’s somewhere out there, waiting for him. It’s something not even destruction could make him feel, no, the little bird is above that. She makes him feel this way and he likes it. He wants more. Spice wants to keep her, plain and simple. He had her in his grasp once, and she ran away with the promise of more. He wants more. He wants it. He wants her. And maybe, if he takes away everyone she’s ever known and loved, she’ll have no one but him. His little bird, his to entertain him forever.

Cheese is absolutely none the wiser to this, and she’ll be in for a hell of a ride when their paths cross once more.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Cultivation

The rope creaked softly, suffering under the weight it was not meant to bear, as it stretched out, seemlingly endless into the mist. This had once been a bridge. The entrance to this lonely place. Humble as it was, the simple rope bridge had once stood for time immemorial. A path of safety above Soul Eater mists below.

Terrible creatures and unspeakable monsters dwelled down there. Things that devoured. Even the mists themselves, were said to drive men mad. Cause hallucinations and aggression. Qi draining in nature. It was like a living thing that digested you slowly.

Unless, of course, you could escape.

Or, it was said, if you were like the legendary immortal who had founded this temple. HE had apparently just walked. Refused the mist's their hold on him. Then climbed the cliff face to this mountain top. I somewhat doubted that tale. But then again, staring down at the rolling mists... it seemed impossible that ANYONE could have ever survived them.

The bridge creaked on, in the soft breeze. There were days it's groans sounded like the cries of a beast in pain. Tortured. When the wind rattled and dragged at what remained of its form. Trying to pull it from it's post. Down, down, down to it's final end.

There was a boot print. Terrible and damning. Cracked, IMPRINTED, deep into the base of the pillar that once held up one side. Far away, the bridge must surely still be stable. Both pillars standing tall, like gaurds. Like brothers. But here?

One powerful kick.

And the bridge had disappeared out from underneath all those that stood upon it.

Everyday... every day I come. Every day I look upon this bridge. Upon the boot, a terrible sin imprinted into stone, and I tell myself I do not recognize the size of it. That my suspicions are wrong. My instincts surely lying. Because... because if I do not?

What can I do? What could I POSSIBLY hope to do? If my suspicions WERE correct? If in this place, lives a monster? I am not stronger them him. Without him, I would be utterly alone. He has insured I am all but dependant on him. Not teaching me how to cook nor clean, farm nor fight. All practical skills are lessons for another day. Forever another day.

Yet...

Yet, I MUST know.

I torture myself with this. The wondering. The questions I do not not ask, for fear he will not even bother hiding behind lies. I stare at the old, long dried blood that stains where the bridge once ended. The shimmering heavenly gold. Somehow... some horrified, gut wrenched, SCREAMING instinct... knows it to be the blood of Tree Fruit.

It is the blood of the unborn. Those that will never get the chance, now. They... they were not even apart of anyone's body. Were wholly seperate, dependent and their protectors for survival. Were FRUIT for God's sake. Just as I had been. Souls reborn, not from flesh, but clean and new, from a Divine Tree. Ascendant from some other place.

I don't know WHY they were taken from the Tree. Why I was. My memory is spotty. It was too soon. I had not forgotten yet. Was not READY yet. It should have been safest to stay there. Be born into the world. Yet... they were on this bridge, instead. Attacked. The blood of infants stains the stones and will never wash clean. I can not... I was still FRUIT, then.

I can not REMEMBER.

And so I come. Again and again, before this rope. That stretchs out into the mists. Above far more terrible things. And try to recall. Make sense of it this terrible thing before me. This bridge. A long, worn, straining rope. With old, well-worn wooden planks, weathered by the ages, that... that hang like bodies.

Strung up in an endless row.

That whisper as they clack and groan with suffering in the wind, "A crime. A crime. Great evil was committed here!"

I tell myself... like a child hiding from monsters they KNOW are real. Trembling and blood soaked, terrified, as they crawl as far back into some small dark place as they can... I... I do not want to compare the boot print in that stone to Lei's. That they would be different sizes, even if I did.

I do not convince myself.

I never do.

"Shimei, this disciple wonderd where you were..." calls out a familiar voice. Deep in the way dangerous waters are deep. Smooth and placid at the surface. With something deadly I can not see, far, far below. "This one has found you at the bridge again. What captivates you so? You missed your morning snack. Should be on your way to early morning meditations."

My smile is more of a grimace, as I turn.

There are days... when forgetting is easy. When the tranquility of this place seeps itself into my bones. The comfort he deliberately arranges for me. The scheduled repetition. It is... trance-like.

Sitting with tea and snacks. Watching the early morning's sunlight dance off the distant mist. As birds wake and dew settles. The world hushed. Cup warm in my hand. Coat dropped over my shoulders. It is beautiful. The meditation garden is beautiful. EVERYTHING here is beautiful.

It is the fact that it is... empty, that bothers me.

This was not a temple built for two people. Remote as it must be in the world. The sect built this place for a reason. And each day that passes? I am more convinced that reason was to have a place to fall back too. The temple is lovely... but more then that? It is a FORTRESS.

Difficulty getting here is not even a fraction of the defens it holds.

So WHY?

WHY are there only two people here?

I nod, stepping towards my "shixong" as he insists I call him, dispite there being just the two of us. His hand reaching out to take my arm, guide me. I no longer need help navigating these halls. But he does not stop. Clings to his excuses to coddle and touch. It is a fight I can not win. I pick my battles. But, before his hand reaches my sleeve. Knife!

A throwing knife, shrieks near silent through the air as it cuts between us. Nearly removing Lei's fingers as it does. I jerk away, startled. He whips around towards the bridge.

"GET AWAY FROM THAT CHILD!"

The voice that roars that command has the distinct rasp of old age. Sure enough, a figure in flowing robes surges forward from the mist, running light as a feather across the single rope that remains of the bridge. Long white hair and beard. A wrinkled face, more accustomed to smiling, now turned into a fierce and determined scowl. The robes of a Grand Master.

There are a handful of warriors following him.

But the one that I can not look away from... it's... it's like looking through the lense of a half forgotten dream. Blurred by angles all wrong. But oh... oh how could I forget that face? The one that stares at me with such fierce and fearful determination?

...Shijie?

More then an older sister, less then a mother. Whisperd promises, muffled by liquid, from long ago. I know that face. KNEW it. It once smiled down at me, as I grew upon my branch, and promised we would be family. Loved me. Beautiful and patient, as she whispered about all the wonders of world.

I was...

Oh.

I was supposed to go with HER.

Be raised by HER. A little sister, a daughter, someone she could guide and grow with. My memories struggle to come together, but faced with familiar faces? They TRY. Especially as power begins to surge around me. Terrible and familiar. The beginnings of a fight.

Someone on my branch. Not my sister. Pale as morning mist and just as untouchable. He seemed lonely. I was lonely. Far from other Fruit, an awkward thing, high up, and on an old twisting branch. That had missed all nipping and cultivation by being accidentally hidden by the leaves surrounding it. The fruit was supposed to grow lower to the ground, where it could be watched. Safe.

But I happened anyway.

And I was alone.

No others to spend my time with. No disciples to come and care for me, day to day. So when the mist man came? I clumsily... reached out. Pat pat. There, there. I'm here, "dude". (I... can not remember what that word meant. But I know I knew it. It was friendly, I think.)

He was surprised to find me, up there.

I don't not think he told anyone.

I...I think he was supposed too?

But it did not matter in the end. Someone else found his hiding spot. Found me. There was much shouting and alarm. Elders, I think. Doctors, to insure I was well. Great relief, that I was a hardly little thing, developing as I should. After that? I had constant visitors. None that seemed very interesting... until... until my Shijie.

They were looking, I think, through interested parties for a match. Who would adopt me. Then there was softness. Sweet, golden days. The mist man visited. Anger from him? Not at me. Displeased. Covetous? I did not understand. Something wrong was growing but I was unborn... did not have a name yet for the sensation.

Just that is was...Dark.

Then it was night time. A beautiful moon through the branches. Smoke, black and terrifying. Screaming and the clash of swords. Unbearable heat, climbing and climbing. Lights blinking out. Dying? Were... were they dying? The great Tree, divine and holy, groaning in agony. Wood popping from heat. Splintering from blows.

Feet upon my branch. Running, running, running. Falling too their knees. Swordsman's hands. Bloody, wrong, not my shijie. Where is my shijie? Sister! SISTER?! I am being pulled. No. No, it is not time. It is too soon. The Fruit is not ready.

The hands do not care.

I am torn out by the roots.

Where the Tree should be... is nothing. I SCREAM. It hurts! A void. The ocean of life gone, gone, GONE! Already I am starving. Destabilizing. Dying again. Scared! Please! I am-!

A hand wraps around the raw nerves of my roots. They are wrong. I know them, but they are WRONG. Where is shijie? Sister... SISTER! Please!! Energy floods back in, as though it never stopped. But... but it is not clean. Like brackish water after so long in clear springs, I choke as I try to adjust.

Moving.

Running.

Where is the Divine Tree? I want to go home.

Others join. Burned. Bleeding. They have Fruit too. I have never been so close to others. They sound nervous too. Scared. But they have their family. Why do I not? There is some plan. A bridge that goes on and on. Below us are terrible things. They are talking? The end in sight.

"-viously you can't... -ep her, she's not your child. Y.. -eat thing protecting her th.. -ll be so relieved you have her child. N.. -all we have to... -ait out this..."

Something ugly is rising. Danger. DANGER. No, no, NO. STOP. Run! Bad thing is coming! I don't-! I can't-! Covetous, terrible, tar-like WRONG! Seeping up like festering! Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!!

The sound of a sword being drawn.

I am tucked close. Cradled like something precious. As a blade sings destruction through the air. A shocked and betrayed cry. Confusion. I can see horror on faces, feel terror from the other Fruit. Two of them are dead. CRUNCH. The bridge violently lists to the side, weight no longer equally supported.

Time seems to slow... as ancient metal slides free of stone.

Half those on the bridge are gone in an instant, as the floor swings out from below them like a trapdoor. Those that remain? Are the souls fast enough to grab the rail that still remains. The boards, as they fall. They hang above certain death, as their friends fall screaming in primal fear, to horrific death below.

How long can they hold on?

Especially with only one hand?

A few already lost their grip on their Fruit in the sudden shift. Can only stare in numb and mind blank horror, soul deep agony, as the bright little lights fall... and fall... and fall...

Inside my Fruit I SCREAM.

I do not remember after that. Only being born. It is a blur of trauma my mind must have refused to keep. D..Damn it. DAMN IT! I jerk away from Lei. I had known. I hadn't WANTED to know... but I had KNOWN.

The Grand Master attacks. His blade crashing like the might of a wrathful god against Lei's. Sending him sliding back. The master pressing his advantage, warriors rushing to fan out between the fighters and me.

Arms. Soft yet unimaginably powerful, the scent of tea and the medicinal flowers she proudly grew for the sect, I was pulled into an embrace. My head tucked against her neck. Arms bordering on too tight. As though I would disappear at any moment.

"Shimei.." my shijie whispered, a wounded sound. "This sister has you. We have come to rescue you. The traitor will never hurt you again. Come!"

This felt right. I nod. Follow her towards the bridge.

"Thief."

Lei's snarls. Never has there been an uglier, more venomous sound. One of the warriors, acting as a shield, dies preventing my sister from being speared through the heart from behind. Desperately, she scoops me up. Breaking into a sprint.

"Do you truely think you can take this one's Disciple from him? His WORLD!?" An unhinged laugh echoed along side the clash on blades. "There is NOWHERE you can hide her, that I will not find! She is MINE! Belongs with ME! You can run but there is NO WHERE you can hide!"

I cling to my sister as she jumps up on the rope, racing away from the gilded cage that was my only home. Over her shoulder, Lei is locked in combat. The ugly something I had always known was there, finally out in the air between us. Demonic energy spilled from him like radiation. Sickening and every bit as caustic. His eyes wild as they lock onto me.

"I'm going to BURN everything that gets in my way, my disciple." He croons, the grin spreading across his face a thing that will haunt me. "Just like before. NOTHING will keep you away from me. Nothing! I am going to hunt you down, drag you to ascension, then spend the rest of time making you MINE."

"And nothing will stop me, child. Not even you. Why?"

"Because I LOVE You."

[bellaroles]

Finished reading Poor Monk. The plot's so fucked up and I cannot put the book down till the end!

[satinroses]

Night Time Routines

How the harbingers and their darlings ready for bed

Yan! Harbingers x reader (separate)

Feat: Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone and Scaramouche

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: “honk shoooo honk shoooo” - capitano, “zzzzz zzzz” - Pantalone, “honk mi mi mi” - Scaramouche, dottore’s doesn’t snore but he does speak in fluent sentences in his sleep and it’s terrifying. thank you for coming to my ted talk. also yes i made scaras pretty purple eyes light up like ei’s when she’s using her skill, the more raiden parallels the better in my opinion

Warnings: 5.3 archon quest spoilers, Yandere behaviours, i have likely not proof read this as well as i should have so i apologise for any mistakes, dark themes, some mentions of NSFW themes but no actual smut, being robbed of making choices, they all have serious control issues

Capitano:

Capitano has struggled with sleep for centuries now, he hopes you take no offence when he doesn’t join you at night however he would never wish to make you feel neglected. The primary reason he stole you away was to could ensure that you are treated with the dignity and adoration that befits someone of your character.

If your hair is long enough then he takes great care in braiding it every night. You’re surprised that a man of his stature is able to manoeuvre his fingers so nimbly through your hair. If braids aren’t your style or they simply wouldn’t work with your hair then he patiently awaits your instruction. Whether you want a bun, a ponytail or simply for your hair to flow freely he will diligently do as you command.

Although some aspects of your night routine may resemble that of Pantalone’s darling, Capitano doesn’t force you to abide by any particular routines. As long as you get enough rest he doesn’t mind if you spend every evening huddled in the library, just please allow him to sit with you as you read, nothing would bring him greater pleasure.

