#anyway. here's yan again lol

[peevishpants]

EXCUSE ME LITTLE ONE

DO YOU HAVE A FISHING PERMIT

[kakujis]

ALL I WANTED WAS YOU.

and when the world treats you way too fairly... well, it's a shame i'm a dream.

synopsis: a break up is nothing, not when the two of you are sworn to be together. satoru thinks you just need a little reminder.

warnings: dark content. ageless blogs + minors DNI. afab!fem reader, sub!reader, yandere!satoru, switching povs at times, possessive behavior, dubcon, recording, dacryphilia, cheating (not on gojo), somno, praise, manipulation, gaslighting, mind break(?), begging, fingering, oral f!receiving, choking, pussy slapping, creampie, masochism (reader), tiny bit of man handling and hair pulling. he is mean AND whiny. he literally sniffs u at one point lol. you wear makeup. implied multiple rounds.

ft + wc: gojo x reader, around 5.2k

@enchantedforest-network

an: hi, so like months ago (as all my wips start) i had this idea for toxic!ex bf gojo which delved into yan gojo LOL. he is so hard to write... like wtf... so anyway this was been rotting away since september!! i think i did lose my mind just a little bit writing this ngl LMFAO. idk if i really leaned that heavily into the yan, but we are going to truck along and post this anyways. thanks for waitin'. also, thank you to dooby and sky for both proofreading and giving me some ideas to push through, @sxgars for the banner, and my brain/fingers for not giving up.

gojo satoru still remembers the day you left, eyes puffy and face streaked with makeup as you stormed out of your shared apartment. in gojo’s mind, it was fine, you’d be back. no matter how big of a fight, you always came back. 

but it’s been months now of you ignoring his calls and texts, avoiding him whenever you see him. you’ve even blocked him on some of your social media platforms since he can only access the ones you haven’t used in years. most people have told him to let it go, move on, it’s not worth it. but satoru’s heart knows what it wants and at the core of it all, it wants: you. 

he thinks you might need a little coaxing, something to help you realize you love him again. once he finds out your address, his plan is set. he spruces himself up, spritzing on the cologne of his that was your favorite, even getting suguru to stop by the flower shop near his workplace to grab you a bouquet. yes, gojo’s got it all figured out. he’ll swing by, shower you in love like he used to, and you’ll realize you missed him just as bad. 

imagine his dismay when you won’t even open the door, your voice muffled from the other side. you tell him to leave, it’s over, you don’t want to see him anymore. he begs you to open it, just give him one more chance, but you sigh, crack the door open a smidge, and tell him. 

“satoru, leave. my boyfriend’s here.” 

he thinks that word is disgusting if he’s not the one it’s referring to. maybe you’re lying, maybe it’s another ruse to get him to piss off, but when you peek behind your shoulder, giving a little smile, the kind you used to give gojo, soft, sweet, loving; he realizes you’re completely honest. 

the lump in his throat is sticky, clinging onto the walls of his neck like gum. meanwhile, his heart feels like it’s beating in his ears, a not-so-friendly reminder of his fragility. 

you turn back, eyeing the flowers, an assortment of your favorite kinds - satoru, satoru, i like these, see? - and in a moment of soft-heartedness, step out. you can’t deny the pull of your heartstrings, satoru’s endearing aura plucking at them in a solemn tune, but you’re different now. you don’t need satoru anymore.  

“look,” you start, adjusting his tie and fixing the crinkling cellophane. “maybe you could give this to someone else? they’re so pretty, someone out there would be lucky to have them. and, you’re satoru, handsome, funny, sweet. you’ll find someone else in no time!” 

but he just stares, eyes boring into you as if it feels like the wind’s been taken out of him as your words fall on deafened ears. fuck the flowers, you’re so pretty, you’re the one people are lucky to have. in a sense, he’s bewildered because there’s no way you’ve actually moved on… right? 

you sigh again, a hint of exasperation tinging your voice, “gojo, i think… this should be the last time we see each other.” you step back, hand on the door handle. to you, this is a step in the right direction. 

for him, he finds that the way you don’t use his first name has him wanting to rip his hair out from the root. 

“wait, please, i love you.” he states, finally finding his voice, feeling like his time with you is running out. his lip quivers while his heart continues to shatter with each passing second. “i’d do anything for you, you know that right?”

ah. same old satoru, the man who swore he’d take the moon from the sky if you wanted. anyone looking in would swear you were lucky, but you remember things being a little… suffocating. it was too much, too overwhelming eventually. 

you bite your lip, strengthening your hold on the handle, ready to leave. you can’t meet his gaze, knowing that if you do you might falter. “but i don’t. i don’t love you anymore.” - it’s a lie, you know it is from the little bud inside your chest blooming, breaking out past the walls of your heart, but you just… can’t. 

he shakes his head, taking a step forward. “you don’t mean that.” 

“i do, satoru!” you flinch at your own voice, taking a deep breath to calm down. “please, just leave.” you tell him one more time before you retreat back inside and slam the door. 

he waits for a few minutes, thinking that maybe he’s on one of those prank shows. you’re going to open the door, tell him it was a joke, and to come inside. except you don’t, and he’s stuck under the low flickering haze of your complex’s lights. 

gojo’s a bit stunned on the walk back home, foggy eyesight mixed with thoughts flying a mile a minute equates to a tall stumbling man with no care for those around him. he can’t even count how many people he’s bumped into, let alone the amount of sorrys he’s muttered, the now crumpled bouquet still firmly held in his hand, indicated by the whites of his knuckles. 

when he gets home, he sinks into the floor, his head wrapped around his arms before he flings the bouquet across the room. “fuck!” a picture frame of the two of you clatters to the floor, glass breaking in tiny, jagged pieces. he kept it after all, in hopes that you’d come back eventually, but now it’s clear you’re not. he doesn’t even care that he’s knocked something off a table, he’s so fucking hurt.

hurt that you’ve moved on so easily, hurt that you’re out there calling someone else ‘baby’. he can’t fucking stand it, wanting to rip out the baseboards of his home or set it all on fire. from the first day he met you, gojo’s always firmly believed you were made for him. that thought was always reaffirmed with every ‘i love you,’ that dripped from your lips into his ear every morning and evening. 

maybe it’s not the best timing, but he remembers other things as well. like each time he’s been deep inside you and your pretty mouth would hang open, eyes blown and glassy, as you gasped out his name like it was the only thing you knew how to say. or even the times you took initiative yourself, crawling under the covers to wake him up, kitten licks and sloppy kisses to his cockhead. his own eyes met yours, with a lidded call of reverence, and that was all he needed to know. 

there’s no reason to wallow, he thinks, a small reignition of flame in his gut brewing. each passing memory that trickles by is another reminder that you did love him. no, that’s not right. you do love him.

okay, he thinks, i can still fix this. you just need a little reminding is all. you love him and you’re just a little confused. maybe his mind is breaking, but he reminds himself that it’s better his mind than his heart. 

”yeah,” he mumbles, dusting himself as he gets up off the floor. “she still loves me.” 

to be honest, breaking and entering wasn’t really his thing, he never saw the appeal in it before. but, this isn't really a break in, he’s just visiting his girl. he will say though, you did make it a little too easy by keeping your key under the mat. no, you kept it easy because you knew he was coming, simple as that. 

he goes in tentatively at first, wanting to see what you’ve done with the place, nodding in approval as he scans over the rooms. you’ve done a good job, just like you did before, but he does frown when not a single one of his photos is up. you must have forgotten or maybe you’re trying to save your new boy toy some heartbreak. silently, he walks over to your bedroom door, peeking in.

his mouth quips up into a smile when he sees you. you’re pretty as you sleep, just like he remembers. you’ve always been a heavy sleeper, mouth slightly agape as your drool dribbled down into the pillow. 

“hey beautiful…” he murmurs when he reaches you, bending down to brush away a few strands of loose hair from your face. 

a little “mm,” leaves your lips as your face twists at his touch. he leans in til he’s just a hair’s breadth away, before he ghosts his lips over yours slightly. still the same old you, lips just as soft as he remembers and what little self restraint he had continues to chip away. 

the hot breath of exhales continue to mix as satoru spends his time taking in your scent. he tries his best not to whine when you pull away slightly, once again leaning further in to stay as close to you as possible. if he could get high off of it, he probably could, but the ache in his belly grows. he needs you. 

“wait a minute…” he mumbles when you try to once again turn away. “why are you always trying to run away from me?” it’s a silly question, rhetorical since you’re still locked in the deep throes of sleep. but your body seems to answer in place of your voice when your legs rub against the sheets and your chest once again heaves itself over, leaving him behind. 

he’s sad that you’ve taken away his favorite aromatic, but with your shuffling, you’ve moved the blankets down letting him get a peek of your bare skin. you’re always a sight to behold and his fingers run themselves lightly over your body before he’s pulling the blanket off you completely. 

you’ve always been a heavy sleeper, affectionately dubbed his “sleepy wife,” even though you were never married. it’s been a while since his hands burned with such intensity, running up and down your thigh and leg, even tracing along the curvature of your ass. 

his knee dips into the bed as he finally looms over you, pushing you gently onto your back, before he’s prying your thighs open with one hand. he thinks he should take his time, savor it, satoru, but you’re just so… inviting. he runs a finger across the waistband of your shorts, experimentally tugging lightly. he flickers his eyes between his hands and your face, seeking for any signs of waking as he slowly starts to expose more and more skin. 

hints and glimpses of skin are all he needs to get riled up, further than he already is, as he takes the leap and pulls your bottoms off completely. 

“oh fuck princess,” he groans when he sees your pretty pussy for the first time in months. he’s nearly salivating like a dog as he remembers just how good you taste, bending down to get perched between your thighs. 

the first kitten lick against your clit chips away at his already waning self control. the next one that delved between your folds nearly completely breaks it. but he’s missed tasting you on his buds, missed consuming what was his. take your time, satoru. his mind ticks again, and he settles back to prepare a nice lob of spit before he’s letting it fall onto your pussy. 

you shiver unconsciously at the sensation and he takes a pause, not wanting you to wake just yet. you’d probably flip out on him and he can’t have you getting mad at him just yet. 

he waits until you settle again before he’s diving back in, driving his tongue between your folds as he laps up your essence. to say he was starving was an understatement, for these past months he’s felt like he’s been dying. 

it’s intoxicating as your juices and his saliva mix to dribble down his chin, dripping onto your bed sheets below. he eats you out like it's his first real meal in months, tongue lapping as much of your essence as he can while his fingers dig deep into the plush skin of your thighs.

he shudders as he grinds his hips into your mattress, the tip of his nose running against your clit sending little shockwaves up your unconscious body. you taste just as good as he remembers, losing himself in the sweet slick of your cunt.

your eyelids finally flutter open, readjusting to the darkened light of your room, but you can't miss that familiar snowy peak of hair settled in between your thighs.

"satoru?" you breathe, meeting his lidded eyes as your hands come down to immediately push back against his forehead, but instead your fingers curl up into his locks. 

“hi,” he chimes, smiling against your pussy as he readjusts, sitting up to shoot you a wicked smile. “hi baby, good mornin’.” the tone ofhis voice is sweet, nearly identical to what it was like when you were together.

he replaces his tongue with his fingers, whining a little when he feels you clench down onto them as he starts to scissor you open. 

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you hiss, but your body jerks when he rubs against a particularly sweet spot of yours. 

“i missed you. i can’t visit?” he pouts, pressing a kiss against your clit before his tongue is laving over it again as if to make a point. “did you miss me?” he asks when your eyes roll back and you tug just a bit harder on his hair. 

“no.” you grit, but you can’t stop the way your hips buck up into him. 

“you’ve always been a bad liar, angel.” he shrugs, before he’s latching onto your cunt again.

he’s eaten you out more times than either of you can count, he knows exactly how to get you there. he knows it’s just a little bit more until you fall apart. he’s back on with even more fervor, alternating between sucking on your clit to sloppily and quickly flicking his tongue against it. 

“oh fuck,” you mewl, throwing your head back and thrashing as you come undone on his fingers, pussy fluttering and toes curling. 

“see, i knew you missed me.” he grins, as he brings his fingers up to suck at the slick around them. you’re still panting as you try to close your legs, but satoru’s fast, bringing his hands back down to tear them open. “ah ah ah,” he tuts, “we’re not done til i say so, got it?”  

“sa- gojo, you need to leave.” you plead, head heavy and stomach churning at what’s just happened. you fucked up but it’s fine, you can fix this still. 

“why?” he asks, “your boyfriend gonna come home?” fine, he’ll play your little game for now. he’ll antagonize you for a bit, before he’s disgustingly sweet again, just like the good ole days. but there’s also the anger brewing within him, why the fuck won’t you just come home? 

he smirks when you pause, already knowing the answer, “don’t tell me you two aren’t living together?” 

you shake your head, “that’s none of your business, gojo.” in hindsight, after satoru, you wanted to take things slowly the next time. moving in after only a month of dating probably wasn’t the best idea. 

“why not? i’ve got a right to know what you’re up to.” he pouts as he says it, hoping your irritation will ease up. 

you scoff, narrowing your eyes, “since when?” but your attitude is nothing more than a facade, always has been. “we’re not even together anymore-“ 

“since i decided, you’re mine.” he snaps, cutting you off and leaning down into you. “i decided that years ago by the way, and i’m not gonna let some fucking random mess with us.” 

you squeak as you hear him rustle with his pants, freeing his aching cock and you hate the way your stomach flip flops when you see it. it’s been so long since you’ve been fucked let alone touched. gojo was the last person to have you writhing underneath him and if you told him, he’d have even more of a need to keep it that way. 

your tough facade is breaking, you’re falling back into your hazy, mindless, and needy ways. you love satoru, even if the relationship was toxic, even if he gave you so little breathing room. but not yet, you won’t give in just yet. 

you try to scramble back further before you’re able to twist out of his hold for just a moment. but he grabs your hair by the root, twisting and pulling you back close to him and you yelp, clawing at his hand.

“baby, you’re really testing my patience.” he hisses into your ear, before he’s shoving you back down on the bed. “god, you know i hate being mean to you. just be good for once, yeah?” 

“gojo, leave.” you try one more time, but the hands that push up against him are so weak that he can tell your body’s betraying you. not only that, but your thighs shake at the pain in your scalp and you wish he would do it again. 

“i don’t think you want me to.” he states and you hate that he’s right. you don’t want him to leave, you want him to slide into you, filling you up. “or am i wrong?” he asks, looming over you, running his pretty cockhead through your folds. “go ahead, tell me to stop.” 

you bite your lip in an effort to not gasp out a pathetic moan, squeezing your eyes shut. each run against your clit has your legs widening, almost like you’re inviting him to come in. 

“knew it,” he quips, before he’s prodding at your entrance. your eyes fly open then, breathing heavily through your nose, but you don’t try to back off letting him glide in, inch by inch. “it’s cause you love me.” 

“i don’t,” you exhale as you watch his dick disappear within you, stretching you further than his fingers did. you’re nearly breathless when he finally bottoms out, fists balling into your sheets. 

“yes, you do,” he breathes, his own breathing jagged and rushed, almost like it’s being squeezed out of him. “you always have and always will.”

gojo satoru always fucks with your psyche, one of the many reasons you decided to leave him. it wasn’t obvious, not at first and neither was it nefarious. it was silly little item mix ups, funny conversations that seemed to follow satoru’s lead, until it was a loss of freedom, like a nightingale in a cage. 

huh? no, you’re meeting them next week… yeah, you told me last night. 

but that’s not- 

it is. check your phone. 

oh, i guess it… is? 

c’mon, would i lie to you princess? now you can hang out with me all day. 

and then suddenly it was all too clear when you did get that girl’s trip out, when your friends stared at you like you were fucking insane. it wasn’t normal at all that you couldn’t do a single thing without him. your friends helped you fit the pieces together and that was enough. you were going. 

leaving that day was easy, satoru hated seeing you upset and was more than willing to give you space when needed. it always went one way: you cool off, he swoops in and dresses up his words extra nicely to make you stay. but you didn’t this time. 

it was easier to leave all your things there as well instead of trying to leave in the middle of night. you thought you could do it, away from him you’d figure things out. 

but there must have been a part of you that still wanted him to chase after you, a divergent, rogue piece that strayed too far from the board. is that why you didn’t leave the city? still a part within satoru’s web of connected streets, just waiting until you were ensnared again. 

his eyes are still as pretty, his face almost too handsome, and voice just as alluring as before. you guess that’s what this is, a predator just waiting to stick his fangs into your neck.

“you’re insane,” you gasp out, holding onto your tiniest bit of strength. 

“aw, just for you.” he smiles, before he’s rolling his hips into yours, grinding in just the way you like, just as you remember. 

with each stutter of his hips, your walls twitch around his length and body jolts in waves of pleasure. soft gasps and moans tumble off your lips and satoru buries his face into your neck, nipping little marks into your skin, almost as if he’s etching one word into it: mine. 

it hits him almost instantly, this sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he remembers that stupid little nuisance. he uses his hands to push up, still ramming into you as he takes a look at your face contorted in pleasure, as you peek up at him. 

“gojo?” you mumble, trying to take into account that look in his eye, but your head is bubbly with the pleasure he’s giving you. 

even with your walls clenching down around him with each roll of his hips, his anger seeps into him like water to a sponge as he tries to block out the idea that someone else was in what was his. that they probably saw this face that you’re making and got to hear your pretty little moans. 

“where’s your fucking phone?” he hisses, snatching it off the nightstand when he finds it, illuminated by the notifications of text messages from your “boyfriend.”

you whimper, trying to grab it, but satoru holds your hands together by the wrist, strategically keeping them against your chest so you can’t move up. 

“gojo, don’t!” you plead, snapping out of your trance for a moment, but the grip on your wrist tightens and you yelp. followed next is a glare, his gaze striking you right to the core. your words die off and he goes back to looking at your phone. it’s easy to unlock, you never changed the pass code. 

his eyes scan the texts quickly and frankly, it’s fucking disgusting to read this guy call you pet names that only satoru can say. he continues to scroll, trying his best to not dig his nails deep into your skin as he takes note of every heart emoji, flirtatious interaction, and pet name from your end. 

he keeps his breathing deep and even to keep himself from blowing his lid and he has half a mind to block his number to make sure you can’t speak to him again. but suddenly he’s got a better idea, getting back at him seemed so easy. 

you look so cute underneath him, pretty pussy enveloping his cock just like it was made to do, why not show it off? especially to someone that pissed him off. 

“hey baby, can you smile for me?” he says, voice sugary sweet as he opens your camera app, but you shake your head, trying to sink further into the pillow. you’re wary of the sudden personality change, especially when he finally releases your hands. 

he pouts, “c’mon now, you’re so pretty when you smile… please?” he sighs when you continue to refuse, but continues on, angling the camera til he’s satisfied with the image. 

“god, you’re so fucking gorgeous.” he says as he zooms onto your flushed face, hands coming up to hide it, before paneling back to record down your body. he stops when he reaches where both your hips are flush together, pussy sucking in his cock right to the brim. “fuck, would you look at that? i don’t even know your name man, but how fuckin’ pretty is this?” 

you gasp when you realize what he’s doing, but before you can say anything, you feel a hand come down onto your sensitive pussy. you yelp out but his hand comes down again and you're mortified when it sounds more like a moan. “bet you didn’t know she liked that,” he goads, “she also likes this.” he says, wrapping a hand around your jugular and giving a squeeze. 

your eyes roll back as the air escapes you, muddying your sight in little black dots. your hands fall to pull at his wrist, a moot effort considering the strength difference, and he laughs. a condescending flit of noise dripping in ego. “scratch that, she fucking loves that. hey, in my defense, i’m a little rusty, it’s been a while.” 

gojo has always been one of two things, needy and arrogant. but the worst was always when the two came together, usually in his worst fits of jealousy. he’s never recorded you before, always too eager to remember to set anything up before he’s pouncing on you.

but this satoru feels different, he feels scarier, nearly dangerous, although you shake off that fear til it’s nothing more than a fleeting thought. you liked this - no he was right, you loved this. before you broke up you were always begging satoru, just a little harder, just a little meaner, please.

with another heavy squeeze as the oxygen is once again cut off from you, you feel the walls around your heart finally crumbling completely, almost like a switch is flipped on. you can’t run from nor deny the heady need that was gojo satoru, the man that knew you in and out. you flutter your lashes at him, like you always did when you wanted to tell him something. he loosens his grip on your neck, just enough so that you can speak, “you wanna say somethin’, baby?” 

“u-use me,” you mumble, voice no louder than a whisper as your eyes start to leak that familiar pretty liquid that drives him insane. you’ve missed him, missed this - whatever the fuck it was, some messed up amalgamation dressed up under the guise of love. 

“hm?” he goads, a sick smile plastered on his face because you’re finally acting how you should. “a little louder for me, princess. i can’t hear you.” 

“use me!” you sob, trying to shift your hips to get some sort of stimulation, “please, satoru, please.” 

the use of his first name has him feeling like an actual god as he switches the camera back onto him. “you heard her.” he says with a wicked grin, before ending the video and pressing send. he tosses your phone to the side, “now where were we?” 

you whine when he shifts, one elbow propping him up as his hand once again finds it’s place against your neck. your own hand resumes it’s place as well, but instead of pulling this time you press, lashes heavy with tears as you wordlessly beg satoru to claim what’s his again. 

he’s so close to you now, his snowy hair tickles your forehead and his breath mixes with yours as he finally starts to move. you choke out a sob as he ever so slowly hits all the right places and you wonder how long you actually managed to make this far. 

