#i was already planning on doing art for these and this one was. perfect

[kiszjuli]

BURNT HEARTS .ᐟ

✸ sweetheart!donghyuck x fem!reader | genre. fluff | w.c. 2.0k | ♡

↳ synopsis. lee donghyuck never stepped foot in a kitchen for more than a midnight snack, but for valentine's day he is determined to bake something for you-the campus's best baker and the girl who stole his heart without even trying. when things don't go as he planned, he still shows up armed with charm.

↳playlist. strawberry sundae - nct djj. because of you - minho & ningning. by my side - junny. beaches - beabadoobee. sugar - maroon5. perfect ed sheeran.

the soft hum of the oven filled the small campus bakery, along with the smell of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry mingling together. you wipe your face with your rolled up sleeve on your arm, feeling the soft tickle of flour on your face. you were currently decorating the first batch of perfectly golden vanilla cupcakes. a piping bag filled with a smooth buttercream in your hands as you lean down to the counter. with precise movements, you swirled the icing onto the cupcakes, then topped them with edible pink and red glitter.

the delicious smell drifting outside of the bakery causing people to stop and look for a few seconds in curiosity. it lured multiple people, the feeling of being watched while you worked not foreign to you.

this time however, someone stayed, leaning against the doorframe with a grin.

"wow, look at you," donghyuck spoke, ripping you from your concentration. "the bob ross of cupcakes."

not bothering to look up, knowing his voice all too well. "if you came to steal one, you're out of luck. these are for the valentine's charity event tomorrow only,"

"you read me all wrong," he said stepping further into the bakery. "i'm here to admire the art and dedication. it's a little intimidating, honestly,"

you smirked finally standing up straight. "intimidated by some cupcakes?" you tilt your head. "that's a new one,"

"no, by you." he corrected, now standing at the closest table to where you were working. he folded his arms as he watched you easily shape a cupcake into a heart. "how do you make this look so easy?"

"it's not that hard, you just have to focus hard and practice," you said rolling eyes with a laugh. "i'm sure you could do it too if you tried hard enough," you say motioning to him with the piping bag in your hand, before dipping back down and swirling the icing again.

donghyuck snorted. "please, if i even touched that piping bag, it would end up everywhere but the cupcake,"

your hands remained steady as you laughed. finally finishing the last cupcake of the batch, you put the piping bag down. "it's really just about patience and precision..two things i'm guessing you're not that great at?" you teased.

he gasps dramatically. "well, i'll have you know that i'm very patient and and precise." he turns his nose up. hearing you laugh, he pipes up again. "for example, every time i come in here, i precisely plan out how i'm gonna make you laugh, and i'm still patiently waiting for the day you let me sneak a cupcake."

you rolled your eyes again as you cleaned up your baking space a litte, however you couldn't stop the smile creeping onto your face. "well, donghyuck, if you're so patient , you should actually try baking some time rather than just claiming it's too difficult."

"challange accepted," he siad immediately. he leaned off the table and uncrossed his arms. "i'm gonna bake you something so good, you'll forget about all of these," he says motioning to the cupcakes surrounding you.

you nod teasingly "sure, just try not to start a fire,"

"hey, have some faith," he said laughing as he made his way out, but not forgetting to stop by the cookies decorated with on themed decorations, taking one that said 'love'. and before you could stop him, he was already out of the bakery.

shaking your head with a fond smile, you got back to work.

─

donghyuck burst into his dorm room, his hair slightly messy from the cold breeze outside and a determined look on his face. Mark glanced up from his laptop, where he was seated cross-legged on his bed, wearing headphones.

“you’re back early,” mark said, pulling off his headphones. “i thought you were studying at the library.”

“wasn’t studying,” donghyuck declared, tossing his bag onto the couch. “i was researching.”

mark blinked. “researching…what?”

donghyuck grinned as he held up his phone, with a recipe pulled up. “i’m going to bake something. for valentine’s day. for her.”

mark paused, staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “you’re going to bake? like… you in the kitchen? with an oven?…that’s on?”

donghyuck rolled his eyes.

“why does everyone act like i’m incapable of doing basic things?” he groaned, throwing himself onto his bed. “it’s simple. melt the chocolate, mix it, cool it—and bam, you’re done. easy-peasy.”

mark laughed, amused at his words. “you literally told me you ‘don’t trust ovens’ because they make ‘loud noises.’

“that was a obviously a joke,” donghyuck said quickly, though the heat rushing to his ears said otherwise. “and besides, it’s different this time. i’m doing this for her.”

mark tilted his head, a small smile forming. “so you’re really into her, huh?”

he didn’t even hesitate. “of course. she’s amazing. Have you seen her work? not to mention, she’s smart, witty, kind, beautiful.” he listed out. “i need her to know i’m not just some loud guy who’s always stealing cookies from her bakery.”

mark snorted. “but that’s exactly what you are,”

“shut up,” donghyuck shot back, sitting up. “look, i’m serious about this. i want to make her something special. she deserves that.”

mark leaned back, studying his face. “alright, fine. if you’re that determined, i’ll help.”

donghyuck’s eyes lit up. “really?”

“yeah,” mark said with a shrug. “but if you mess anything up, you’re cleaning it by yourself.”

─

an hour later, donghyuck stood in the small dorm kitchen, nervously stirring melted chocolate in a pot over the stove. he was standing at least a foot away from the oven, with an awkward arch of his back, and elbow in the air. mark tried to hold back his laugh as he leaned against the counter, supervising like a skeptical coach.

“careful, hyuck, don’t let it burn,” mark spoke up. “and stop standing so far away it’s not gonna bite you,” he lets out a small laugh.

“it”s fine, i’ve got this,” donghyuck brushed off his warning.

the second he spoke, smoke began to curl upwards from under the pot. “wait is-“

“hyuck its burning!” mark shouted.

“but it- oh shit- wait!” donghyuck panicked and grabbed the handle of the pot. feeling the hot metal burn into his skin, he yelped probably a little louder than necessary, he dropped it causing the burning chocolate to spill out onto the stove and counter a little.

mark sighed as the smoke filled the room. he turned off the stove and grabbed a towel to wave around, hoping that the smoke detector wouldn’t go off. “i thought you said this was easy!”

donghyuck turned to mark after staring at the burnt chocolate, the smell not so pleasant anymore. “the stupid recipe told me to do the wrong thing!”

after opening a window, mark looked back to donghyuck. “well..what now?”

donghyuck sighed and his shoulders slumped. “i don’t know…i guess ill just buy her something..”

mark felt his heart twinge at the defeated look on his roommates’ face. “you’re doing this because you want it to be special right?”

after seeing donghyuck nod slowly he spoke. “then try again, even if it’s not perfect. she’ll see that you put effort in and that’s all that should matter,”

“fine. but if i burn the next one too, im never stepping foot near an oven again. i don’t like the noises they make anyway,” he says with a scowl that mark laughs at.