Despite the first harbinger being unable to sleep due to the constant burden of the tormented souls upon him, he does find comfort in the domesticity partaking in your nightly routines affords him. Watching your eyes flutter shut, hearing the words that slip out of your mouth leaving him to guess what you could possibly be dreaming about, watching over you when you are at your most defenceless.

He finds it utterly endearing to see you in this state. His heart feels much lighter the first night you fall asleep in his presence. He understands you may hold some resentment towards him for stealing you away from your home and the life you knew yet he is able to find hope in the vulnerability your behaviour shows. Being in your most docile and helpless form around him must surely mean you hold some form of trust for him. Trust is something he can work with, he’s certain now that he can cultivate this small piece of trust that you’ve extended to him from a sapling into a flourishing bloom and in time, perhaps you’ll forgive him for the selfish decision he made. He was utterly mindless and inconsiderate when he took you with him, against your will. Every day he lives with the shame of stealing you and yet... watching over you as you lay in his sheets, he cannot bring himself to regret it.

He shuts his eyes and listens to the rhythm of your breaths, a symphony that brings him nothing but relief. The knowledge that you were resting peacefully by his side invigorates him far more than slumber ever could.

After some time passes and he truly believes you are warming up to him in spite of everything, he might slip into your bed (with your permission of course). He’s unsure what to do at first, so overwhelmed with your closeness and warmth but as you begin to drift into a dreamscape, he allows his hands to wander slightly (but never anywhere inappropriate, despite how desperately he might crave your body he would never force you to do anything that might dishonour you). The body heat that emanates from you brings him immeasurable comfort as he forgets about the pain of the abyssal rot ravaging his body, instead focusing on the softness of your skin on his.

To feel you against him, your body tucked against his, it brings comfort that settles deep in his bones, not even the heavenly principles nor the curse that eats away at his flesh could strip it from him. For the first time in 500 years he remembers what its like to have a home.

Dottore:

You have the misfortune of having spent more time alone with Dottore than anyone else in Teyvat. In spite of his near constant presence, you had never once see him or any of his clones go to sleep. Once every few months you’ll catch him with his eyes shut and hunched over his desk, you assume he has finally drifted off but then mere seconds later his eyes will shoot open and his hands resume tinkering with whatever (or whoever) has had the misfortune of piquing his interest.

Prior to eliminating his clones he often used them as lab assistants, citing that the only person who he could trust to fulfil his work to the measure of perfection he demanded was himself. As the sun began to set whichever of his clones had the least to do would be charged with escorting you from his laboratory in the cellars of Zapolyarny palace to your shared estate. Much to Dottore’s annoyance, he swears that as the moon begins to rise, the segments begins to rush to finish their tasks in hopes of being the one to escort you home.

From early morning to night time you are forced to remain wherever Dottore is however he understands you are only human (for the time being, however he has plans to change that) and you require rest so he allows you to go home and sleep with the caveat that a segment remains by your side as he repeats a similar sentiment as he did earlier, that being the only man he would ever trust with your safety is himself.

Upon prime having to destroy the clones he is visibly on edge despite his dismissals when you try to enquire about it. It’s evident to you that without having the security of his segments watching over you he is tense. He now forbids you from going home, even with a platoon of Fatui guarding you, he has made far too many enemies to count over the years, he isn’t foolish enough to entrust your safety to some lackeys that even the eleventh could carve through with ease.

Much to your dismay he also states that he cannot take so much time away from his experiments to tend to your slumber and that from now on you will be sleeping in the laboratory.

It doesn’t take much exertion for his brilliant mind for him to deduce that you are not thrilled at this development.

After a few days of complaining he finally cracks. You seem to find a fault with every aspect of his laboratory.

”I’m uncomfortable”

”My back hurts”

”It’s too loud”

”It’s too bright”

”It’s too hot”

“It’s too cold”

”This pillow is lumpy”

”I can feel you staring at me”

It drives him mad. His next experiment will be on your voice, he has to test his hypothesis that there is something particular about your voice, perhaps it’s the tone or the pitch but whenever you speak he can’t help but grant you his full attention.

He prides himself on his resilience but for you he has always been quick to crack. Seeing you in such a bad mood puts him in a bad mood. Suddenly his patience has been shortened exponentially, the screams of his patients grind on his nerves far too quickly, leading to many experiments being cut short.

The following morning you will see two anemo skirmishers setting down a large object covered in a dust sheet in the far corner of the laboratory. You raise your question to Dottore, asking what it is. Only then does he set down his tools, a tiny smirk blooms across his face as he takes your hand in his and leads you across the room before lifting the sheet off the object and looking at you expectantly.

It was a single bed with plain white sheets and a single pillow. It was hardly exuberant but for Dottore to even show any form of regard for the discomfort of any living being was nothing short of a miracle.

If you ask him what prompted this his voice will grow venomous as he bites out that your endless complaints were a hindrance to his experiments but you see the self-satisfied sneer on his face as he soaks in your gratitude.

Admittedly you do still have to endure the screams of those unfortunate enough to end up strapped to the operating table as he refuses to allow you any form of noise cancellation lest he needs you for something (he never has but you’re sure he just doesn’t want to give you any avenues for ignoring him), at least you can keep your head staunchly under your pillow for whatever small form of muting the cries that it's able to provide.

Pantalone:

In spite of your resentment for Pantalone you could not deny the morbid interest you had in watching him go about his day. As an outsider you couldn’t shrug the pervasive feeling that had settled in your mind that his whole day seemed to be more of an elaborate routine rather than a man naturally progressing through the day.

Every paper, painting and plate had a specific place in his life and that was how Pantalone preferred it. One night at dinner you had made note of it and he had let out a rare chuckle as he gazed at you from across the grand mahogany dinner table. He put down his utensils before taking a moment to stare down at his hands, twisting the rings back into place so that the gemstones on them rested perfectly on his fingers, glimmering just right in the light before he acknowledged that perhaps some people might agree that he can be a little particular.

From the moment he had taken you into his home, he made sure that you too fit into his routine as flawlessly as everything else. He had expectations that you would meet if you knew what was good for you. Throughout the day his routine never once relaxed and as such, neither did yours. From the moment dinner ends he has you on a schedule that he had devoted hours to ensure it would allow you to fit into his schedule as perfectly as he wants you to. Like a ballerina wound up in a jewellery box, you would pirouette seamlessly to whichever melody he desired and you only move when he winds your cogs, never before.

Once you rise from the dinner table and he returns to his study, you are taken directly to your shared chambers with Pantalone by your ladies maids. In the porcelain tub within the en-suite sits a pool of hot water, still steaming with heat. Standing there awkwardly with only a silk robe wrapped around you as maids flutter in and out of the room. You stay rocking on the balls of your feet until at last the head maid returns, with her she carries a silver tray upon which rests several different bottles of fragrant oils and soaps to add to your bath.

Perhaps if you had been a little less perceptive you would believe this to be one of the areas in your life in which he allows some leniency but that is not the case. You are certain beyond all measure that each and every scent has gotten his approval before being presented to you. Maybe you should be thankful for this small illusion of choice but it only makes the reality of you situation sting in your tear ducts.

As you smell each one the head maid takes great enthusiasm in telling you the elaborate backstory for each and every bottle. Although its her voice speaking, you can hear his words.

The violet grass scent that had been acquired from the very highest point of Liyue’s immense mountain scape lending to it’s powdery floral notes being far more potent that before.

The sakura bloom oil had been extracted from a handful of petals that had been struck by the Shogun’s own divine lightning lending to it’s typical sweet smell having a bright undertone. You couldn’t stand that oil, you swore every time you applied it, it tingled.

The glaze Lilly that this oil had been diffused from had allegedly only bloomed when an adeptus descended from her abode in Jueyun Karst to serenade the flower and coaxing it into opening its petals. Supposedly its scent was so delicate and intoxicating that everyone who smelt it wept tears of joy. You didn’t think it smelt much different than any other glaze Lilly.

After a dozen more being presented to you, each with its own elaborate origins you simply grabbed the bottle closest to you on the tray, not caring which. They all smelt far too similar to care.

Since the day you were taken he had insisted that there was no price too high for his beloved. Perhaps he thinks you find his gifts romantic, instead you can’t help but laugh bitterly at the irony of your bathing products being better travelled than you are.

After nearly an hour of several maids scrubbing you from head to toe (when you had originally arrived you had refused their help however once Pantalone caught wind of this he had punished the maids for it. You had pleaded with him that it was your own fault for refusing their help and to please not punish them for your actions. He smiled gently, thanking you for your honesty before pressing a gently kiss to your forehead yet he said nothing about pardoning the maids, dismissing you at every mention of it. You had an entirely different group of maids tending to you the following morning and every subsequent morning after that).

After leaving the bath and drying off, you were dressed in a night gown. They were undoubtedly the worst part of the night, although they were beautiful they were also covered in itchy lace with necklines too deep and hems too short for the Snezhnayan winter.

After being dressed you would sit down at your vanity and methodically brush your hair with the gifts he had gotten you from Mondstadt: a boar bristle brush with a silver handle (he claimed the bristles were from a mighty bore sovereign native to Dragonspine) and a Dragon bone comb (he also had this made in Dragonspine, the bone acquired from the skeleton of Durin, the comb was a sturdy bone that no matter what always stayed warm).

Finally you would lie in bed and wait for your husband. If he decides to join you then you can slip gently into your dreams, the one place where you can forget about the heavy arm latched around your waist and the fingers tangled in your hair. On more unfortunate nights, he would not join you in your shared chambers, instead he would expect you to come to him. Shuffling sleepily through dark corridors until you finally reached the tall doors of his study. Your knuckle barely grazes the wood before the door swings open and he offers you a gentle smile before wrapping his arm around your waist and coaxing you in.

If you were lucky a few well-placed tender kisses to his neck would persuade him to abandon his work and join you in bed however some nights he would have you sat on his lap until the sun rose. Those nights you rarely slept well as you had to deal with his mutterings, the candle light illuminating the room and the way he adjusted you on his lap. If you were lucky you could shut your eyes and feign sleep when you felt something hard growing beneath you, other nights he was insistent on your participation.

Scaramouche:

Throughout the countless waking hours you’ve spent in unwilling solitude with the sixth harbinger you were hardly surprised at the revelation that his sour attitude persists far past the sunset and well into the moonlit hours. If anything his annoyance only grew the closer you crept to retiring for the night.

Having no knowledge of his marionette body’s ability to endure without sleep, you couldn’t disguise your discomfort the first night you shared his bed and his lilac eyes stayed glued to you all night, their vibrant hue glowing in the dark of your chambers. You could see the dim purple light in the room, even through your eyelids. His illuminated eyes wouldn’t move from your face as you rested. It doesn’t matter how often you late in the night you might wake up or how often you squint through your half-closed eyes at him, Scaramouche’s gaze stays fixed intently on you from the moment you pull the blankets over your shoulders.

Should you somehow develop a fondness for your captor you will quickly learn that in spite of his feelings for you, he is not an attentive or affectionate man. Scaramouche scoffs at the proposal of ‘cuddling’. He spits out that he will not entertain such pathetic displays of fondness, not even for you. The firm tenor in his voice makes you believe that there is no room for negotiation on the matter, however from that night onwards, his hand remains fixed tightly around your wrist the moment you retire under the covers with him.

One particularly irritating trait about Scaramouche is his insistence that you never turn away from him, many times your awoken by a set of firm hands clamped down on your shoulders as they turn you around in the bed, back to facing him. While you are both waking and sleeping he refuses to allow you to turn your back to him, you’re unsure as to why and frankly you’re not certain you wish to know. There are aspects of your captor's past that you're undoubtedly influence his current actions yet you do not wish to learn such things, not yet.

On exceptionally rare occasions, oftentimes after an intimate night of gently unwinding with him, removing his clothing with all the attentiveness he has expected to be synonymous with being the wife of the sixth harbinger. Brush your lips gently over his skin with a tenderness in your touch he hasn’t felt since… he can’t recall. After several hours in each others passionate embrace, Scaramouche may fall into a restless slumber. You may initially find this rare period of sleep from him to be enjoyable however it opens the gateway to a version of Scaramouche you may find yourself unfamiliar with.

The first night Scaramouche falls asleep in your presence, you soon understand his disdain for sleep. The whimpers and cries that escape the balladeer are completely uncharacteristic for him. You had never heard his voice assume any tone beyond a haughty drawl or an intimidating bark, you almost didn’t recognise it was Scaramouche speaking until a familiar word escaped his throat.

”Y/N...”

It was undoubtedly the balladeer speaking however his voice had been fragile and light as he spoke your name, as though saying it too harshly would cause it to shatter.

”Y/N… come back, please…”

“please...” he had whispered out and the word sounded almost foreign on his tongue. Until now you had assumed the word didn’t even exist in the harbingers vocabulary. His sleep only seemed to worsen. You sat up, unsure whether you should wake him or not. His gentle murmurs were slowly growing louder and more desperate. You watched as his sleeping form writhed across the bed, his arms fully extended as his fingers clenched and unclenched, grasping and pawing at the bedsheets.

You slowly nudged yourself closer to him, preparing to wake him from whatever nightmares was plaguing him until his hand brushed against your night clothes. Suddenly his fist clenched tightly around your waist as he yanked your body impossibly closer, curling around you.

The following morning he untangled his limbs from yours before quickly scurrying out of the room. His gaze never met yours but from the chaste kiss and the way his eyes refused to look up from the ground… you swore he almost seemed embarrassed, his demeanour suiting that of a pouting child rather than an agent of destruction.

As you opened the bedroom doors not long after his departure, the stench of sizzled flesh wafted through the corridors. Some poor Fatuus were now paying the price in blood for Scaramouche’s humiliation as they were demoted from subordinates to the punching bags for him to unleash his rage on. The part of himself that he had buried so deeply, shrouded in layer and layer of bitterness and rage, had exposed itself to your discerning gaze and his mortification was suffocating him.

If he were a weaker man perhaps the humiliation would have brought tears to his eyes but he was stronger than the mewling little wretch he used to be. Like forging a sword, he had beaten the impurities out one by one in the heat of his own hatred and the boiling of his blood until only the perfect blade remained. cold. lethal. merciless. He is no quivering weakling that can simply be thrown away. Not anymore. Never again. In spite of his pathetic display last night he would make certain you and everyone else remembers it.