“this is what you wanted isn’t it, baby?” he coos, being careful to not choke you for too long, even though you almost wish he’d fuck you passed out. “just needed a little reminder that i’m all you need right?” 

you nod, hiccuping with each thrust that knocks any air you have left out of your lungs. he’s right, just the two of you is all either of you need. you think the world is melting away as satoru presses kisses against your spit ridden lips, his own groans mixing in with yours as your tongues mesh together in sloppy, messy runs. 

“and now you’re gonna cum on my cock, aren’t you?” he picks up the pace, slamming in harder, rougher, like he’s proving a point. but he’s almost always right, with each kiss of his mushroom tip against your sweet spot pulsing pleasure throughout your body. “show me how much you love me.” 

“‘m close, toru,” you sniffle, nails digging into his arm as you blink away more tears, gasping up into his mouth. “‘m so close, please.” 

“i know.” he states, pressing his forehead against yours, sticky and sweat covered, as he gazes into your glassy, hazy eyes. “come on, cum for me princess. show me who you belong to.” 

there’s something so euphoric about satoru’s words, claiming every last bit of you, that you fall apart almost instantly. your orgasm hits you hard, rippling through you as your eyes and head both roll back, your pussy clenching down on his thick cock. 

“f-fuck! cumming, toru, i’m-“ you squeal, tears running down your face freely but satoru swallows up your moans, his lips once again sealing over yours, since those belong to him too. 

that’s enough for him, a firm affirmation that you love him, and he loses control of his once precise thrusts. he pistons into you, heavy balls slapping against your skin and pounding hard as if to leave marks all up your velvet walls. you milk out his own orgasm, walls fluttering and he detaches from your lips to growl out, “you’re all fucking mine, got it?” 

you chant out “yes,” as many times you can, still riding out your own orgasm as his cum paints your walls in white, til he finally slows back down to a stuttering close. he pants as he runs his hand up to rub his thumb over your tear-ridden cheek. 

“i love you.” he mumbles and you blink up at him sleepily meeting his pretty lidded blue eyes. it’s a stark contrast to the satoru just moments ago, pounding into you like his life depended on it. 

“love you too, toru.” you whisper, running a hand over his. your head and body feel heavy, yet your mind is still floating above the clouds. he’s probably oversensitive but you can’t care, knowing that your neck is prettier now that his fingerprints are littered on it. “toru… again.” 

he laughs when he feels you start to grind your hips, sticky slick and cum dripping from your hole. he feels like he’s on cloud nine hearing you beg for him after all this time. 

“please, please, toru,” you whine, craning your neck to brush sloppy, wet kisses across his lips and jawline. “i love you, so please.” 

“course, angel,” he mumbles in between kisses, “just gimme a few minutes and i’ll give you everything you want.” 

[teabutmakeitazure]

Dissimulation - Continued Again

>Yan! Mafia! Childe x Fem! Student! Reader (Modern au)

>Word Count: 9.2k

>a/n: word vomit. i love him sm and i love having him do mental gymnastics just to get the girl (to get laid) also I wrote this in numerous pieces and by the writing changes you can tell lol. copium during finals. can't believe it's almost been a whole year since this fic was first published. also, I've had the same injury described later on. it bled a lot i thought i was gonna die.

Warnings: firearms, hidden blood kink, licking (I will not elaborate) childe doesn't like pillows, read at your own discretion

Part 1 | Continuation | reason why Childe #1 husband

Childe is waiting in the car.

That’s the thought that keeps repeating in your head. Honestly, it’s your fault. You insisted he not come with you inside, even going as far as getting mad at him when he initially refused. It’s only fair that you suffer the consequences of your actions.

You can still feel the muzzle of the revolver despite the layer of cloth separating it from your spine. How do you know it’s a revolver? Well, the bastard spun it before pressing it to your lower back. You’ve played enough video games to know what that sound belongs to.

“Stop walking so slow. Move it.”

You internally scoff at his words. If you move any faster, it’ll just be more suspicious. Well, good for you. If it’s suspicious then there’s a higher chance someone might intervene. 

“To the right, right there.”

You do as he says. It’s not very tempting to disobey when there’s a loaded gun on your back. The man leads you down a small alleyway away from the hustle of the outdoor market. It’s dark, and there’s a pipe leaking somewhere. This is when dread really settles in, but you put on a brave face despite your trembling lip.

You hear the man click his tongue before ordering you to stop walking. The muzzle is still pressed to your spine, and he pulls out his phone with his free hand to call someone. “I got the girl here, so now you do your part.” Someone speaks on the other side, angering him. “You’re being delusional! This is the perfect chance,” he whisper-yells. “I got the girl here, so if things go bad, I shoot. We’ll at least do some damage.”

Shoot…? What the fuck did you get yourself into?

“The next time you call me back, it better be because the bastard’s dead or he’s given up.” With that, he angrily hangs up and shoves the phone in his pocket. You’re left facing the dead end of the alleyway, your captor behind you with his back to the only exit and entrance. “So,” he starts, “where did you first meet him?”

You decide to test the waters. From what you gathered so far, you are valuable until the other guy fails in what he’s supposed to do (which you have no clue of). “Me?” You feign innocence. “Meet who?”

He presses the muzzle even harder into you, making you stumble a step forward. “Don’t play dumb with me. Even if I kill you right now, it won’t affect anything. So tell me, where did you first meet him?”

You gulp nervously, heart beating in your throat. “T-the convenience store. It was a random occurrence.”

“And you knew who he was?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Hah. Stupid girl. Do you not know you’re the one usually targeted when he makes enemies? That you’re the face that comes up when he pisses someone off?”

Gaze dropping to the ground, you can’t help but think of all the kind things he’s done for you so far as you answer. “I had no choice.”

He clicks his tongue. “What, so he forced you to be his girlfriend?”

“I’m not his girlfriend…”

“So you’re just a pretty lady he keeps around?” Amusement is evident in his tone. He’s messing with you before he kills you. “Considering how expensive it was to find out about you, you’re damn special. If there’s one thing I know about Tartaglia, it’s that he’s not the type to keep a girl around for nothing or just her body. And that’s precisely why you’re in this situation.”

If you’re going to die anyway, you might as well say it. Ah, sorry mama. Couldn’t help it. “You think I’m pretty?”

Surprisingly, he takes it well. “I won’t deny you have a pretty face. I can see why he’d go to lengths to keep you a secret, but nothing can be hidden forever. Don’t worry. I won’t hurt your face when I kill you.”

Great. Now there’s stinging behind your eyes. This really is it. Maybe you should’ve told your parents you love them last night. Shit, is this really the end? So much for wanting to buy a birthday present from the market. Now you won’t live to see your next birthday.

The man groans out of annoyance, hand diving into his pocket to fish out his phone. “How long is he going to take…” You can hear him aggressively tapping at the device, and you wait for him to start whisper-yelling on the phone again but all that comes is the muzzle being removed from your back as something loudly whizzes through the air, and he lets out a silent cry of pain.

Something behind you falls to the ground with a thud, and judging how his voice seems to come from elsewhere, he’s the one who fell. “No, don’t come closer. I’ll shoot! I swear I will!”

You stay still, unknowing of what’s going on. Panic overtakes your senses, and your hands start trembling as you start feeling sick. Your body is going into fight or flight, and you really want it to choose flight. As you bring your trembling hands up into your view, a familiar voice calls out from behind.

“[Name], darling. Stay as you are. Don’t turn around.”

You freeze at Childe's words, immediately pressing your palms to your ears to block out some sound only to end up making it slightly muffled. The man is spewing profanities at him, trying to get on his nerves. “You scared of your toy dying? Is that why you’re here? Or maybe you were scared we’d take your little toy away from you? Do all the things to her you do but worse?”

Footsteps lightly grow closer, likely stopping by the man writhing on the ground, clutching his leg. Something clatters to the side, presumably the revolver he may have been pointing at Childe. When Childe speaks, his voice is laced with venom. “The girl is mine.” The man grunts, and Childe continues. “You have no idea how badly you’ve set me off. You better start praying to whatever you believe in.”

You cringe when you hear Childe kick him, heart beating even faster than before. Nausea tugs at you, making your eyes lose focus as you resist the urge to throw up or fall to your knees. Hands are still pressed to your ears when a body comes to stand behind you, yet it’s when arms wrap around you that you horribly flinch and move to elbow whoever it is, hyperventilating as you struggle to be freed.

However, Childe’s voice whispers in your ear, instantly making you relax. “It’s me.”

You are way too panicked to say anything useful. “Yes. Alright. It’s you. Not anyone else. Okay. Okay.”

One of his hands moves to cover your eyes, and he instructs you to keep them closed as he leads you out. The other hand is on your shoulder, and when you are away from the alley, he uncovers your eyes. Childe leads you to the market, stopping when you both enter its busy environment. He pulls out his phone, presses it to his ear without even dialling or accepting any call and hastily spews out the location of where you were earlier, firmly telling whoever it is on the other side to ‘deal with it’.

Nausea still stirs inside you, making you sick. You can feel the ghost of the muzzle pressing against you, and although you weren’t so horrified by it when it was actually happening, you are now.

Once again, Childe’s attention is back on you. His eyes focus on you solely, forgetting the busy environment around him and forgetting the issue he was addressing on the phone. He looks… concerned. Like a mother hovering over her child, he grabs your face with both hands, turning it side to side and carefully eyeing your features. He then pulls you into a hug, but you are too busy hearing your heartbeat in your ears to reciprocate and simply hide your face in his jacket instead.

“I’m so relieved,” he whispers. “Did he say anything to you? Hurt you? Touch you?”

After a shaky inhale, you focus your gaze on a random light source, willing away the sickness in your stomach. “No. Just a gun to my back. That’s it.”

“I am so sorry.”

Unfortunately, the nausea does not relent. “It’s fine.”

He holds you tighter. “It’s not fine. You were in danger.”

Though his warmth is comforting, you cannot move to hold him back. You can taste bile in your mouth, and you start profusely swallowing, yet Childe continues voicing his regrets. “I should have come with you. I shouldn’t have listened to you-”

Your voice shakes when you interject, the fear of what else might go wrong in public. “Quiet, please. I’ll throw up.” Your request is met with him gently rubbing your back, ignoring any glances from onlookers. When he feels that you are somewhat calm, you are led back to the car, the air conditioning turned on and your seat reclined as you cover your eyes with your forearm.

You don’t know why you feel sick and you don’t know why you keep thinking of a bleeding wound, infected and deep enough to show muscle and sinew. Worst of all, you don’t know what you should do now. Should you just ask to go home? Should you go back in? Get what you came here for?

Maybe you’ll come back later, with Childe. There’s still some time in your friend’s birthday and you can get her something later or make something instead. Yeah. That sounds right.

“Feeling any better?”

Your companion’s question makes you grumble. There are so many things that go wrong these days. Your relationship with him seems to loom over you like a raincloud wherever you go. Always accompanying you like a blight on your existence. It also does not help that information about you had initially come to light because he bought the house you both currently live in a week before you made that deal with him.

You still remember that conversation in great detail. When you had finally got to the airport, what waited for you when you came back haunted you throughout the journey. This arrangement isn’t something you were looking forward to. Remaining a student on a tight budget who eats instant ramen half the time for dinner would have been more preferable.

“Is there any way I can help? Do you need anything?” Childe voices more questions, but this time you don’t feel annoyed at him. If anything, you should be thankful. Sure, that occurred because of him, but he did save you.

Hand reaching to set the seat upright, you mentally go over the words you want to say. Now facing him, Childe gives you a curious look before you speak, the edges of your lips already stuck together. “I’m sorry.” He looks taken aback, but you continue. “I’ll… I’ll listen to you next time. And thank you for saving me. I had already said my prayers and apologised to my parents in my head, so thank you for letting that go to waste. I would rather it not be useful.”

Childe blinks. With a chuckle, he smiles, giving you that typical lovestruck expression he has when you do something he finds endearing. “And I personally wouldn’t know how to break it to your parents. Not after your mom asked me to look out for you.” The reminder leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, yet Childe still has something to say. “Of course. You don’t ever need to thank me. As long as you’re mine, alive and healthy, I don’t need anything else.”

The confession makes your eyes widen, and when you open your mouth to question his words, he cuts you off. “Do you want to get what you came here for or do you want to go home?”

“Home,” you reply immediately.

He nods, a hand reaching over to grab your seat belt. The action makes your heart skip a beat - “out of surprise,” you tell yourself - yet Childe does not mind. He fastens his own seat belt after yours and promptly moves to reverse the car out of the parking lot.

It is halfway through the way that you voice your thoughts, and Childe seems to hesitate.

“We have snacks at home,” he says.

Him and his healthy habits be damned. “You mean fruits. I don’t want fruits.”

“They’re healthy. You need nourishment.”

“What am I? A plant?”

Childe holds in a laugh with an awkward cough, a smile still there. “No, but you are a very dear person. I’ll cut some apples into bunny shapes, and we can eat the oranges I got yesterday. I’ll peel them for you, like always.”

Unfortunately for him, you do not yield, even going as far as to use his name since it usually makes him more submissive. “Ajax, I almost died tonight. I would like to be able to binge eat a bag of chips as I ease my worries.”

He negotiates again, albeit weakly. “Darling, you have a habit of stress eating. I know you can’t help it, but I just want to make sure you’re at least eating things that are good for you.”

“A bag of chips just this once wouldn’t hurt.”

You can see the gears turning in his head, and with a sigh, he concedes. “Fine. But only because you want to and have been eating well without complaints these past few weeks.”

The words seem like a parent pointing out a child on their diet, gentle yet still delivering the message. Despite everything, you would never admit that ever since he started butting into what you eat, your skin doesn’t break out as much and you’re almost always hydrated. He doesn’t need to hear the positive effects his presence has on your life from your own mouth. And he sure as hell doesn’t need to know that his hydration checks throughout the day are the reason why you drink water.

-

Yesterday, Chil- Ajax asked you something you could not say no to. 

You keep justifying your acceptance with it being a sort of payback for him saving your life the other day even though you know you’re scared of saying no to him. Or maybe you just wanted to repay his kindness. It’s not like you asked for his kindness, but he is giving it to you. Goodness, the way he looks at you sometimes when you talk is just… if you didn’t know any better, you’d describe it as creepy.

But it isn’t. It isn’t creepy because the amount of genuine love in his eyes is just ridiculous. How can someone look at a person with so much love knowing they don’t reciprocate to that intensity? How can they be okay with that? You know Ajax is absolutely, positively in love with you. There’s no doubt about it.

You know so much about his family, and he’s always finding an excuse to talk to you. He asks you to talk to him because he likes your voice, and he sometimes stays in the room while you talk to your parents because he wants to see you be carefree in conversation.

He always gets you what you want without you knowing. Heck, he even gave you a credit card linked to his account! You don’t use it, but he gave it to you.

Back to the topic. You’re going out for dinner with him tonight as a date. You both leave at 7: 15 pm on the dot, and it is currently 6. You are freaking out currently too because what did you willingly agree to?

You know that bastard has been locked away in his room for over an hour now. You know he was giddy ever since he got home way too early today because of your evening plans. He’s way too obvious. And desperate. He’s also getting desperate.

There haven't been any romantic advancements in your relationship. You’ve just fallen into a casual routine at this point, and you aren’t bothered when he is there on your bed at any time you turn to look at it, even if you left the door closed. He cooks for you most of the time, and sometimes you mend his clothes so that he doesn’t buy new ones while completely ignoring the magical appearance of a shit load of sewing materials after the first time you did it.

It’s all gotten normal at this point. Seeing his credit card in your wallet every single time you open it, having to look at his mask sitting on a side table in the living room, watching him remove the dual pistols strapped to his body when he gets home, and much more. It’s all normal now. You’re used to it.

Yet your nerves are about to burst because you’re going out for dinner with him in an hour.

Honestly, after the dinner where he licked blood off your finger, you haven’t gone out for food with him since. You mostly eat at home, but the most you guys have done is takeout.

Anyway, what do you do? You don’t want to try hard lest unforeseen and unwanted developments occur, yet you also don’t want to not try at all because it might sour his mood. The latter is unpreferable simply because you can’t bear to see him sad. Maybe you’ll put in a little effort. Not too much but a little.

Had Ajax not been in the mafia, you would have already accepted him. You know you’re delaying the inevitable, that he will get what he wants, but you still can’t help it. Your conscience weighs you down. His identity ties you close to hesitance and denial.

Nevertheless, here you are, a cream coloured maxi skirt flowing till your ankles and a dusty pink blouse with bishop sleeves. You can’t believe you actually wore this. Ajax was the one who gifted the blouse to you, saying something like the colour being nice and wanting to see you wear it.

Well. He’ll get his wish now. 

After at least five consecutive minutes of staring into the mirror, you finally decide to put on some makeup. Nothing too much. A simple mascara, blush, and lipstick after whatever you ended up putting on your skin first.

Great! Now, shoes. Shoes…

You fish out a pair of nude sandals with a pointed tip and a one inch heel. Perfect. Seems like your mother giving you her old sandals came in handy. After checking if they fit, you take a look at the clock. There’s still twenty minutes till the clock strikes 7.

Twenty minutes of agony as nerves eat you from the inside.

Right at 7:02 pm, there’s a knock on your bedroom door. Shaking hands unlock the door, opening it to nervously meet eyes with your lovely housemate. He stands on the other side, hair parted in the middle as best it could be. One side is tucked behind his ear while the other hangs on his face, framing his jawline perfectly.

You take note of the black dress shirt and black pants. The sleeves are rolled up and his earring is still there. Also, why is his shirt so fitted? You know he’s ripped. He doesn’t have to rub it in.

“You wore the shirt,” he breathes out.

“It’s a blouse,” you correct.

“Beautiful.”

The way his eyes seem to look you over in awe makes your cheeks heat up. With an awkward clear of your throat, you snap his attention back to your face. “Didn’t you say you made a reservation?”

Ajax perks up at that. “Right! We should leave soon.”

You are then left to grab your bag and sandals while he goes to fish out his car keys and wallet. When you’re seated in the living room, trying to fasten the little buckle on the sandals, Ajax is wistfully staring at you from the kitchen, cheek resting in his palm.

“We would make a cute couple.” A sigh and he looks at your feet, silently wishing you’d ask for his help with it instead. “Do you… need help with that?”

To his not so very surprise, you brush him off. “I’m fine.”

“Huh.” He asks again. “Are you sure?”

“Yup.”

He still wishes you would ask for his help instead. Do you not realise that he would do anything you asked him to? He would willingly get on his knees for you, hands gingerly trailing up your legs before he decides to rest one on his shoulder, the other pulling him towards you as his hand travels upwards and-

“Ajax? It’s almost 7: 15.”

He snaps out of his thoughts instantly. You’re standing near the door now, head tilted in that cute way he adores as you curiously look at him. A hand quickly flicks the kitchen light off as he walks towards the door. This is going to be another test of his patience. He knows it. He just hopes you don’t blame him for anything he might end up doing tonight.

-

“I don’t get it.”

Childe looks at you curiously only to find you glaring at the open menu. “I don’t know what to get,” you say. “Can you order for me? Whatever you think is good here. You know the stuff I like and don’t like, so I trust you.”

The explicit trust makes him smile. As per your request, Childe orders for you, but it’s something different than his own so that you can try both things. If you like the food, he might even take you out more often. Eating out once in a while shouldn’t hurt. Not if he’s with you.

As he leans back in his seat, he finds you playing with the buttons on your sleeve. Childe hastily utilises the opportunity to scan the indoors, eyes quickly flitting over every single person present. None have noticed either of you, and none seem to be looking at you. Good.

A quiet ding sounds from your phone, the screen turning on for a few moments. You reach for it instantly, but Childe is quicker, his hand covering the device before you could grab it. You obviously look nervous because of the action, but he gives you a small smile.

“No phone while we’re out eating.” The expression on your face doesn’t change, so he adds in something else. “Please?”

You capitulate instantly, and he pulls the device closer to himself with a playful smile. He now has all your attention for this evening dinner. If Childe plays his cards right, he could monopolise this opportunity and possibly convince you more to actually go out with him. Or let him put a ring on your finger. Whichever you’d prefer.

But first…

“I wish we could’ve stayed home instead,” he sighs.

You raise a brow at his expression, simultaneously wondering why he’s looking at you so wistfully here of all places. “Why? Didn’t you want to go out for dinner? You were looking forward to this.”

“Yes but-” He bites his lip for a moment. He isn’t lying. He’s being completely honest, but it still feels a bit weird to be admitting it directly to you. “But… you look so pretty and I don’t like knowing that other people can see you when you look so beautiful.”

It’s the truth. He doesn’t like knowing that anyone and everyone here has access to your existence. That they can simply turn their head and look at you in that skirt. He doesn’t care if it’s till your ankles. You look absolutely enchanting. Childe hates it that anyone can see your collar bones and your curious expression and the way you’re tilting your head at him and the way you’ve started fidgeting with your sleeve already.

All these lovely things about you are supposed to be for him only.

But they aren’t.

And he hates that.

“Hey. Eyes up here.”

He didn’t realise he started staring at your collar bones. God, he hopes you don’t think he was staring at your chest.