─

needless to say, after donghyuck tried again on valentine’s day to make the chocolate; he burnt it again. thankfully not as bad, but it still wasn’t up to his standards.

which is why as he stands outside your dorm door, he hesitates with a slightly frowned look.

when he finally knocks and you open the door, his face immediately lights up at the sight of you.

“happy valentine’s day,” he says shoving the pink box with a red silky ribbon around it to you.

“what’s this?” you ask cautiously but feel a smile creeping up to your face as you grab the box from his hands.

"homemade chocolates," he replies before rubbing the back of his neck. "kinda,"

"kinda?" you raise a brow.

donghyuck groans dramatically and walks inside your dorm uninvited, plopping down dramatically on what he assumes was your bed. “alright, i may have underestimated how hard it is to melt chocolate without burning it… or how much coco powder is too much… or the fact that you’re supposed to let it set before you start decorating.” he rambles.

opening the box, you're left biting back a laugh at the sight before you: uneven lumps of chocolate in odd shapes. some were decorated with sprinkles and others with what looked like smudged writing that you can’t quite decipher.

you were turning your head from side to side trying your best to read them.

“what does this one say?” you ask, pointing to a piece that looks like it’s meant to spell something. you hold it out for him to see.

he leans over, squinting. “i think it’s supposed to say ‘be mine,’ but the chocolate pen thing exploded halfway through.”

you can’t hold back your laughter anymore, doubling over as donghyuck pouts. “hey! stop laughing! i tried, okay? i even watched, like, 40 youtube videos, but those people are liars. they make it look easy!”

“why didn’t you just buy some?” you ask, still giggling as you pop a small piece of chocolate into your mouth. It’s… not the greatest, but it was still edible.

donghyuck shrugs with a pout, his usual confidence faltering a bit. “because… i wanted it to be special,” he admits, avoiding your gaze. “i know i mess around and joke a lot, but i wanted to do something that actually took effort. for you.”

the sincerity in his voice takes you by surprise, and you feel your laughter fade into something softer. a small tint of pink painting your cheeks.

“thank you, donghyuck,” you say, placing the box on your desk and sitting beside him. “it’s actually really sweet. even if they're.. you know…”

“terrible? completely awful? atrocious?” he supplies, grinning despite himself.

“chaotic,” you correct, smiling back.

there’s a moment of silence between you before he nudges your shoulder gently. “so… did it work? are you impressed?”

you pretend to think about it, tapping your chin with your pointer finger. “hmm, i guess i’ll let you know after you take me out for ice cream to make up for the beautiful chocolate.” your emphasis making him stifle a laugh.

he lights up, his grin turning playful again. “deal. but you have to promise not to tell anyone about the chocolate disaster.”

“nope, no promises,” you tease, standing from your bed and grabbing your coat as he groans in mock defeat.

as you walk out of your dorm together, you glance at donghyuck and find yourself smiling. sure, the chocolates were a complete disaster, but somehow, he’d still managed to make your day special in his own, perfectly imperfect way. something he seemed to do every time he was around.

─

the ice cream shop was pretty quiet, leaving only the sound of spoons scraping the bottom of bowls. you sat across from donghyuck at the small table. as you both slowly finished your sundaes you spoke up.

“i never thought you’d actually try to bake for me,” you said, a teasing smile on your lips. you took another spoonful of your strawberry sundae.

donghyuck chuckled, looking down at his half-eaten sundae. “i wasn’t really sure i could, but i wanted to do something special. even if it didn’t work out.”

you paused, studying him closely. he didn’t look embarrassed or frustrated like he did before; instead, there was a quiet sincerity in his eyes, as if he was letting his guard down with you completely.

“you didn’t need to make anything,” you said softly, “just being with me is enough.”

donghyuck’s gaze softened, his fingers brushing against yours on the table subtly. he leaned forward, the air between you filled with something unspoken.

and without thinking, you closed the distance, letting your lips meet his in a soft, gentle kiss. it wasn’t rushed, but filled with everything you’d both been avoiding saying.

when you pulled back, he smiled softly, a warmth in his eyes. “i think that was worth almost burning my dorm down”

you laughed, a little breathless. “maybe so.”

─

⁀➷⊹ ࣪ ˖~THE LA LA LOVE SERIES .ᐟ

taggies(open) ↳ @kittydollzz @huffnpuffckk @completelyjae @lovesuhng @nae-vm @ayibdorrt @chocoriki @yomaman @yukisroom97

[xixistar]

Apologies for bothering you, but I have two questions:

1:How did Laura meet Starscream and join the deceptions?

2: why did she join the deceptions?

OKAY ALRIGHT I wanted/planned to draw something like a small comic, but studying and new hyperfixations on other fandoms just distracted me and I forgot to answer 😭 but thank you very much for asking!! I apologize for answering only now, but I'll try to explain everything with text

I like this art so I'll put it here

How did Laura get on the Nemesis?

Unfortunately, she didn't get there by chance and clearly not with the goal of making friends with everyone. I have another character, Lostvoid, who is quite a curious scientist and therefore needed an organic test subject that would fit the characteristics for a "small" experiment. Laura was the perfect example.

Lostvoid!! first art by @mictiankityrrrr

From there comes her first unwanted meeting with one of the Decepticons and several Autobots in the midst of a fight. The little human was unknown to both sides, even when Laura was caught in the rubble and broke her leg, falling into some kind of unplanned mousetrap for Knockout, who, as 'a very good Lostvoid's colleague', decided to use this opportunity of easily accessible organic. She got caught, of course. Grabbed quite roughly.

Well, and then the tests, and attempts to restore her leg as soon as possible in order to stabilize the condition..... isolation on the Nemesis only led Laura into a period of apathy 🫡 not surprising though

How did Laura become part of the Decepticons?

You may or may not have seen it, but Laura has what's called a "costume." A metal body that makes her almost on par with Cybertronians, except for the repulsive expression on her faceplate and the lack of coordination. This body is part of Lostvoid's experiment where the body of an organic is used solely for the purpose of advancing Decepticon affairs. Slavery, I guess...... or something close to that......

some sketches with her last design.... I'll redesign it later

I wouldn't say she's fully accepted as part of the team, but she helps Knockout and sometimes Lostvoid 🕊️

SO she didn't really have any choice, uh

How did Starscream and Laura meet? How did they become close?

Starscream, as the commander and everything like that, knew about the experiment when it began. There is no need to explain that this arrogant bird treated Laura with hostility at first, with mockery and so on. Laura treated him almost the same as the rest of the Cybertronians... if she even had the strength to think rationally then 🙌 But at the moment when she already began to accept some role as a "Decepticon", then it became much more fun considering Starscream's frequent visits to the medical bay.