[onmyyan]

Yandere Batfam being kind of terrible and over all neglectful to their Batmom darling makes my heart ache ache for angst and the drama that comes with it. It's always so satisfying to see Mrs. Wayne go be at he wits end with the family she is slowly began to loathe, decides to leave them quietly, and start to be selfish for a change by living her best life in with out them and in comforting solitude. It was so easy to get Bruce to sign her one way ticket out her depressing life, via not paying attention to the papers he signed of. Oh well 🙂

This is so scrumptious omfg the angst possibilities are literally endless??

Like her being there for Dick when he arrives as that broken little kid despite the misdirected anger he aimed at her, she'd still ask him how his day at school was or if he wanted to walk the gardens with her, no matter how many times he rejects her, she'd be there for him without overstepping the delicate boundaries surrounding him and his recently departed parents, I can see him opening up just the slightest but then he becomes Robin and since at this point batmom doesn't know about any of that, it drives this wedge between them.

She'd fall in love with being a mom despite its many challenges, when Dick grows up and eventually moves out her heart aches but then Jason comes into their lives and it's like a breath of fresh air in the stagnant house Bruce had cultivated. Then he dies. And everything is grey. Jason would have been close to her before she died but afterwards? She's just as bad as Bruce in his eyes and he's sure to let her know it.

Tim's another tragic case of misdirected anger, his father's murder fresh in his mind, it be impossible to bond with him every attempt would be met with more resistance and bitterness, it hurt when he so clearly thought you were trying to replace his mother, and this distance between you isn't something he grows out of

[maruflix]

OUT OF CONTROL !! #oneshot #narumigen #f!reader

Your captain’s hopeless crush on you is a running gag in the First Division. It’s been fun, but Narumi Gen decides that enough was enough.

feat. narumi gen　　⎯⎯　wc. 1.8k

contents: female reader, reader is an officer in the first division, yandere themes, obsessive behavior, reader is kinda iffy too here, i do not condone yanderes irl, no beta we die like kaiju number one

art cred. suou2280 (twitter)

“Why do you hate me?”

You pause mid drinking, lowering the water bottle just enough to catch a glimpse of your captain. “What?”

Narumi Gen stands tensely in the dim light of the training room, his hands crossed in front of his chest. His question is ironic with the way he’s glaring at you so heatedly— like he hates the very idea of you.

“I help you train even if you don’t ask me to,” He frowns, uncrossing his arms, “I ignore your mistakes and transgressions, no matter how bad they are,” his eyes are fixed on you as he takes several steps closer, “I keep you safe during missions, even if it costs me my life,”

He’s right in front of you now, leaning down to your height, “I even kept my distance from you so you wouldn’t get uncomfortable, so why?”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you move away, cheeks burning. “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about, Captain Narumi.”

“You don’t?” He repeats mockingly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Very well, let me refresh your memory.”

Air is knocked out of your lungs as he suddenly slams you to the wall, his hands placed on either sides of your head, effectively caging you in the process.

“C-Captain Narumi!” —but Narumi coldly gazes down at you, making your protests die in your throat.

“Tell me, who was it who helped you perfect that kaiju-slaying technique of yours?” His hot breath fans your ears as you gulp, perfectly aware of all the late night practices he’s referring to. Knowing the lazy bum persona he cultivates, training with Captain Narumi is something the other officers can only dream of, yet he tirelessly helps you to grow your abilities until you became one of the strongest officers in the division.

“I’m very grateful, but I don’t see—”

Narumi cuts you off. “Yes, it was me,” He clicks his tongue, making you go silent in shock, “Come to think of it, it’s all thanks to me that you didn’t get in trouble for half the shit you pulled off. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you and your rule-breaking friends? I’m not blind to the things that goes on in my division, officer.”

Alarmed, your eyes snap to meet his as your heart thunders in your ribcage. Which rule-breaking is he referring to? Was it when you and your platoon sneak out for late-night snacks during the three day training camp? Or the secret shortcut you always use when everyone goes for a jog in the mountains? Or was it that one time you saw his bayonet lying around and you tried swinging it around for a few times?

His chuckle breaks your train of thoughts. “Yes, I know everything you did. My office is equipped with a CCTV, you know.” Fuck, so he definitely knows about the weapon thing.

You inhale sharply, ready to beg him for forgiveness, but Narumi isn’t done. “Oh, and remind me who was it that swooped in to save you before you get devoured by a honju?” His face is now so close to yours, you can see yourself reflected in his crimson eyes.

You turn your head away, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t hate you.” Why is he doing this? He has always been so gentle with you, a lovestruck cutie who stutters in the mere presence of you, not this overbearing presence that strips you of your ability to breathe.

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

The slight crack in his voice makes your heart jump as your gaze scrambles back to him— but although he has a pained expression on his face, there’s no mistaking the victorious glint in his eyes.

“You know it, don’t you?” Narumi speaks again, lips stretching to form a boyish grin, “You know about my feelings for you... and instead of giving me a proper answer, you capitalized off of it.”

This is the first time he’s called you out on your actions.

You reach up cautiously, fingers tracing his jaw, “You know you’re the closest person to me, Captain Narumi. I owe everything to you, you know that.”

He exhales, leaning into your touch like a cat. Your raging heartbeat relaxes. There we go. Just calm down and stop talking.

Just when you thought you’ve succeeded in taming the lion, Narumi grabs your hand as his eyes dart upwards, his smile morphing into a cruel smirk. “You’re stalling... and my patience is running thin.”

He flips you, causing you to let out a yelp. Back pressed against his hard chest, you struggle to break free as he holds you by your arms. His hand is already slipping up your thigh and he leans down to plant kisses on your neck.

“W-wait, ah-” You glance, meeting the grey-haired man’s crazed gaze. Narumi’s eyes glow dangerously in the dark room, a piercing crimson that sends shivers down your spine. You know you’ve been playing with fire all along, but you never thought that the consequences would come so quickly.

“You know, I’ve really tried to be patient with you,” Narumi sighs, like he’s chiding a child, “but before I knew it, my affection for you has become a running gag in my own division. I don’t take such humiliation lightly, my love.” His whisper sends a delicious tingle down your neck to your spine, “Give me an answer, now.”

For a while, silence fills the room.

“Before I give you a response, shouldn’t you tell me what you did first?”

Narumi tenses up. There’s something different in the way you look at him now. His grip loosens slightly but it’s enough for you to yank yourself away.

You take a few steps away as he watches you like a hawk. “What happened... to him?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

Oh, but he does. You know he does because he refuses to meet your eye.

“It feels just like yesterday that I gained a new sparring partner, and suddenly he’s transferred to the second division without prior notice? I wonder what happened.”

Narumi squirms.

“Kobayashi. Yamada. Inoue— and recently, Yoshida. What happened to them? What’s with all the sudden transfers? Did the other divisions really need more personnel? Or,” Ignoring Narumi’s burning gaze, you uncurl the fingers that are previously tapping on your chin to point at him, “did you have something to do with that, Captain Narumi?”

He looks at you and you realize that you’ve hit him right on the mark. The last disguise he holds on to for dear life has been ripped to shreds with your accusation.

So you knew — of course you knew — or has he intended for you to find out all along?

“Congratulations, you caught me.” Clapping his hand mirthlessly, he stalks towards you, a pleased smirk on his face. “It’s so tiring to pretend to be a good guy. What do they say— ah, nice guys finish last. I guess there’s some truth to that, because I’ve been nothing but kind to you and all I get in return is being toyed with.”

The moon is high on the sky now, casting a dark shadow over Narumi’s face. You barely have the chance to react before he pulls you into a crushing embrace.

“I no longer have the patience for this. Tell me you love me,” his voice comes out barely a whisper, “hurry up, don’t make me lose my cool.” The desperation in his urging makes you feel like your breath has been seized from you.

Of course you liked him. Who were you kidding? Strong, handsome, and rich, Narumi Gen has it all— and being the your captain’s object of affection is fucking flattering. Everyone else goes to desperate lengths to get Narumi to even spare them a glance, but he stares at you all day like you hung all the stars in his sky.

You like him so much, that’s why you’re afraid. Afraid that you’re just a shiny new plaything that has just caught his eye. Afraid that he will lose interest in you once you reciprocate his feelings. Afraid that you will go back to superior and subordinate once the spark is gone.

You shouldn’t have been so anxious.

“What else should I do?” Narumi holds onto you, desperately clinging to the last shred of his sanity. “What more do you ask of me? I will give it to you, just tell me. Tell me what I should do so you’ll look at me.”

“I love you.”

Narumi’s heart lurches— it’s like the sky has been ripped asunder. His hands tremble as he moves back to hold your shoulders, searching for any signs of falsehood in your eyes.

Your smile pierces through his heart and he wonders why you’re looking at him with those clear, loving eyes.

“What..?”

“I love you, Narumi. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it. I wanted to be sure of your feelings before I—”

His lips crashes into yours, making you stumble backwards. He’s there to steady you by the waist, his hand snaking up your shirt and making its way up your back, leaving sparks of electricity from where he touched you.

Then he pulls away, his hand cupping your face gently as if you’ll break under the slightest pressure. For a moment he’s back to the gentle, shy Narumi Gen who treats you like a goddess, but you can see the obsession in his eyes that has become impossible to mask.

Hasegawa’s warning rings in your ear: Narumi Gen is an obsessive and possessive man who hides his resolve under a flippant persona. You recall the worried look in his face as he asks you to tell him if Narumi ever oversteps his boundaries with you.

Well, Narumi certainly did— but that’s just the way you like it.

You tug on his hair, jerking him closer to you and inviting him to kiss you again. He groans involuntarily, ashamed that you’re able to play with him so easily. Moving closer, he stops just before your lips meet, staring at you through half-lidded eyes. “Do you know what this means?”

Narumi wants to cry at the innocent look you throw his way. Now that he’s gotten a taste of you, he knows he can’t let go. He’s fallen too far into the abyss with no hope of clawing himself back out.

“Oh, what have you gotten yourself into?” He muses, lifting your chin up before trailing a finger down your neck— but all you do is lean into his touch, shivering in anticipation.

Your shy, impish smile does little to hide the excitement in your eyes as your eyelashes flutter up at him, tempting him to continue. “What? Do tell me, captain.”

The purr in your voice sends salacious shivers down his spine. In an instant, Narumi comes to a realization— all this time, the one holding the chains has always been you.

[kurokawaia]

── KUROKAWAIA'S KINKMAS - ¡!

* ˚ ✦ Welcome to Honey's first Kinkmas!! ೃ⁀➷ FANDOMS INCLUDE :: This contains a various amount of fandoms within Anime and/or Manga, such as; Bungou Stray Dogs, Naruto, Sk8 The Infinity, Hunter X Hunter, Attack on Titan, Demon Slayer, Tokyo Revengers, Mo Dao Zu Shi, Bleach, death note .ೃ࿐

Please fill out this form to be tagged (here), when i put you on the taglist, if your age isn't in somewhere on your profile showing you are 18+ i will not add you to it !! make sure its easily visable too! in your bio or pinned! if i can't find it there, i will not add you!! (taglist closes on the 30th of November)

DECEMBER 1 - DAZAI OSAMU (2k+)

MAIN KINK :: GUNPLAY ╰┈➤ extra kinkss; slight choking, overstimulation

WARNINGS :: yandere? dazai, controlling, Forced confinement, psychological manipulation, power imbalance, dark themes, dubious consent, overstimulation, gunplay, getting fucked by a gun on a desk, mean!dazai, slight choking, sucking the gun + more

fandom: bungo stray dogs

DECEMBER 3 - ARMIN ARLERT (1.1k+)

MAIN KINK :: Dry humping ╰┈➤ extra kinks: handjob, blow job (oral -> male receiving)

WARNINGS :: afab, x fem reader, dry humping, sub!armin, handjob, blow job, oral -> male recieving, cum swollowing, hair tugging, nicknames for armin 'min' 'minny'?, pet names for the both of you 'baby', begging, praise + more

fandom: attack on titan

DECEMBER 5 - FEITAN PORTOR (k+)

MAIN KINK :: BONDAGE ╰┈➤ extra kinks; marking, biting

WARNINGS :: afab, x fem reader, dom!feitan, marking, biting, bondage, tied up, use of rope, tightly tighted up, bruises, blood, rough sex, mean sex, possessive sex, missionary? + more

fandom: hunter x hunter

DECEMBER 7 - UCHIHA SASUKE (1.1k+)

MAIN KINK :: SOMNOPHILIA ╰┈➤ extra kinks; breeding

WARNINGS :: x fem reader, somnophilia, sex while you are asleep, piv, cervix fucking?, breeding, consent is given before hand, no protection

fandom: naruto

DECEMBER 9 - SAKURAYASHIKI KOARU (CHERRY) (2k+)

MAIN KINK :: MASTER DYNAMICS ╰┈➤ extra kinks; painting, degradation, praise

WARNINGS :: afab, x fem reader, dom!cherry, painting, bondage, degredation, praise, doggy?, desk sex, size difference implied, restriction, master dynamics, oral-> female reciving, pet names 'master' 'pet' 'good girl' + more

fandom: sk8 the infinity

DECEMBER 11 - KURAPIKA KURTA (1.6k+)

MAIN KINK :: FACE SITTING ╰┈➤ extra kinks; chain usage, overstimulation, praise

WARNINGS :: afab, x fem reader, face sitting, chain usage, overstimulation, praise, oral -> female receiving, cunnilingus, bondage (chains), restriction of movement (chains), slight temperature play? (chains), cervix kissing/fucking, fingering + more

fandom: hunter x hunter

DECEMBER 13 - LIGHT YAGAMI (3k+)

MAIN KINK :: VOYUERISM ╰┈➤ extra kinks; degradation

WARNINGS :: voyeurism? exhibition? fingering, light begging, light praise, degradation?. dom!Light x sub!Fem!reader, L looking at the camera while this happening + more

fandom: death note

DECEMBER 15 - KENPACHI ZARAKI (900+)