“Now that you’re looking into my eyes,” you groan, “I want you to calm down.” Almost instinctively, Childe crosses his arms out of displeasure, but you are quick to cool him down. “No one is looking at me. Nothing even happened and you’re acting all jealous. Calm down.”

“I’m not acting.”

“Then stop overreacting.”

“I am definitely not overreacting.”

You give him a look, the one you usually give him when you know he is keeping something from you, but you would rather not put the effort into digging it out of him. “Right.”

Childe is quick to defend, to put out the bait in hopes you’ll take it. “Sweetheart, you’re beautiful. Of course I’m going to be pressed if other people look at you and think the same.”

You sigh. “We’re only out for dinner.”

“Yes, but I just… I don’t know.” He traces the handle of the cutlery on the table, all the while ignoring how you’re still fidgeting with your sleeves. He’s making you nervous. He shouldn’t be making you nervous.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to burden you with my feelings.” Though you look like you want to say something, Childe beats you to it. “I love you, and I hope you know that I mean that word when I say it. I’m not afraid of saying the bigger word. I never will be.”

Both your hands have disappeared under the table. From the looks of it, you’re clenching them. How nervous are you? But wait. If he helps, if he shows you he can take care of you, then you might just…

Childe gently calls out your name, and you look at him with wide, innocent eyes. Poor thing. He asks you to show him your hands, and you comply. What you do not see coming is him gently grabbing the two before bringing them to cup his face. Childe especially presses the cold fingertips to his warm cheeks, effectively warming them up.

He’s thankful for reserving this relatively small table tucked away in a corner. No one can see your widened eyes and the look of adorable surprise on your face. No one.

Upon receiving no explicit refusal from your end, Childe grows bolder. The palms cupping his cheeks are each delivered a gentle kiss, and when there is no rejection, he moves lower, lips trailing to your wrists. This is when he feels the tug, the panic in the withdrawal. Your left wrist is in his mercy, soft lips tenderly pressed against your pulse, yet you tug your arm in retreat like a wounded animal.

Though it pains him, Childe lets go but only after making eye contact with you for a moment.

The face you give him is akin to one of a mixture of surprise and betrayal, and it dawns on him. This is the first time he’s touched you like this. Childe thinks he may have mixed his fantasies with reality because he did not ask for your permission for doing so. Now that he thinks about it, for a moment, he returns to the dreams and thoughts where he touches you as he pleases, and where you ask him to touch you. Where you climb onto his lap at random times of day and tell him how you are only his. How you want nothing to do with the rest of the world because he is your everything.

The only thing he wants is for those fantasies to become reality. Is that too much to ask for? Is it too selfish for him to ask that of someone so beautiful, so… heavenly?

Despite the shock on your face, you do not verbally express your thoughts. The silence is deafening. Your hands are clutched to your chest, and as the noise of the background fades into nothing but a quiet and continuous rumble, Childe’s thoughts start wandering. The first thing he wonders about is where he has to keep his eyes from straying. Your hands and your chest.

He can’t stop feeling the softness of your skin under his calloused palms. How your pulse felt under his lips. How it might taste if it bled. How warm the red might be. How red it might be.

Childe feels dirty for those thoughts, but he doesn’t care. He would gladly embrace such farcicalities if it meant you being the centre of his attention, your entire being on his mind more than his own existence. Then again, you are his life, no? Then why should he stop himself from thinking about you? Is it not wrong for a believer to not think about their worshipped deity? Likewise, it is wrong of him to forcibly shut your existence out of his wandering and lost thoughts.

Besides, the thought of you is where all his unruly and chaotic thoughts come together and finally make sense. So why should he not look at you like you were made from a piece of his ribs, fragile and the closest to his heart than anything can ever be?

“Ajax,” the name tumbles out of your mouth, and Childe feels like he can hear again. “Please stop staring like that. It’s getting creepy.”

An apology is quickly on his tongue, but you are quick to cut his words off before they can be uttered. “You’re acting a little weird.” He notices the worry on your face and the hands under the table. Childe thinks he doesn’t deserve you, but he’s selfish. Horridly so. “Are you feeling okay? We could go home right after eating if you’re not feeling too good, Ajax.”

You’re soothing him. Like how an owner soothes an unruly pet, you’re soothing him. How indulgent of you. Well, as long as you are thinking of him, he doesn’t mind playing like he’s putting the muzzle back on. You were never the one holding the leash anyway.

“I’m fine,” he replies. “Sorry. I just lost myself for a minute there. Were you saying something earlier?”

“Ah. No. Just… I was just asking if you were okay. I wasn’t saying anything earlier. Before that, I mean.”

Though tension has risen and it clearly shows in how your shoulders have stiffened, Childe cannot bring himself to mind. As long as your eyes are on him and him only, and as long as your voice graces his ears with his name, he won’t mind the discomfort in your countenance. It’s only a matter of time before you completely set aside denial.

-

It was halfway through dinner that you confessed telling your parents you’ll be home late tonight. This gave birth to an opportunity, and being the man that he is, Childe grabbed onto it like a desperate man. Questions were hushed and trust was exploited as Childe did what he could, what he wanted to do for so long.

The evening sea breeze never felt so good as it does now.

He stands with his arms resting on the railing, yet it feels different this time. It feels less lonely, more fulfilling, even if you both are in a secluded corner of the pier.

The lights from the opposite end of land reflects onto the water, and the smell of salt is in the air. Wind directly hits his face, hair flying back with it, but he’ll deal with the aftermath of it later. Right now, he’s waiting for you to be done with setting your hair so that he can talk to you.

You take a few more minutes to ensure hair doesn’t blow into your mouth or his face before joining his side, albeit at a distance large enough to fit another person which he promptly shamelessly closes. Yet when he turns to look at you, he is met with a raised brow.

“What?”

You’re quick to voice your observation, Childe’s eyes briefly focusing on the half-faded lipstick as he gives you his full attention. “Your hairline is a little uneven.” The sentence makes him chuckle, but you have more to add. “I didn’t think it’d be like that. It’s cute.”

“You’ve seen my forehead plenty of times.”

“I haven’t.”

He tilts his head. “Whenever I get out of the shower, my hair is slicked back. You’ve seen me get out of the shower.”

“Well,” you scrunch up your nose, “you’re shirtless and with only a towel. Why would I look at you then?”

“...” So all the times Childe has purposely walked by you in the living room or dropped off fruit when you’re studying while being fresh out of the shower was in vain. Why is he even surprised? Of course you wouldn’t look. It was daft of him to even consider that you would look. You avoid him like the plague whenever he tries to make a move. That does beg a question. Why have you been surprisingly cooperative tonight?

Are you planning something?

It can’t be. He keeps an eye on you. You go nowhere except class, occasional outings with friends, and shopping. Childe knows where you are at all times and with who and for what, with being the one taking you there. He even had you join that group project meeting online instead of in-person because it was in the evening and your group mates were all guys.

Considering those factors, there is no way you are planning something. He’s made sure of it. Besides, you are perfectly aware that you cannot try anything. Not only do you live with him, but he’s in the mafia. Were you to be missing or run away, you’d be back home before midnight.

There has to be another reason. Maybe you’ve grown more comfortable with him. Yes. That’s it. Perhaps it’s the delusion accompanying the compunction of all that he has done to you, but he believes you’re slowly laying down your defences. All that’s done is to wait till the wall is broken down too.

“Ajax,” you call, lips parting hypnotizingly, lipstick making them stick to the corners, “you’re staring again.” A pause, then you point something out. “You’ve been staring a lot tonight.”

He smiles, face resting on top of his arms crossed over the railing. “I can’t help it. You’re just so pretty.” You make a weird noise at that, but he chuckles. “I’m honoured to be breathing the same air as you. To be so close to you and see you with my own two eyes. I could never have said I’ve seen the world’s beauty before I saw you sitting behind that cash register in the store.”

You seem clearly taken aback at the sudden words. To be honest, Childe is too. He didn’t expect to say all that together. Still, if it conveys even a fraction of the intensity of his emotions, he’d say more.

A strand of hair falls into his eye when the wind calms, and he tries to blink it away. It’s disturbing his view of you. The way you’re looking at him as you think over your words feeds his proprietorial nature, for your words are all his to hear and your being all his to keep. Childe would keep you even if it means he has to hide you from the rest of the world lest you slip from his grasp. 

Yet you are so good to him that he always melts at your unexpected surrenders. The time when you sewed up his shirt when he got a long, narrow cut at his side. The time when you made dinner and left some for him before going to bed when he texted you he’ll be home very late. The time you willingly came to him with your worries and let him console you.

And the way you remove the strand of hair that’s in his eye and allow him to look at you without obstructions.

If he could, he’d merge your beings into one so that no one else could ever have you, and you’d be his forever. He isn’t willing to break you to have you, but he is willing to hurt you just a little bit.

But before all that, he needs to figure out a way to make you all his. If it means putting a ring on your finger or faking your death or hiding you away from the world, he doesn’t care. You have to be all his.

From your body to your soul to your thoughts to your feelings to your touch to your very being. All. His.

“Ajax, you’re staring again.”

He stands up straight at that, one hand still grabbing the railing as he takes a step closer to you. This time, he does not smile. “Why don’t you love me?”

You question his sudden change in demeanour, but he presses further. “Why don’t you love me? What’s wrong? Tell me. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix us. Tell me how I can make you love me.”

Childe moves closer, and you instinctively move back, making him frown, but he soon cages you between the railing and his body. There’s not much space between you both, and you’re certain he would be able to hear your heart beat wildly if he moved just a tad bit closer. Nevermind the fact that your skirt is blowing with the wind and his legs are obstructing its path.

“I’m doing everything I know. Just tell me. All I want is your heart. All I want is you.”

You are quick to defend. “I already live with you. What more is there?”

“You,” he replies, breathless. “You don’t love me. You only live with me.”

“Because agreeing to that is why you let me go back home for the summer,” you remind him. “Well, I suppose either way I would have been here. If I said no, you would’ve taken me there earlier.”

“Do you feel trapped?”

“What do you think?”

Childe chuckles at that. Though he is culpable for this predicament, he also holds the power to change it to his favour. “Tell me then,” he whispers, wind once more blowing in his hair, “what do you want?”

Unfortunately for him, you play his game on equal footing. “Would you grant it?”

“No.” The look in your eyes is something smug, but he humours you anyway. “I can’t guarantee I won’t, but I guess it depends on what you ask me.”

A scoff accompanies your words now, the nervousness apparent in the way you grip the railing behind you for dear life. “You’ve told me numerous times you’d give me anything I want. Why are you so hesitant now?”

“Because I know what you are about to ask, and I’m afraid I can’t give you that.”

“And what am I about to ask?”

“To be able to leave me for good,” he spits out.

You simply shake your head. “No. Not at this moment at least.” Confusion laces his features, but you press your body impossibly closer to the railing. “I wanted to ask for some space. It’s… it’s uncomfortable like this. Please take a step back.”

Childe obliges instantly. Blue eyes watch your once white knuckles have colour return to them, and suddenly he feels a little childish for cornering you like that. A quiet sigh from your end steals his attention, yet he remains standing where he is, another demand on the tip of his tongue.

“Move in with me,” he says. “Move into my room. It’s been too long in the guest room already. You don’t need to stay there anymore.”

Frankly, you’re surprised. You thought he forgot about that by now considering that he never brought it up again.

“You’ve seen it. My room is bigger. I got this place because the master bedroom was big and it’ll easily fit both our things. You can make the guest room your study room if you want, but just move in already.”

He gives you that look again, the demanding one that makes you painfully aware of how dull and lifeless his eyes are. Although you have grown used to it and it doesn’t bother you as much, it still reminds you that if he wished, he could have done worse things to you. But he hasn’t. He waits and waits and waits till he’s about to bubble over. Till his feelings threaten to boil and spill out of the pot and even then he somehow calms it down enough to be coherent. Al because he promised to think about you before his own selfish feelings.

“We can start tomorrow,” Childe suggests, “or even tonight, there’s still time. You’ve been living with me for long enough. It’s time you actually moved in.”

Even while you are quiet, Childe has a million thoughts running through his head. Bed, lonely, empty, cold sheets, cold pillows, empty dressing table, empty nightstand. He recalls the room you’ve turned into your personal haven, the cluttered dressing table, the nightstand with a ton of wires, the eraser dust that’s almost always on the ground near your table, and the warm feeling that envelopes him whenever he enters this little haven of yours.

He needs to have you more or else he doesn’t know what he’d do. And he doesn’t want to know what he’d do to you.

“I hear you,” you speak up, successfully interjecting his thoughts, “but we’re not in a relationship. We can’t just start doing married couple things.” You make a face, scrunching up your nose like you always do. “Living in different rooms is appropriate because we’re still-”

“Marry me then.”

You shut your mouth immediately.

“Your problem is our relationship right?” Childe takes a step closer, eyes focused on yours. “Then marry me. Problem solved.”

“Wait. Ajax, that’s too fast. Calm down.”

“That’s not ‘too fast’. We’ve been living together for almost a year now. We’ve known each other for over a whole year. This isn’t fast.”

Regardless, you try to de-escalate it. De-escalate his rashness. “Okay. I understand. But we’re too young and my parents wouldn’t allow something like this so suddenly-”

“Leave them to me. I’ll handle getting their approval. They seem to like me anyway. That’s all you’re worried about right? And we’re not young. We’re adults.”

The apprehension grows. You do not know how this idea popped into his head, but you blame yourself for mentioning ‘married couple’ earlier. Why is he so obsessed? Is having you in his home constantly under his vision not sufficient?

“So what’s your answer? Or do you want to wait while I get a ring and you speak to your parents?”

The anxiety starts eating you from the inside. You know you can’t escape him. You’re too deep into his clutches to even consider escape, but you still hold onto feeble hope that you can delay the inevitable just a little longer. “Fine. You’re ready and okay for such a thing, but I’m not ready for such a big step.”

Contrary to your expectations, Childe’s mood further sours. “That’s what you always say.” As soon as the words are uttered, Childe remembers thinking to himself how he hoped you won’t blame him for anything he might end up doing tonight. Well. If it allows him to have you, he’d do anything. “The only difference would be that we’d be closer. Nothing else.”

“We’re close enough,” you meekly comment.

“So you don’t want to marry me?”

“No, it’s not that I don’t, but…”

“But?”

You think over the time you’ve lived under his roof. He has been controlling, sure, but he has been more accommodating and understanding. If you were to bet your life on one thing, it would be that Ajax would always unequivocally love and care for you. Besides, this is inevitable. The moment he locked eyes with you at your job, it had been decided that this would happen. That you would be his.

Delaying and denying all this simply makes you miserable. Who are you to deny such affection? Such love that suffocates you, surrounds you constantly with eyes in the shadows watching your every breath. Who are you to deny a man who has countless times told and showed you that he’d drop to his knees for you on a moment’s notice?

He may control your life and future, but you control him as well. Or you do to an extent at least. What his words cannot express, his hands and eyes do, and those things are precisely what have kept you going on the hope that the inevitable is not as horrifying as you delude yourself into thinking of it.

Ajax loves you, and you’d be damned if you refuse his love. Not only is there no way out, but you think you do not want out anymore. You’re too deep in his web.

Besides, you know that if you were to refuse him, he’d try again and again before eventually forcing it upon you. It’s better to accept. You can’t delay the inevitable.

Warm hands cup your face, thumbs rubbing the corners of your eyes. “Don’t cry,” he whispers, and you blink away tears you did not know you were shedding.

Minutes pass on the secluded corner of the pier, and when he is satisfied with how much you have calmed down, he lets you go. Hands hang by his sides as he waits for an answer, but you don’t keep him waiting. With a gentle pat to his cheek, you give him your answer.

“I’ll start moving my things in the morning.”

His celebratory smile only grows when you continue speaking.

“And… I’ll start talking to my parents. I’ll let you know the updates.”

-

You were in the middle of organising your things when the realisation dawned on you. You’re moving into his room. All of your things will go there. All of your things. Does this mean you both are officially in a relationship? That means he’s going to wake up next to you, go to sleep next to you, and you’re going to share a wardrobe with him. Even a bathroom.

This might just make his possessive nature worse. But it’s alright. You can talk sense into him. He usually does listen to you.

Nevertheless, you can’t help but wonder… Why are you accepting of this? Somehow the idea of being so close doesn’t bother you as much as you think it should. Do you really like him that way? Are you in denial?

Ajax’s voice calls out to you, asking if you need any help. You’re currently in the middle of going through your clothes, and you would rather he not bear witness to seeing your undergarments and clothes thrown haphazardly across the bed. Thus, you tell him no and continue organising, putting home clothes separate and classifying the rest accordingly.

When those are done, you let the piles be on the bed and move to your dressing table. Expired and empty containers are chucked into the bin, and you grab the rest and move outside, passing by a curious Ajax in the living room and making yourself home in his room. The bottles are carefully placed amongst his things, and soon the dressing table looks cluttered.

Well, to be used is to be messy. It’s okay.

You return to the piles of clothes and transport each pile one by one onto his bed. When all have been gathered, you place them in the space he’s apparently kept empty for you ever since he moved here in an orderly fashion, making sure all your undergarments are in the locked drawer instead of the regular one. There are no fingers or accusations pointed, but there is also no complete trust in this matter.

Ajax trails behind you this time, curiously watching you take your toiletries and place them in his bathroom. He eyes the addition of a new shampoo and conditioner and other bottles he doesn’t care to classify but is happy to simply see them there. You make the journey back to your ex-room and gather all your chargers and wires only to find yourself untangling them first.

“Do you need help?”

You’re quick to refuse, but he still stands there watching. Gathering them all in your hands, Ajax is tempted to offer his help again but closes his mouth when he remembers you telling him to “not butt in” while you move your things. So, he watches you and trails behind you. He follows you around and watches you as you bump into the sofa’s edge when he calls your name and stumble forward only to lose your footing and fall straight onto the floor.

It did not help that your arm had slid against the edge of the centre table and you horribly skinned the back of your arm.

Ajax stands there, horrified for a moment, before he ignores the cluttered mess of chargers and wires and crouches down beside you, immediately checking your injuries and helping you sit up. But it does not help him when he sees blood slowly starting to ooze from the mess of broken skin and you wince when he gently grabs your hand to look at the wound.

Regardless, he cups your face with the other hand while simultaneously looking you over for other injuries. When you assure him and his repeated questions that it’s just your arm, he relaxes a bit. However, he cannot help it. There’s more blood now, not a lot but enough to completely cover the broken skin, and if he leaves it be, it might start trickling down your arm before the wounds close.

So, Ajax does what his mind wants him to do. He kisses the skin near the wound at first, completely ignoring your questioning look, and slowly moves towards the injury. Soft lips glide over the skin, inching closer towards the desired target. Then, when he can feel your gentle tugs to be let free, he tightens his grip and licks.

Ajax licks some of the blood, the texture of broken skin welcomed by his tongue. You sit there horrified and extremely confused while he licks it again before freezing and letting go.

Awkward eye contact ensues, and your face clearly shows how utterly puzzled and alarmed you are. Nevermind the fact that those were wet licks and your arm has his saliva on it and the broken skin he lapped up is on his tongue which he is sneakily trying to swallow.

Minutes pass, and you finally gather the composure to speak. “Ajax. What the fuck?”

He is quick to be defensive, knowing full well you’ve been so good to him these days and he can’t afford to scare you off. “I just… I let my intrusive thoughts win. Sorry.”

Your terror only grows. “I don’t even want to know what your intrusive thoughts are anymore. Well. At least your licking distracted me from the pain. It doesn’t hurt anymore with your spit on it. Gross. Wash your mouth after this.”

Somehow, a smile stretches on his face. “Wash my mouth? After getting to have a piece of you? Sweetheart, a little bit of you is in me. Why would I ever not want that?” You open your mouth to interject but are cut off. “If I could, I’d make us become one. That way, I don’t have to worry about you thinking of anything else except me.”

You’re quite… speechless. Did he really just indirectly admit he wants to eat you? What the hell??

“Speaking of which,” Ajax whispers, “forgive me but another intrusive thought won.” With that, he moves closer. Close enough in your face to have your noses brushing. To his surprise, you do not create distance, allowing him to fan his breath over your lips as he slowly turns his head.

The only thing stopping his lips from kissing yours directly is his hand on your lips. 

When he pulls away, Ajax’s blue eyes meet your widened ones, your face flushed and clearly flustered. Unfortunately for you, a grin is on his face. “I’ll kiss you for real when you say yes to the ring. Then, I'll make your body mine too.”

With that, he gets up and grabs the first aid box while you sit with his spit drying on your arm. You are sometimes genuinely terrified of him. This is one of those times.

-

“Don’t lick me ever again.”

Ajax frowns at that. “If you forbid me, then how am I supposed to go dow-”

“Stop! That’s enough!” You successfully shut him up, and he continues disinfecting your injury in silence. “Do not spew such mindless words ever again.”

Unfortunately, he catches onto your words, smiling mischievously. “I’ll do it if you do one thing.” When asked for his conditions, Ajax shamelessly gives his request. “Tell me you’re mine. That I’m the person you want.”

When you show hesitation, he is quick to remind you that you’ve agreed to completely move in with him and agreed to sleeping with him. Thus, you acquiesce.

“I’m… Ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this.” He chuckles, but you continue humouring him. “I’m yours, Ajax.”

He pushes further. “And?”

Your cheeks heat up, and you meekly let out the second part. “And… you’re the person I want.”

