#chloe nair x reader

[naiadere]

euphoria

yandere! mnemosyne’s dream perfumer headcanons

content warnings: follows perfumer wearing the ss skin, not mnemosyne's dream perf; implied forced relationship, implied past non-con touching

perfumer has me giggling and kicking my feet in the air ngl 😭😭 next post will be about miss keigan <3

— yan! mnemosyne’s dream perfumer who gets all dressed up in her most lavish and luxurious skin. sitting at her grand vanity with one of her legs crossed over the other, staring into the mirror as she fixes her makeup. she expects that you're already sitting besides her, on the rectangular cushion-seat, and when she sees you're not, she waves you over and pats the empty space to her right. if you were anyone else, she'd snap her fingers and not even spare you a glance as she curls her lashes, but you're her darling -dove and although her face reads faux annoyance, simply looking at you does wonders in lifting her mood (and fastening her heartbeat).

— yan! mnemosyne’s dream perfumer who continues to stare into the reflective glass, lips curling into a smug smile when she hears you approach, feels your presence so very close to her, knowing that you've returned right back to her-- exactly how it should be. you may be under the impression that she's paying you no mind whatsoever, that her attention is focused on beautifying her already lovely face. but if you continue to look at the mirror that stands before the two of you, you'll see her eyes trail over your figure through the corner of her thickly-lashed eyes.

— yan! mnemosyne’s dream perfumer who lets out an long, exasperated sigh. setting down the makeup utensils and extending her arm around your shoulder. she's meticulous with her hand placements, her arm once resting on your shoulder now sliding dangerously close to the side of your neck as she reels her forearm in, locking the open space right in front of your neck and pressing into your throat. her left arm finds its way to your torso, slowly working its way up to your chest, and she's finally satisfied when the palm of her hand is placed flat over your heart. your breath hitches, feeling the constriction in her movements, and she's pleased to know your heart is beating just as fast as hers is.

— yan! mnemosyne’s dream perfumer who leans her head onto your shoulder, the rest of her body subconsciously doing the same. your eyes are trained to the mirror, and although this is most certainly not the first time you've found yourself on the receiving end of her suffocating affections, the intimate and fleeting touches still make you nervous. she purses her lips, and the hand once placed over your chest finds it's way to your chin, cupping the sides of your face, "perhaps you want some attention as well, hm?"

— yan! mnemosyne’s dream perfumer who planned on dolling you up regardless of if you stubbornly protested or willingly submitted. what kind of lover would she be if she didn't dress you up to show you off? she's gentle when applying any cosmetics on you, which contrast her often bitter and harsh words that she hides her warmer feelings behind. she knows what products are compatible with your skin type, and what styles compliment your features, she knows which designer clothes fit just right against your body, and what matching jewelry is flashy enough to let everyone else know that you're hers. but of course, nothing wards off unwanted pursuers like her signature perfume that she practically douses you in.

you don't often find yourself partaking in any of the violent struggle games, even less-so nowadays with the perfumer insisting you stay away from any of those barbaric matches. she'd scoff, telling you it was child's play, and rather unnecessary. why play in a game with all those other survivors and two hunters when you could sit pretty in her care? but perhaps she was feeling nice, or your continuous obedience has finally satiated her raging nerves, because she allows you to play in a duo hunter's match, with her of course.

the lakeside village doesn't have the most romantic scenery, of the few maps available for the violent struggle game-mode, it'd likely be considered the least romantic of the three. but the perfumer is nothing if not improvisational, leading you by hand to the far side of the lakeside village, to the shore that overlooked the gloomy ocean besides the old wooden boat. she lightly brings your hand to her lips, kissing it gently before spinning her heel, and you watch as an opulent chair manifests behind her.

she lightly pinches the sides of her dress by her hips, gathering her dress as she takes a seat. her hands brush over thighs, dusting off the non-existent grime, and she looks up at you with expectant eyes and a knowing grin. your frown doesn't deter her, and she innocently tilts her head, patting her lap as you continue to stand still. you can't help your eyes that instinctively the area — as if your companionship with the perfumer was exactly secret anyway — and you hang your head shamefully, as you walk towards her.

just as you're barely within her arms reach, she stretches a hand out, arm snaking around your waist as she guides your leg to rest against her sides. you're hesitant to fully sit down, but she's persistent, and your body is putty in her hands as she simply does the rest for you, only stopping until you're comfortably straddling her lap. she has a cheeky expression on her face, sighing sweetly as her arms find their way around your waist once more. the perfumer pulls you closer, her hands now intertwined on either side of your caged body, and although you express your concerns for your teammates that have been shouting for help (now dwindling in numbers), she simply brings her index finger to her lips with a careless smile.