MAIN KINK :: SIZE DIFFERENCE ╰┈➤ extra kinks; breeding, rough sex

WARNINGS :: afab, x fem reader, size kink, rough sex, manhandling, no protection, breeding, reader is shorter, reader is smaller than kenny, misogyny?? kenny likes how your his wife, how you prodive the food for him etc.. + more

fandom: bleach

DECEMBER 17 - AGATSUMA ZENITSU

MAIN KINK :: FOODPLAY ╰┈➤ extra kinks; bondage, praise, titty fuck

WARNINGS :: afab reader, x fem! reader, foodplay, maple syrup, titty fuck, bondage, restriction, praise, sub!zenitsu, oral-> male recieving + more

fandom: demon slayer

DECEMBER 19 - LAN WANGJI

MAIN KINK :: DOM/SUB DYNAMICS ╰┈➤ extra kinks; bondage, cnc, biting, size kink, cockwarming

WARNINGS :: afab reader, x fem! reader, bondage, cnc, size ink, cockwarming, overstimulation, smaller!reader, timid!shy!reader, dom/sub dynamics + more

fandom: mo dao zu shi/the grandmaster of demonic cultivation

DECEMBER 21 - SANO MANJIRO (1.5k+)

MAIN KINK :: THIGH FUCKING ╰┈➤ extra kinks; marking/biting

WARNINGS :: afab reader, x fem! reader, nsfw, thigh kink, mating press, slightly rough sex, piv, prone bone, no protection, cum eating, slight manhandling, implied orgasm denial

fandom: tokyo revengers

DECEMBER 24 - AIZEN SOSUKE (2.8k+)

MAIN KINK :: BABY TRAPPING ╰┈➤ Breeding, yandere, manipulation, coercion

WARNINGS :: x fem reader, afab, yandere, coercion, manipulation, baby trapping, no protection, missionary, fingering, cervix kissing, NC cumming inside, + more

fandom: bleach

DECEMBER 25 - UCHIHA MADARA (3.7k+)

MAIN KINK :: CORRUPTION ╰┈➤ extra kinks; virginity taking, discrimination, breeding, degradation

WARNINGS :: corruption, virginity taking, discrimination, breeding, size kink, madara is mean, degradation, x fem reader, restraining (using hands), prone bone, slight choking? afab, she/her terms, reader is timid / shy / scared / inferior / shorter than madara, CNC, Old ideologies regarding birth! + more

fandom: naruto

Schedule : (UTC +8 time !!) will be posted 4:00pm every stated date

(the red gif animated line is made by @/cafekitsune)

the MDNI 18+ banner, the Izana banner is made by ME, so do not use it

the rose banner has been found :here: and :here:

the fading red banners can be found here adn here

© kurokawaia 2023 - 2024 (current).

[kusakiguzen]

Yandere One Piece x Reader

A/N: just fic that i wrote when i was board! Hope you enjoy reading it as much i enjoyed writing it.

Imagine the Straw Hats being annoyed with Cultivator Reader who gets sea sick alot but was also clingy. Almost always in choppers office during storms or when there are big waves. Chewing on Lemon Grass, Cloves or just licking some salt to help with it since you don't want to bother chopper much.

It had gotten worse ever since you entered the new world, The unpredictable weather makes you feel worried that you hold the crew back. The crew on the other hand were very understanding at first but soon they started to get annoyed, even Sanji and Chopper. You felt so bad about it that you always had a clove in your mouth so even if the weather changes it won't affect you that much.

But one day... You over heard them saying how you shouldn't have joined the crew if you get so sea sick since, pirates literally travel through the sea on top of that you never leave anyone alone! Always stay with someone, stuck to them. To sum it up... they didn't want you here....

You immediately ran to the crows nest and cried for a good hour. You had never felt so humiliated in your life!! Your familiars came out to comfort you and you fell asleep on them.

Zoro was asked to fetch you, He went to your room where you'd usually be, but he was met with emptiness. H serched the whole ship annoyed but finally found you in the nest sleeping comfortably. He was kinda annoyed since he was shouting for you but you gave no response, since you were sleeping, its fine.

They were going to get off on the next island to restock on supplies. You joined them but to your horror it looked like you home town.... Your home town was destroyed because Marines deemed it dangerous. So how come this town looks so much alike? You immediately got off and excused yourself, the straw hats thought you felt sick hence went to find a restroom or a secluded area to vomit, But no... You were trying to find a familiar face, any face. Since all cultivators lived in harmony, and it was a small island, you knew almost every one.

You entered the closest weapon shop and to your surprise, found the old man who used to work there, when you were in the village. You called out to him and his eyes widened. He ran and hugged you crying saying how everyone thought you were dead. You started crying saying how you thought everyone was dead, since you went back to the village and it was completely destroyed.

He told you that they escaped by faking all their deaths, so that tragedy won't happen again. You were so glad to find them. The old man ran out the shop to tell everyone you were back and alive. They all started hugging you while crying, saying how glad they were. This commotion was seen by Robin and Brook who were confused as to why these people were coddling you so much.

You told the villagers how you were saved by the Straw hats and you joined their crew. The village called for celebration to thank the Straw hats, who were surprises to find out this was your home.

Then you met him again, your childhood sweet heart, Lóng Fēi. How long had it been? you can't remember. You just ran in his arms, falling in the process. Shoving your head in his shoulder, soft sobs escaping your lips. Fēi Immediately picked you up like a baby and took you to the forest since he knows you hate being seen weak. When in the woods, he plopped you on his lap, holding you close, kissing your tears away. After you calmed down, He picked you up again and you guys went on a walk around the forest, catching up about life. Out of nowhere , Fēi asked if you would mind if he joined the crew with you. You immediately said you don't mind and he should join since Fēi was strong.

Luffy agreed without hesitation, since more the merier right....? Wrong, your atittude towards the crew changed. You no longer cuddle with Zoro while he naps, you no longer sit behind Sanji while he cooks, you no longer stay with Nami and try to read her maps in secrete, you no longer read with Robin, you no longer play or sing with Brook, no longer help Frankie, you stopped going to Chopper to talk about medicine from your home. Finally, You never again asked Luffy to sit with you on the head of the sunny. All the thing you used to do with the Straw hats, Now yo do with Fēi, Everything. it was like you changed into a completely different person.

They Straw hats were relived that you left them alone, but soon realised you weren't paying attention to them at all. They tried asking you to do stuff with them but you politely turned them down saying you don't want to bother them. Your blunt favoritism hurt them. Do you not like them anymore? Is it something they did? (kinda)

Soon they started to lose it, draging you with the to spend time like you used to but Fēi still tagged along. Can't he see?? He is not wanted!!!

If this continued they just might kill Fēi. Or Fēi would kill them. I mean if there was an accident that killed them but you and Fēi survived, no one would be suspicious....... Right?

Well lets see who survives then?

Masterlist

A/N: A small imagine that was on top of my head. I have another one piece fic in my mind which i'll write.

Stay Safe, Healthy And Hydrated

[amostnobleyandere]

Persephone, Swept Away Into the Deep

Yandere! Wriothesley x GN! Reader

Summary: You’re a florist who catches the eye of the Duke, ruler of the underworld in Fontaine—and as the object of his affection, there’s nothing you can do to avoid your fate.

Warning(s): yandere, toxic behavior, possessive behavior, mention of blood, violence (Wriothesley beats someone up), stalking, obsessive behavior, unjust execution of the law, possessive behavior, corrupt official Wriothesley (?), drugging (needle injection), kidnapping, captivity, implied stalking, non-consensual touching, forced romantic relationship

A/N: I’m not sure if I did a good job at translating the themes ✨ of the hades and Persephone myth (however slight they may be in this particular fanfic) but I tried ;)

—————————

Every happy customer that came out of your shop would inevitably spread your business through tongue—that’s just the way things worked in Fontaine.

Of course, you weren’t complaining. You were running a thriving business and their lively conversations often brought you joy and pride. The little gardener on off of main street, the florist who sells the most beautiful bouquets you’ve ever seen, the flower shop tucked away like a hidden gem, they’d say, fondness in their tone and the echo of good memories in their minds.

You were proud of the lifestyle you had made for yourself and the reputation you had garnered. Your natural green thumb had made your shop quite popular among commoners and socialites alike, as anyone of any class could stroll inside to find something for a person precious to them; whether it was a child, a spouse, a friend, or an infatuation, you had helped mold their stories, crafting and shifting them around petals and bows.

Though some days, you let yourself dream. Of petals and bows, not meant for someone else, but meant for you. Though your business had seen many love stories, its owner had yet to find a love of their own.

On your worst days, you scoffed and thought to yourself about how ironic your life was.

But…some days, your aching romantic heart would have you sighing wistfully as you watched customer after customer buy carefully cultivated blooms to gift to their beloved. They would leave gleefully, only for you to remain in your shop, watching them walk out with a piece of you. A piece that you wanted to give to your own special someone.

Always watching, never experiencing.

And then suddenly, everything you had built was being torn down by the one thing you desired the most.

—————————

On a day that was insultingly ordinary considering the damning events that followed it, you were sitting in your shop, furiously pruning flowers and cutting stems and leaves. You were a little behind in work, so you had kept your shop open later than you usually would.

A festival was going to be thrown at the center of the city, and that meant you were busier than ever. Business was slow at the time, but it always picked up during events, as it was common for people to take advantage of the merry mood and ask out the apple of their eye, or propose, or buy a bouquet just to enjoy life.

And your bouquets were certainly beautiful, as you had heard from the many couples that walked into your shop, fawning over the arrangements and each other. You were sure you would see many lovers come into your shop once the joyous celebrations began.

You sighed, feeling the solitude of the your profession begin to seem depressing. It made you happy knowing your creations would be appreciated, yet, you knew the festival would end up torturing your heart with the same stale loneliness you often felt.

Friends had invited you to come with them to enjoy the festival together, so you weren’t all alone. Ultimately, you had declined.

Business would be booming.

…Plus, it wouldn’t be as special if you couldn’t go with someone special. It would only hurt to go out into the bustling streets and to see all those people holding hands, touching arms, carrying your bouquets, while your side was cold and your hands were empty…

You snipped at a rainbow rose a little too hard, hissing as the tip of the shears nicked your finger. You watched in mild panic and exasperation as the blood began to fill the small cut, feeling a sting form in your finger. Reaching for the medical kit you kept close by, you swiftly treated and bandaged yourself, watching the gauze go from white to a bright red.

Shaking your head, you waved away the pain and your nasty thoughts. You were sure your friends would be fine without you and, more than anything, you needed to be here to sell your flowers. It would be a waste to throw out your beautiful blooms because you let them wither, and soon customers would be grabbing for them…and who knows? Maybe you might meet someone.

Maybe you would even find someone to enjoy the festival with….

You heard the telltale ding of a bell and looked up, peaking out from behind the wall of floral remains you had constructed around yourself.

A man walked into the shop, and the first thing you noticed is that he was handsome. And big. Like, slightly intimidating big. A large, built stature, with broad shoulders and heavy boots on long legs. You pinched yourself, feeling your cheeks slightly heat up. Who were you to get flustered? And by a stranger? Pull it together.

“Hello!” You greeted cheerily, thankfully turning on your usual customer service voice without problem. “How can I help you today?”

“You’re still open?” The man asked, a note of surprise in his voice. The question sounded weirdly familiar for it to be spoken by a stranger, but you chose to ignore it. Plenty of people knew your hours, it wouldn’t be odd for one of them to send a new customer over.

You paused, taking him in. The stranger was tall, dark, and brooding, a person that looked strangely out of place in your little safe haven that was crammed to the brim with mosaics of colorful flora.

However, his eyes were the clearest color you had ever seen. They were like steel in their cool quickness, taking seconds to size you up. You unconsciously shrunk under the pressure of his gaze. Still, you smiled up at him.

“Yes, sir. We’re still open. What can I get for you?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I’m not exactly sure. I came here because of a recommendation; they say you’re the best in town, with the freshest flowers. I’m guessing you outsource from the country?”

“No, sir. I grow them myself.” You said, still smiling sweetly.

A flash of recognition behind those steel eyes. “Ah. You’re the owner then?”

“Yes, sir.”

He hummed, looking away in thought. “I’d like an all blue bouquet—something with an air of delicacy to it. Nothing too fancy, just something pretty and light.”

That sounded…really romantic. Delicate? Pretty? Those were words people used to describe bouquets with romantic intentions behind them. You had heard them time and time again, as you carefully put together arrangements and your customer fawned over the person it was for, tone sugary sweet. Those words never failed to clog up your chest with a bitter jealously.

A feeling of disappointment filled your chest and your heart sank. Of course, he was already going with someone. It seemed that everyone, except for you, had a date for the festival. Of course. That made sense. Anyone that good looking would most likely have a date—

You smiled, sweeping away the disappointment and putting back on a false merry face. You had just met this man, really. What was there to be sad about? You decided to fill the silence that was quickly making you want to curl up into a ball and hide.

“So you’ve got a date for the festival? I’m sure they’ll love it, since you seem to know what they’ll like. Can I get a name for the order?”

“Wriothesley. And, no. I haven’t got a date.”

Your brain short circuited.

“But you’re so good looking?” You blurted out, the thought in your head coming out of your mouth without warning.

Wriothesley looked momentarily stunned, and you wanted to scream. Of all the times to embarrass yourself in front of a cute guy, it had to be now—

“A-Ah!” You stuttered out. “I’m sorry! Sometimes my mouth moves faster than my brain! I just said what I was thinking, I hope you’re not insulted by it…or uncomfortable….not that I meant to insult you—“

He laughed, the sound startling you. When he looked at you again, he seemed less guarded, his eyes shining with mirth as he gazed at you with interest. Oh, and that smile. Oh wow. That. Wow.

“You know, people are usually too afraid to say stuff like that to my face. Or really, they’re too afraid to say anything to my face. Guess I was just lucky to meet you today, huh?” He grinned and let his voice drop as he spoke. The glint in his eyes turned bright, like a dancing flame. He leaned into your space, letting one arm rest on the counter.