As soon as the desired words leave your mouth, Ajax is soothed. Soon, he’s disinfected the mess of broken skin and tied a bandage around your arm for the time being so that you don’t accidentally hurt yourself again. When asked about his payment, you simply pat his cheek like you do, but decide to scratch the skin behind his ear before travelling upwards into his hair.

With a last pat to his head, you leave him a blushing mess with messy hair as you return to the wires scattered on the ground, picking them up before continuing what you were doing. It doesn’t serve him right that you casually rendered him paralysed and just got up and left. But then again, that is the least you should do against him after what he has done to you.

Flustering someone does not compare to putting them in a fancy cage. Well, Ajax’s deceit makes it hurt more. If you knew the full extent of his desires, you would never let him breathe the same air as you. But you do not. And that is precisely why he plans to slowly let them surface, to allow you time to accept him. He just hopes he doesn’t grow impatient with how good you’ve been.

(Bonus scene)

“What do you mean you want a pillow wall between us?”

You don’t mind Ajax’s childish whines, instead busying yourself with moisturising your face. But when he moves to remove a pillow, you are quick to turn and give him a glare. “I agreed to sleeping next to you and moving into your room. The least you can do is give me time to settle in and let me have a damn pillow wall.”

Ajax slowly puts the pillow back down quietly, and you turn around to close the moisturiser bottle. Though you catch a glimpse of him glaring daggers into the pillow wall, you continue cleaning the clutter of your things on the dressing table.

You’ll take it away in a few days. Let him suffer for a few nights.

[qierxing]

A/N: An interpreted continuation of @shiny-jr wonderful fic. (checks calendar) Uhm, happy three month update to this series AND 1k notes on the first part! I would say sorry for the wait, but I really did need it LOL. Anyway, it's not super obvious, but the timeline is a bit all over the place in this part, because I'm jumping back and forth between past and present.

TW/CW: Immolation, violence, implied stalking+actual stalking, obsessive behavior, mild psychological and body horror, toxic relationships, Yuu uses it/its pronouns, we get a little meta in here, the boys are FIGHTINGGG I. II. | Isekai AU | Yan! Heartslabyul x Reader

“Who are you?” said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, “I—I hardly know, Sir, just at present—at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”

“What do you mean by that?” said the Caterpillar, sternly. “Explain yourself!”

“I ca’n’t explain myself, I’m afraid, Sir,” said Alice, “because I am not myself, you see.”

— Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Caroll

vi. Mourning

It is incredibly hard to get Yuu alone.

Whether it be by the forces of fate or just because so many vie for their attention, there is rarely, if ever, any time when someone is able to spend time personally alongside them. The only exception to this rule is Grim, who was practically the player's companion from the beginning.

So when Ace Trappola manages a rare chance to snag some one on one time with Yuu, he guns for it. Course, he had to time it perfectly. 

It was just another night like any other. Ace and Deuce decided to come over to hang out for a casual sleepover as usual. The four of them did initially start out studying, before the textbooks and worksheets were being abandoned in favor of more exciting things, such as the deck of cards that Ace brought with him.

Sending Deuce and Grim off to get snacks through a won bet over a card game was easy as pie.

"Hey Ace?" 

He hums in response, letting Yuu know he's listening. His nimble fingers shuffle the worn cards, flipping through them with practiced ease. Stacking them up quickly, he wonders if he should try to impress Yuu with another card trick to gain their enthralled praise.

"Do you…like…being my friend?"

The question makes him blink and look up in surprise at Yuu. It feels blasphemous to hear such doubt lingering in their words.

"Why? Scared I'm gonna ditch ya?" He teases.

Yuu doesn't respond, only giving a sheepish smile back. 

"I-It's not like I don't like being friends with you." He tries to keep his cool. "I just-"

Yuu's smile doesn't falter. "It's okay, Ace."

He's reminded of his previous girlfriend in middle school. It was more of a fling than a serious thing, but it's something he remembers vividly. Their breakup, after all, was rather dramatic.

"You're too much, Ace. Sometimes you just take it too far." 

What was even her name? Elizabeth? He could barely even remember, but for some reason, he still recalls the intense way her face was twisted in burning resentment. He tried to bury it in the past. He swore he would never fall in love or get into another relationship, preferring friendships over any kind of romantic trysts.

Now that he looks at Yuu, he already knows he's screwed up big time.

Yuu's gaze is no longer meeting his, instead staring into the fireplace that Grim had so generously set up earlier. The crackling blue flames reflect in their irises and in that moment, dread curls inside Ace's stomach. Yuu doesn't seem right.

"Hey…you okay?" He asks hesitantly, placing a hand on their shoulder.

Yuu doesn't move, still staring at the fire intently. He opens his mouth to ask again, but then they speak.

"If I wasn't acting like myself, would you still like me?" 

Another question out of left field. 

"Even if you somehow grow anemones on your head, Yuu's still Yuu, right?" His heart swells in pride at the way their lips quirk at his inside joke. 

"Yeah…" they murmur back. 

"Wanna see somethin' cool?" he says, holding out a card. Yuu tilts their head questioningly.

"It's the ace of hearts. What about it?"

"It's not just the ace of hearts!" Ace puffs out his cheeks. "Don't you know the meaning of this card?"

Yuu shakes their head.

"It means good news for yourself or someone close. Practically a lucky charm!" Ace waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "So how can things go wrong now that you have me?"

Yuu snorts and shoves him playfully. "Yeah, yeah, okay, Mr. Lucky Charm."

But it works. The foggy clouds clear from Yuu's eyes, finally returning them to the familiar luster he's used to. For the rest of the night, there is no hint of hollowness within them. And Ace hopes he will never see that sight again.

-

He should've known something was up since that night.

When Headmaster Crowley personally makes an appearance at their dorm, he should've realized it then. If there was anything that the old raven hated more, it was having to do more work than usual. 

"That person wasn't an imposter." Crowley says, coughing awkwardly into his fist.

The solemn words echo in his head on end. The rest of the Headmaster's words start to tune out for Ace. Automatically, his legs begin to move on their own. The calls of the others chase after him, but he ignores them, racing out of the lounge and towards the mirror portal.

Because if you didn't hurt Yuu-

-then what had he done?

When he first arrived in NRC, he didn't even know that Ramshackle dorm existed. Not until Yuu came to reside there; until he had to beg for shelter from them when he was chained with that damn collar. He knew that they didn't have to take him in. But they did, and maybe that's why Ace couldn't turn his back after that. 

The building before him is no longer the broken down hovel that he remembers back then. He remembers how the roof was almost caving in and wooden beams were always in danger of collapsing. Each knock on the entrance doors would send cascades of dust upon his head. Now, the walls are painted with a fresh coat of paint, the roof has new shingles, and the place actually looks like a house you could safely live in. 

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Prefect! Are you there?!" He yells, desperation leaking into his voice. "Please!"

Bang! Bang!

He's gotta be out of his damn mind, acting like some crazy person. But he can't help but be blinded by his fear. So he keeps hitting the door with his fists, praying, hoping, for…well that someone would open the door.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Yuu!!" He screams, and his voice echoes around him, mocking his helplessness. His fists are becoming numb from slamming the wood so hard, but he can't stop himself.

"Yuu–!"

"Oi! Ace!!!" A rough hand on his shoulder shoves him back and before he could knock the souvnabit-

"Ace, look at me!"

He's stopped by Deuce's fists meeting his in an even match of strength. Like an illusion broken, Ace stills and yanks his hands back.

There's only heavy breathing in between them for a long while. 

"...they're not here." Ace snaps to look at Deuce, who only closes his eyes in a painful grimace.

"What do you mean, 'not here'?" Ace asks.

Deuce doesn't say anything for a beat.

"What do you mean they're–"

"They're in the infirmary." Deuce's words flow out in a breathless rush. "The Headmaster said that after you ran."

Fuck, he just acted like an idiot then. No wonder no one was responding to his absolute earth shattering door banging and yelling. Then the meaning of Deuce's words begin to sink in. Oh Seven, no–

He turns and before he could even step in the direction of the main building, his arm is yanked back.

He snarls at Deuce. "Let me go! I have to see the prefect!"

"Housewarden is calling you back." Deuce forces out through gritted teeth and closed eyes. "The Headmaster said that…they don't want to see anyone."

And like a fire put out, Ace's anger chokes to flickering embers.

He lets Deuce guide him back, all the way from the Ramshackle dorm, to the mirror portal, and then back to Heartslabyul's lounge where the other three are grimly awaiting them.

Ace half expects to be yelled at once he passes the threshold. Or get some kind of lecture on how he should have better manners than to just run off like that. It would've been just like his housewarden to only care about weird, arbitrary rules when there were other arguably more important matters.

But his housewarden sits silently on his gilded velvet throne with glassy eyes. There's no anger burning behind them, and the freshmen are terrified to see their once proud and fearsome queen reduced to this husk. He almost would rather him back to the state where he was barking out orders for them. The silence in the lounge is deafening.

Ace swears they must be all thinking the same thing.

Please let this be a bad dream.

-

He tried calling you. Texting you. Hell, he even tried messaging you on Magicam! Magicam, of all things! 

Anxiety claws at his heart with each unread message and dial voice tone greeting. He has so much to say, to ask for-

Deuce wasn't faring well on his side either. He had also tried calling and texting you, to no avail. Grim, that traitor, hadn't come back to visit Heartslabyul at all since the incident. Never mind the fact he had only himself to blame for that—he thought at the very least the cat direbeast would have some sense of pity for their friendship and throw them a bone. 

Ace tried two more times to meet you. 

First, during your infirmary stay, when you were still unconscious.

The second time was when you returned to Ramshackle dorm with Grim.

Maybe the Seven were punishing him for his hubris. Or he supposes this is just karma. Because both times, he fails spectacularly at the front door of Heartslabyul. Because of this, he's the reason why Riddle had put them all on house arrest (with the exception of academic reasons, of course).

It's a declaration that would've been met with mutiny from all of them, if it weren't for the fact that even Headmaster Crowley had explicitly forbade anyone from showing up on Ramshackle's doorstep or trying to meet you. So he understands. Really! He does. He's seen how Riddle holes up in his room, muttering to himself while carrying out boxes upon boxes of crumpled paper. When he manages to snag a stray paper that flutters out on garbage day, Ace realizes that Riddle is also just as frenzied trying to reach out to you. Even if he is going about it in an old fashioned way.

He'll chip in to help. If his housewarden is left to his own devices, they’ll all be fossils by the time he sends what he deems a satisfactory letter. 

And the faster they do this, the faster they have a chance of reaching you.

vii. Embalming

The most horrifying thing is that it doesn't seem to care about dying.

That cursed pile of ceramic shards had disappeared—no, pieced itself back together—and once again, it became the smiling face of Yuu, the being they all knew and used to adore.

Riddle Rosehearts immediately smashed it to pieces again under the weight of his magic.

No one had tried to stop their housewarden. Not even the faceless mobs. Even if they were all alarmed at the erratic behavior of their housewarden, they could not deny the fear of seeing something dead come back alive. With not so much as a dent or wound in them, for that matter.

The third time it happened, Riddle ordered for the remains to be dumped into the school’s incinerator at the highest heat level. Surely, that would be enough. 

He watched as the incinerator roared and shuddered, shaking as if the pits of hell had opened. After a few agonizing minutes, the rumbling stops, and before he can even breathe a sigh of relief, the iron hatches creak open, and out strolls Yuu, perfectly fine and pieced together again.

It's magic. Or some kind of century old curse. Of course it is. After all, it was at a higher power than even Draconia's comprehension. Why he didn't consider the possibility beforehand is something he berates himself now. 

What might be the most damning thing is that it has no fear or suspicion in its face; even after the multiple times it’s been maimed and torn apart. Not like you, who immediately closed themselves off at being hurt so thoroughly. 

The irony isn't lost on him. The temptation of letting the puppet take its place back in favor of just bringing everything back to how it was is something Riddle could not deny. But now that he's actually met you, Yuu just seems more of a shadow of what he remembers during your interactions together.

It has your face. It acts like you.

But it's not you.

When Ace asks after the commotion at the Unbirthday party on how he was able to figure out that it wasn’t [First], he had to take a moment to gather his thoughts. Ace’s face changes into something of disbelief when Riddle merely replies with: “[First] takes their tea with two sugars and a dash of milk.”

“You were so sure only because of that?”

He doesn’t want to think what Ace’s face would look like if he had explained his whole list of reasons how he realized that the puppet wasn’t you. How he soaked up as much as he could when you came over for the tea party. Your expressions, your little habits, the way you fidget…it was all filed away in Riddle's head and later, his private notebook.

But that doesn’t matter now. Now, there’s an even bigger problem than the puppet resurrecting itself.

Grim is missing again.

This alone should've been more worrying than anything for Yuu, but it merely shrugs and says it’s not sure where he scampered off to. He's more than suspicious, of course, but there is no proof, which is infuriating already.

But without Grim, they are missing the key to finding [First]. 

The others raise hell once they hear the news Riddle reports at the weekly housewarden meeting. A new wave of tension washes over NRC and with it, an unprecedented deep disdain for the puppet. It returns back to classes unannounced, making Ace and Deuce rant to him about how weird it is that it’s trying so hard to act like nothing had happened. It attends school events with their camera, drumming up conversations like normal between all of them; despite the fact it gets ignorance or violence in response (depending on the person it greets).

But none of them are really sure on how to interact with Yuu.

The nicer ones, like Trey or Deuce, entertain Yuu with frigidly civil responses, in hopes of boring the puppet and making it flit away to another victim. Meanwhile, he and Ace have finally come together on an agreed opinion: that they would rather die before letting the puppet even think it could take [First]’s place.

“Go away.”

Yuu merely smiles in response to Riddle’s annoyed voice. The puppet leisurely lounges in the chair across the table from him. The school library is vast but empty, his authoritative voice echoing down the long halls. Several floating books flit past above their heads and the chandeliers above flicker with bright candlelight.

“I just wanted to keep you company.” Riddle purses his mouth in disgust. It’s invasive, it’s gross, and most of all it feels wrong to hear those words coming from Yuu. 

“I didn’t ask for your company,” he replies coldly. “Shouldn’t you know that it’s bad manners to bother someone who wants to be left alone?”

“I don’t think you like being left alone, Riddle.” He flinches at the way Yuu’s eyes bore into him. “Well, then again, you sure like to pretend you’re fine, don’t you?”

His hand tightens around the textbook he’s reading about cursed dolls. There would be no point if he brought out his magical pen and reduced it to rubble. But he is tempted, if only to get some peace and quiet for just a few minutes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Riddle says.

“Hmm…” Yuu hums into its hand, “...then I suppose I will just let you be. What a shame, I had something entertaining to tell.”

“What? What do you mean?” 

Yuu giggles and waves him off. “No, no! You said you didn’t want my company now. Why should I tell you anything?”

He resists the urge to incinerate the book in his hands. “Fine! I would like your company. What is this ‘entertaining’ thing you want to tell me so badly?”

“Hmm…how insincere,” Yuu tilts its head coyly with a smile more akin to a smirk. “But I guess that’s the most I can get.”

“Since you’ve all been driving yourselves crazy, [First] is safe.” The floor feels like it’s been yanked underneath him. The puppet is smiling still, as if it’s all some big joke rather than the revelation it delivered. He can hear his blood roaring through his ears.

“You…” Riddle snarls, face heating into a bright red rage. “What did you do to them?”

It bursts into laughter at his face. 

“Why, I only granted their wish!”

Its laughter is cut short by the sound of ceramic being crushed, and Riddle is left shakily breathing at the pile of shards that used to be Yuu. The puppet’s words churn over and over in his head.

What did you wish for? 

-

It is currently 3:20 on a Wednesday afternoon. 

In his planner, the bullet point neatly penned on the schedule shows ‘Studying for History Test’ in bold blue ink for the time slot. ‘History of the Queendom of Roses’ is laid open on his desk, to the chapter about the local mythos of the area, just as he intended. His notes from lecture are next to it, with several of his stationary needed to jot down annotations. 

And yet, Riddle has yet to touch any of these items or actually adhere to his daily schedule—he’s too distracted by what he should do in order to reach the player.

Riddle's already embarrassed enough, resorting to handwritten letters with the best calligraphy he can muster. He's sent only a couple that passed his satisfaction, and they have all been met with judgemental silence. He’s hunched over another crumpled letter near ripping his hair out when someone knocks on his bedroom door. He quickly shoves the envelope under some textbooks out of frantic instinct.

“Come in.”

A familiar bob of red orange hair pops out behind his door, and Riddle raises an eyebrow at the underclassman who enters.

“Ace? What is it?” Normally, Ace would never be in his room if he could help it. If he was in Riddle’s room, it most likely meant he was either being scolded or punished. And Ace’s eyes are shifting side to side, as if he was trying to sneak his way in. 

“Out with it, Ace.” He’s not in the mood for the underclassman’s shenanigans.

“Housewarden, you’re writing letters to the prefect, aren’t ya?” The question completely takes him off-guard sputtering.

“W-What does t-that have to do with you?” He tries to maintain his composure, but Ace is already giving him a smug smirk for the one up on him. Of all people, it had to be him finding out. 

"I had an idea, Housewarden. Why don't we send them something with the letter?" Riddle blinks in surprise.

“...How smart of you for once, Ace.” It was so simple, yet he marvels at the idea's brilliance. Perhaps there was merit in trying this proposal.

“Hey! What the hell does that mean?!” His underclassman snaps back in a huff. “Whatever, point being, maybe we should switch it up instead of letters all the time.”

He crosses his arms, “And what do you suggest? There’s not much we can really send that hasn't been sent already by other dorms.”

Ace winces. Clearly he didn’t think about the other dorms with more affluent people; people who had more than enough thaumarks and prestige to spend it to appeal to you. Riddle can't blame him either: although he is at the top of the school and his parents are well known mages, it's not like any of that could help him here. All of them, in a sense, were stuck in that situation. 

For once, he starts to resent not having more.

"Ugh, well…maybe it doesn't need to be so fancy, you know?" Ace rubs his neck, face scrunched in frustration. "Like…uh…you know-flowers! People send flowers all the time, yeah?"

This is true. And for Queendom of Roses’ residents, it has become custom to send bouquets with subtle messages left in petals and stems. Although he is a bit loath to admit that he isn’t as well versed in the language of flowers compared to hedgehogs.

"And what do you recommend, Ace?" He asks. "What would be the best flower to send to the prefect in our circumstance?"

"We got all these roses, why not send them that?" Ace responds, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Riddle coughs in annoyance. 

"Why not just procure some from Sam's shop? Today is Wednesday. Do you not remember rule 228?" He chides. Ace groans, rolling his eyes. 

"Not the weird rules again…"

"Ace."

"Yeeesss Housewarden…" The card soldier mock salutes with a deadpan expression. "I'll see if we can get some flowers at Sam's."

"You better, or else it's–" 

"-off with my head, I got it, I got it." Riddle seethes as Ace cuts him off and dashes out of his room before he could get another word in. So troublesome…

Still, there's nothing to do except wait for his card soldier to report back. He turns back to his desk, bringing out the crumpled letter from its hiding place. Running a hand over the crumpled pages, he attempts to pick up his pen again, but fails as his thoughts begin to wander. 

Riddle only manages to pen a couple legible sentences when his door slams open, banging against the wall. He almost falls out of his chair in shock from the loud noise. How was Ace back so quickly?

"Have you not heard of knocking?!" He scowls, turning around to see Ace panting and sweating as if he had run a marathon.

"Never mind that, Housewarden, I saw them!" Ace shouts. 

“What are you jabbering…” Riddle trails off in realization. “You better not be horsing around, Ace.”

“Do you think I would lie to you about this?” Ace retorts frantically. “I saw them at Sam’s shop working the cashier!”

For a moment, his mind races with this information. If you were working at Sam’s shop, it would explain why you weren’t showing up to classes, let alone in the hallways or rooms of NRC. It’s a clever ruse—classes may be over during this time of day, but nearly all of them were participating in mandatory club activities or study labs. No wonder no one else has caught on to this. Riddle rubs his chin in thought, settling back in his chair.

“What are you going to do now, Housewarden Riddle?” Ace asks hesitantly. His eyes are filled with some kind of anticipation and hope, no doubt wondering if he could get some leeway in his own agenda. Normally, he would go right away as there was no need to hesitate about these kinds of things.

But. Crowley’s stern announcement comes back to his mind and guilt starts to creep in. 

“First, we’ll go with your idea, Ace.” He responds. “The ban hasn’t been lifted, after all.” Ace opens his mouth to protest, but he holds a hand up to interrupt him.

“But if that doesn’t work, then I’m sure even Crowley can’t say anything about coincidences.”

viii. Calling Hours

“I’m not joking around, you two.” 

There’s very few times that the vice housewarden of Heartslabyul gets truly mad. His patience seems boundless, honed by years of taking care of younger siblings at home and then dealing with rowdy underclassmen in NRC. But even his saint-like patience could only stretch so far.  

“I told you, we didn’t do it!” Ace scowls with furrowed eyebrows and crossed arms. Meanwhile, Deuce is silent by his side, face twisted with conflicting emotions. “You don’t even have proof! You just singled us out just because!”

“Who else was around the kitchen when I left it?” Trey asks, voice starting to rise in anger. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you two lurking around before?”

The two freshmen began to speak out, voices rambling over each other and cascading into a loud shouting match that was barely intelligible.