Starscream now treated Laura with some kind of apprehension and tension, although he understood that she would NEVER do him any serious harm. But exactly this was scary for him. For a human in such a difficult situation, Laura treated him with some kind of ease, sometimes sympathy and sometimes friendliness. This frightened him, to be honest. But why did Laura do that? She herself had no idea, but against the backdrop of problems outside Nemesis territory and a broken relationship with her girlfriend, Laura found some peace while staying on Nemesis. Some peace when her "beloved commander" involuntarily began to open up through his complaints when Knockout was absent from his post. That was some kind of progress for both of them.

it's a very big slowburn for these two.... angst and hurtcomfort

I think they were brought together by some sort of need for comfort and understanding each other. But damn, it would have taken them a year to become friends, and starting a relationship was a real challenge for bpd cybertronian and his depressed girlie 😀

[panhelleniios]

@snkts sent ✏️ — from the incorrect quotes generator

Hercules: I have feelings for you.

Logan: Why? What’s wrong with you? Are you sure you’re okay?

[puppppppppy]

vincent voice claim!! hes auggie and anton's son ^_^

VA: Catbug from Bravest Warriors, voiced by Sam Lavagnino

[random-autie-fangirl]

I drew another Chara- living with the Dreemurrs edition

"The King and Queen treated the human child as their own. The underground was filled with hope."

I don't like this as much as the last one but oh well... I ended up rambling a huge amount in the tag, so if you want details and headcanons about the actual drawing again, you'll have to look pretty far down this time, sorry (Also, I ran out of tags after a while. Tumblr is tired of me, lol. I might reblog this more tags later if I remember what I was going to say.)

[stardestroyer81]

@shrimpuufriend told me that Capcom had recently released never-before seen concept art of the original Rockman (Which you can find here!), and it is the coolest thing EVER.

That said, I wanted to be the first person to make something based off of the newly surfaced concept art, so I took one featured sketch of Rockman and turned it into its own sprite piece, complete with a faux beta title screen I craftily edited into the manual! 💙✨

[todayisafridaynight]

Hey so ive been this reading this manga called "ojisama to neko" ( eng: "a man and his cat" ) and its sosososo cute so sweet 10/10 would recommend also THE MAIN MAN LOOKS. KINDA LIKE SAWASHIRO EVEN IF THEIR PERSONALITIES COULDNT BE MORE FAR APART. His name is Fuyuki Kanda and he is very dear to me just thought to share hope u have a wonderful day

NOOOO I LOVE OJISAMA TO NEKO SO MUCH !!!! I REMEMBER WHEN IT FIRST CAME OUT YEARS AGO AND I REALLY WANTED PHYSICAL COPIES OF IT DESPITE IT BEING ONLY IN JAPANESE AT THE TIME AAAAAA SUCH A GOOD SERIES I LOVE FUKUMARU SO MUCH….

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Last Call

Calling the LADS Men to say goodbye because you weren't going to be making it home to them. A/N: MC isn't reincarnating this time sorry. Artist @/am_soul_art on insta [Requested by: nocturnaoasis]

It was supposed to be a quick mission. The intentions were good and the plan was perfect. At least thats what the higher ups thought at the Hunter's Association. The plan was to take back Hat Island, the small island right off the coast of linkon overrun with wanderers. The Hunter's Association believed that their strength in not only numbers, but also Evols and skills had improved enough to take back the small island.

They were wrong. So very wrong.

It was a suicide mission from the start; the wanderers were too smart there was never a chance. You panted as you ran from the onslaught of wanderers that had evolved over time inhabiting this island. You watched as comrade after comrade was slaughtered right in front of you. The number of Hunters was decresing quickly and there was no help coming. You held your side for dear life as blood gushed from your wound. You accepted your fate right then and there. You weren't making it back to Linkon.

You managed to find a small cave on the side of a mountain where you could make one last call.

Zayne

The phone seems to ring forever you were afraid you weren't going to hear his voice in your last moments. Just as you thought it would go to voicemail he picked up.

Zayne: Hello MC: Zayne.... Zayne: Yes I'm here

You couldn't help the grin that overtook your face.

MC: Remember our trip to find 'old popsicles'? Zayne: Of course I do MC: Remember when you swept me away from my friends to go read in a secluded park? Zayne: Yes ... where is this coming from?

You took a deep breath before coughing and grunting form the pain.

MC: I just want you to always think of our good memories ... I don't think we'll be making anymore after today Zayne: What are you saying? MC: They're gone ... they're all gone ... and I don't have much time left.

You finally broke down and sobbed into the phone as reality truly set in.

Zayne: Wh- MC: Promise me you'll move on ... I want you to find something or someone to bring the same vivacity that I brought you ... don't shut yourself off from the world ... I want you to be happy ... remember me in a good light because just know I died doing what I love Zayne: ....dont leave me behind MC: I love you Dr. Zayne......

Zayne didn't hang up he stayed on the line until he could no longer hear your stuttering breaths. He couldn't keep that promise of moving on. He threw himself into his work to keep his mind busy. He was afraid if he slowed down for one second he'd never be able to recover.

Rafayel

He picked up on the first ring as if he'd been waiting by the phone just for your call.

Rafayel: Hey Cutie!

He sounded so happy at the fact that you called it was already killing you that you'd be breaking his heart with this call.

MC: You know you create the most beautiful art Rafayel: You're making me blush stop it MC: I'm going to be painting pretty sunsets and sunrises for you Raf Rafayel: huh?

You swallowed hard trying to keep your voice from wavering.

MC: The next time you're on the beach and you see a beautiful sunset or sunrise ... that's me ... painting the sky just for you Rafayel: No no no you're-

His words became panicked as you quickly cut him off

MC: I wish I would have hugged you tighter before I left ... I'm not making it back to Linkon ... I'm sorry Rafayel: I can come to you just tell me where you are

Tears streamed down your face as your voice broke at the sound of him falling apart on the other end

MC: Im running on borrowed time right now Rafayel I just wanted to tell you that I love you ... so much Rafayel: I love you too

Your head was already swimming you didn't even realize you muttered.

MC: Good ... good.......

Rafayel never missed a single sunrise or sunset after that. Thomas would always find him sitting on the beach with red eyes and a camera to capture the sky that you painted for him.

Xavier

He picked up on the third ring w/ a groggy voice; he'd been asleep.

Xavier: My little star

His voice brought you a kind of comfort that no words could describe.

MC: You made a good call getting sick this week you know that?

You couldn't help but giggle at the situation.

Xavier: What are you going on about? MC: Remember how pretty the stars were that night we danced in the forest? Xavier: Yea they were almost as beautiful as you

He always knew how to make you feel like the prettiest girl to ever exist.

MC: Well next time you gaze at the stars the one star that seems to twinkle and dance just for you ... that'll be me

A brief moment of silence....

Xavier: You're not saying what I think you're saying

You could hear rustling on the other end knowing he just sat up.

MC: I'm sorry Xav ... I'm so sorry ... I promised I would make it back to you, but thats a promise I can't keep anymore ... I'm losing blood fast I can already feel myself losing consciousness Xavier: Hang on I'll be right there

And there it was the choked sob that finally slipped out of you as you responded.

MC: It's too late Xav ... do you love me?

He was quiet for a moment before you heard his low raspy voice respond.

Xavier: Yes. Of course I love you with everything that I am

Those words brought one last smile to your face and you finally let your eyes drift closed.