You felt the smooth words roll down your back and over your skin, excitement or fear (or maybe a mix of both) running up your spine and through the rest of your body.

You laughed, trying to play off his words as if they were meant to be friendly. (At least, you thought they were meant to be friendly.) Maybe the naturally deep tone of his voice and his intimidating aura made your brain misinterpret harmless words as…predatory.

You grinned. “Well, I don’t know about luck, but everyone deserves a compliment every once in a while, right?”

He leaned back, that dangerous glint disappearing into his eyes as if it was never there. He crossed his arms, looking smug.

“Right.”

Silence filled the air again, and your curiosity got the best of you quickly.

“Goodness, I’m sorry but who is this for then?”

He chuckled and you were immediately relieved that he wasn’t annoyed with you. People didn’t like it when others pried into their business. The thought of Wriothesley with his leather boots, pretty face, and icy eyes glaring at you with disdain nearly sent you into shock.

“It’s for…a co-worker, you could say.” He continued. “She does a lot for me and I thought it might be nice to get her a gift to show my appreciation. Everyone’s in a good mood with the festival coming around, so I might as well, you know?” He smiled. “Sorry to disappoint you, though. No romantic feelings involved.”

You nodded, a weird feeling of relief filling your chest after finding out that a man you didn’t know and that you probably would never see again did not have a date for the festival.

Maybe you were just glad to know that you wouldn’t be the only person going without a partner.

You began to gather sample flowers, spreading them out between you fingers and taking comfort in the familiar weight of them in your hands.

“Not disappointed at all.” I’m also single, you thought, but thankfully didn’t say out loud. “I guess I’ve just gotten so used to lovebirds walking into my shop, I was surprised you weren’t one of them.”

“Because of my face?” He asked, amusement seeping into his tone. You wanted to smack that smile right off of his smug, beautiful face. Of course, you wouldn’t, because that would be a crime to everyone else who had eyes. You couldn’t mess up that piece of art.

You nodded, your face burning. “Because of your face.” You confirmed.

“Well, I’m flattered.” He said.

You thrusted the sample flowers out in front of you, mortified that he was making your already embarrassing situation worse with teasing.

“Pick out the ones you like.” You said, your face practically on fire.

He did, without further comment at that, but a smirk pulled at his lips the entire time. He looked at you, with that grin molded onto his perfect lips, more than he did the flowers in your hands.

He refrained from torturing you with teasing remarks for the rest of the conversation, and when you told him it would be ready for pick up in a few hours, he gently placed a bag of mora on the counter.

Only when he was walking out the door did you realize how much mora he had given you.

Your eyes bulged as you peeked into the bag, nearly fainting at the amount. Who carries this much on them?! What if he had gotten robbed?! Well, he would probably never get robbed looking like…that, but still.

“Hey!! Wait—Sir!! You gave me way too much!”

He waved as he closed the door behind him, the bell ringing cheerily as he ignored you protests without even turning around.

You stood gaping behind the counter. You turned to the bag, determinedly picking out the correct amount and putting the rest away so that you could throw it at him when he came back. Not his face, though. Never his face.

A few hours later, he came back, his face neutral and undisturbed, like nothing in the world could move him to react.

He saw you, and his expression twitched and changed, looking just as smug as when he left.

You wordlessly pushed his bouquet, which you had worked extra hard on out of spite, not because you wanted him to like it or anything, towards him. Again, without saying anything, you pushed the bag of mora back towards him.

He quirked an eyebrow but kept his mouth shut, also determined to win the quiet challenge that you had started. He (rather cheekily) slid the bag back towards you, a smile fighting to pull onto his face.

You, more forcefully this time, slid the bag back towards him, face betraying no emotion.

Eyes sparking with amusement, he held out his hand.

Oh my Archons. You thought. What does that mean? He doesn’t want to….does he? You hesitatingly raised your hand in response, suspicious of the man in front of you. He gently slid his hand under yours, making your heart pound in your rib cage. His gloves covered most of his hand, but the skin that did touch you was startlingly cold. Your skin downright tingled where his touched yours.

Whether it was from the temperature or just him, you didn’t know.

He placed the bag of mora in your hands, a graceless plop and a cheerily jingle sounding through the quiet room.

Okay. You take it back. This mora was going directly at his face.

“This mora is going right at your face.”

“What?”

“What?” You parroted. Inside, you were crying. The first time you’ve ever threatened a customer and it’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

He chuckled, the sound low and deep and long and archons even his laugh sounded angelic.

“I could’ve sworn you just—“

“I didn’t.” You cut him off, panicking. You pushed the bouquet towards him, hiding behind it. “Enjoy your day. Thank you for your purchase. Have fun at the festival.”

“…Thanks.” He said, still amused, but following your lead and taking the flowers from your waiting hands. For a moment, maybe on purpose, his hands brushed yours, the touch sending a spark of electricity up and down your arms, making your heart beat faster….Must have been the cold from his skin, sending you into shock or something.

He left the shop (without the bag of mora) and you wistfully thought that you would never see that beautiful face again, kicking yourself for not asking him out. You were both single, right? Right??

Ultimately, you went home with the same familiar wistful feeling that soon turned to giddiness at having almost held hands with such a handsome man—his personality was odd but that could be overlooked.

Overall, it was a good day.

——————————

Except he was there the next day.

And the next.

….And the next.

Everyday he would order a bouquet of a different color. Once he ran out of colors, he began grilling you on what kinds of flower combinations you liked best. You would tell him, practically shaking while trying to prevent yourself from imploding, and that’s what he would order. He spent an enormous amount of money at your shop as the ridiculous mora bag battles continued (you were going to throw it at his face, you really were. You just needed to muster up the courage).

He would take the flowers home, and you would be left with a burning face and a quivering heart.

Then one day he asked you if you would like to go out. With him. Together. And you said yes, tying a bow around his order with trembling hands as a strangling giddiness filled up your entire chest.

So, you went to the festival with him right after work.

For the first time in weeks you were closing the shop and stepping out into the fresh air during the middle of the day.

You had an amazing time.

You found out that Wriothesley was extremely funny, and that his dry, sarcastic wit could have you doubling over and laughing in seconds. You found out that he liked tea like, a lot. Like a concerning amount. You found out that the co-worker he gave the first of many bouquets to is a melusine and a nurse. You found out that he talked to the Chief Justice regularly and somehow knew a lot of important people.

You explained to Wriothesley that you actually did have a life outside of flowers. You told him about your friends, your hobbies, and whatever else you could think of in the moment, feeling comfortable with him after just a few hours together.

He bought you food, somehow correctly guessing your tastes at every stall you visited. When you protested and offered to buy him something in return, he merely shook his head with a smile and said you could buy him lunch another day.

You walked together through the streets under golden lights, eating delicious food and buying trinkets. At the end of the night, you tentatively inched your hand toward his, and he interlaced your fingers together, holding your warm palm against his cold one tightly.

You felt yourself grinning like an idiot, thinking that absolutely nothing could change the way you were feeling.

Everything was going great until you got back to your shop, laughing and chatting idly with the man beside you.

Your heart stopped as you realized that something was wrong, and your hand left Wriothesley’s for the first time that night as you ran towards the open door.

The entire place had been ransacked. The money in the cash register was gone. Your precious flowers—countless blooms that you had taken the time to grow and cut had either been stolen or trampled on. One window had been smashed in with a brick. You lifted up your foot, feeling the shattered glass break into smaller shards under the pressure—Archons, it was everywhere. Luckily, the small vault you keep most of your savings in was still closed but dented in multiple places and on its side.

You nearly collapsed on the floor right then and there. It was only Wriothesley, who caught you as you were falling to the ground, that kept you from completely breaking down. You were mourning. All of your flowers. All of your hard work, ripped from your hands, without so much as a warning.

You felt rage and misery burn in your chest, resulting in hot tears running down your face as you pathetically picked up the ruined flowers scattered across the shop floor. Next to you, shadow cast Wriothesley’s face in darkness, hiding his expression from view. You heard him assure you that he would take care of it, that he would fix all of this for you, as he told you not to worry in that perpetually assertive tone of his. Your muddled and distressed mind immediately clung onto it like a life line, desperate for something to ground you.

Wriothesley would take care of it, you told yourself. If not him, then who would help you?

—————————

You found out soon after that the man who had robbed you was a rival store owner whose business had gone under ever since you had moved in. His storefront was situated on one of the more populated streets, streets that saw more foot traffic and that attracted customers of a higher class. Still, he had been losing to you, a small shop on some nowhere street, for months. In the end, arrogance and jealousy had driven him to attempt destroying your business.

Whether it be from fear and intimidation, or hopelessness from losing all the money you had made in the past couple months, he had hoped that you would chose to pack up and leave after he ruined the inside of your shop.

Fortunately, he was not a master criminal. A few shop owners on your street had seen his face and identified him to the guards. According to rumors you had heard from friends, he fought the guards during his arrest, shouting that he was not some lowly commoner to be pushed around. The guards and some mysteriously clothed people flooded around him, dragging him to the court house and sentencing him within the hour. He was allowed to go back to his shop, as his home was above it, but was put on house arrest for the time being and had guards stationed outside of every window to await further punishment.

It had happened so…quickly.

Wriothesley, during all of this, was very supportive.

—————————

It all came crashing down on the last night of the festival, a week after you had been robbed.

You were in the process of walking home before you realized that you had left your keys in your bag.

…Which was at the shop.

…That you would have to go back to.

Groaning, you made yourself turn around and trek back towards the storefront so that you could actually get into your house.

As you walked down the main strip of stalls and shops, you realized with a bitter heart that you would have to pass the shop of the man who made your life hell to get there and back quickly. You were glad that he had been caught and sentenced swiftly, but you were still incredibly angry about the damage that had been done to your business. The mental and emotional wounds left from the shock of seeing everything you had worked for destroyed were still fresh.

You fastened your pace as the night lamps began to turn on, the sky quickly turning dark as they became your only source of light. You knew the city was mostly a safe place to live, but that didn’t mean crime never happened, and it would be just your luck for you to get robbed a second time.

Then there was shouting.

You slowed your pace as you heard a voice echo off the tall buildings, only amplifying the panicked screams.

Uh oh. Had you walked right into a crime scene?

You looked around you, noticing that there were no guards in sight. Hopefully they had noticed the trouble and were taking care of it.

You sighed. You really needed to get into your house, as you weren’t too keen on sleeping on a bench for the night. Cursing whatever being had brought this upon you, you continued forward, walking in the shadows and hoping to avoid whatever drama was happening near the home of the man who had robbed you.

You turned a corner, freezing as you took in the sight of a group of men huddled together, seemingly trying to apprehend someone—

Wait. Was that—

You recognized that figure—those boots—that coat…

What was your boyfriend doing here in the middle of the night?

Swiftly, you moved back out of the light, eyes trained on the man you could now clearly recognize. You watched as Wriothesley raised his fist, his knuckles connecting harshly with someone’s jaw. You startled at the harsh noise of skin splitting skin.

You felt yourself flinch as blood splattered across the pavement. For a moment, you were grateful for the imposing figures blocking your view of the violent scene.

The victim was splayed across the stone due to the force of the blow, thrown right into the circle of people that had formed around him, pathetically whimpering as he tried to pick himself up.

You watched as he was dragged away, looking genuinely terrified, screaming bloodcurdling words as he went mad with fear. His pleas fell on deaf ears as those around him stood still, Wriothesley silently watching as he was picked up and thrown into the back of a carriage. The door squealed as he yelled that he didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve to go to the Fortress of Meropide, please—doors slamming shut, cutting off his final sentence as the men and the carriage disappeared into the night.

Wriothesley stood under a street light, a short distance away from where you hid in the shadows. His body was tense, his back drawn tight as he gazed at the retreating carriage, with the man he had assaulted and doomed to a life in prison lying within.

You stumbled back, you feet scuffling against the pavement. The noise sounded like an explosion in the dead quiet of the street.

His entire body stilled. He turned around, almost in slow motion, his eyes widening in horror as your gazes met.

You spun on your heel and ran, heart pounding in your chest. Heavy footfalls followed you, leather hitting stone with threatening thumps that seemed to get closer to you with every passing second.

You got to your shop, flinging open the door and rushing to the back of the building, heading towards the closet where you kept all of your supplies. Hearing the bell above your door chime mockingly, signaling that Wriothesley was in your shop oh Archons, you slammed the door shut and locked it from the inside.

For some reason, you could have never imagined him being so violent. You were shocked and terrified, seeing your new boyfriend, who you had only ever thought of as safe, as anything but. Now you knew. He was dangerous. You were so stupid for trusting a complete stranger—

You heard him run towards your hiding place, calling out to you as the heavy foot falls slowed to a stop.

“Y/N.” He said, voice calm and level, betraying no emotion at all. It was like he was discussing the weather and hadn’t just chased you down the street.

Your breathe hitched in your throat. Somewhere, in your frayed mind, you hoped, prayed he would just go if you were quiet enough—

“I never meant for you to see that. I’m sorry. Let me explain.”

The doorknob began to turn. It stopped, hitting the lock.

You heard rustling and then a faint jangle as Wriothesley stepped away from the door.

You had left your keys in your bag.

The bag was on the counter, the keys were in your bag—

….He knew where you kept your keys?

You had never told him that.

The door knob began to turn. You grabbed onto the it with a white-knuckled grip, stopping it from the inside.

Your heart thrummed in your chest, beating rapidly as you desperately held onto the cool metal.

“Leave me alone!” Please was left unsaid. You shouted the words, terror making you shake and tremble.

Wriothesley fell silent. You heard him lean his weight against the door, his movements causing it to creak.

The doorknob stopped turning.

You prayed that he wouldn’t try to force it, or worse, break the door down. You didn’t know if it would hold, or if you could hold on, considering how strong he was.

You imagined his hulking figure standing outside, only a few mere inches of wood separating you, towering over you from your spot on the floor.

You were practically paralyzed with fear, and didn’t know what you would do if he actually managed to get in and get his hands on you—

“Damn it, I ruined it all, didn’t I?” Wriothesley murmured.

You jumped, not expecting the despairing admission amidst your racing thoughts that were trying to pinpoint where you had went wrong in life.