“We just wanted to see if we could get something from the fridge, how were we supposed to know someone would-”

“Me and Ace just wanted to bring something along when we deliver the Housewarden’s invitation to-”

"You dumbass, don't just say that out loud-!"

It’s at this moment that Cater Diamond strolls in, takes one look at the mess of the situation and does a 180 back round to the door. But it’s too late, because the interruption is just enough for Ace to sink his hooks into him.

“Cater-senpai, you believe us, right?” Ace shouts after the orange head, making him flinch in place. “You saw us get the order from Housewarden Riddle!”

Cater turns around slowly like a door on rusty hinges, with an expression that screams of not wanting to be involved. "Oh Acey! Uhm, you mean the letter Riddle gave you two-"

"Yes!" Deuce interrupts in earnest, already trying to barrel his way to proving his innocence. "Housewarden Riddle entrusted us to deliver the tea party invitation ourselves personally." 

Cater turns to Trey, who is rubbing the bridge of his nose, eyes closed with a tiredness that seems comically reminiscent of an old man. "Well, I'm not sure what this is all about, Trey, but maybe you should cut 'em some slack and let it go."

The other senior nods in reluctant agreement and the two freshmen all but nearly trample over each other trying to run from the tension filled room. But they're stopped in their tracks when Trey calls out again.

"Wait, you two." The duo slowly looks back with cautious eyes.

"You wanted to bring something to the prefect, didn't you?" Trey tilts his head to one of the many strange topsy turvey cabinets in the kitchen. "I have some leftover cookies that I made yesterday. Take them. I'm sorry for accusing you guys like that."

Ace and Deuce exchange confused glances, and although Ace looks away in denial, Deuce nods in gratitude. They leave the kitchen just as chaotically, this time with the aroma of lavender following them.

A brief silence follows their absence, while Cater raises an eyebrow at Trey.

"Sooo…care to spill the tea?"

"Don't even start." Trey groans.

Cater seats himself on one of the stools near the counter, waiting. Trey busies himself with cleaning the stoves and counter, trying not to meet Cater's eyes. Silence falls, but it's with none of the comfort that Cater is familiar with. Giving up, he turns to his phone, refreshing his Magicam dash mindlessly. This continues for a good while until finally—

A low sigh, then– "Somebody took my candied violets."

Cater looks up from his phone. Another beat passes, and he realizes it's not a passing statement. 

"It's not like you to get this bent out of shape over your ingredients going MIA." Cater shifts his face onto the elbow meeting pristine marble while shoving his phone away. "You sure that one of the froshes didn't just end up taking them thinking they were for everyone?"

Trey lets out a rough guffaw. "You know better than I do that the others don't touch our stuff."

Cater taps his fingers on the polished white granite, hands already itching to grab his phone and check for updates, but he restrains himself. "That's…mostly true."

"That can only mean one of you guys has taken it." The hairs on Cater's neck raise at Trey's tone.

"Hey now," Cater grins, raising his hands in mock surrender, "you heard it from those two. I was with Riddle when he gave them that invitation."

"I know." Cater's fingers twitch as Trey carelessly tossed aside the rag used to clean the counter into a bucket. The soggy fabric makes a hollow sound against the wood, echoing rather loudly in contrast. "But Riddle would never do such a thing either."

Cater resists the urge to roll his eyes. It's true that their cute housewarden would hardly dare to stoop to thievery, but Trey's blind faith in him can be annoying at times. After all, didn't their little teapot tyrant threaten to kill the prefect at one point?

He supposes that was his fault, though.

"Then it's back to square one." Cater shrugs. "Besides, what were you even planning to do with them if you weren't gonna eat it?"

The baker runs a hand through his mussed forest green hair and frowns. "I was going to bake a cake with them as a peace offering to the prefect."

Cater's mouth forms an 'o' shape in realization. "That's pretty big brain."

"Yeah, but look how that turned out."

"It's fine~you were able to at least send cookies this time round." Cater finally cracks, digging into his pocket for the familiar grooves of his phone case. "All's well that ends well, right?"

Trey doesn't respond and Cater is too engrossed in his phone to look up to see his expression. He slides off the stool naturally, tapping through recent posts and comments, eyes laser focused on recent posts on his dash. 

"Cater." 

There it is. It's the most recent story reel by Ace(according to the time stamp, about two minutes ago). It's an inconspicuous black out picture with several cute teapot and teacup stickers decorating the screen. The banner message is short and sweet: 'Dorm tea party bout to get real this month 🤔😶'

"Cater." Cater's attention snaps back and towards his friend, who gazes at him with dark eyes.

"Please don't lie to me next time."

With that, Cater watches as his long time friend finally leaves the kitchen. 

Thank the Seven he did. He might have been a decent actor, but Trey has been with him through thick and thin, and it's given him the annoying ability to see through his tells.

Really now. Trey knows that he hates sweets. Shouldn't that be enough of an alibi?

It's not fair that Trey already has everything to set him up for a good relationship with you. Even if they're all set back by their violent reaction to you arriving in this world, he's sure it would only take a couple tries with Trey offering genuine heartfelt food to get to you.

It's just not fair. 

Isn't he fun to hang out with? He consistently gets compliments online for his suave looks and easy personality. So why couldn't he compare to-

He shakes his head. There's no point in overthinking it now. Cay Cay #3 had easily taken the cutely decorated jar of violets and discarded it in the dorm dumpster. Like candy from a baby.

He knows it's petty. But for once, he feels much better, knowing that he upset Trey's original plans to ensnare you.

Now, he once again checks Ace's story reel and screenshots it, while quickly pulling up the search bar. He just needs to level the playing field.

-

There can only be one fake bitch in this house and Cater has had enough of the competition.

“I wasn’t aware that you were going to visit me, Cater.” 

The puppet tilts its head with a warm smile, but there’s a frosty undercurrent to the greeting. It’s clear that he’s not welcome, if the way it’s blocking the doorway of Ramshackle has anything to say.

“Yeah, I ended up losing something here. You mind if I look for it, Yuu-chan?” Cater asks innocently. “Promise it won’t take too long.”

“Hm, sure. But I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for.” Yuu's grin is sharp as a razor blade. It knows what he’s here for and it’s definitely taunting him. That little–

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to look~” He responds back airily. His fist curls around his phone in his pocket tightly. The puppet shrugs and walks off, leaving him standing in the doorway.

It’s been a while since he’s personally been at Ramshackle dorm. Cater remembers how Ace complained about the house being a real fixer upper, but then again, he doesn’t remember much of that, since Yuu always spent most of the time at Heartslabyul dorm. The renovations certainly made it much more pleasing to the eye and more importantly, livable by HOA standards.

There’s nothing to write home about the living room. The coffee table is bare and there’s no wrinkles in the sofa cushions at all. It’s a little eerie—as if no one even lived in the house in the first place. The only sign of living was perhaps the fact it is clean of dust or dirt. 

Nothing in the kitchen either. He gives a wayward glance to the second floor, searching for any signs of movement. Couldn’t hurt to be thorough. 

Rows of tall doors pass by as Cater opens each one of them. A storage closet, a spare room, an electric cabinet, another storage area–it all blurs by after the fourth door. There really is nothing, as if the whole house has been wiped of any trace of you. He's about to toss in the towel when an old, dusty memory crops up. His little freshman, Ace. Cater swears he had been making fun of Yuu for seeing strange things at night. Something about a mouse?

Right, their room! Why didn't he think of looking there?  

His feet take him rapidly from memory to the door that was the third from last in the hallway in the east wing. He manages to wrench the door open to see a regular bedroom, bed sheets barely stirred. Before he can even put one foot in, a throat clears behind him. 

"It's rather rude to go into other people's bedrooms, don't you think?"

You got to be kidding me. Cater turns around with the fakest smile plastered across his face. Yuu looks unamused, tapping its foot impatiently against the wooden floorboards. 

"Just wanted to make sure, y'know?" Cater replies. Yuu gives a tight smile back. It goes around him and shuts the door with a hard thunk.

"Ever heard about how curiosity killed the cat?" 

Cater shakes his head in surrender, "I guess I need to look elsewhere for my lost item."

The entrance doors slam shut behind him hard enough to startle several birds out the dead trees in the yard. Cater doesn't bother giving a look back as he strides out of the yard and past the gated fence surrounding the property. That glimpse was enough and much more. Cater smirks to himself, taking his phone out and sending a quick text message to the group chat. Yes, curiosity may have killed the poor kitty cat…

But satisfaction brought it back.

viiii. Eulogy

It might surprise people to know that Trey Clover's first real friend is Che'nya Pinker.

That's not to say that Trey had trouble getting along with others as a kid, oh no. Everyone in his neighborhood agreed that he was a very sweet boy, who looked out for others around him. When he wasn’t taking care of his baby sister, he would be asked by other parents around the block to look after their own children, whether that be playing soccer games with the more energetic kids or patty cakes with the quiet ones. So it isn’t a stretch to say that he’s friends with nearly everyone. But Che’nya was a special case.

Their first meeting is still burned into Trey’s memory.

“You see it too, don’cha?” The boy had greeted him while swinging upside down on a low hanging tree branch. Trey had half a mind to scold him for the dangerous action before he actually looked at him. 

The first thing that takes Trey off guard is that he has eyes. They’re a shiny yellow, just a shade lighter than his. His pupils are long and thin, not round like his at all. He supposes it must be like a cat’s pupils—for he’s never seen anything like it. Then it’s his unique colorful hair, streaks of light pink intermingling with dark purple, making a strange striped pattern across the chopped uneven hair. Trey faintly recalls a certain cat from their local legends, whose fur boasted those very same colors. 

“...What are you talking about?” Trey eyes him warily. The cat boy gives a cheeky grin. He vanishes and then reappears in front of him, albeit with missing arms.

“The people around us who wear the faces of strangers.” Trey’s skin gets goosebumps at the way the boy observes him. He is not looking through Trey, but at him. Their eyes are directly making contact. “But you’re different. You have the face of a friend.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Trey furrows his eyebrows. The boy's grin stretches wider in response. (His teeth were rather blunter than expected, but his canines were pointed.)

“You’re strange. I’m stranger. Together, we can both be strange,” the cat boy chirps back lightheartedly. “The name’s Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. But you can just call me Che’nya.”

Something in his mind had clicked then. It’s hard to explain the feeling–just that it felt like a puzzle piece put into place. He hadn’t known it then, but at that point, the hands of fate had moved. 

Whatever the case may be, Trey was grateful to have Che’nya. Because now he knows that he isn’t crazy; not when he couldn’t see his parent’s faces nor his baby sister’s or even his other friends'. Che’nya too, only shrugs his shoulders when Trey asks him about his grandfather.

“The old man? Yeah, they say I have his eyes, but I wouldn’t know.” The statement is so casually delivered that Trey can hardly believe he’s talking about his only living relative and guardian. “His face does not mirror mine in my mind.”

Staring down at you, shivering with cold and hunger, he feels something churn in him again, just like that fateful day. 

He has his orders from Riddle: bring in the imposter alive. Trey isn’t a violent sort and nor does he enjoy boasting his strength over others like a sadist. And he cannot deny the feeling of cold rage that day when Yuu shuts down, fear inundating him that he may never, ever, get an explanation for the world he was born in. Why he and Che’nya were special, why he had to witness Riddle suffer under his mother–what was it all for?

Your face. There is no blank stretched skin—he can see your wide open eyes, bloodshot and fixated on him. Your mouth too, shaped in a pained grimace, lips bruised and bloodied from previous skirmishes. Surely, surely, there must be a reason why you were here. Why you bear the same face as Yuu. You hold all the answers, if you would just cooperate.

“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Trey tries reaching out, but you scurry back into the hedges, squinted eyes wary and untrusting. You remind him of a frightened hedgehog, prickly spines bristled and body curled in to protect yourself. “I just wanna talk.”

“Go away, please,” the imposter quietly pleads. “Just pretend you never saw me! I swear I didn’t even know how I got here…”

Trey swallows hard. 

“Just come quietly. Please.” He is the one begging now. “It’ll be easier for all of us.”

“For who?” The imposter barks a sharp laugh. Trey doesn't miss the way they wince in pain from their wounds. “For me? Or for you?”

He doesn’t have an answer. The sound of running footsteps has him turning, and when he looks back, you’re already gone. The only traces that you were there at all were faint splotches of red blood and crushed grass.

Trey wonders if this, too, was meant to be fate.

—

Trey’s been lovingly dubbed as someone reliable. Some consider him to be an older brother figure due to his nagging and supportive care. It's ingrained in him at this point from the years he’s spent playing babysitter. Trey knows the students around him are not his younger siblings who need constant watching (although their actions say otherwise).

But he worries.

Just a bit. Trey knows better than anyone that you can take care of yourself just fine. He's seen how you carry yourself within those hedges. 

It's just that, he doesn't know if you're okay right now. How could he know? You've been silent even in the face of Riddle's unceasing letters. So of course he's just a bit unsure if you're actually okay, or if you don't trust them enough to say so.

Trey finds himself more frustrated with the ban they're under. Not because of the inability to see you, although that is part of it. No, it's because Riddle has managed to skirt around that rule to desperately grab onto you, and that was just enough to wear you down. 

He thinks if he was bold enough, he could've tried.

As if it wasn't enough, even Ace and Deuce find their own way to get to you, snatching up the chance to deliver the monthly tea party invitation. It takes everything in Trey to clench his teeth and let go—even when Cater ruins his plans. He can't get mad here because it won't get him any closer to you. He has to be the bigger person.

If there is one thing Trey knows about Cater, it's that he absolutely hates getting sweaty or dirty. If Cater wasn’t trying to get out of running those P.E laps, he would absolutely be shirking any extra work assigned. So he's more than suspicious when Cater bounces up to him with a grin saying he could help cover Trey's science club duty of watering plants. 

Trey likes to think he can tell when Cater’s lying. His close friend's happy go lucky demeanor often throws off others, but he’s been with him long enough to pick out his subtle tells. His eyebrow twitches when he’s particularly anxious and the corner of his mouth tends to perk up if he’s feeling particularly daring or desperate. Trey figures this must be something that even he can’t trust Trey with, if he’s going out of his way to take on extra work.

So Trey considers this repayment for letting him take his violets. He watches as Cater dashes off in labwear, waiting for a minute, before following after him. His duty was in the tropical zone of the botanical garden, so he has no worries even if he does lose him. 

He nearly does a double take when he sees you walking in the courtyard hallways by yourself. And before Trey could rethink his actions, he follows behind you, eyes not leaving your form for a minute. 

You look like you haven't slept well. There's dark circles under your eyes. He hopes you're brushing your teeth. There’s no signs of bandages or wounds that he remembers you in, which he supposes is one relief. Even if he so desperately wishes to cook you a proper meal—you look like you could fall over at any minute.

The realization your path is leading to the botanical garden comes just as Trey catches sight of the glass dome. He wants to rush in after you, but he stops himself just as the door swings close behind your form.

Cater is in there. It all makes sense now. Trey has to give it to him—Cater really does know every little happening in the school. But Trey knows him well too—and if he had to guess, even if Cater manages to talk to you, it won’t end pretty. His inability to be genuine will definitely only set you on edge and less likely to reciprocate. 

The waiting game he plays is nothing compared to the silence he had to endure before. Trey doesn’t have to look to know that you’re the one slamming open the doors to the botanical gardens, labwear dirtied and face twisted in a frustrated anger. He watches as you enter Professor Crewel’s office again and after some time, pop back out in completely different clothes. 

His chest tightens in longing as he continues to follow after (more from an instinctual drive now, rather than deliberate), trying to keep you in sight within the stone pillars. He wants to call out after you so badly and ask you what’s the matter, if you need help with anything. If there was anything he could do to make you forgive him for watching you bleed out on dewy grass. The sun is about to set, warm golden rays flickering between pillars and casting long shadows. Trey’s so enamored with following after you that he flinches back when the sun directly shines into his eyes, blinding him momentarily. 

He barely manages to get a hold of himself. By the time his eyes blink away the blurry blots, he realizes you’re looking back at him. His breath stops. Your eyes are wide and frightened as they are that day, and his heart drops to his stomach. Both of you don’t move, merely staring at each other. 

You finally break the connection, turning around and quickly walking away. Trey gasps, remembering to breathe, lungs screaming for air. 

What was that?

x. Entombment

It's a nice sunny afternoon in the Heartslabyul domain. There weren't any track club activities nor dreaded remedial lessons. If anything, this free time would have been perfect for a nap. He hadn’t been up to any large shenanigans like this since the whole fiasco of [First] and Yuu. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” 

Ace scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You got a better one, loosey Deucy? If we don’t do this now, then all of us are stuck until Housewarden grows a pair of balls.” 

Deuce Spade bites his lips. “I just think there might be a better way around this.”

“Yeah? And the sky is blue. Keep going, we don't have much time." Ace cranes his neck to the side of the bush, eyes warily looking out to make sure the coast is clear. 

Deuce grumbles but continues plucking, some roses already tucked within his arms. They chose a bush the furthest away from the dorm, in a hidden corner where no arched windows could overlook them. It was necessary, because today was Wednesday, and the Housewarden would have their heads for plucking his beloved roses out of all the flora.

His fingers are bleeding already, finger pads torn from repetitive tugging on the thorns and stems. They couldn’t afford taking any of the gardening tools, lest they be questioned for what they were doing with them. Still, even he had his limits.  

“Why is it that you aren’t helping at all?” Deuce snipes at Ace, who scowls back. 

“You want to be caught by someone, genius?” Ace replies snarkily. “Someone has to keep look out.”

“Doesn’t explain why I have to do all the work.” 

Ace rolls his eyes, deigning not to bother engaging in another futile argument that would lead to nowhere. Deuce is about to cut off a particularly stubborn rose when Ace pipes up again.

“...Did they ever respond to your texts?” Deuce only deflates in response. Ace’s mouth slants crookedly in an annoyed grimace. The two of them know full well what the answer to that was.

“Damn that cat…” Ace mutters bitterly under his breath. Deuce doesn’t say anything. He too, is finding it hard to not feel petty towards Grim right now. Weren’t they friends? He could’ve afforded to help them out somehow. But it’s no use. Their texts went unanswered. Headmaster had banned them from stepping foot onto Ramshackle grounds. It’s like you had closed everything off from them.

It’s why he doesn’t protest this plan, as reckless as it is. He’s not any better than Ace—he needs to see you. He and Ace were your closest friends, your first friends! He loved you. That had to mean something. If it didn’t, then…

“I think this is enough.” Deuce adjusts the messy bouquet in his hands, attempting to hold them without crushing the delicate petals. Ace looks over and nods in approval. He takes out crimson ribbons and a silk handkerchief and begins tying it around the stems in a very artful way that has Deuce’s eyebrows raising.

“Where did you get that?” Ace smirks in response at the interrogative question.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ace snatches the bouquet from his hands and slips in an envelope with the housewarden’s seal. Deuce silences the questions on the tip of his tongue. For whatever Ace has planned, he’s rather not know anything more troublesome than necesscary. 

What he failed to account for was getting caught. Housewarden Riddle was beyond furious for what they did. It was only by Trey and Cater's gentle reminders that what they did was for all of them, that he only calmed down.

Deuce supposes three days with the collar is better than a week. Even if it is a heavy thing that weighs on his very soul.

He only hopes that you don't notice the thorns they forgot to trim.

—

It’s a given that although Trey is the right hand of Heartslabyul, Cater is considered the left hand of Housewarden Riddle. It’s been that way since Deuce himself enrolled in NRC, and possibly even further back. He hadn’t understood it quite then, but after some time, he realized something that he should’ve realized a long time ago. 

To never get on Cater’s bad side.

There are events where the five of them gather outside of Yuu’s influence. Administrative meetings, monthly tea parties, and the occasional casual hang out. When you’re aware of how much of your life is affected from being not like the others, it’s common to side with those who are like you. 

Cater had called the meeting this time. It was a bit out of the blue, at least for him and Ace. It’s only when they’re all gathered around the playing table in the lounge, not another soul in sight, when Deuce realizes Cater has that gleam in his eye. One that screams that he got a viral lead on a hot topic. His upperclassman must have been investigating.

"Remember how mirrors are considered to be portals?"

Deuce's neck prickles.

"Your point, Cater?" Their housewarden is impatient, not aware of what the question poses. His arms are crossed with his eyebrows furrowed in a frustrated glare. Deuce realizes that he must have been the one to send out Cater.

"There's a mirror in the prefect's bedroom." Deuce blurts out, and Riddle’s steely eyes snap over in surprise. Cater nods in affirmation.

"Yeah. I only managed a glimpse, but Yuu covered their mirror." Cater says. 

“Hold on, you went into the prefect’s bedroom? Scratch that, to Ramshackle?” Ace asks. “Why are we just getting this now?”

“Because I just came back Acey,” Cater flicks his forehead, causing Ace to exclaim in pain. Trey smiles faintly at the action. “Also Riddle told me to keep it confidential—you two would have ran straight out if we had told you.” 

Deuce sheepishly rubs his neck at Cater’s pointed sentence. Riddle rubs his chin in thoughtfulness, eyebrows still furrowed. 

“But there isn’t anything magical about that mirror, is there?” Riddle asks, skepticism coating his tone. “The puppet could have simply covered that mirror out of an odd preference.”

“Acey, didn’t you mention that Yuu always mentioned seeing things in that mirror?” Cater responds, deflecting the question upon his underclassmen. Ace straightens as he and Deuce both exchange a glance.