MC: thats all I wanted to hear ... I love you Xavier..........

Xavier was never the same after that. He spent his days training to get stronger to the point where his hands were bloody. No one could get through to him not even Jeremiah. At night he swore he could hear your voice as he gazed at the stars.

Sylus

Sylus: Hi sweetie MC: I love you!

You heard his breath hitch and then silence. You had rendered Sylus speechless with the three words he always wanted to hear.

Sylus: Why so sudden? MC: I never got the chance to say it to you, but I couldn't go without letting you know Sylus: where-

You quickly cut him off because there wasn't much time left. You could quite literally feel your life slipping through your fingers.

MC: this mission was doomed from the start ... I'm not making it home to you tonight ... I'm sorry ... there’s no pain though so I must be dying Sylus: Stay right where you are I’ll come find you MC: Don't .... it's no use ... thank you for everything I was always happiest with you

You smiled as you admitted that to him; it felt good.

Sylus: Stop you're not dying on that island

You sniffled as tears began to sting the back of your eyes.

MC: it's too late ... just ... just tell me you love me Sylus: but- MC: Sylus please Sylus: I love you My Queen MC: Music to my ears........

Sylus still tried to look for you, but could never make it onto the island for the wanderers were too strong....even for him. Mephisto did however manage to find you and brought back the necklace Sylus had given you. It now sits on a mantle in a glass case.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Infernal Shadows 02

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it.

Song for this chapter: HAUSER - Adagio (Albinoni)

A/N: I’m so glad part one did well! I really liked this idea and hoped other people would too. As always comment if you want to be tagged and I will tag you in the next post! I wanted this to be three parts, but depending on how much I can fit in this chapter and the next one, I’ll see if I need to make four parts. The song at the beginning of this chapter is meant to be played when the line “ The music picked up” Is read. Skip to 5:35 for it to play smoothly, or as smoothly as possible.

Word count: 3.k or something over that idk I got too lazy to count :(

Taglist: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part One. // Part three.

Within, the grand foyer unveiled itself, revealing a sweeping staircase adorned with a rich, mahogany handrail in stark contrast against a black and white color scheme. Crystal chandeliers, dangling from lofty black ceilings, cast their brilliance upon white walls adorned with ornate mirrors. Plush Victorian-era furnishings, upholstered in rich black and white fabrics, adorned the parlor rooms, establishing cozy settings for guests to assemble and engage in enriching conversations. Each room murmured tales of a past era – intricately patterned black and white wallpaper, frames gilded in black to showcase classical art, and a subtle aroma of aged wood and lavender lingering in the air, harmonizing with the monochromatic elegance. The guests walking in all marveled at the details of the mansion.

Charlotte and Vagatha both stepped in, Charlotte in awe of the detailing. A shadow figure bent down slightly to offer her a drink, to which she happily took.

“Vaggie this is all so beautiful. I hope I can make a good impression.” Charlotte said, turning to her partner to ease her nerves. Vagatha just smiled, a hand on her shoulder lovingly.

“You’re gonna do great babe, besides, there’s so many people here, if one likes it I’m sure other people will get on board too.” Vagatha said.

“Or they can laugh at you if one person points out how ridiculous it is.” Husk said, chugging his drink before placing it back on the servers tray.

“Thanks for the kind words Husk.” Vagatha said sarcastically. He just shrugged, looking towards the bar area which was practically calling him over.

Upstairs in your room, you stared at yourself in the mirror as your shadows made the finishing touches on your outfit. Draped in a long, elegant black gown that gracefully embraced your commanding figure, the fabric cascaded like shadows. Delicate chain motifs intertwine with the dress, creating an alluring dance of darkness. A chain belt cinches your waist, a subtle nod to your captivating ability to ensnare and command over your shadows. Completing the regalia, silver chain cuffs adorn your wrists, reflecting both power and refinement.

“Madame, the guests are all in the lobby awaiting your arrival.” One of the shadows said. You nodded, stepping down from your showcase, winking to yourself in the mirror before chuckling to yourself. A shadow approaches you, bowing in respect before holding out a tray with your drink, a contrast to your dark colors. You take the glass in your hand, another shadow lightly putting a thermometer in your drink so it’s the perfect temperature for you, fifteen point five degrees Celsius. The liquid is a light yellow-ish green, Lafite-Rothschild, an expensive French wine you tried in 1906 when you were alive. Lifting it to your lips, you take a long sip and sigh, the spicy and earth notes, mixed with a hint of tobacco and red Barrie’s dance on your tongue like a performance of Gavotte. You pull back with a sigh, setting the glass down, a perfect Ridel Vinum Bordeaux, personally crafted for you as the bottom of the glass is a Smokey black, fading into clear glass towards the top.

“Let’s get this Gala started shall we~?”

In the lobby, guests were socializing amongst themselves. Velvet, Vox and Valentino had split for a short while. After the incident outside, the two overlords wouldn’t stop tantalizing the picture box about his fit of frustration dealing with the Radio Demon. From the lobby, there were large crystal doors revealing the back exterior of the house. The greenery was just perfect, with cobblestone flooring revealing another bloody fountain. Vox stood with his drink, speaking to some sinner he couldn’t remember the name of, about how well his business was going.

“You ever get,” Vox asked, eyeing one of the shadows who stood in a corner, white eyes soulless as they held out drinks to guests. “Creeped out by those, things?” Vox asked, turning back to the sinner. He just scoffed.

“Please, they’re always around and as far as I know, harmless.” The sinner said. At that, a shadow appeared between the two, taking their empty glasses and replacing it with new, full ones. Vox tried his hardest not to seem alarmed at this, and took the glass silently, sipping his drink slowly as it floated away. It was then he took in the shadows appearance. They all looked the same. Tall figures, Smokey outlines, but no feel or hands, just a faded end to their limbs. Their eyes were white and soulless, almost as it they were vacant, a shell of what they used to be. There were no facial features, just two white circles and a thin white line for their mouth. Each one however, had a light Smokey chain around their chest, wrapped in the shape of an X.

“What are the chains for then? They’re pretty much smoke, what do they need chains forever?” Vox asked. The associate laughed, but before he could answer, another overlord stepped in.

“They have chains because they’re claimed souls.” Fredrick Von Eldritch says, his sister Bethesda in toe. The two grin, a shadow following behind them with a tray of their drinks. “If you get invited to the gala long enough, you get a personal one.” He said with a wink, gesturing to the shadow behind the two.

“They’re quite cute once you get used to them.” Bethesda said with a smile, cooing at the shadow lightly. Yet, it still remained expressionless.

“Actually, now that you say that.” The sinner says, looking around for a moment. “It’s been awfully quiet with a laugh track being played.” He says, referring to Alastor. Vox just rolls his eyes.

“Who gives a shit about where that old timey freak is?” Vox asks. Fredrick and Bethesda snicker to each other, catching Vox’s attention.

“Probably hunting for his dear Madame.” Bethesda said dramatically, laying her head on her brothers shoulder and batting her lashes playfully. Fredrick and the sinner laughed at his sisters antics, but Vox grew serious.