His usually playful voice was monotone, eerily flat for the self deprecating words he spoke.

You didn’t deign him with a response. You merely listened to the quiet that followed, feeling more scared than you would have been if he had been raging and banging on the door. There was something about the silence; something about it felt foreboding, like a threat was creeping up behind you and you couldn’t hear it no matter how hard you tried.

You heard him turn away a few minutes later, heavy footfalls walking towards the door, and finally the bell signaling his departure.

For a few minutes, you sat there and waited.

Eventually, you opened the closet just a sliver, looking out into the dim lighting with flickering eyes, checking every possible corner that he could be hiding in. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t in here.

You slid out of the closet and almost immediately ducked behind the counter, still shaking from the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Shakily, you peeked out from behind the counter, checking for any sign of him outside. When you found the street to be devoid of him, you silently gasped in relief.

You ripped your keys out of the door with rushed hands.

You went home alone, without Wriothesley, who had taken it upon himself to personally walk you there almost every night of the week. A part of it felt strange to deviate from the routine, but you needed no reminder to know that the man you had trusted and spent time with all week was now a dangerous threat. You ran to the door of your home, opening it hurriedly and slamming it shut.

You tossed and turned as you slept that night, a doomed feeling settling in your churning stomach.

—————————

The next day, you took measures to start rebuilding. Perhaps you were just frantic to get back to some sense of normalcy after having the rug ripped out from under you the other night—or maybe you were desperate to have something to keep your mind off of the buzzing anxiety that was constantly gnawing at the back of your mind.

The man who broke in had already been put on trial and sentenced to an undetermined amount of time in the Fortress of Meropide, and had also been forced to cough up more than enough mora to cover the damages.

This, oddly enough, had all been told to you by a third party, someone hired by the court to watch over legal proceedings.

Someone was pulling the strings behind the case, and you didn’t want to think about who it was, just in case the pieces started falling together. (Deep down, you already knew.)

When you had heard he was being sent to the Fortress, you felt something in your gut twist unpleasantly, a kind of stone-like anxiety that weighed and sunk a permanent pit in your stomach. People who went there didn’t usually come back, or if they did, they weren’t the same. They weren’t viewed the same, either. What would happen to him once he came back? If he came back?

You shivered as the memory of him being dragged away resurfaced.

You sighed as you swept up errant pieces of class, determined to discard of every shard before you allowed any more precious customers or flowers to come through the door. The window had already been replaced, as a very nervous man had knocked on your door a few days after the…incident with Wriothesley, and claimed that he had been sent to repair it. You hadn’t even talked to anyone about fixing the window. A sinking feeling appeared in your chest as you watched the jumpy man chip away at glass and wood, his movements tense and swift. When you went to close the shop, you checked if you had locked the door three separate times before rushing home, practically running through the stone streets, running from absolutely nothing at all.

There was no sign of Wriothesley during the months it took your shop to recover. You were glad that he had taken what you had said to him in your moment of fear seriously. Still, you feared that he would show up on some random day, at some random time, and catch you off guard. That you would be reminded of the violence that seemed to follow him like a shadow, leaving trails of devastation in his wake.

Everyday you went home glancing over your shoulder while walking briskly down the street, always making sure to make it home before dark.

—————————

You unlocked the door to your home, hurriedly glancing behind you as you shoved the keys into the lock, pushing the door in quickly as it gave way. You closed and locked the door behind you, allowing yourself to relax minutely against the cool frame.

“Back so soon? I noticed you’ve been closing earlier nowadays. What’s that about?”

You froze, an ice cold fear creeping through your veins.

There, sitting in the dark of your unlit living room, was the man you had been simultaneously avoiding and thinking about constantly for months.

You could make out the silhouette of his hulking figure, leaning back into your favorite chair with his fingers laced together and knees spread apart, relaxed and causal. His eyes, which always held a mildly scrutinizing gaze, had turned razor sharp—they hadn’t moved from you since the moment you had stepped into the room. You were a pinned butterfly under that look, being dissected and picked apart by glacial, stormy irises.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, your voice coming out a little more shakily than intended. You tried not to hyperventilate. You really tried, but you could already feel your chest tightening, like just being in his presence was suffocating—

He stood up. Rooted in place, you didn’t dare move. If you tried to run, you knew he would catch you.

He moved towards you slowly, like he knew just as well as you did that you couldn’t escape.

He stopped a foot away from you, his height easily trumping yours, his figure casting a large, beastly shadow in the dim lighting.

You tilted your head back to look him in the eye. Even now, those icy eyes were beautiful. You thought it was unfair. Now that you knew what he was, what he was capable of, you thought, his eyes should come as warning. They were the eyes of a predator. And yet, still cold and steely, clear like cryo vision that hung from his hip, which you had never even seen until now.

Still beautiful, reminding you of clear water and arctic oceans and quiet. It was so quiet.

Neither of you spoke. Neither of you dared to break the careful silence.

He reached up, curled fingers gently caressing your cheek, dragging down along the side of your neck, as if a simple touch with too much force behind it would shatter you.

His eyes flickered to the place where your shirt had lifted to expose your collarbone, coat hanging off your shoulders and pulling the fabric down.

He ran his fingers over the exposed skin, making you shiver as you felt rough, calloused pads run across you gingerly, lightly. A delicate touch from a hardened man. He looked back at you, his eyes soft. Intense. Adoring. He had moved closer in the last few seconds, you remarked. You only noticed because you had to crane your head up more to look at him. His chest touched yours. He leaned down, ghosting his lips over your forehead. His hand had moved. One had settled on your waist, holding and trapping you close to him.

You felt a prick in the side of your neck, vision going black as you collapsed into his arms.

—————————

The next time you woke up, you weren’t in your house anymore. There was gauzy, heavy fabric hanging above you. You had been placed in a canopy bed in a room that was expensively furnished, and yet somehow untouched. You were in a bed, which was in a prison, at the bottom of the ocean.

Wriothesley walked in only an hour after you woke. You had a feeling he had been routinely checking to see if you were awake.

He looked down at you, his eyes painfully tender in a way that you regretted not noticing before. There was a fondness, a suffocating fondness, which told you that all those things he now whispered to you at night—how he wanted to protect you, how he had longed to have you for so long, how he had been watching you from afar with his heart in his hands, just waiting for the right moment to give it to you—

His eyes told you that they were all true.

Somehow, you couldn’t hate him.

Wriothesley had been living as a lonely prisoner in his own kingdom—his underwater kingdom that he ruled, because he thrived on the depths of the cold, dark ocean and its inhabitants that yielded to his power.

And yet the king of the underworld yearned for just a little bit of life. Life that you were familiar with—life that you thrived off of, and that thrived in return under your guidance. Life that you loved.

Life that had attracted you to him.

You didn’t know if anyone still talked about you on the surface; if they talked about your existence, or more so your disappearance, in hushed whispers with shifty eyes. No one talked about you down here—no one knew you existed, except for the head nurse and your husband.

You had been stolen away, under the ocean, that little shop off main street missing its owner forevermore.

You, who had always been surrounded by the life of the surface, had been transported to the underworld, a land of misery and lost souls, away from all life, surrounded and trapped by the love you once longed for—and mourning the life you once had.

—————————

Reader: *lets go of Wriothesley’s hand bc they got robbed*

Wriothesley: oh this jerk is gonna pay *sends the guy who robbed you to the bottom of the sea*

he’s been waiting to hold that hand for so long )):< wtf dude

[jaythes1mp]

1224 words, 7239 characters, 54 sentences, 27 paragraphs, 4.9 pages. Tag list: @zero-s-tea @chemicalsandghosts @yandere-enthusiast @starsdotalk @small-mushroom-fae

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader ��� CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

You had always had a vague understanding that your biological father was well-off, as he would consistently transfer a substantial amount of cash to that woman each month. However, while you were fortunate enough to not have grown up in the most deprived area of Gotham, it didn't necessarily mean that you had lived in the lap of luxury either.

Despite the knowledge that your father was wealthy, you had still scraped by in a small, cramped apartment, constantly relying on his financial support and night jobs to survive. You supposed that your situation could have been worse, but it didn't make the reality any more bearable. You often wondered what it would be like to live in a well-appointed home and never worry about money, but those thoughts were quickly thrusted aside and squashed down by the woman’s polished heel. Every time, the woman’s sharp words brought you back to reality.

You hadn’t deserved that life. She would remind you time and time again.

You grimace, the thought of your mother, or rather, that woman, entering your consciousness disgusting you. You weren't sure if she'd ever truly earn the title of 'mother.'

It wasn't until you reached the age of eleven that you become painfully aware that not every child had to desperately plead with their mother for food, and that it wasn't normal for parents to hold their kids needs over their own heads.

It had become abundantly clear to you from a young age that the woman was never truly interested in motherhood and had only kept you out of a slim chance that one of the men she had whored herself out to would be wealthy. She targeted men at lavish galas, her sole purpose for going being to hook up with them in exchange for large amounts of money. They usually sent nondisclosure agreements along with the cash, ensuring her continued wealth. However, your existence disrupted her carefree lifestyle. ‘It was perfect, until you came along.’ She’d say.

She had exploited Bruce Wayne for money. Getting him drunk with enough press around to stress about his ‘playboy image’ to bed her. Afterwards, she demanded a large sum of money, and he gave it to her without a second thought. He hadn’t even fully read over the details. Just signing up for a wire transfer to her account every month for the next few years. He hadn’t even been aware of you.

Too preoccupied with training the young Robin to even be aware of your birth.

Throughout your life, the woman had consistently manipulated the truth, spinning a tale in which it was your fault that your father had ‘left.’ And, despite your reservations, a small part of you still believed her words.

She had carefully cultivated your sense of guilt, instilling the belief that your very existence had driven your father away. Her venomous words and manipulative behavior had left deep emotional scars, convincing you that you were unworthy of a loving father's affection. Or rather, anyone’s affection.

That day, when you turned sixteen, was the day that woman unceremoniously ushered you out of her home. Clothes and any belongings that she didn't deem worthy enough to sell for a few hundred dollars were carelessly thrown out into the hallway. By the time you made it back from work, most of your belongings had already been looted by the other tenants and homeless kids who roamed the building.

With a mixture of desperation and hope, you had gathered the few remaining possessions that you could salvage, cramming them into your work bag. Your fingers had trembled slightly as you dug out your old, cracked phone. Desperation clawed at your chest as you dialed her number and slammed your fist against the door.

You hadn’t been surprised when your repeated calls went unanswered. Frustration and anger boiled within you, mingled with a pang of hurt and despair. Deep down, you knew it was futile to even attempt to break down the door, as that would only result in consequences that you were unwilling to face.

With a steely determination, you forced back the tears that threatened to overwhelm you, walking to the nearest bank with a firm resolve. You withdrew every penny you had painstakingly saved over the past two years and closed the account, ensuring she could no longer access any of your hard-earned money.

Armed with the few thousand dollars you had managed to retrieve, you began a desperate search for someone, anyone, who would be willing to offer you a roof over your head. Despair gripped your heart as you realized how limited your options truly were.

At that point, the members of the Batfamily had been cognisant of your existence for about a year. Bruce having taken a DNA test for Alfred’s medical examination. Yet, despite their general awareness of your presence, it seemed they had made no direct attempt to reach out or provide assistance. On the surface, your life appeared stable. You resided with a supportive parent, attended school, and held down a job. From all outward appearances, there didn't seem to be anything particularly noteworthy or concerning about your circumstances.

But they were detectives. One would expect them to possess keen eyes for details, especially when it came to the nuances and subtle signs that might indicate something amiss. Yet, they had missed the marks, failing to acknowledge the more subtle indications of your turmoil.

Jason discovered you the morning after you had been cruelly cast out from your home. You were found sleeping outside, your weary head nestled against your overstuffed work bag. Wearing an old, frayed sweater for a makeshift blanket.

Typically, he wouldn't have paused to take note of a sight akin to this. He was all too gruesomely acquainted with the sight of homeless, neglected children on the streets. But as his gaze fell upon you, there was an unsettling sense of familiarity that snagged his attention.

The question nagged him persistently, scratching at his consciousness like an untamed itch. Where had he come across you before?

Then, suddenly, recognition flashed across his mind. You were the same child Damian had fixated upon just over a year ago. The demon spawns little obsession.

He let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Why on earth were you on the streets? It was blatantly obvious that it wasn’t a safe environment for anyone, let alone you. The mere notion of the young Wayne finding out that his blood kin was unhoused would undoubtedly send the typically stoic demon into a frenzy.

He let out a resigned sigh, leaning down to gently nudge your huddled form. His sharp, calculating grey eyes roved over your slumbering figure, taking in every minute detail with a sense of keen observation.

You stirred at the touch, groggily lifting your head from your overstuffed bag. Your bleary eyes slowly peeled open, blinking owlishly in the early morning light. Confusion and exhaustion mingled in your expression as you caught sight of Jason crouched down in front of you.

That was the day your life began to intertwine with the tightly woven web of the Wayne family. From that very moment, you became ensnared within the complex and sometimes suffocating grip of the Wayne's protective and possessive nature.

No use of y/n, no use of any descriptive features for the reader, no gender mentioned.

Shorter than usual, but more of a dive into the reader’s backstory.

Comments, asks, and reblogs are very appreciated! Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

[heliosunny]

Love your writing 😍 about anaxa and phainon

Hoping that I can see more of them✨

Since I've just updated Yandere!Phainon, I'll write Yandere!Anaxa. Thank you for supporting me🩵

Yandere!Anaxa x Florist!Reader

In a quiet kingdom known for its lush flora, you run a small but thriving flower shop, using your magic to cultivate rare and powerful plants. Strong-willed and sharp-tongued, you care little for wealth or titles, only for the flowers that bloom under your care. Then he walks in.

A man shrouded in mystery and danger, arrives with a strange plant in hand and an offer to research it

The bell above your shop’s door chimed softly, signaling a customer. You barely looked up from where you were tending to a tray of delicate orchids, brushing your fingertips over their petals.

“Welcome” you said, voice steady yet warm. “Take your time.”