“Yeah…something about a mouse in their mirror,” Ace answers slowly, face scrunched in an effort to recall memories. “I always thought it was just crazy dreams but…”

“Yuu was always insisting about it,” Deuce chimes in. “Said the mouse speaks to them and everything—that there was another world it was in.”

Trey and Cater share a furtive glance together before looking at Riddle. Their housewarden seems to be taking in the new information, closing his eyes in thought. For a while, no one dares to speak. 

“What do you think, Riddle?” Trey finally breaks the heavy silence, and Deuce breathlessly releases a sigh. Leave it to Trey to speak for all of them.

“If the mirror in the bedroom is magical, then that changes things.” Riddle pronounces with conviction. “If that mirror potentially holds a dimension, then that would be the perfect place to trap someone.”

“Cater.” The orange head straightens to attention at the stern command. “Find a way to get the puppet out of the dorm for a while. We’ll need to look into this ourselves.”

Cater smirks and a chill runs down Deuce’s spine. While Cater still has an easy going look, his jade green eyes have darkened with a sadistic gleam. 

“Roger that, housewarden!” His upperclassman chirps, already taking out his phone. 

Riddle is already barking orders that each of them are to take up within this mission of theirs. But Deuce nearly misses his task, eyes stuck on Cater’s face as he scrolls his phone.

He catches a glimpse of a photo before it’s quickly clicked away. Deuce snaps back to Riddle just in time for Cater to shoot him a wary glare, checking to make sure no one else was looking. 

Deuce is very glad he is working together with Cater.

[uwuyangeppie]

love your yan!geppie posts! there needs to be more of that on this site hehe

if he and his darling were separated by the underworld lockdown, do you think he'll break the rules just to drag them back? or he'll endure those 10 years... and immediately rush in once the lockdown is lifted? thank you!

thank you! ur right btw cause when i looked for posts on here there was like next to nothing and i was so distraught lol. anyway-

i think that he’d have to endure it.

the supreme guardian that enforced that lockdown in the first place was cocolia, and in the trailblazer quest she definitely thought of those that lived underground as lesser.

gepard would dream up scenarios of him going down there and taking you back up with him. he’d brainstorm reasons as to why you should be the should be the sole exception to the lockdown.

but in reality, the landau family has served the supreme guardian for generations, without question, and he, (poor middle child that he is) could never be any different. so gepard sits and he does his duty day after day, week after week, and as months turn into years, he tries to comes with grips that he’ll never see you again.

and then the astral express arrives. cocolia dies. and bronya lifts the lockdown.

he barely has the restraint to keep himself above ground, fulfilling his role as he has all these years- but it’s all worth it to see your bright face coming up those stairs.

of course, your reaction could differ.

if gepard hasn’t acted beyond daydreams and stutters and flustered speech, you might be happy to see his face again. a little thrilled, even, feeling your cheeks heat up as your eyes meet his.

if you felt eyes on you while you were walking home at night, pre-lockdown, then perhaps you go up those stairs nervously. although you were initially swept up by the excitement, your memories start to surface when the cold breeze hits your face. you find all your questions answered, though, when you meet gepard’s gaze.

if you already know how deep gepard’s “affection” for you runs, then you would’ve run down there in a desperate attempt to escape from him. be it one of many or the first ever, the lockdown comes as a form of salvation. gepard hits rock bottom, and you are permanently on cloud nine. when the news of the lockdown ending reaches you, it comes with the heavy realisation that soon, you’ll be back in his arms.

[banj0possum]

Heyo! Hope you're doing alright! Firstly, sorry if this is too long... summary: yan oc reactions to male/gn reader with a high pain tolerance whose platonic affection language is rough housing (biting , headbutts, body slams/shoulder bumps, aggressive bear hugs, or a good grip/squeeze. All of these forms of affection are done by reader with as much force as is allowed without actual damage and which reader happily reciprocates). Bonus, what're the reactions of rough housing intolerant yans when said reader starts trying to find someone else as an outlet for this affection need. Context: I saw the mini react to the affectionate chair wielding and had a thought. I am a very energetic and affectionate individual with folks I'm close with, and often times a gentle hug or soft touch just isn't enough to get across the energy and emotion or i just NEED something more grounding/comforting cause "yes this gentle hug is comforting my stress a little but i really REALLY need you to crush my soul and being back together with this next hug. Really trash compactor my body so i can feel whole again :) 💪". It's what i grew up with and what some of my friends encouraged/reciprocated (have definitely popped backs when giving each other hugs and once i popped someone's fingers when i was allowed a good squeeze). When soft affections aren't hitting right (and i have permission from my friend) I tend to turn to play bites (at whatever maximum safe pressure is allowed by the person being bitten), headbutts, body slams/shoulder bumps (again, at a maximum safe force that is allowed), and harsh grips/hugs (again, whatever maximum safe force is allowed). It's really a grounding/comforting thing cause it allows me and my friend to destress, release energy, and also kinda reassures us that we're truly physically and emotionally there. It's definitely not something for all my friend circles and i usually turn to my high energy friend circles that have similar needs (and they come to me if they feel the urge as well). A good example is the time Friend A saw me out and about, shouted out my name and charged me full speed from 30 feet away. I tanked the brunt of their full body affectionate tackle and honestly? Was one of the happiest and closest i felt to my friend. Haven't done that in a while cause we got warned not to do that again by personnel lol. We usually try to meet up at parks (cause indoor places understandably don't like when a group of adults start rough housing) though it's hard to rn cause of the heat and stuff

OCs w/ a Rowdy Darling

My OCs x GN Reader

THIS IS LITERALLY AMAZING !! you seem like a really cool person to hang out with ! id definitely let you give me a back popping hug >w< not sure if im strong enough to give you a hug as strong as that though hehe ^^" anyways heres the fic ! (´ ∀ ` *)

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Adrian is literally the same as you. Every shove or punch or rough housing is a sign of affection.

You two probably rough house all the time ngl, and he loves it!

You're his energetic little lover and he's all for it!

You two might have gone to detention for rough housing to hard a few times hehe..

If you bear hug him, he'll try to hug you harder, it's like a competition to him!

Honestly, he sees everything as a competition. You push him playfully? He'll push you harder.. headbutts? You might get a slight headache after he's done..

He might be your boyfriend, but he's still a bit of a bully, but it's all in good fun! He stops if ever he notices you're getting uncomfy.

Not a biter though, but when you do it, he melts like putty!

He loves how strong and rowdy you are and that you're not afraid to express it, it shows how tough and confident you are!

He likes his gentle moments once in a while, but being able to love you in a love language you both share is so special to him <3

"Cmon babe! One more hug! I can take it!"

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Brandon is kind of impressed..

He's one of the best football players in his school and his little darling is biting and shoving and headbutting him, so adorable!

You remind him of a little goat, so excited and happy and lively!

Definitely makes him more protective of you because of how precious you are to him.

If you get to rowdy for his liking, he grabs you and traps you in a bear hug until you calm down or if you give him an even tighter bear hug than the one he's giving you.

Invites you to play a bit of football with him and his team.

But protection is key! He wraps you in all sorts of gear before you play, he knows how high your pain tolerance is but he still wants to keep you safe! and also he likes seeing you wear his helmet

Your body slams are praised not just by him but by his team, it's too cute!

If he catches you being your little rowdy self around anyone else, he'll get jealous fast..

He shoves you affectionately to get your attention.

"Heya baby! How's my little ram doing huh?"

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Valeth just thinks you're copying him in a way and is flattered.

Aweee, little mate is so strong and tough! He's so proud!

Encourages the behavior, as long as you don't hurt yourself!

He's much stronger than you so your affections don't do much, but you bet your ass he's putting his whole soul in pretending to get hurt.

Rough houses with you as if you were a little child play fighting, he loves playing with his little warrior!

If you do get hurt, he's putting all play fighting to a halt! He's checking up on you and making sure you're ok with the softest voice you've ever heard from an orc.

You might be fine but he's not taking no for an answer, you're getting some rest!

Love love loves your bearhugs! He tests your strength and lets you squeeze him as hard as you can!

Biting is met with kisses all over your face, it's what you get for being so cute!

Body slams are more like you latching onto him and trying not to fall off because of how large he is..

"Oh my little duckling can bite! How fierce! You're so strong haha!"

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Bo appreciates how energetic and lively you are, but please no rough housing ;-;

He doesn't want you to get hurt or hurt anyone else, even though you're perfectly capable of regulating how rough you can me, he's just a lil protective is all

He only allows bear hugs and squeezes, anything else is greeted by the time out corner (him trapping you in his arms in the bed until you give up)

"Now now hun, not so rough ok? I don't want you gettin banged up or anythin.."

Ribs is also a feral little man and absolutely loves that you're as rowdy as him!

You two love play fighting and biting affectionately!

He loves your headbutts! he returns them all the time

"Ahahaha! Again again!"

Soda tolerates it, he just appreciates that you're comfortable enough to rough house with him.

He's not the energetic type but he'll give you sleepy kisses and squeeze you back if you bear hug him

Doesn't bite but he likes nibbling on you

He's not as lively as you, but he loves reciprocating your affection!

"You're so strong hehe~"

Screw is scared

He is oddly aroused

He's also hopelessly trying to stop himself from called you sir or daddy or any dominant title because oh my god you are so awesome

He's looking at you with puppy dog eyes asking for your love and attention

PICK HIM UP TOSS HIM AROUND SHOVE HIM BITE HIM PLEASE HE LOVES IT!

Imagine him kicking his legs and rambling about you to the others

"H-hello si- dadd- (Y/N)! Hi (Y/N) heheh.."

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Wolfie loves how rowdy you are! he loves playing!

That's his way of telling you he loves you, but of course he's extra gentle when playing with you, he wouldn't wanna get his mate scratched up!

Loves rolling around and playing around with you, it makes him feel like a pup again!

Doesn't like you biting him though, you might get something icky in your mouth!

Licks you all over if you get hurt or get a little too rough to make you feel better!

Headbutts are rewarded with his big paws bopping you on the head like he's trying to pet you!

If he's tired and you're being your lively little self, he just takes you and sleeps on top of you so you can't escape.

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Dorik actually has a lot of brothers and sisters back in hell and you remind him so much of how they used to play around with him.

As much as he adores cuddling you close and doing gentle and calm things with you, he loves how tough you are!

Yes he moans when you bite him.

Everytime you're affectionate with him, he can't help but kiss you all over, you're just so cute!

Almost cries if you give him bear hugs, this man is touchstarved!!!!

He gives you his own love by wrapping his tail around you or rubbing his face into your clothes, chest, hair, anywhere! He loves how you smell so good everyday!

Shrieks if you body slam him, but somehow he's as solid as a rock, he didn't even stumble..

But he's all over you asking if you're ok.

"Master? My love? My darling are you alright?!"

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Kalva unfortunately doesn't like rough-housing, he's made it a rule that you can only mess around outside the nest!

But he adores your bearhugs and headbutts and bites, they're comforting to him in a way, it shows that you're close to him!

He headbutts you too, it's his way of asking for your love and attention.

For a while it was also how he kissed you since he didn't know how to do it properly yet.

He might indulge in your rough ways sometimes by jumping around and messing up his feathers on purpose, but you should promise to help preen them afterwards!

Nevertheless, he loves you to bits and just wants to keep you safe <3

"My mate is so excited! My mate is happy!"

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Jasper is scared for his life but in a fun way.

He never knows the next time you're gonna bite him or tackle him into a hug, it's like a game for you both.

He gets you back by surprise tickling you, it's pretty effective.

If he expects the biting, he definitely bites you too, kissing the area right after for extra measure.

Don't get me wrong he's absolutely flustered whenever you do it, but he gets used to it after a while.

But no rough-housing with him! He's fragile and might break something.

Legit asks you to crack his back if ever he's having back aches.

"Hey love, my back's a little weird again, can I get another hug~?"

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Viktor is surprised and a little intrigued.

Oh? My darling is so energetic, I love it!

If you ever try anything on him, he chuckles and 'punishes' you with kisses all over your face and cuddles you until you give up.

Your bites kind of freak him out

Like he's supposed to bite people! It's kind of weird having people bite him, it's a bit exciting..

"My my~ Is my little bat misbehaving again~?"

Garrick doesn't tolerate roughness at all.

You might get hurt! What if one of them reciprocates the affection and goes too far? He's not having it!

That is until you do it to him and he absolutely melts at your cuteness.

He goes from strict to 100% on board with your love bops

Refuses to bear hug you, he might break your spine because of how much he loves you!

"Remember to be careful my turtledove! And I love you!"

Silas is all in on your rowdiness, considering he's like that himself.

He's a mischievous little shit and loves play fighting with you.

Loves picking you up and spinning you around, making you hold onto him as you two giggle like young lovers together.

Always does this thing where he cups your face and shakes your head side to side, he says its because you're too cute and your face must be a mask because no one is that perfect!

Gives you gentle and soft kisses after your rough moments because he wants to make sure he didn't hurt you. He feels the need to remind you always how much you mean to him and how happy you make him feel.

"My little owl, so cute, so adorable~ I'll never leave you Darling~"

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Baron tries his best to keep you calm but you're just to fuckin adorable!

He's a cold hard assassin! Why is he smiling over weak little attempts to hurt him?!

Scolds you for rough housing but his heart breaks if you pout or if he hurts your feelings

Immediately says sorry and holds your hand tight to show he still loves you, he just doesn't wanna see you potentially hurt yourself.

If you're rough with anyone else, he's pulling you off and dragging you away whilst holding you in the tightest bear hug, his actions screaming out 'you're mine!'

Of course he denies it all, saying excuses like 'what if they think you wanna pick a fight?'

But you know he's just jealous that you're not giving him that attention.

Still doesn't tolerate bodyslams or bites but bear hugs, headbutts and squeezing his hand are highly appreciated. Highly

"How about we settle down now boss hm~? I'll run you a nice hot bath if you'd like~"

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Caspian is a wimpy little bitch and gets upset if you play fight with him.

He'll start whining for you to stop but like also whine if you stop giving him attention. (little shit)

Lives for your bear hugs! SQUEEZE HIM HARDER PLEASE!!!

Headbutts make him dizzy and otherwise just confused but he appreciates it and thinks you're trying to kiss him.

He'll pull you close and show you what a real kiss is like~

Bite him and he's flustered.

Like about to have a stroke and can't form a complete sentence flustered.

"Ohohoh~ Oh my~ H-how fascinating~!"

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Hallow loves playing! Wait what are you doi-

Gets the message (i think) and starts to play fight with you too, chasing you around the house and wrapping you up in his long arms to tickle you all over!

Pretends to be a scary monster and nuzzles his face into you once he catches you, imitating eating. That's what you get for trying to fight the big spooky Hallow!

Your headbutts and affections make him so happy he starts jingling from how much he's trying to hold back.

He loves roughing you up a bit too, but his little bops aren't so strong since he's made of cotton and love <3 <3 <3

If you're getting a bit too rough, he wraps you up and kisses you softly before letting you go once you calm down.

"You tired from lovin on me all day sweetie~? It's alright, I got a looooootta lovin left for you~!"

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Ashvan is terrified!

On one hand eeeeee so cute! He wants to return your affections so bad!!!

But also you might die???

He's a big guy, and he's aware of his size and strength, so he's pretty wary on how he handles you.

You're like a little porcelain doll to him! He'd be so sad if anything happened to you just because he wanted to express his love to you!

He loves your bops, but giving you a warm smile and a kiss is all he can do really.

He makes up for it in giving you gifts, helping around the infirmary, cuddling you at night, the little things.

He wished he was more gentle so he can do the things you do to him! He so wishes to hug you as hard as he can!

"S-so cute...I-I mean so uhm..strong and fierce haha! So not adorable and precious in every way possible! Yeah.."

[snail-migraine]

oh !! my !! i’m the first requester ?? that’s crazy !!

be expecting more platonic yandere asks :3

Mayhaps .. Platonic Yan ! Riddle Rosehearts & Younger brother / sibling ! MC ?

Except they are really anxious n paranoid .. about EVERYTHING !!

“Riddle, How does this school system work ?”

“Riddle, why is there furries here ? — oh they’re a beastmen?!”

“Riddle, why is everyone talking to me ?”

“Riddle, why are the teachers so scary ?!”

“Riddle, why did mother send me here ? I wanna go home ….”

and the list goes on !!

please n thank uu !

—Call Me ; Yàng Anon ! Or Anon Yàng ? Or Maybe ☀️ Anon ? whatever fits you !

Ooh, okay! Well first of all, hello Yàng-Anon. Second thank you for the asks! So long as asks are open (and you aren't spamming my inbox) you're free to send in as many asks as you like...only one at time tho. I can't do two at once lol. Anyway thanks for the love and support! <3

-

Anon-Yan 💌‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Platonic Yandere Riddle

Riddle as a sibling would be a little controlling in general.

Partly due to his own perfectionism, something he can't quite shake even after his overblot.

However as a yandere? It gets waaaay fucking worse.

He views the object of his "affections" less like a person and more like some kind of ragdoll that he pose and dress however he wants.

He thinks he's helping but in reality it actually worsens their mental state until they are exactly like the doll Riddle wants them to be.

But in the context of ask I think it play out a little differently.

Riddle would develop his yandere tendencies as a young child, given that you were the only person Riddle was allowed to even speak to (aside from his parents)

So it's no wonder why he quickly fell in love with your sweet and nice nature.

He couldn't help but want to shield you from all the hurt he experienced as a child. Given that you were probably the only good thing allowed to stay in his life.

You grew up babied by him, with him constantly holding your hand and helping carry you every step of the way.

Even if sometimes he was a little invasive about it.

"You're doing it wrong. Here give me the pencil. Let me show you how to do it. Can't have you getting a bad grade on such an easy assignment now can I?"

When it came time for his first year at NRC he was absolutely pissed that you couldn't come with him.

He knew that eventually Mother would try to tear you two apart, but it doesn't make him happy either way.

God bless everyone in Heartslabyul during his first year because without you around he's fucking merciless.

When he comes back home for the breaks he spends as much time as possible with you, from teaching you different spells and potions as well as all the history he was taught at NRC.

When it comes time for his second year, you finally get a visit from the Ebony Carriage. And he's absolutely overjoyed.

He doesn't have to spend most of the year alone again.

He finds a joy in your innocence and naivety.

Like when you cling to his robe at the ceremony, scared and afraid of the things happening around you or during the first unbirthday party when you tug at his sleeves and beg him to take it easy on those poor freshman.

Oh how cute his little sibling is. His cute, naive, and utterly helpless little sibling.

Don't worry, so long as you stay in line and keep being your adorable-self your head will stay attached.

The same can't be said for those troublemakers that tried to concert you into one of their own...

"Those unabashed fools! Trying to make you into one of their own..Idiots the lot of them! Oh, I'm sorry for scaring you dear. Don't worry about me, so long as you're with me everything will be alright. Just smile and nod, alright dear?"

[worukin]

Hello,I hope you're doing great!

Can i request for a oneshot of how would yan!prince react to crownprince!reader being forced to marry a princess in order for him to become king even tho they are in a public relationship?Would he try to show readers parents that he is a better option?

-⚘️anon

╭୨୧︰ prince yandere x crown prince reader

・✦⇢ oooh boy. i might do more info about my oc's soon that'll help differentiate their behaviour lol. this was very fun!

︰꒰1・ ( warnings ) — slight possessive behaviour, yandere themes, clinginess, pet names, jealousy, attempted arranged marriage and past mentions of it, homophobia from parents, mentions of use of dark magic, yan prince using unique methods to convince your parents (though specifics are left unsaid).

︰꒰2・ ( notes ) — AA MY FIRST REQUEST AND ANON!! giggling n kicking my feet <3 ( word count: 1k )

( if you are uncomfy with this type of content, kindly block me instead. have fun reading and enjoy <3 )

You've been sitting in the throne room for quite awhile now, growing used to your parents attitude. It wasn't the first time they tried to introduce you to another girl.

The first time they did this made you realize they didn't really support your current relationship. It's not that they hated your lover, it's just they never really thought you two were in a 'serious' relationship.

"Oh Y/n! You must be kidding, you cannot become King with no lover!" Cried your mother. Holding back a scoff as you sat still— wishing to get out of here. "I told you she's not fit for him, I knew the girl from the North was better!" Your father yelled out in response.

A sigh escaped your lips. "Mother, Father please. It's no use arguing about such a matter for hours." You tried to be polite about it, so they could let you off.

They frowned in return, tense shoulders lowering. "You're right son, why don't you try and find Princess Amelia? She's somewhere around the East wing. Perhaps you'll converse more maturely than us!" Said your mother, who hurriedly pushed you out of the room.

Your fists clenched as you heard them whisper behind the door. Not considering if you were still there or not.

"Dear, you know we can't have a king with... you know! It's just not right."

"I'm not saying anything, I'm just worried how the advisors will react."

"How will our bloodline continue if our son is in a... relationship with a boy?"

"Even if they are open to the public, there are those against this and it could sully our name! The royal family would be no more."

"You know how much the royal advisors are against them. But you let them run off and do what boys shouldn't be doing anyway!"

"What if he taints us with the sin he's commiting? Dear please think rationally! This could be the end of our image!"

That... was certainly not what you intended to do. You knew your parents had their opinions but you wished they'd at least try to be more discreet about it.