“What does that mean? He knows her?” Vox asked, to which Fredrick scoffed, finishing his drink before reaching for another off the shadows server tray.

“Of course he does. She died before him, and they’re the closest overlords in time period. Well, aside from Zestial and her.” Fredrick explained. Vox didn’t say anything else, instead looking to the red ‘moon’ of hell, before glancing at the blood fountain. He had heard rumors about being at the Madame’s table, and how she gave the inside to all her projects and plans before the next extermination. Apparently, this year was supposed to be ‘different’ as people had been talking.

“When does this dinner start anyway? We’ve been standing out here for two hours.” Vox said annoyed.

“In a few minutes, Madame will make her grand entrance. She will socialize with the guests as it is polite to have one on one time with them. Then she will spend the rest of the time while the orchestra gets together deciding on contenders to sit at her table.” A shadow walking by said, stopping to stare at Vox. “Madame is always watching.” It then said, turning to serve other guests. Vox said nothing, instead turning on his heel and making his way inside the mansion. How could someone feel suffocated outside? Fredrick and Bethesda said nothing, watching him go, but sharing a glance between each other before making their leave too, leaving the sinner all by his lonesome.

Inside, Charlotte and Vagatha conversed about how she could get people behind her project.

“Maybe if I sing-“

“Please no. These people are too…” Vagatha said, glancing around the room. Everyone seemed too, fake. Vagatha knew Charlotte being herself around these people would do absolutely no good to the hotel, and though she hated telling Charlotte these things, she knew her kindness would be frowned upon, and made fun of. “Serious for that kind of thing.” Vagatha finished, taking a sip of her champagne. She settled for champagne in a flute while Charlotte drank water, wanting to hydrate herself in hopes to calm her nerves.

“I heard that Madame might be making her entrance soon.” Charlotte said nervously, looking around. She half expected her parents to show up, but knew how they rarely liked getting involved in overlord affairs. She’d be surprised if they showed up.

“Then when she does you can try to pitch your idea to her.” Vagatha said supportively. Charlotte just smiled and nodded, hoping someone would listen to her. She had tried practicing on two sinners moments ago, to which they both laughed and called her delusional. The defeat was beginning to get to her, and she hadn’t even started yet.

With Velvet, she began studying the interior of the old-styled mansion. She was trying her hardest to not be too rude about it, but of course she had her comments, but ultimately kept them to herself. Cramoisie, your fashion line, was the top fashion brand in hell, everyone wanted a piece of it. Velvet had never had an article for herself, despite trying her hardest to get something, anything, even a sample. But people feigned for it like drugs. Velvets line was successful sure, but with your validation and guidance, she could become perfection, the same way you were. Everyone in hell looked up to you, shit, you had even gotten Lilith’s praise as she was photographed wearing a custom piece you designed for her. Your work was art in its purist form, and Velvet kept a close eye on her other colleagues to make sure they didn’t fuck your chance up. Velvet had her assistant hold samples and sketches of designs Velvet had been working on, wanting to show you her best work in hopes of winning you over. She could brag about having you support her line, and her fans would die of excitement. Maybe, she could get you to design her a custom piece, or Velvet could design one for you. The possibilities were limitless, if you agreed to meet with her of course. But that was all the more reason why she needed to make sure she had a seat at your table tonight. She needed to get close to you.

“Are you fucking high?” Velvet whispered to Valentino, who just chuckled softly at her.

“What’s the matter hermosa? Just enjoy the Gala, we’re here to have fun right?” He asked with a giggle. Velvet huffed, deciding to find Vox, hoping he could straighten Valentino out. Valentino would not fuck up her chance tonight.

Near the large staircase in the middle of the room, Alastor stood, glass of whiskey in his clawed hands. He smiles, humming to himself while quietly back up into a wall, careful to scan the room quickly before he disappears into the shadows. Then, moments later, appears in a room separate from the gala. It’s a study, your study. Alastor takes a step forward and quickly the shadows in the room seemed to deepen, casting larger, more dramatic silhouettes that seemed to dance on the walls. The interplay of darkness and light only heightened the mysterious allure of the study. In the midst of this chiaroscuro ambiance, Alastor found himself surrounded by an atmosphere that mirrored the complex nature of the figure depicted in the portrait hanging above the fireplace, which was in the far back wall of the study. It was the only light source in the room. Black wooden shelves lined against the tall walls, showcasing famous pieces of literature, all hand picked and to your liking. The fire place, crafted with dark marble, commanded his attention. Above the mantel, a striking portrait of Madame hung, capturing his focus, like a trance. The image portrayed a being universally admired, yet equally feared; someone who elicited both admiration and intimidation all at once, you.

“Hm, hiding now are we?” Alastor asks with a grin, tutting lightly. “That’s not very proper of you Madame~” He says, calling out to you. Seconds later, a dark shadow appears in the corner of the room, taking up the entire corner, before a shadowy figure steps out. Similar to the servant’s out in the lobby, Alastor’s eye twitch’s slightly.

“Oh don’t be so pissy. You know no one gets to see me before my entrance.” You say, the shadow expressionless, but Alastor can hear your tone through the figure, taunting him. He sighs, setting his staff on a slant along his foot.

“And here I thought I could connect with an old friend.” Alastor said with a chuckle, staring down the shadowy figure, hoping his gaze would ease you to show yourself to him. But alas, stuck in your ways, you didn’t show yourself, instead laughing, though the figure did not open its mouth, making your ‘shadow a-presence’ all the more eerie.

“If you really want to speak with me it can wait until my entrance. I should be done soon.” You say, before Alastor just smiles, tossing his staff from hand to hand.

“Well if you’re really going to make me wait, mind you speed the process up a bit? You know it doesn’t take much to make you look breath-taking.” Alastor compliments, but earns a scoff from you.

“Oh please, don’t start with me ‘Radio Demon.’” You mock, before the shadow figure begins to step back.

“Wait, a moment before you go.” Alastor says, standing his staff on the floor. The shadow figure stops, before you speak again.

“Make it quick. You know how much energy it takes to keep this up.” You say.

“So, about this hotel business. I know she’s planning to talk to you about it.”

“Yes the idea you tell me so much about.” You say sarcastically. Alastor had told you bits and pieces about the princess’s project, but didn’t tell you what it was for exactly, leaving you to wonder how important it really was if even he wouldn’t speak on it.

“Well you know how much I crave entertainment. Is it possible to make a request for the seating arraignment tonight?” Alastor asks. You laugh, figure still unmoving.

“Humorous to think you even have a seat. You’ve been gone for what? Seven years?” You say with a scoff.

“You’ve been gone decades my dear, you didn’t even show up to your last twenty gala’s, having your pity shadows do it for you. I doubt you should be speaking on the matter.”

At that, you chuckle to yourself before the shadow begins to back into the corner, black smoke enveloping the corner like a cloud. “I presume you would be correct. Well, I’m off now. Don’t sneak into my quarters again.” You say finally before disappearing. Alastor just grins, stepping into his own shadow, joining the other guests.