[callimaria]

i like… vera :D

tw: yandere, death n all that jazz

characters: vera (chloe)

you saw something in her, and that lead to wanting to become friends.

perhaps that became your downfall. but which moment, exactly?

was it your smile that charmed her so, or when you walked up to her to initiate your first conversation, or when you gave her a gift?

it doesn’t matter, she thinks to herself. because she has you now, all to herself.

because you’re gorgeous, you’re her everything. the light of her day, the purpose in her life, you brought her true euphoria—

and she gifted you ‘euphoria’ as well. her own version of it; she imbued the euphoria you gave her into a bottle, leaving it at your door. she loved you. loved you dearly.

you never knew that all she wanted was to preserve you in all your beauty, treating you just like a flower soon to be pressed — pressed into a book. but that ‘book’ crushed you. she was impatient and grew angry, because you were so lovely and yet you would not listen.

why wouldn’t you listen? obviously, you love her. (right?)

she almost cried when she saw your mangled body. clothes all torn up and bloody, hair a mess— but who was at fault? how was she supposed to know?

she doesn’t know that her love wasn’t pure, or that she laid a hand on your precious body, why would she?

her beloved flower crumbled, unable to handle euphoria. but that’s fine, your body’s still here and she’s not done with you; she’ll never be finished until the day she takes a final breath.

your love won’t fade away until she does.

“i love you,” she whispers sweetly.

your cold, rotting corpse doesn’t reply.

i’ve had the urge to write smth like this for abt 2 days now 😭 i wish this was longer

[rosemaze-reveries]

oomf and I were throwing around ideas about this and thinking about miss chloe got me ill 🫣 she’s sick she’s sick she’s si

Vera contracting hanahaki disease 💐

⚠️ CW: obsessive love. you don’t reciprocate her love & she can’t cope with that 🤪

⚜ Vera has always been fond of flower fortune telling, and she often infuses lucky flowers into her perfumes. She finds it bitterly ironic when she begins to cough up marguerite daisy petals. This flower has hardly any use in perfume, as it’s not very fragrant — but plucking its petals in dozens of games of love me, love me not has left her very familiar with them.

⚜ She very rarely makes appearances in public, so she’s not concerned about being discreet. Her maids sweep the trails of petals that litter the halls every day and there’s never a mess to worry about. They only dread the days you visit because the minute you leave, Vera’s frustrations spill out like waterfalls.

⚜ Despite that, her symptoms do ease up when you’re around. You may not “love” her in the same way she does, but your concern for her wellbeing is enough to keep her flowers in check. If you happen to ask about them, she’ll act as if her unrequited love is for someone else.

⚜ It’s when she’s alone that the tears resurface and she violently coughs up all of her pent-up yearning. Many nights are spent draped over the side of her bed, clutching her mouth in agony. Petals are sprinkled all over her sheets. Her maids bring her hot towels and tea, but there’s little they can do to soothe her.

⚜ She spritzes herself with her working Euphoria formula daily. Anything for a little moment of peace. But this doesn’t work exactly as she wishes, and so she turns to address the root of her problem: your failure to love her back.

⚜ She begins to tinker with a new recipe — a “love potion” perfume, which she mixes her daisies into alongside other aphrodisiac notes. They may not be very fragrant, but there’s no better ingredient for something like this than the physical manifestation of her love 💐 One spritz and you should fall all over her... ideally.

⚜ She leaves some dried petals at the bottom of the bottle, and as she sprinkles them inside, she plays her favorite game again: you love her a little, you love her lots... you love her passionately... madly... not at all... a little... a lot... on repeat. She has a neverending stream of petals to count, but naturally she ends on “madly”. For reassurance, perhaps.

⚜ You think nothing of it when she gives a sample of this love potion to you. Any work of Vera’s is bound to be of enchanting quality, and this is no different. She asks that you try it in front of her, keeping a close eye on your facial expressions while anxiously biting the tip of her finger.

⚜ No immediate success? You’re not collapsing at her feet begging for her? She grows more and more desperate with every passing second. What will it take for you to love her?

⚜ There comes a point when she can’t hide her coughing at all around you; your presence doesn’t give her temporary relief anymore. You pity her, but this illness is tragic that way. There’s nothing a friend can do except hope her love might someday be reciprocated. Vera feels like ripping out her hair.

⚜ Her confession appears only when she’s at her wit’s end. Bitter that everyone she loves keeps “betraying” her in some way, it sounds less like a love confession and more like an accusation for ailing her. This is all your fault, she tells you through tears and matted hair — if you would only hold her the same way she dreams of holding you, then she would be free of her torment.

⚜ Despite this aggression, ultimately she does cherish you. And so she collapses to her knees after her outburst and lets you make your own decision. She even offers Euphoria to you, albeit bitterly, as a means to forget the guilt (…if you have any) — or in case this disease might take her life.