You tried to stop thinking about it, and you're sure you'll find a way to fix this. What you just wanted to do now was look for— "Yoohoo! Y/n!" Your eyes found the voice, your lover standing at the end of the hallway.

A soft smile formed as you raised your arms, wanting an embrace from your beloved. "Hello my darling, how are you this afternoon?" He asked, nuzzling into your neck.

"Good, I hope~" a soft chuckle followed right after he left a peck on your lips. "Why don't we go to the garden, my dear?" You said trying to get away from the Throne room as much as possible.

Heart swelling at the way your lover lit up, grabbing your hand and leading you down the familiar halls. "Oh yes! You know exactly what to do, don't you?" He giggled when you interlaced your fingers.

As you made it to the garden, both of you quickly sat in your special place. He wasted no time to wrap his arms around you again, puckering his lips for a kiss.

You leaned in and your nose's brushed together, before giving him a delicate kiss. He was so warm— you wished to become king with him as your lover. Not Amelia.

"Oh my love, do you have something to say?" He chuckled when you're face changed to one of a person being caught red handed. "Don't act surprised, you looked so sad when you left the Throne room."

Your eyes looked away as he leaned into you. Twirling a loose strand of your hair from his finger. "Won't you tell me?"

Frowning once he saw your eyes dim even more, and when you went rigid in his touch— oh how it sent such a sorrowful ache in his chest. To see his darling so hurt made him hurt.

Eyes widening once he held your hand, and once you saw such a passionate fire in his eyes it reminded you how much he did love you. But it did nothing but bring you more shame. You felt dishonest with him— despite this whole ordeal not being favourable to you.

"They're getting impatient, my parents. This is the fourth time I've had a meeting arranged with another princess." You winced once his grip tightened, and you couldn't dare look him in the eyes.

"What..? The fourth? This isn't the first time?" His voice was so small it made you hurt. It was as if you were actually cheating on him and throwing away your relationship.

"I'm sorry dear... I have no control over it. I just can't stand up to them no matter how hard I try and—" he placed a finger on your lips. A shadow cast over his eyes.

Heavy breathes left him, making you worried. "Dear? Are you alright?" Holding him in your arms did help ease the painful squeeze on his chest, but just a tiny little bit.

He let out a shaky sigh, forcing a weary smile. You swear you could see tears from the corners of his eyes. "Yes love, why don't we head to bed? The sky's gotten dark already hasn't it?"

Quickly standing up and leaving no disagreement— he lead you to your quarters and practically forced you to sleep then and there.

"Oh my dear... I see how hard this is for you. Don't worry, your beloved will deal with this~" he whispered, arms shaking as he wrapped you in a firm hug. His poor darling didn't deserve to suffer such pain having to talk from one piece of trash to another.

But don't worry. He'll make it all better. And you'll be happier sooner than ever. Your beloved will make sure nothing will harm you anymore, and he'll do anything to keep it that way.

He might... call upon some dark forces he's been working with. But not to worry! He knows the do's and don'ts after making a few deals with them for years now. They're mostly harmless— when playing the right cards.

When you wake up the next day there's no need for you to worry about another princess anymore. He's already settled it with your parents. Now you can live happily without thinking about some girl from the north~

He'll do anything to keep you within his arms and not in anothers. And that means taking bold measures that could risk his title. It's a good thing your parents are very compliant with his unique methods.

ʚ ﹒ ﹕ ̟乀 all works belong to @worukin, do not repost on anywhere else with or without credit, do not plagiarise. ty!

[on-leatheredwings]

i've found your account only a few days ago but ever since then I've been STUCK here rereading your fanfics, especially ones with damian. i wasn't even a dc fan (heard about some stuf, watched some films and cartoons, but that's it) but now im reading comics since im Obsessed and need more batboys in my life (rip my productivity😔)

Anyway, after Sleepover i'm curious what will Bruce (and maybe even Thalia) think of batboys strange behaviour towards reader. He's smart, so he definitely notices it early on, but how he'll react....

I can see him being weirded out (like he was by Jason's anger issues, before his death), but he also can be an enabler, since Robin (literaly any of them) had a hard life, so if those relationships can help him why not pretend that everything is normal? you'll be safer in a Wayne's Manor anyway

All in all, thanks for a new hyperfixation 💞💞

P.s. About games:

1. Boyfriend to death 1&2 - since you're into yanderes you might want to check this game out. I prefer the second game, but the first is also fun. But beware the trigger warnings!!

2. Long live the Queen - more of a raising sim than dating sim but you still can romance some guys and girls.

,3. Hatoful Boyfriend - mostly a comedy, but there is a yandere.

4. The Royal Trap - it's been a long time since i played it, but it used to be one of my favorites so i'll just mention it.

5. Higurashi - once again not really a romance sim, but its an interesting horror mixed with a slice of life

;A; AWWWW THANK YOU IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKE MY STUFF.... THAT MAKES ONE OF US GIJSDOFAFGHFOJDSD

and yes yes get into DC!!! (girl who hasnt even read a full run since like. injustice)

damn now you got me thinking and excited. incoming spiel

i agree entirely about bruce just knowing how Bad things can get, so to make things simpler, he's like "yes, your darling(s) can stay in the manor, boys. 🙄"

mmm yes..... when it comes to bruce noticing the batboys are yandere, i think it's always sinfully delightful to just have him be reluctantly okay with it. 😈 it's also easier narratively ngl but i also like the idea that the batfam is all just corrupted.

bruce's thoughts are that they (his sons) fight for vengeance and justice but this is where they could use some leeway.... we all need our vice... they fight so hard for gotham, they deserve a little treat (getting rid of your human rights)... it's very "Dad who wants his sons to have happiness even if its not healthy" of him. in fics where bruce is a yandere, well, he's the exact same way so he can't judge. although if that's the case, i like the idea of bruce just being like "yes what we do isn't right. let's not talk about it. just don't kill <3"

still wondering what i like more. a yan!bruce who's self aware what he's doing is wrong but he just refuses to think about it. or a yan!bruce that justifies it all because of his paranoia, Tower of Babel style (if you don't know, that's when it's revealed batman has plans to subdue/kill the justice league just in case they go rogue.)

for the batboys depends on their personality... for damian, he's so resolute in things that i prefer when he just believes 100% what he's doing is okay, if not actually righteous. ^_^

hmmm talia.... I'M STILL UNSURE HOW I PREFER THAT AS WELL... i think talia being a you-arent-good-enough-for-my-son mom is a little cliche but also. she kinda would say that. you'd have to prove your worth somehow but idk how tf darling would do that LOL. in the end, i think talia is just relieved/comforted that her son indeed feels desire and wants love and will continue the family legacy (regardless if youre afab/can biologically have children.)

no THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!!! AND THANKS FOR RECS!!!! heheh yeah ive checked out btd and im not averse to the warnings its more like im not that most of into the designs ngl. fox guy seems cute? AND LMAO FUNNY BC IM ON A HIGURASHI REWATCH (never played it tho)

[11queensupreme11]

Don't know if tumbler ate this or not. If it didn't im sorry for bugging!

How would the yans react to Chase actually raising their kids and raising them well? Like percy gave birth there, and Athonius ended up raising the babies well. Like the kids consider him, their father and the babies act like humans? They know he's not their actual dad but they don't care lol.

it didn't, i just have a lot of asks dw 💀

i love how you guys want anthonius dead SO BAD omfg 😭 this poor boy

(first off, let's pretend that zeus wouldn't try to kill the kids for being 75% god and being... well, percy's)

anyway, anthonius would be SUCH A GOOD DAD. i bet you he would study the myths centered around the kids' father so he would be prepared for anything, like what powers to expect, etc

the kid would grow up to love his parents and they would have a normal life in the human world. they'd go to school, make friends, go to camp, etc. they would also be a good person due to who their parents are; anthonius and percy would definitely tell them to kind to others, never to hurt mortals, always stand up for themselves and others, it's no surprise this kid turns out to be so good and so unlike their actual father 🥹🥹

but then shit hits the fan when the yanderes finally manage to get into her universe 💀

poseidon would absolutely be furious at the thought of being replaced by a mortal son of athena. he wouldn't see anthonius as a good father, he'd only focus on the flaws (and he sees a lot). percy and his kid might as well be living in poverty (they're not), how dare anthonius have them live in some crummy house amongst humans? his kid is attending school with inferior beings??? he sees those inferior beings as EQUAL??? anthonius is a dead man

hades would straight up ignore anthonius. it's like the dude's not even there. he'd be so proud of how good his kid is, he'd tell percy "you did such a great job at raising our child" as if anthonius didn't also help out. "but it's okay, i'm here now. you must've been so lonely hmm? 😊". he'll spare anthonius unless the blonde tries to fight, but he'd at least kill him quickly as a thanks for keeping percy and his kid safe

apollo would just straight up kidnap them both, doesn't even bother to kill anthonius, he's just snatching his loved ones up and bringing them back to their REAL home 💀💀 if anthonius is around and tries to stop him, apollo's gonna kill him, but if he's not around, anthonius gets to live but apollo would DEFINITELY curse him with some incurable painful disease

loki's going to be sooo pissed, but he'll play the long game. he'll change his appearance and actually pretend to be their neighbor and his kid's new school teacher,, etc. he is gonna plant himself into their lives and seduce percy and try to gain his kid's favor. afterwards, he'll purposely leave anonymous gifts to percy that rattles her because she would KNOW who they come from, but it can't be, right??? loki can't be here!!! when all's said and done, after he manages to seduce her from her husband, he'll reveal himself, kill anthonius, and take her and the kid back home

beelzebub would be like loki but less up-front. rather than disguising himself he would hide from her but find ways to ruin their peaceful life as a form of punishing her. anthonius will suddenly find himself out of a job and practically blacklisted from ever working again. lots of men are suddenly attacking percy in the streets, beel's way of showing her how much she needs him and how useless anthonius is because where is he? why isn't he protecting her? their kid is being kicked out of schools and blamed for stuff he didn't do. when she's finally at her lowest, he'll reveal himself to her, kill anthonius, and take her and their kid back. might wipe their memory too.

[mysticmellowlove]

Can we have general sub yan hcs? Maybe him before we got together? Like we moved to the town he lives in and he saw us one day and bam

It's been a hot second since I wrote hc's so please excuse me while I find my footing again lol. Also sorry about the formatting, me and my editing app are fighting

Lil bit of Intro

He's at the window the second the van pulls into the driveway across the street

Not many new people come to a small town like this one

A town where everyone knows everyone

There's no doubt in his mind that the newcomer will be swarmed with warm and welcoming neighbours the second their own car arrives

Until then he'll just watch and try and deduce what they'll be like from their furniture

Luckily he didn't have to wait too long, you pulled up a few minutes later

He wasn't a fan of movies but he felt as if the second you stepped out of the car the world around him slowed down

Here he goes again...

It took him a little to get his confidence up

Not to mention he spent a considerable time in front of the mirror making sure he looked good

He did end up knocking on your door a few hours after the van had left

When you answered he could feel the sweat gathering on the back of his neck

You weren't smiling, you weren't quite frowning... you were just so chill

The first meeting went well

He barely stuttered, he didn't drop his classic (cliche) welcome cookies and he even managed to get your name

Upon you shutting your door he waited a moment to see if he'd be able to hear anything else before he went back to his own home

He usually didn't get so feverish but there was something about you that made him feel a little too hot under the collar

He knew your name as well

That night was spent with his hand fisted around his cock as he cried out your name, hoping by some miracle that you'd be able to hear him

General HC's

Yan is a busybody despite his awkwardness around you

He spends most of his day at his retail job watching what people buy

Yan wonders if you'd like the clothes the customers pick out

He picked some stuff out anyway, for the future

It's mostly crop tops and short shorts

And a couple of nice underwear

He's pretty pleased with himself

He can't be watching you at all hours of the day though

So he spends most of his time thinking about you

His dreams are about you as well

Domestic life, raising a family of a couple of cats and a dog

Wet dreams

Once he has a spare moment he'll go over and try and talk to you

If he manages to shove his anxiety down you two will have a good chat

You even invited him over for dinner!

It wasn't just for him though, it was more of a neighbourhood welcoming party

He spends the party in the corner of your living room glaring down anyone and everyone

Especially the people that talk to you

At least good came from the event

Now he knows who to watch out for

And he knows what your house looks like

He'll use this information to break in when you're away

You start seeing him more often around town

Always with a smile on his face

You two get along quite nicely now

If you start hanging around him more he'll get bold

Touching you is a must, small hand touches and maybe even a quick hug as you two go your separate ways

His whole body shakes after he touches you, especially as you two say goodbye

You actually let him touch you!

He watches over you when you sleep sometimes

A dopey grin is on his face as he looks at the rise and fall of your chest

If you make any sound in your sleep his mind will go wild

Sore back and you groan? He imagines you fucking into him

Breathy sigh? Obviously, you like him kissing your neck!

Little mumbles? He'll do anything you want so just speak a little louder

It seems to him that you're ready for the next step

He can't wait to call you his partner!

[zhouxiangs]

i saw that you're currently reading my stand-in novel but you're not really spoiling anything. how are you finding it so far if i may ask? is it as angsty as people say it is?

(i waited until the end of the day to answer this because as i thought i've already finished the novel, so much for self-restraint lol also sorry this got a bit long... oops?)

i enjoyed it a lot! and it made me get over my reading slump, so i will even excuse it getting into some tropes i'm not particularly fond of at the end. it got cheesy…er, and not even in a way i like. amazingly, that didn't make me like it any less.

from the synopsis of the series and the tags in novel updates (and i only skimmed those because i didn't want to get spoiled) i had a pretty good idea of what the novel was going to be like, which is why i decided not to really liveblog since, transmigration aside, i'd say it's a pretty straightforward story. i could be persuaded to make a recap if there's interest though, since there's still over three weeks left until the series starts airing and i'm probably going to go over everything again and take notes anyway...

and oh, is it angsty! the whole thing hinges on zhou xiang (joe) being a sweet angel baby and yan mingxiu (ming) being a fucking idiot, and it's pretty much what you can expect from any dogblood/makjang with the scum ml, misunderstandings, heartbreak, regrets, etc. i have to say i'm not usually a fan of the misunderstanding trope bc i tend to find it annoying, but as with most tropes i don't particularly enjoy it's because of the way i often see it done. here it was painful for everyone involved, so i really liked it. also, please keep in mind that i'm a huge fan of big character development and characters redeeming themselves, so. there's that. wink wonk. (i've been reading some reviews and think for some people it may be best to know what kind of story this is before going in, other than because of triggers–which, very important if you need them, at least in the novel–because of the whole. scum ml more than anything lol even though yan mingxiu is not that scummy really!)

i love my stories character-driven, so having them being this well fleshed out and compelling was a joy, and being able to see so clearly what both zhou xiang and yan mingxiu were thinking and feeling, sometimes a lot earlier than they themselves could (please bl gods keep at least some of the internal monologue in the series, i am begging), was soooooo ugh. you're supposed to hate yan mingxiu allegedly but i just couldn't, not even in his scum era, because he was so obvious and so oblivious and so set in his own ideas he kept gaslighting himself into not noticing things. this could have gotten frustrating pretty easily, but again, everything feed into the delicious, delicious suffering. that being said, and because it doesn't seem to be a popular opinion... i think it's important to empathise with both of them, or at least sympathise, for maximum enjoyment of all that angst. you cannot cry over yan mingxiu's pain if you want him to get hit by a bus.

oh and the relationships (not only the cp's, though their progression is really good) are very important in this story, which is something i hope we get to see more of in the series because i ended up missing certain side characters in the later chapters. not tan yin though, i hope that fuck ass didn't make it into the series. how is a character so annoying while being in maybe six scenes total.

i can't say if it's good or not but it was extremely enjoyable, zhou xiang is my sweet darling angel baby, yan mingxiu is okay too (if you see me in the trenches defending him in about a month…), and i can't believe i am now, somehow, even more excited for my stand-in.

[coleszzzworld]

Yandere College jock! x reader (she/her pronouns)

Authors note-(hey besties 🫶🏼tbh i don’t know if this will post but I was reading yan jock stories and I wanted too make one lol🧍🏽‍♀️anyways lmk if y’all like this I’ll definitely make a part 2 if y’all do!)

Y/n (your name )

Kai Martinez -(jock)

Football games are supposed too be fun.

That’s what everyone says . But here I am sitting in the front row outside watching our school team lose. I was dragged here by my friends with promises of a good time . Instead our school team is losing by a few points. “Yeah we’re gonna lose “ I say sitting down on the cold metal seats , as my friends cheer our team on , “cmon y/nnn at least show a little school pride ! “ my friend says as she chirps with joy , “nah I’m good .” I say responding nonchalantly, “cmonnn you don’t even have too scream or anything ,at least stand cause nobody else is sitting! “ she says still clapping for our team, I agree and stand up . The golden boy , the superstar of the team … Kai martinez he makes eye contact with me for a good 4 seconds , I stare at him with a confused look on my face , that look when someone’s staring at you and you don’t know why .

We are still down on our luck. We are 3 points away from winning. Eventually both sides take a break . And my friends ask that I get snacks for the final game I agree . I walk down from the stand, making my way too the concession not paying attention too where I was going. I eventually make contact with a hard chest , eventually knocking me on my butt . “I’m sorry I wasn’t looking!!” I said looking at the floor then up . My eyes meets beautiful gray eyes . “Oh! I- I apologize I wasn’t looking where I was going either!” Wait a minute I know that voice anywhere , i break eye contact. Kai Martinez. Like I said the superstar. Everyone knows him .we have chemistry together but I don’t really talk to him and when I did it was only questions about whatever thing we were doing in class. He holds out his hand I eventually take it getting up , “oh! Y/n I apologize! “ , “it’s fine don’t worry about it Kai “ I say as I wipe my hands on my pants cause their was a little dirt on them , “well I never expected you too be here y/n , I’m surprised you came ! “ he says with a slight smile . If he was a dog he would be a golden retriever for real. “Your saying that like I came here for you .” I say looking at him . “I- I didn’t mean it like that ! I apologize!” He says his cheeks getting red a little, “I’m just fucking with you Martinez! “ I say joking with him ,”well I gotta go Martinez , you better win! Do it for the school, or do it for me what ever you like !” I say still joking with him , I walk away not even thinking about what I started.

Eventually the game starts back up , and Martinez starts too body the other team which inspire the rest of the team. Eventually we win . Everyone starts too scream and celebrate the game . that victory was sweet . Maybe football games were fun .

After all the celebrating, me and my friends start too leave . Them already walking in front of me then stopping to chat too other people and amongst themselves . And once again I bump into Kai “y/n! Did you see me win? Did ya!?” He says getting all excited, “I did Martinez! , congratulations! Im guessing my little motivation helped?” I say looking up at him smiling, “it did ! Thank you y/n I really appreciate it ! “ he says picking me into a hug , very werid but he’s happy so I’ll let it slide , eventually he puts me down waiting for me too respond “well you are very happy” I say chuckling a little bit “we’ll see ya later Martinez ,and once again congratulations!“ I say as I walk away catching up with my friends. I didn’t even realize the sad look on his face .

“I wish you didn’t have too leave y/n your the reason I won . I did it for you “ he whispers .

[cookie-crumblr]

just saw that u started an anon list, id love to be 💋anon if possible ofc.. <3

anyways, how would jasper feel about a partner thats like rlly obsessive over him as well?? (cus i feel like that'd be me lol i love him sm)

love uu as always and keep up the good workkk!!! 💗

OFCOURSE!!!! luv u 💋✨

and i totally love this idea… and as someone with an obsessive personality and bpd it’s perfect, really

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: NSFW IN MIDDLE, G/N READER, YAN READER, YANDERE themes, oral on reader(no genitals mentioned, fingering(no specific holes mentioned), pet names (pretty, ), sex(no genitals specified), creampie, blood(it’s contained tho)

“I love it.” He takes the present from your hands.

“Really!?”

“I am never takin’ this off, pretty~” He puts the crystal vial of your blood around his neck immediately, and kisses it. “Now I have to get you one,” he leans into your lips.

“I would like that very much,” you smile to yourself, a serene warmth spreads from your heart down to your fingertips, as you gaze at it laying against his chest.

He flips his hair to get your attention, “Y’like me wearing ya that much? How ‘bought I wear even more of ya pretty~”

“Yes! please!!”

“OH! Ah!! Jasper!!” You scream while you cum and brace yourself against the headboard. His mouth works you through your orgasm, while his hands work you and your hole.

You wine and shake coming down, he teases you, deliberately tweaking all of your spots.

“Good job, pretty~ now c’mere” He lays back and pats his lap, while holding up his erect shaft. His piercing glistens with pre.

You straddle him as he lines up with you. You’re still shaking by the time he puts it in. “MMmmmmf!” He stuffs you so good!

“You take me so well, pretty!” He starts his thrusts slow and hard making sure you feel every little bump from his veins. They drive your over sensitive mind and body mad.

You babble “I love you”’s and “I need you”’s almost incoherently as you bounce on top of him.

“I love you, Y/N,” He finishes inside you, and you wail your love for him over and over again as the universe opens above you.

Your limbs tingle as he lays you down to cuddle, and pet you. He tells you over and over again how “You’re so good f’me,” and “You did amazing, my pretty love~”

You feels so warm and content, as if you’re under the sun in a hammock and all is right in the world.

You sit at your desk, nibbling away at your favorite chips, while watching him on the monitor.