The shadows had slowly but, eventually ushered the guests into the lobby, everyone gathering around the staircase as the shadows lined up against the railings, the orchestra playing the music you had specifically requested. You were about to make your grand entrance, something you hadn’t done in centuries. Everyone stood around, awaiting your arrival, the shadows momentarily disappearing to give the guests more space to crowd around. Candles lit along the walls, as well as floating lights appearing going up the staircase. There, the shadows took their place, two on each step on opposite sides, facing each other. The music picked up, the lights focusing at the top of the stairs. Black smoke began to roll down the steps slowly, the anticipation for your arrival growing. The music gets calm for a moment, a larger shadow figure standing at the top of the staircase. It’s larger than any of the other shadows in the room, standing at fifteen feet tall. It speaks in a monotone voice, but loud and commanding.

“Thank you all for your attendance tonight. The Crimson Gala is held once every year to start the new year with all those who survived the extermination. This being said, Madame would like to say her personal congratulations for not being apart of the bloodshed this year. While the past years she has used me to say that she will unfortunately not be in attendance, I am pleased to say that tonight, along with all the new guests, she will make her grand entrance. Presenting to you, the prowess of darkness and queen of shadows, Madame.”

The lights shine bright, and the shadow vanishes quickly. Velvet shushes Vox and Valentino, eyes practically bulging out of her skull to see you. Alastor just stares, waiting in anticipation. Charlie claps her hands quietly to herself while Vaggie just smiles. Rosie sips her glass, eyes waiting to see what outfit you’ve put together this time. At the top of the staircase, a large black smokey circle opens at the bottom of the floor, smoke swirling upwards slowly in a tornado form, smoke getting quicker as it swirls around itself. It gets larger, and guests closer to the stairs have to back up a bit as the wind picks up. Carmilla turns her face to the side, not wanting the wind to mess up her hair too much. Finally, the music picks up again, the peak point in the song, which lasts eight seconds, before the smoke falls to the side in one swoop, leaving you in the midst, now on display for all guests to see. The music continues, the chains against your dress glistening under the light. The music continues the play as you take steps down, looking at the guests. There’s a serious expression on your face, but somehow neutral all the same. Your shadows had added last minute black lace gloves, which went up to your forearm. The bottom of your dress had a lace trimming, as well as the bodice being laced with trim along the bust area. The jewelry was a simple black diamond crystal on a metal chain around your neck, paired with black diamond earrings. The cuff links on your hand remained all the same though. Finally reaching the end of the steps, everyone clapped, now finally being graced with your presence.

Velvet was in awe, staring at you with wide eyes like a child being gifted the most precious thing. Her excitement grew enormously, watching you shake hands and socialize with guests. She had never seen you before, after you had gone ghost for centuries, hardly anyone had photos of you. Hell she didn’t even know what you sounded like.

Charlie was so excited to meet you. She hadn’t seen you in, forever, and was now finally excited to be seen as your equal. Well, that was what she had hoped at least. Having seen a portrait of you in her parents' home when she was younger, she learned of the close relationship between Lilith and you. The anticipation had built over the years, and now, finally, she looked forward to being seen as your equal. Her hope was to hopefully get your support for the hotel, aiming to elevate her standing in the eyes of others. With your backing, she believed people would take both her and the redemption project more seriously, fostering a genuine desire for redemption. Maybe it would even work.

Husk smiled as he watched you socialize with guests. He was glad to finally see you back out again. He never knew why you went into hiding of course, but he never had the balls to ask, so he just stood quiet. When you disappeared, it was after a particularly rough extermination, and he knew something had happened, he just didn’t know what. Since then, the world only had glimpses of you to go on. Some sinners were starting to think you were a myth, since you never showed your face at the Crimson Gala, especially since you were the host.

Vox was taken aback, a sense of confusion and unease settling within him. Your presence had caught him off guard; he had anticipated something different, perhaps an older figure. The unexpected impact left him feeling uneasy, realizing the gravity of your influence. It dawned on him why Velvet had stressed the importance of making a favorable impression. Apart from Zestial and the twins, you stood as one of the strongest and most enduring overlords. In Vox's mind, securing your alliance was imperative for the success of his company. Your potential support would make his endeavors foolproof. Everything had to be flawless – not for any personal reasons, of course, but solely for the sake of his company. He needed you.

Making your rounds to guests, you began to get closer to your colleagues. With a wave to Stolas, and a nod to Zeezie, you run into the Radio Demon himself, Alastor. He grins, sharp teeth getting you. He smiles and nods his head, and you nod back. Alastor takes in your stoic expression, before carefully taking in your outfit.

“My, my, Madame, you’ve truly outdone yourself tonight. Your choice in attire is as captivating as ever – a perfect blend of elegance and sensibility. Quite the spectacle for the grand event, don’t you think?” He asked, holding his arm out to you. You take it, and the two of you walk around the lobby together, conversing.

“Well you don’t look to bad for yourself. Maybe going into hibernation was perfect for you.” You say back, and he grins.

“You’re too kind darling.” He says, dead heart quickening. He puts a hand to his chest, mocking fragility. “Your words leave me breathless my dear.” He says with false dramatics. You roll your eyes and smack his arm playfully.

“Oh please, your ego is quite large enough already, yes?” You ask. He doesn’t say much else, but instead, gently moves you to the side while you look at your shadows, now waltzing around in the middle of the lobby, putting on a performance.

“Did you plan that?” Alastor asks. You shake your head.

“No, but the music is perfect for it, so I let them be. They’re already trapped with me, I might as well make them useful.” You say, and Alastor just hums, a laugh track playing. However, as the two of you walk, his track screeches to a halt upon seeing Vox approach the two of you.

“Madame.” Vox says, nodding his head. His expression is serious, and though you’ve heard of him, you’ve never seen him.

“Ah hello. Vox I presume?” You ask, free hand reaching forward to shake his own outstretched hand. The two of you shake hands, and Alastor can’t ignore the way he fights to keep his smile. Why he could just shove his staff right into that flace faced fuckers scree-

“Alastor, I suppose you’ve met Mr.Vox before, correct?” You ask. Alastor nods with a smile, and you notice the way it stretches almost painfully across his face. It makes you uneasy, but you ignore the feeling. He’d surely tell about what this is about later on in the night you supposed.

“Why yes we have! I’ve made him loose his signal quite a few times.” Alastor says with a laugh, his laugh track playing. Vox doesnt say anything, though he doesnt have too as his eye twitching had given enough away. The two clearly did not like each other. Than again, you had felt the same way about Alastor when you first met him, so the feeling was understandable.

“Madame, a dance?” Vox asked, turning his attention back to you. You thought for a moment, before untangling your arm from Alastors and nodding to Vox, taking his outstretched hand to you and leading you to the dance floor, which now had a couple other sinners dancing as well. Alastor held onto his staff tight, but relaxed as you discreetly slid him a card. In white with black lettering, cursive font. Seat number five. He was invited to your table. Guaranteed a seat. That was enough to have him back in light spirits, now searching out his dear friend Rosie to share the good news.