No response. How strange, most visitors, whether locals or travelers, at least offered a greeting. You turned your gaze toward the entrance only to find a man standing motionless, barely past the threshold.

And the moment your eyes met his, chaos erupted. The vines and roots in your shop, normally docile, swaying gently under your magic suddenly lashed out, twisting and lunging toward him like living creatures with a mind of their own. Thorns glinted under the lantern light, reaching to pierce into his skin.

You moved instantly.

Lifting a hand, you called forth your magic, your power sweeping through the air like an unseen force. The aggressive vines froze, caught mid-air, mere inches from his throat. With a flick of your wrist, they recoiled and slithered back, retreating into the soil.

You let out a slow breath before turning your sharp gaze to the stranger.

Now that you had a better look, you could see why your plants had reacted so violently.

The man before you was no ordinary traveler.

Dark fabric clung to his tall frame, adorned with silver accents and lined with enchanted thread that shimmered faintly under the light. His hair, a cascade of green, framed striking eyes that watched you without a hint of fear.

If anything…

He looked amused.

“I see” he murmured, his tone smooth, almost lazy. “They don’t like me.”

Your grip on your magic remained firm. “That makes two of us.”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “Oh? And here I thought florists were supposed to be welcoming.”

You didn’t smile. “Florists don’t typically get customers who trigger an unprovoked magical attack.”

His gaze flickered to the now-docile vines before returning to you. “Unprovoked, hm?”

You narrowed your eyes. There was something about him. Something unnatural. Your plants had never reacted like that before, not even to dangerous men. Which meant… This man was something else entirely.

Despite the warning signs, you did not turn him away. You were no fool. Forcing him out would only make him return.

Instead, you did what you did best, you observed.

You allowed him to browse your shop, watching from behind the counter as he idly picked up flowers, rolling their stems between his gloved fingers.

The tension in your shop was thick. Your plants remained still, but you could feel them watching, waiting.

Finally, the man turned to you, holding up a single white lily. “I’ll take this one.”

You eyed him. “A white lily?”

He hummed. “Is that a problem?”

You set down your gardening shears, stepping out from behind the counter. “That flower means purity and devotion.”

Another chuckle. “How fitting.”

You frowned. “For you?”

“For you” he corrected smoothly.

You stared. He held the lily up, brushing the petals along his fingers. “You protected me, didn’t you? Even when your magic screamed otherwise?”

“You weren’t in danger” you said evenly. “I was protecting my shop from needless damage. Not you.”

He tilted his head. “Is that so?”

Before you could respond, he did something unforgivable.

He brought the lily to his lips and bit down on the petals.

You snapped. Without thinking, you moved. In a blur of motion, you grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward, slamming him against the wooden counter with surprising strength.

His smirk faltered, eyes widening just slightly.

He wasn’t expecting this.

You leaned in close, voice dangerously soft.

“Don't do that to my flowers.”

His smirk returned, sharper this time. “Apologies” he purred, unbothered by his current position. “I was just curious.”

Your grip on his wrist remained firm. Tight to the point you could feel his pulse. Steady. Unnaturally calm. A normal man would have tensed, would have recoiled at your sudden aggression.

But he didn't. He simply studied your reaction.

Your eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

For the first time, he didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, his gaze softened—just slightly.

Then, he smiled. Is that interest you saw in his eyes?

“I think” he murmured, tilting his head ever so slightly, “I’d like to find that out with you.”

And somehow, despite everything, despite the danger that curled around him like a cloak, you had the sinking feeling that this was only the beginning.

-----

The moment Anaxa placed the plant in your hands, you felt it. It was alive. Not in the way all plants were, this was something else.

The veins in its leaves pulsed faintly, like a slow heartbeat. The roots twitched as if sensing your presence, curling toward your fingers.

You tore your gaze away from it, leveling Anaxa with a sharp look. “Where did you find this?”

His smirk was slow, deliberate. “Does it matter?”

“It does if I’m the one researching it.”

He chuckled, tilting his head slightly. “Then consider it a mystery for you to solve.”

You frowned. He was hiding something.

But that didn’t matter, not yet.

For now, the plant held your full attention. You ran your fingers along the stem, noting the strange texture. Not quite wood, not quite flesh. Somewhere in between.

“How long do I have?” you asked.

Anaxa’s eyes flickered, amused by your immediate interest. “No rush. Take as long as you need.”

“Even if it takes years?”

His lips curled. “I have patience.”

You narrowed your eyes. That was a lie.

No man who smirked like that, who watched you like that, was capable of patience.

But you said nothing. Instead, you turned away, already lost in thought.

This plant… it could change everything.

Days turned to weeks, and the more you uncovered about the plant, the more you realized it was wrong. It absorbed magic. Fed off of it. Craved it.

Your greenhouse had become a battleground of willpower, your magic straining to contain the unnatural hunger of its roots.

But more concerning than the plant itself was him. Anaxa visited often. Too often.

Always watching. Always hovering just close enough that his presence became a shadow at your back, his warmth bleeding into your space.

It was suffocating and you hated that. You didn't use to working under such stressful environment.

“You’re distracted today” he murmured, leaning against the wooden counter as he watched you work.

You didn’t look up. “I have a guest who refuses to leave. I wonder why.”

A low chuckle. “Is that what I am? A guest?”

“What else would you be?”

He hummed, pushing off the counter. You felt him step closer, his presence a tangible weight behind you.

“You tell me, florist.”

The way he said that title, it wasn’t mockery.

It was fond.

You exhaled sharply, fingers tightening around your shears. “You’re getting in the way of my work.”

“I don’t mind” he said smoothly.

“I do.”

He didn’t move.

Instead, he reached out, slow, measured, testing. You felt the ghost of his fingertips skim over your wrist, a barely-there touch and yet it burned.

You turned sharply, your shears flashing between the two of you, the blade stopping just before his throat.

Anaxa merely raised an eyebrow, utterly unbothered. Then, slowly, he smiled.

“You’re so beautiful when you threaten me.”

You stared at him, heart pounding and something inside you twisted.

Not in anger.

Not in fear.

In something far more dangerous.

And from the way his eyes darkened, he knew. Your breath was steady. Your hand did not shake. The shears remained pressed lightly against his throat, just enough for him to feel the cold metal against his skin. But Anaxa… he wasn’t afraid. If anything, he leaned in.

His voice was thick with amusement. “What now, little florist? Will you cut me down like your flowers?”

You exhaled slowly, eyes locked onto his. “Maybe.”

His smirk widened. “Do it.”

Your fingers tensed. Damn him. He was testing you. You hated that part of you, the part he had awakened, that wanted to push back.

You lowered the shears, stepping away. “I have work to do.”

Anaxa chuckled, touching his throat where the shears had been, mockingly thoughtful. “Mm. A shame. I would have liked to see how deep you'd go.”

You shot him a glare. “Don’t tempt me.”

Despite everything, you still let him into your shop.

Anaxa never made himself scarce, always finding reasons to linger, offering idle conversation, watching as you worked, leaving small, carefully chosen gifts.

A book on ancient flora he knew you’d been searching for. A rare seed he procured from a distant kingdom. Even something as simple as a hot cup of tea on particularly exhausting days.

It was all calculated. And it was working. Because despite your wariness, despite knowing exactly what kind of man he was, you found yourself hesitating less when he got close. And Anaxa noticed.

One evening, as you were tending to the strange plant he had brought, you felt him step behind you. His fingers brushed your wrist, guiding your hand over the leaves.

“Do you feel it?” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

The plant pulsed beneath your touch.

You swallowed hard. “Yes.”

He hummed, his fingers curling slightly over yours. “Just like you, it thrives on attention.”

Your lips parted to argue, to deny, to push him away. But your traitorous body remained still. That silence was all he needed.

His grip tightened. Just long enough to remind you who was winning this game.

The first incident happened three days later.

A neighboring florist, one of your longtime friends—vanished.

The second incident followed soon after.

Another florist. A merchant. Anyone who spent too much time near you. No bodies. No signs of struggle. Just whispers of disappearances.

And then, the third incident.

This time, the attack was aimed at you.

A masked figure cornered you late at night, their blade glinting under the dim lantern light. But you were no helpless damsel. Before they could strike, you reached into your apron, pulled out a handful of crushed lilies and blew the powder into their face.

The paralysis was instant. The would-be assassin barely had time to stagger before crumpling to the ground, unmoving. You stepped back, breathing heavily, heart hammering.

Then, from the darkness, a slow clap.

You turned, only to find him.

Anaxa stood in the shadows, watching you with that infuriating, satisfied smile.

“You handled that well” he murmured.

Your fingers curled into fists. “This was your doing.”

“Was it?” He tilted his head, stepping closer, eyes never leaving yours. “Strange… I seem to remember warning you that this town had become dangerous.”

You glared. “You expect me to believe this was a coincidence?”

“I expect you to be smart enough to see the truth.” He stopped a mere breath away from you, his fingers reaching out to trace along the petals of the flower in your hair.

“You need me, Y/N.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “And I’m the only one who will stay.”

Your pulse pounded. Not with fear.

But with the bitter realization that he wasn’t wrong.

The disappearances. The attack. The uncertainty in the air. Who else could you trust now?

He had woven himself into your life. And somehow, you had let him. But that didn’t mean you had lost.

Not yet.

So instead of pulling away, instead of rejecting his words, you met his gaze head-on.

“You think you’ve won?” you murmured.

His smile widened. “Haven’t I?”

You leaned in slightly, your breath ghosting against his skin, your fingers grazing his wrist. And then, in a single swift motion. You twisted his arm behind his back, slammed him against the shop’s wooden post, and pressed the sharp tip of your pruning shears to his throat.

Anaxa let out a soft, breathless laugh.

“Ah…” His voice was practically shaking with delight. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

Your grip tightened. “You don’t scare me.”

“You should” he murmured.

You stared at him, heart hammering, waiting for the moment he’d retaliate—waiting for him to strike. But he didn’t. Instead, he leaned into the blade. A thin line of crimson beaded against his pale skin, but he didn’t flinch.

He only smiled.

“Keep me close” he whispered. “Or watch how far I’ll go to get to you.”

A warning. A promise. A challenge.

And for the first time, you realized this wasn’t a game you could walk away from.

You felt the world blur around you.

Heat crept into your veins, slow and insidious, twisting through your body like roots burrowing deep into the earth. Your fingers trembled as you gripped the counter, trying to steady yourself.

Your vision swam, colors bleeding together. Across from you, Anaxa stood, watching you with sick satisfaction.

You had been poisoned.

Not to kill. Not to harm.

But to bind.

“What… did you do?” Your voice came out breathless, weaker than you wanted it to be.

Anaxa’s smile was slow, patient, victorious.

“Shh.” He stepped closer, brushing a gloved hand against your flushed cheek. “Let it settle, little flower. There’s no use fighting it.”

Your breathing hitched. The warmth pooling in your body was unnatural, like a vine curling around your heart, tightening, twisting, refusing to let go.

Your knees nearly buckled. Anaxa caught you effortlessly, guiding you against his chest, holding you as if he had done this before.

As if he had been waiting for this moment.

“You’re strong” he murmured, pressing his lips against your hair. “I knew you wouldn’t fall easily.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears. Fight. Your mind screamed at you. Resist.

But the weight in your limbs, the fog in your head, it was drowning you.

And worst of all, beneath the confusion and anger, something inside you craved the feeling.

The warmth. The presence. His hands on you. His voice in your ears.

You forced yourself to move, shoving against his chest. He allowed it, stepping back just enough to watch you struggle.

Your glare should have been sharp, but the dizziness dulled it. “You… bastard.”

Anaxa chuckled, tilting his head. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, my dear.”

He reached into his coat and pulled out a delicate glass vial.

Inside, swirling with a faint glow, was the same plant you had spent weeks researching.

Understanding slammed into you.

The plant. The rumors. The disappearances.

Your breath came short and shallow. “You planned this from the beginning.”

Anaxa smiled.

“Of course I did.”

Your mind was still reeling, but one thing was clear—Anaxa was not just some wandering researcher.

He was someone powerful. Someone who had influence. And now that you thought about it, his posture, his way of speaking, the way he expected to be obeyed. It was all too familiar.

Royalty.

Your lips parted in realization. “You—”

“I rule the neighbor kingdom, Y/N.” He said it softly, as if it were the simplest truth in the world. “And now, so will you.”

Your stomach twisted. “I never wanted that.”

“But you need it,” he countered. “And you need me.”

You clenched your fists. “What I need is for you to let me go.”

He smiled, patient as ever. “But you won’t leave.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And why is that?”

Anaxa’s stepped closer, his fingers brushing your pulse point. “Because I’ve rooted myself in you.”

Your breath caught.

“You feel it, don’t you?” His voice was low, hypnotic. “That pull. That ache.”

The poison makes you crave him.

Anaxa leaned in, his lips mere inches from yours.

“You are mine now.”

For days, you tried to fight it.

The bond, the warmth, the way his presence made your pulse race.

His voice in your ears. His hands guiding yours as you tended to the flowers. His whispers at night, promising, coaxing, binding.

You hated him. You hated how good he was at this. At pulling you in. At making you his.

And worst of all?

Somewhere along the way…

You had stopped trying to leave.

There was no escape from him. You will soon wither in his arms just like that lily.

[aphroditelovesu]

Yan!Mom Rhaenyra Targaryen/Yan!Dad Laenor Velaryon Headcanons (Platonic)

❝ 🐉— lady l: hi... So, it just freaked me out and I needed to write this, kind of like a base for Valyrian Heritage part 2... I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, unhealthy platonic relationships, mention of mutilation and war, messy writing.

❝ 🐉pairing: platonic!yan!mom rhaenyra targaryen and yan!dad laenor velaryon x gender neutral!reader, platonic yandere!hotd x gn!reader.

Rhaenyra and Laenor have always gotten along well, although not so close, they were always friendly with each other and even came to an agreement after their marriage. They would live their own lives and be free to love someone else.

The few times they slept together were not for pleasure, but to try to conceive an heir. And it worked, when Rhaenyra discovered she was pregnant just a few months after her wedding, much to everyone's delight.