You feel like you just can’t let him out of your sight… You bite your nail as you stare. “I’m going!” You feel determined after a long second of wallowing in fears that have infected your mind.

“J-Jasper…?” You walk in nervously…

“We’re you spying on me again~” He makes one video on one of his side monitors full screen.

It’s playing footage of you watching him from your computer.

“Yes, and i’m not sorry!” you huff.

“Good. I like it~” He idly plays with the vial of your blood that is still around his neck, just like he said. “Here, i have somethin’ for ya” he hands you a cute little box.

When you open it, you find a little vial just like yours but in a heart shape. Your heart beats just a little faster. “Thank you s’much!! It… means the world t’me.” You confess, chest in a flutter.

[itsmarsss]

*descends from the heavens*

tis' i...fnaf anon... hi lol

anyways, if we assign different weird kid media to each helluva boss character, yk fnaf to loona, creepypasta's to Octavia. what about the others? moxxie's is already figured out, he is the musical animatic side of weird kids lmfao

would Stolas be the weird y/n fanfics? or the gacha stories? ABO verse?? what about blitz and millie?? millie could be yan sim but idk lol

fnaf anon my beloved you’ve returned from the war!!! how i have missed u and the unhinged thoughts that follow!!

ya know stolas is already halfway there in canon really he’s reading spicy novels left and right like on the dinner table like a crazy shameless man and also he likes telenovelas so he loves the drama…. if he ever got introduced to world of fanfiction it would be Over no one would see him for days on end he’s camping under his sheets and reading every single smut fic he can find. he’ll read them about his favorite characters from stuff he watches or reads about and couples he wishes were together but he does not tolerate what he thinks is badly written stuff like. that man’s special interest is ‘words’ he ain’t letting bad writing slide. that being said he’s reading some freaky smut like. look who we’re talking abt here. if he’s feeling silly he’ll even try to use something he saw on those irl to flirt or get ideas for things he hadn’t thought to try before in bed he’s a silly lil’ guy

as in for Blitzø… bestie im afraid to tell you this…. LMAO this man is also into freaky fanfiction but it’s freaky as in like if you saw the shit he reads you’d wanna wipe HIS browser history clean. it’s the terribly spelled terribly written deeply hidden written by probably either like a 12-year-old or like a real creepy middle aged person. he’s not caring about the writing he cares about the plot and the plot is bad too but so fucking what if it works it works. comments inappropriate shit like I JRKED OFF 2 DIS on them. unfortunate but true he does not care 😭😭😭😭 also my little pony fanfiction but funnily enough not the weird freaky ones, actual cute like found family, friendship, sweet stuff. also written by twelve year olds probably.

i think for millie like. ya know. gore would be pretty standard. like obsessively searching up video after video of weird gory shit and it’s not that she likes it necessarily lol but just morbid curiosity and kind getting into that rabbit hole and not getting herself to stop. she’s obviously like. desensitized to many forms of violence like from her childhood to what hell is generally is like and also obviously what she does for a living but there’s been shit that’s rocked her a little before lol but give a a random violent video appearing for her on social media for her to fall into the circle of watching them again. moxxie hates hates hates them. also she’s obsessed with fridge organizing videos. like obsessed obsessed.

[thescribeoflostmemories]

Yan!Pantalone with fem childhood friend reader-

Sooooo this is actually my fave for me to write ( except that I write a lot of possibilities in the future with this but here goes one of my many thoughts)

What if, reader was there with Pantalone during their hard time as the 'mature figure' aka sister despite yourself in need of mature figure too. Taking care of him, always giving him the better options in food or clothes. Pantalone would remember how you'd always wrapped him with the blankets despite how you trembled from the weather (aight lets see what you got for us in the future after all the bs we've done for you snitch) But good times (not so good but) don't last long right? Especially with reader being famous for her bad lucks and stuffs. Basically, reader was trafficked, leaving Pantalone all alone. Reader knew they were in danger and just a day before this happened, reader shoo Pantalone away, asking him to look for a flower for her (which is super random, idk if he's willing or not, honestly up to you but he still did it anyway). Imagine the horror returning to his 'home' only find a blood trails that ended in the middle of the road. You were nowhere to be seen at all.

Time skip and here's one of the possibilities i really want to see you write it out QwQ

So what if Pantalone was striking a deal with a dude at a beauty house, one that could only be entered by the upper class people. Pantalone hated being there, he just hated how it made him look 'nasty' and he for sure didn't want you to see him like this (lol sike) Just when they were conversing with each other, you came to them, offering them drinks. Pantalone was about to shoo you away again like how he did to others but hell he didn't know how to feel about meeting you in a beauty house.

Obviously he's all sparked in joy to be able to see you again after years of searching for you but he's also internally panicking about his image now. Would you still acknowledge him after this? (Yup, overthinking at its finest but i'd like to pinpoint this as the main problem in his head)

So yada yada yada (up to you) at first reader had a hard time remembering him but after lots of thing and the mention of flower, reader remembered about him.

Soooo,it's a happy ending now right? *yeets* nope we wrote the yan tag for reasons

What happened to you? Oh he's punished people he suspected to be your captors, even the innocents are not safe from his overthinking (idk wht but u get it).

What about the people in the beauty house? Who touched you intimately? Oh how there'd be lots of people missing and dying in a short period of time after all of this.

Not even the people who watched you dance are free from his 'punishments'. Not dead but still, 'punished'.

Oh? The beauty house owner didn't want to 'sell' you to him? Fine he could do it the hard way. What happened to the beauty house? Its business slowly dropped down. Still holding tightly to you? Fine have this blow, a fire burnt down half of the beauty house. He was careful not to burn the area around your room, making sure you'd be able to run away just in time from the fire.

Right, what? The owner still held you tightly as one of his source of income? Fine, bye bye then. Tbh he had a love and hate relationship to its owner, on one hand he knew the owner took good care of everyone, protecting them from all those shady men and ensuring you're still alive up until for him to meet you. But why would he let you work not only as a dancer but also a 'bed warmer'? He didn't care the fact that it's your own willingness.

Either way, he didn't feel any guilt at all. He tried to end things peacefully but it just so happened that the man thought of him as a shady man. What a shame.

Welp, what matter now is that you're here with him now! Althoughhh that didn't mean his overthinking traits ended already. Welp, idk what happened next

Thank you for listening to my long ass ramblings too

*peaces out*

yandere! Pantalone x Childhood friend! AE! Reader

Usual tags, except this one has uh potential gore(?), sexual themes(ain't a yandere without a bit of it), power harassment, drug use, Minors do NOT interact. (Ps, tell me what tags I'm missing) yo this is 3.3 k worth of words.

@youyue

A Durak's little miss fortune

"Oh bubbles, what have you done? Opening a very interesting plot like that and almost little to no restrictions? I live for it. I hope you aren't too concerned about what fate has for this little flower. " - Scribe

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Shadows lengthen, dim streets darken. To most people crept back under their sheets, yet here he is. The man with the very definition of wealth weighed in his name. Sat on a chair of their booked room in the 'beauty house', honestly speaking; he could care less about the establishment that fattens decadence at the lap of luxury. But with his imperial image on the line, or someone's head will roll.

Avoiding eye contact with the wretched woman on stage of the velvet room, body bending and twirling in odd angles, giving an eyeful of imagination to her viewers. As if it is no big deal for her being gawked at.

"Yes, that is our proposition for you, Lord Harbinger Pantalone." Said the rotundan before looking over to the service lady dressed in rather obscene clothing.

"Thirsty, my good sirs?" The 9th Harbinger huffed, waving his hand at the girl attending them.

"How many times do we have to tell you, we don't need-...any… thing…" With an irked voice slightly raised. Stopped midway once he saw the placid woman before him, offering beverages on a stainless steel tray.

"Understood, good sirs. I shall notify my other sisters at once." The once gentle and loving look he misses so much now turned stone cold, bowing before being dismissed. So many questions raced in his mind, why are you here? How? For how long? Wait you're here, you must be disgusted at why he's here instead of finding you.

Pantalone was about to call out to apologise but he's in a meeting and you already disappeared in the sea of people. Sadness stung in his iced heart, yet he dared not show it. Especially when this fatso is in front of him.

"Fancy her, Lord Harbinger?" The well off man asked, curiously. "Can't blame you, Lord Harbinger. Everyone calls her Fortune, she usually sings and dances on stage around the weekends." Oh, he knows what this gross pig wants. Getting on his good side to make the deal a lot easier, unfortunately for him. It merely soured his mood, no one should talk like that to an angel like you. And he means NO ONE.

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Next thing he knew, he's at home. Thrashing some of the documents all the clues about his missing half, you. His seething rage would not go unnoticed as he thought of all the sickening situations that they have done to you to make you so submissive bending to the whims of those lowly men. Of how many times you've cried to have someone save you in your predicament, scared and alone.

That last memory he has of that consequential moment into his mind. The pile of rubble that is their home, made from bits and bobs that they happen to come across. Makeshift door broken, an undeniable red stain leading nowhere, followed by claw marks against the dirt and snow. It still haunts him, the day his only warmth in this cruel world is taken away so easily. If he hadn't gone to take that flower instead you would have been at his side… Then again, because of that flower he was able to be acquainted with people, make connections. Almost like you gave him your remaining luck.

"My lord, we have a copy of Orlestine's account book!" An agent reported to him from the door. Orlestine, a wealthy name that holds the yoke of servitude.

" Enter, and leave it on the table" the employee did as they were told. "And one more thing… make sure to keep tabs on her." Added the bifocal man.

"Understood, Lord Harbinger." Leaving the pride of the northland bank alone. Just like the others in his life, but not this time. Not when he has found his other half.

"Soon… I'll make those dastards pay a hundred- no, over millions of times with what they've done with you." His rage knew no bounds as he recalled all the terrible things he told you before you were whisked away from that dumpster fire of a shelter.

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"You're a terrible cuddler… " normally you would laugh at his cold affection. He notices your arms wrapping around him, pulling him closer to you.

"Maybe I am, but that doesn't stop me." Your voice trembled as you put your chin on top of his head.

"Always helping that girl at the church… She doesn't even help you." The pretty-eyed boy mumbled, noticing your body has a hint of perfume. He wasn't a fool, he knew that the church girl was taking advantage of your kindness.

" It's not always about getting help." Only you would smile, he hates it. How his chest ached and yearned to be with you, the only gold hearted person he knew.

" You're just going to get hurt." Not knowing of the danger that had instored for the next day, shivered slightly when he felt the draft from one corner.

" Even so, I just wanted to help. " You hugged him more, he could see the warm breath against the chilly wind." Do you want me to sing? " Noticing it's growing late, and knowing his fondness of your melody.

" No way, you sound so terrible." He wanted to bite his tongue at the moment, but he didn't want to sleep. He's scared, and doesn't know what the reason was.

" Alright, alright, I hear you. Rest up, I need you to go get something for me tomorrow morning. It's really important." Soot stained face pouted, looking up at you when he heard that.

" Ha? Didn't you hear what that guy said about a snowstorm tomorrow?" You laughed a bit before rubbing your cold fingers on his cheek trying to get the ash off.

"Please, it's important. " With how soft your voice was, he knew you really needed it. But for what?

" Pah, go find someone else to do that. " Again, he wants to beat himself up for being such an asshole.

" Oh, alright." You merely sighed and kissed his head. For being an understanding person just doesn't sit right with him.

" You're really annoying, you know?" Murmured, leaning his head on your chest. He truly despised the situation they're in.

" Yeah, yeah, just sleep you little munchkin." Pinching his cheek to get a reaction out of him and laugh.

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And that was the last conversation he had with you, he wanted to say something different at the time. Still his own mouth betrayed him, barred from showing his own feelings to her. Compared to you, always wearing your heart on your sleeve, a faint light that shines even the darkest and coldest of places.

"Count Kintis." Pantalone threw a knife at a picture on the wall, riddled with red strings. He needed to act fast before his beloved had gone too deep in this little hell of milk and honey.

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He wanted to confront you about it first. Going back would be a good start, he had booked a private room and requested you specifically. But got denied at a certain time since she's taken at that hour, he had no choice but to change the meeting a bit before seeing you.

Once Pantalone sat back down in the sinful establishment. He could only imagine what other torturous things they'll do to you. Snapping out of his thoughts when he heard a strikingly familiar voice

" If you had prepared twenty years ago// You wouldn't be a-wanderin' now from door to door//"

Honeyed voice rang in the faintly lit room, looking up to the stage where you stood. Dressed in a shimmery red tight fitting apparel accompanying a person with a piano. Men started to stare, undressing you with their gaze. It's sickening, all he could think of is; how DARE they dirtied your image. The sweetest and pure girl he used to know, reduced to such depravity all because of his mistake all those years ago..

He adores your soft voice that sings to him at night easing his worries. Bringing warmth despite the howling winds. Is the song dedicated to him abandoning you? Is this how you've felt when you wait daily to see if anyone would miss or even save you? He's certain of it… no doubt you have to be rescued.

After the stage, a roar of claps erupted from the audience followed by whistles. Which only further summons his ire. He attempted to follow the songstress to her dressing room for a little chat. But was stopped because some man decided to talk to you, so he had to step in.

"I've been looking all over for you." Pantalone put his hand on your shoulder.

"Oh- uhm.. sir." He hates to admit it, but seeing you a bit flustered is adorable but that's not the point!

"Eh? Do you know him, fortune?" The man seemed displeased with how well dressed and intimate he is with you.

" Yeah, he's my next customer." You bluffed, but that is the truth. The Regrator did book you.

His eerie smile directed at the harasser who seemed to get the message about what might go down, and left. Keeping a mental note on that fellow.

A heavy sigh of relief washed over her. "Thank you, kind sir." Now there's that smile he loves to see. You must be really scared to be here, which is why he's here to scoop you up and pay your debt off.

"It was no problem at all, darling." Despite their age being so close, he had grown taller thanks to your help.

"But I do want to talk to you if that is okay with you. It will only take a few moments of your time." He had practised and prepared for this moment of his life, yet his hands were shaking. Not out of excitement, but with fear.

" Of course." Normally you'd be happy helping someone.

" Excellent, is your name ____?" Asking, no need to be hasty, he needs every little and single detail burned into his mind.

You answered, and everytime he asked another. He was so sure you're that girl he met all those ages ago when he was just a pauper with no mora to his name. The conversation started to circle once there were answers that didn't match up or didn't satisfy him, but paraphrasing the first questions. Growing weary of this, he pulled out a pristine flower and showed it to you.

"You know, a poor friend of mine left me this one pitiful morning. She made me fetch a pathetic flower in hopes to ditch me and have a perfect life without me. She would always sing me these strange songs where twin black stars twinkle in the night to guide damnable souls like mine." Pantalone lied in order to get something out of you, noticing your distressed look. He stopped with his relentless questionnaires.

His face softened once tears started to roll down your visage, ruining your makeup.

"Little munchkin… ?" Using the nickname that you gave him, her hand on her head. It felt like it's going to split.

Gloved hand tried to touch your cheek "Oh, my angel-." But another voice called out to you, seeing you flinched at the sound and quickly put up a façade that everything's fine.

"Fortune… " The older looking gentleman came over to calm you down. Saying something before looking at Pantalone as if he had done something wrong.

He got kicked out of the building. For the first time, he was denied something by a mere commoner. But it won't be the first time he'll be persistent on getting what he wants.

He'll start negotiating, from time to time out of mercy. It would have worked if that old wind bag would just let him speak to you. No one would even look at him or even tell him to come back next time. It's insulting that they're treating him like he's the same beggar before he rose to power!

So he stopped going and began his next phase, fine if they didn't want to talk to them it'll be their own damn fault if ruin comes to them.

Sending some fatui agents around the area to keep tabs. One has reported that you kept singing your heart out of sorrow by yourself in the middle of the night. A tune that would always lull him to slumber… That quelled the voices in his mind that it's a plea for help. But first he has to feed the ever so ravenous knowledge seeker.

Your poor admirers met an 'accidental' demise one by one.. Others met a swift and painless death, another ended with accidents, some went missing, framed and tried in court. Though, he had kept a select few in a pen that ultimately disgust him. First when they devoured the rotting flesh of their leftover livestock. Still hungry, they turned upon themselves. All the while Pantalone watched from afar in the comfort of his opulent home.

Then there's that one time where someone had bumped onto you, they too weren't spared. Especially that girl with a jaded expression. One that threatened to sue you in court for causing her husband's infidelity.

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From days to months, the old crod of the accursed métier finally made his move. The stygian haired man found one of the batch being transported, the one that didn't have you in it.

"I gave you numerous warnings and signs, gaffer. Give my little angel back." Pantalone hissed with a sinister smile. He may be merciful to some degree, but there is a limit to his thinning patience with stubborn people.

"Over my dead body, Regrator! First, you harassed my child then proceeded to corner me to a wall. You're nothing but a coward hiding behind that pile of money of yours!" The bald man goaded, using his arms to imitate a shield the girls. It effectively summoned the heavy coated man's indignation.

"Sir, if I may." One agent talks.

"Permission to speak, granted. Be quick about it." He knows this agent would take pity on the old man.

"Thank you, how about a little gamble? A game of Durak." They suggested it, making the banker hum in curiosity.

Durak, a traditional game where the goal is to have an empty hand. Rather odd for the agent to suggest this, since this is one of the things that got him to where he is today..

"What do you say, josser?" The shaven head man looked at the girls and thought this'll be a trap. But what other choice does he have?

With the game set, cards from the beauty owner provided a bit of an advantage on his part..

The first round goes to the owner, then the next, and the next until the fourth when Pantalone had started to catch up. Comparing the two is like calling a zucchini a cucumber.

"l, won." With such triumph, not once did he open his eyes as the defeated player collapsed to his knees, salty tears leaked out of his eyeballs. Pleading the girls to let go as they have nothing to do with this.

"Please, Lord Harbinger, have a heart and leave my children alone!" Cried the loser, begging for the 9th's mercy at his feet after his inevitable defeat at the game of Durak. It was only a matter of time..

" 'Have a heart', you say? Well, I can arrange that." The young man smiled lightly like normal but to the old man that didn't want to hand over any of his girls or 'children' rather, felt the foreboding deal he verbally struck. The girls behind him huddled together, paled at the implications that come with it.

"Oh, he's going to love this patient." Laughed the Regrator as the agents took hold of the caretaker who was thrashing around. He had a plan for the other girls to be sent away, not bothering them… but did send a few other girls to be closely inspected by the doctor for 'analysis'.

"Tell him to take his sweet time with the others." Waving his hands away at the agents that rallied the girls in separate binds, their wails and pleas go unheard by them as they are being pulled to go under the scalpel.

"Lord Harbinger! We have uncovered the girl!" Reported another that just arrived. And now the real fun begins.

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Back at his home there you are, resisting Pantalone's kindness when he's trying to be patient with you. Each time returning with a gift covered in gilt. And declined once again. He's just as ruthless as he is merciful to you.

" If you love that vulgar job so much, then I'll be obliged to satisfy you in your needs…"

" Oh, come on… you could do better than that.."

"Look at you… So filthy, whoring yourself out like that...I can't believe you were manipulated into agreeing with those dunces."

Whispering those into your ear as you were chained and gagged to the bed. "My lovely, little angel, don't worry. I'll take good care of you this time. Don't give me that talk about being selfless, they're abusing it…" he ran his fingers through your hair.

" Be a good little munchkin for me instead, sing all those songs when we're young…" it's probably best for you to do as he says.

You had become his security blanket, the only thing besides money that can brighten his day. It's not complete if he didn't wrap your body up in a blanket and cuddle you.

If you did return his feelings, perhaps he'll let you out of the chains occasionally. That goes for accepting gifts from him. You must welcome it with open arms and display it upon your body for him to see. Only you would see that genuine smile on that face when he brushed your hair.

The obsession in his eyes grew darker with time. Mumbling how you don't need to lift a finger anymore for anyone. Just let him be the brains for both of you, and you just sit pretty like a doll for him.

Even after that there is one fear that hasn't been quelled within him. What if you found a way to revolt? What would he do to satiate your needs?

Thinking back, that flower you gave him had allowed him to befriend an alchemist, a pill was given after he shared his sob story.

"Fret not friend, for this is the solution you seek of.. have your friend consume it and then she is all yours until death."

Oh, to use or not to use. It all depends on how you behave, either comply willingly or comply forcefully. Either way, he doesn't want to hurt you. But if it's the betterment to get you to stay in his arms, he doesn't seem to have a reason to be guilty about.

"Dear… open your mouth." You didn't as he tried to push the pill in your lips, hands tried to push him away but felt weak since you tried to boycott by not eating.

"It's for your own good, you'll feel better once you eat it… EAT IT. " Pantalone threatens his darling angel to open her mouth by squeezing her cheeks, tossing the pill in your lips before kissing your lips to force the petite maiden to submission.

Moans escaped your mouth as hands gripped on his back, panting as your body felt sweaty. A black pill like size appeared on your ear. Whispering temptations into your ear and slowly bending to the greedy will of his.

Continuing his kisses down to your collar bone, giving love marks all over your body. For some odd reason it felt warm, light touches are enough to make your vision spin around.

"Ha..! Please… " Some drool dribbled down your chin. Your hands looped over his head pulling him closer to your chest.

"Mm, of course my little angel. Anything for you. Go on. Sing my little angel! "

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For some odd reason I feel quite unsatisfied with this. Or am I just being too harsh?