Velvet had been looking for you all over, her assistant close in toe. She had tried her hardest to get to you when you initially made your enterance, but alas you had been too overcrowded with people for her to get to you. She had heard rumors about how you hated rudeness and disrespect. That meant no interruptions, and no loud speaking, or vulgar language. She was sure to keep herself in check, and that meant her colleagues too. So, naturally, you could imagine her shock upon seeing Vox dancing with you on the dance floor, black dress twirling at your feet. You looked so regal, so elegant, flawless. She wanted to be just like you. She waited patiently on the sidelines, waiting for the dance to end. She could see the two of you having a conversation, but couldn’t pinpoint what about.

“So, I presume you’re one of the, newer overlords?” You asked as the two of you danced. Vox chuckled, leading you slowly.

“New? Well, maybe to you I would be. I heard you haven’t really left your own head for quite some time.” Vox says lowly. You nod, letting him dip you.

“Yes that would be correct. So what are you supposed to be exactly?” You ask, quite unsure of his purpose. Overlords are meant to have a strong leading purpose in hell, so what was his?

“Well, you’re looking at the head of Vox Tech. A software company.” He says, and you hum in understanding.

“So modern technology.” You confirm, and he nods, pearly whites shining brightly back at you.

“You’re looking at the future Madame.” Vox says, spinning you quickly, before bringing you close by your hip.

“Interesting. So, what’s your social influence?” You ask. Vox thinks for a moment, before laughing to himself.

“People have televisions in all their homes. Any piece of modern technology comes strictly from me. With a little mind control, there isn’t any influence I don’t have.” Vox says, noticing a sinner walk by with a smart watch, to which he holds a finger up to you, sending himself through it, and then to another sinner with their smartphone, making his way around the room in seconds before he’s back in front of you, stepping in time for the next number. “See? Nothing I can’t do.” He says with a wink. You nod slowly, looking around the room. Being back out in the spotlight after being gone for so long makes you feel a bit, behind. But with an overlord like this in your circle, maybe this could be a way for you to keep up with the current world, get you back up to pace. The dance finally comes to a close, and the two of you bow to one another, before you summon a card, handing it to Vox. Seat number nine. Vox grinned at you, giving you a nod. You nod back, before looking at another sinner who’s asked to speak with you. With that, you leave Vox at the dance floor, white card in hand. His spot at your table was secured. But, this made his emotions churn even more. What was this feeling he had? He was happy yes, but for the companies sake. But, maybe for once, he could mix just a little business with pleasure.

Charlotte had lost her partner at the bar and had been looking for her for quite some time. However, instead of finding Vagatha, she found you instead. You had seemed to be finishing a conversation with Vox, and though she disliked him, she took her chance the moment she saw you walking away.

“Excuse me, Madame- Miss- Um.” Charlotte said quickly, causing you to stop in your tracks. She got closer to you, now a few inches away. It was then she realized how tall you were compared to her. You were easily around seven feet, or just under that. With your heels that was. You looking down at her made her feel intimidated, small, like the child. But, feeling her nerves rise, she began to ramble again. “I know you probably have a lot to do tonight and I don’t want to take up your time, I just want you to hear me out, if that’s okay with you of course.” Charlotte said quickly, pausing to inhale. You narrowed your eyes at her, snapping your fingers and causing a shadow to appear next to you, singular glass on the tray. It was the same tall shadow from earlier, with the same drink. Again, using testing the temperature of the drink, before nodding to you so you could take it. You lifted the glass to your lips, maintaining eye contact with Charlotte as you drank the wine in one go, putting it down on the tray with a sigh.

“Go on.” You replied, now intrigued. You knew who she was. “You’re the girl with the hotel? Lucifer and Lilith’s child, correct?” You asked. Charlotte smiled, stars appearing in her eyes as she gushed.

“You know who I am?” She asked surprised. You nodded, cracking a small smile for the first time tonight, causing many eyes to stare in shock. You hardly ever smiled. In fact, there were three counts ever of you smiling in hell. Once, when you first got to hell, killing and claiming territory, and smiling once you finally settled down. The second being after World War One, when so many souls came to you seeking ‘help’ yet only being met with contracts. Third, being just before the extermination you disappeared after. You had gone through your belongings from Earth that managed to get brought to you from the surface, and was looking at family photos with one other overlord. Zestial. Now, at the gala, here was Lucifer’s brat, as some would call, making you crack a grin at her giddiness.

“Of course I know who you are. Do you forget I know your mother? You’re practically a niece of mine at this point.” You say, motioning at Charlotte to walk with you. “Now, what is this hotel I’ve heard about?” You ask. She beams at this and follows excitedly.

“OkaysobasicallyIhavethishotelandit’scalledthe’HazbinHotel’whichisforsinnerswhowantobebetterandredeemthemselvestotryand-“ You stopped her, allowing her to take a breath of air after rambling for so long. You lead her outside, finding a nearby bench to sit on. With how quickly she spoke, she needed all the ‘fresh’ air she could get right?

“Why are you speaking so quickly? Also, sinners who want to better themselves? Where would you find those?” You ask with a laugh, the same tall shadow appearing with a glass for you. Again, you sip on your drink as Charlotte collects herself together.

“Usually if I explain slowly people cut me off and I never get to finish, so I’ve gotten used to just saying everything as quickly as possible so they don’t cut me off and actually listen to what I have to say.” Charlotte says, again rather quickly. “Like I was saying; the Hazbin Hotel is a place for sinners who want to better themselves to possibly try to get into heaven through redemption, and I know what you’re thinking, we’ve all died and got sent here, but I believe people can change and that everyone deserves second chances.” Charlotte explained. She saw the look of confusion on your face, and began to speak again. “We already have two residents, who are making strides to be better people every day with group activities and I believe it’s working. If I could just get other people on board, people like you on board who actually believe in my cause, then we can get rid of extermination and maybe save some people here.” Charlotte explained. You thought for a moment, and the fact you hadn’t laughed in her face yet gave her some hope that maybe she had gotten through to you. You stood up, setting your empty glass on the tray before the shadow disappeared.

“Honestly,” You said with a sigh, looking around, your eyes landing on your shadows serving other guests. “The entire project sounds delusional.” You said sharply. Charlotte looked down at this, defeated, before standing as well.

“Well, thank you for hearing me out I guess. You’re the only other person who has aside from Alastor. So, thank you for your time.” Charlotte said, turning to walk back inside the gala, head hanging low with tears brimming her eyes. Maybe it was the connection to her mother, maybe it was because she reminded you of her mother. But, something had to change.

“I didn’t say we were done speaking Charlotte.” You said sharply again. She stopped and tensed up at that, before turning around, wiping a tear that slipped down her cheek.

“W-what?” She asked. You stepped forward to her, putting your hands flat together before smoke encased them. Then seconds later it was gone, and in your hands was a white card. You handed it to her with a nod.