You were the only child born of their marriage, well, at least the only legitimate one. There was no doubt about your legitimacy, since you were a copy of your father when you were born and became more like your mother as you grew up.

They loved you unconditionally, there are not enough words to describe how much they love you. They say you never love anything on the world the way you love your first child and that's true when it comes to your parents. They love all of their other children, but it's pretty clear how attached they are and favor you more than anyone else.

Laenor is the most attached to you, however, as you were his child. Really his. And although he loved your brothers who were born after you, there was no doubt that he preferred you above them all. You were the apple of your father's eye, you could never do anything wrong in his eyes and he will fight anyone who says otherwise.

Rhaenyra loved you with all her heart, the first moment she placed you in her arms for the first time was like a blessing, a gift from the gods old and new. You were her precious, her most precious treasure and nothing and no one will take you away from her. No one steals what belongs to a dragon and gets away with it.

You were not only spoiled and loved by your parents, but also by your grandparents. Rhaenys and Corlys adored you, simple as that, they spoil you more than anyone and always take you to Driftmark when Rhaenyra allows it. Corlys always makes a point of reminding you of your heritage, that you are a Velaryon, and Rhaenys tries to participate as much as possible in your upbringing.

Viserys loved you deeply too, considering that you are his first grandchild and he tries his best to be present in your life. He would often pick you up and sit with you on the Iron Throne, reminding you that one day everything would be yours. And he doesn't even try to hide his favoritism. He knew that if Aemma was still alive, she would love you as much as he does.

Alicent was excessively attached to you too, and although she had grandchildren of her own, she didn't even try to hide how much she preferred your company. Although she has no patience for children, she loves you with all her heart and strongly believes that Rhaenyra is not a good mother for you, a belief that became stronger after the birth of Jacaerys. Otto encourages Alicent's tendencies while cultivating his.

You were the example for your younger brothers, Jacaerys, being the second child, is the clingiest and most protective towards you. He had you first, so you were his first. Lucerys is extremely possessive of your attention and sulks when others get it. Joffrey is the baby and the youngest and so he wants to receive more attention from you.

Your aunt and uncles were very close to you, mainly due to age and because of Alicent's encouragement, who was always sure that you would grow up surrounded by her children.

Aegon is very emotionally dependent on you and is almost always leaning around you, looking for comfort. Helaena loves you with all her heart, she wants to be by your side all the time and she trusts you completely. Aemond is the closest to you, always seeking comfort and confirmation from you, he wants to impress you at any cost. You didn't spend as much time with Daeron, but he misses you and cherishes the memories he has with you.

You were the anchor of your family after the years passed, the only person capable of bringing them all together. Viserys and you had this in common, the desire to reunite the family and you managed it, although it never lasted for long.

All servants were instructed to do your whims and desires. Laenor and Rhaenyra are extremely protective of you and suspicious of anyone who approaches you, especially if it is one of the Greens.

You loved your family, you really loved them, but sometimes all you wanted was to be free from so much pressure. You found fun and ''freedom'' in associating more with your great-uncle, Daemon, who was always taking you away with him, causing your parents to panic. You always came back unscathed, though.

However, you knew you would have to choose a side. After Aemond's mutilation, you found yourself at an impasse when your father sneaked into your room that night and asked you to run away with him. Running away with him means you would be free from your burdens, but the conflict would never stop and would only escalate.

You didn't have any more time. You had to choose between running away with Laenor and escaping the war or staying with Rhaenyra and dealing with the conflicts between the Blacks and the Greens, as well as your overwhelming and possessive family.

Choosing between your father and mother was never something you thought you would do, until this day. The thought of never being able to see Rhaenyra again and hear her reading to you or never seeing your father teaching you how to fight again filled you with fear and anguish. You knew what you had to do, but could you bear the consequences of your choice?

[logicallabyrinth]

yandere emperor (romantic) x male reader prince.

If the reader refuses to marry him, what will he do? (the reader is of legal age and is from another kingdom)

Damn, he'd probably be angry furious.

The emperor isn't one to take refusal lightly, especially from someone he has chosen to be his partner. At first, he tries to hide his disappointment, maintaining his composure, but the grip he has on his temper isn't tight. He speaks to you with a calm tone but every word is just a trap.

“My dear prince,” he says, “this isn’t just about us. Our union is the key to peace and prosperity for both our kingdoms. Surely you wouldn’t deny your people such a future.”

When you continue to resist, his methods shift. The palace starts to become your prison, guards stationed around to monitor your movements, and invitations from other nobles mysteriously stop arriving. Lucian, however, is ever-present. His words are laced with manipulation, painting your refusal as a betrayal not just of him but of the people who depend on you.

“You’re being blinded by fear,” he whispers one evening, standing too close. “But I will free you from that.”

If attempt at coercing you fails, Lucian turns to more drastic measures. Your kingdom, once thriving, begins to suffer. Trade embargoes, blocked alliances, and veiled threats to your family serve as chilling reminders of his power. Through it all, Lucian maintains the same facade of a doting emperor, always framing his actions as necessary.

“You leave me no choice,” he says, his golden eyes glowing with an unsettling mix of love and dominance. “But one day, you’ll thank me for saving you from your own stubbornness.”

To Lucian, your refusal is a temporary inconvenience. Whether through persuasion or force, he is determined to bind you to him. In his mind, your love will eventually bloom, whether it is willingly give... or carefully cultivated through control.

[shizuturnspages]

hi!! if ur requests are open can be i have a yandere Xiao and kinich or ororon (I'm so indecisive so uhh choose one u think fit most) with a darling who's not from Teyvat? just say they're from another world and doesn't know how Teyvat works! optional but if u want can u make the darling use another name so they just hide their real names like the traveler? tysm!! love ur writings!

Oh, requests for an outsider darling? Hell yes—throwing a clueless darling into Teyvat is like tossing a spark into dry brush. This is such a fascinating idea. Dw about being indecisive. I'll write for all three.

Xiao: The Haunted Protector

Xiao’s attachment starts as reluctant guardianship. You’re so painfully out of place in Teyvat—every move you make screams, “I don’t belong here,” and it tugs at something deep in him. He’s already burdened by his karmic debt, but the thought of leaving you defenseless in a world you barely understand? Unthinkable.

❥ Overwhelming Vigilance: Xiao’s always nearby, even when you don’t know it. You might think you’re safe exploring Liyue, but every Hilichurl you scare off or trap you narrowly avoid? Yeah, that’s Xiao, silently taking out threats before they reach you. And if you wander somewhere truly dangerous? He’ll materialize in front of you, golden eyes blazing with frustration. “What were you thinking? You don’t belong here—it’s not safe.”

❥ Fixation on Your Name: You’ve introduced yourself with a fake name, and Xiao knows it. He doesn’t ask outright, but he obsesses over the mystery of your true identity. Why are you hiding it? Is it shame? Fear? Whenever he’s alone, he finds himself whispering the name you’ve given him, hoping it’ll somehow unravel your secrets.

❥ Territorial Devotion: Xiao can’t stand seeing you bond with others. It’s not jealousy—it’s fear. What if they manipulate your naivety? What if they steal you away from him? He becomes cold and distant whenever you get close to someone, warning you cryptically about trusting others. “People here will lie to you,” he’ll say, his voice sharp but tinged with worry.

How He Snaps: If you ever try to leave Teyvat, Xiao won’t let you go. He’ll argue, beg, and even threaten to bind you to this world with Adeptus magic. “You don’t understand the dangers out there. You’re safer here—with me.” And when he says “with me,” it’s clear he means forever.

Kinich: The Calculating Schemer

Kinich is not the kind of yandere to burst into a room and immediately start causing a scene. He’s a master manipulator who knows how to play the long game. With Ajaw by his side, he’s even more dangerous. His cool, collected demeanor hides a mind that’s always working, always planning.

❥ Patient Manipulation: Kinich’s patience is his greatest weapon. He’ll let you get used to his presence in your life, slowly drawing you in with his charisma and calculated charm. He’s aware that your trust is the key to getting closer to you, so he’ll wait for that moment when you can’t imagine your life without him. “You’re fascinating. I want to know everything about you… all in good time.”

❥ Ajaw’s Influence: Ajaw is not a typical partner for Kinich. Where Kinich is cool-headed and manipulative, Ajaw is impulsive, fiery, and more than willing to be the muscle to back up his companion’s plans. Kinich has carefully cultivated Ajaw’s loyalty, using the power and strength of the Ajaw to keep others in line. Ajaw, for his part, is drawn to Kinich’s vision and power, willingly carrying out orders that Kinich knows will push you closer into his grasp.

❥ The Steady Hand of Control: In terms of the relationship with you, Kinich knows that the best way to control you is to make you believe you have free will. He’ll approach you with an offer, something that seems like it’s your choice to accept. “I’ve been thinking. Perhaps you should stay close to me for a while… we could work together. I can offer you things no one else can.” It’s never truly a question—he’s just making sure you think it is.

How He Snaps: If he feels like he’s losing you—whether to another person or your desire to leave Teyvat—Kinich’s sunny charm darkens. He’ll corner you, his usual smile replaced by a steely intensity. “You think you can just walk away? From me? You’re mine, [Fake Name]. You always have been.”

Ororon: The Brooding Warrior

Ororon’s attachment to you is rooted in a mix of curiosity and protectiveness. You’re so alien to him, so out of place, and yet you’ve managed to survive in Teyvat. It frustrates and fascinates him in equal measure.

❥ Overbearing Protection: Ororon doesn’t trust anyone—not you, not the people around you, and especially not himself. His way of protecting you is blunt and harsh, often scolding you for your ignorance. “How are you still alive?” he’ll growl after pulling you out of yet another dangerous situation. But his rough words betray his concern.

❥ Guard Dog Behavior: Ororon doesn’t care if you’re stronger than him. He still insists on watching your back, even if it means standing in your shadow while you fend off enemies. And if someone so much as looks at you wrong? He’s ready to fight, glaring daggers at anyone who dares approach.

❥ Fixation on Your Mystery: Your otherworldly origins and fake name are a constant source of frustration for him. He doesn’t pry—he’s not the type—but his eyes narrow whenever you dodge his questions. “You’re hiding something,” he’ll say bluntly, his voice low and gruff. “I don’t care what it is, but don’t think you can fool me.”

How He Snaps: Ororon’s breaking point comes when you try to push him away. His voice rises, uncharacteristically emotional. “You think you can survive without me? You barely understand this world. Don’t be stupid—I’m the only one who can keep you safe.” And in his mind, that’s the truth. You need him, whether you realize it or not.

[coralaura]

Primadonna

Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Model! GN Reader

“All I ever wanted was the world”

Your mother always feared what you could become when you were in her womb, you had so much bad blood running through your veins, she wished from the depths of her being that you were like your father, Bruce Wayne.

A wish that no matter how much she longed for was not fully fulfilled, you obtained the features of a Wayne, so cold and defined that if people had at least two neurons they could connect the dots and know that you were a bastard of the philanthropist.

You may have looked like him but your personality was more that of your beloved mother, the woman who gave birth to you and despite noticing the same darkness of her in you, she wanted to love that little piece of light that she cultivated in her womb.

It was easy to know that her departure left you devastated, you were just a child from the slums, your mother was a high-risk victim, easy to kill and that no one cared about, found in an alley, dead, her last expression was fear and despair.

Heartless people took it from you, but you were as smart as your mother, you were the result of the union of a millionaire and a woman who provided certain services…

And your mom, I knew that your beauty and the personality that you cultivated during the last 7 years of your life would save you, because you are like a rose, a beauty on the outside but only thorns on the inside.

Your father was never interested in seeing you, he always had time for everything but you, mom told you to never beg for attention because it will make you look weak and needy and you learned that lesson well, the first time he ignored you was the first and the last because there would be no more rejections if you never tried again, if now you reject him first, right?

The same was with the others except for Alfred who believed in your sweet look full of innocence, your resemblance to Bruce, Thomas and even a brief hint of Martha Wayne.

He fell into the rose but didn't see its thorns, he took care of the flower so close without being hurt by its edge, because he was the only one you could trust, he won your trust and the title of father in your eyes.

As the years went by the beauty in your face was not hard to notice, people noticed it and one day they offered you to be a model, twenty dollars an hour they told you and it was easy for you, you didn't want to ask any Wayne for anything, you didn't want to owe them anything, so money was necessary for it and to no one's surprise, a pretty face triumphs in this business, you just had to smile and pose.

Show a little body and smile again, that was what mom did, only this time this job was acceptable and not physical, one felt just as desecrated, because people began to draw a detailed map of your body, analyzing in detail and calling you the closest thing to the chiseled body of a God.

The only thing that was yours was what kept the “decency” still on the plate, the only thing that had not been desecrated but had always been longed for, by men and women alike and it was so suffocating, it seemed to consume your will to continue.

And soon you knew that you were more than an object to be seen and never to be touched, because a simple touch melted anyone, enchanted by your beauty, that became your weapon, you took advantage of the gift of genetics and used it to manipulate.

People never realized why someone pretty can not be evil, right?

You used tricks, you ruined your rivals with words, with actions and you made them look bad, because after all you were too pretty to be that evil. It's all someone else's fault, but yours, isn't it my sweet diva?

What a mistake it is to think that a beautiful rose can't be rotten inside, because after all your mother's blood flows through your veins and if she is a poison of society then you are already rotten from the moment you were conceived.

All you wanted was to be adored, the world was yours to play with, your ego a great double-edged sword and people's adoration was surpassing your expectations, any psychologist would say that you only want people's attention because your family never gave it to you, however he wouldn't know that that was nonsense, what was the use of their attention if you had the world wrapped in a ring that revolved around you?

Where you were the protagonist of this story and you get everything the world had to offer. You get everything for being Y/N even though you don't really deserve it.

Although that attention that you wanted so much also includes a family full of people obsessed with the idea of you coming home but that is a story that is just being written.

“The primadonna life, the rise and fall”

My first language is not English, so much of it was done with the help of translators (google translate) So if you see something that could be improved I appreciate it, comments, ideas, criticism and advice are appreciated.