“It sounds delusional. But, maybe someone will like that about you.” You said. She read the card, face dropping once she realized what it meant.

“So, so I can sit with you tonight? I can pitch my idea?” She asked excitedly. You nodded, patting her shoulder.

“Yes you may. I’ll allow you to have your time. You get thirty minutes, there will be overlords and royalty there, I’m sure someone is bound to take an interest in it.” You say. Charlotte squeals excitedly before jumping up and down, clapping her hands.

“Oh my goodness! Thank you so so so much!! You won’t regret this I swear!” Charlotte said, and you just nodded.

“Of course I won’t. I don’t make mistakes.” You say, before walking past her. “Oh, and thank Alastor for that. He was insistent you be present at my table tonight.” You say to her. She’s left standing outside in shock, watching as you walk back into the lobby to socialize with other guests.

It seemed Velvet had finally caught you, rushing her assistant to follow you as she made her way over to you.

“Madame, you look absolutely breathtaking tonight! Your presence here is like a beacon of individuality and charisma,” she exclaims, eyes sparkling. You look her up and down for a moment, stopping in your tracks to listen to her. Something feels, odd about this one. “I’ve been ardently following your unique style for ages, and it’s truly an honor to be in your presence. The way you effortlessly blend boldness with subtlety, it’s unparalleled, truly outstanding. Now, I’ve ventured into a daring new fashion brand, and I can’t help but envision you as the unrivaled star in my collection. Picture it: the illustrious Madame, gracing the world with a revolutionary expression of style. This would be the perfect way to make your way back into the public eye, and of course you would look ravishing doing so.” Velvet said, her assistant handing you sketches of Velvets designs, and photographs of some of her work on her models. “So, what do you say Madame? Will you be the luminary of a new era in Hell’s fashion?” Velvet says. You grow quiet for a moment. Aside from Rosie, you’ve had no other overlord come into the fashion realm, and Rosie is only partially in it as a side hustle, but everyone knows it’s your thing. The designs are things you would never wear, bold and odd colors together, like a child’s clothing line.

“Is this for children?” You ask. Velvet nearly chokes and her assistant tenses up.

“No Madame. It’s modern fashion.” Velvet says cautiously. She knows what she’s doing. Correcting you. No one ever does that. You don’t need to be corrected because you know what you’re looking at. A sad fashion designer who wants you to slap your name on her sloppy work so if it goes up in flames it’s your reputation taking the fall, not her’s.

“So all your models look like they came from a whore house? Correct?” You ask. Velvet’s jaw drops and her assistant hides a laugh. Velvet, inhaling softly, tries her hardest not to cry on the spot. You’re her idol. She can’t fuck this up.

“No Madame! Not at all!” She says, showing you a design she had made personally for you. Based on your other collections, she knows your favorite color is black, so that’s a plus. All she had to do was add a bit more, of her flair to it. It was a black jumpsuit, with a fur coat that dropped down to the knees, black with white fur around the edges of the coat and the cuffs. The sketch wasn’t half bad, and quite frankly better than the others. Maybe it was the forgiving mood Charlotte had put you in. Velvet hands you the design and you skim over it, taking in the details, the hair and eye makeup, the shoes and jewelry notes written on the side. The sketches aren’t bad, but modern fashion isn’t your fashion.

“I’ll consider it. Do you mind if I keep these?” You ask. Velvet shakes her head, handing you the folder from her assistants hands.

“Please, take whatever you’d like Madame!” Velvet says. You nod, flipping through the pages.

“You’ll hear from me soon. In the meantime, I want new sketches of these designs. Modern fashion is fast fashion. Nothing stays memorable that way. You want to be good?” You ask her, and she nods quickly. “Then be better. Modesty and elegance are what people strive for. It radiates power, and everyone is greedy for that. If you can sell that through an item, you won’t ever go out of style.” You say, handing her back the folder, keeping the sketch she’d done for you. Well, at least you liked something. Vevelt nodded her head and watched you walk away, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Um, miss?” Her assistant asked.

“What?” Velvet asked annoyingly.

“She left a card on the folder.”

At that , Velvets eyes snapped down at the folder, before she screamed in excitement. Seat number six. She was invited to your table. Mission accomplished. Now, with only six seats left to fill, you were off to talk to your other guests. The night had proved to be interesting, and you knew your encore would not disappoint.

[fangdokja]

You tried to break up with him… but did you ever really want to?

❤︎ Synopsis. You thought walking away from him would set you free, but now you’re trapped in a game of his making, where every step away pulls you closer into his dark web. Breaking up was never an option—he’s already planned your return.

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

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Johan Liebert x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Geto Suguru x Fem. Reader (separate)

♡ Headcanons. Never Really Gone - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 6,342

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con + heavy manipulation, sexual themes, fear play, hints of rough play and sex, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, gaslighting, victim blaming, psychological manipulation and conditioning, manipulation of circumstances, white knight strategies

♡ Note. All art on the banner does not belong to me, and belongs to the artists who created the artworks.

♡ A/N. Yes, I wanted to philosophize this time. Been a while, since I wrote something like this. But, actually, before Tumblr and Ao3, I wrote these kinds of works often. Anything in relation to morality, humanity, existential questions, and more. It's fun.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer whose philosophy is rooted in the idea that nothing is truly unattainable. He grew up in a world where survival was an art, and morality was an illusion crafted by the powerful to control the weak. To Chrollo, freedom isn’t about doing what you want—it’s about taking what you desire, consequences be damned.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who applies this philosophy to you with a terrifying elegance. He doesn’t love you like a man loves a woman; he loves you like a collector loves a rare artifact. You are a piece of perfection he wants to study, admire, and ultimately keep under lock and key. His love is subtle, almost suffocating in its gentleness. He doesn’t need to raise his voice or make threats; his words are calculated to burrow into your mind and make you second-guess your every thought.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who uses your intelligence as a hook, weaving conversations so deep and enthralling that you forget he’s untangling every thread of your mind. He is endlessly patient, unraveling your independence slowly, methodically, until you reach a point where you don’t know where you end and he begins.

In your relationship, Chrollo is attentive but detached, like a scientist studying a delicate experiment. He knows when to praise you, when to pull back, and when to remind you of just how much you need him. He never forces his will outright; instead, he leaves breadcrumbs, ensuring that every choice you make feels like your own—when in truth, he’s orchestrated it all.

———

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert whose philosophy is a chilling combination of nihilism and superiority. He sees the world as a fragile construct, its meaninglessness a playground for his manipulation. To Johan, people are tools, and love is the ultimate form of control—an emotion that binds people tighter than fear or violence ever could.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who views you as an exception to his usual detachment. Your quiet demeanor and sharp mind fascinate him in a way he can’t quite explain. You’re not like the rest of the world—mindless, hollow, and easily disposable. You’re a puzzle he wants to solve, a light he wants to snuff out and relight just to see how it flickers.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who expresses his love with an eerie calmness. He doesn’t smother you with affection or demand anything from you; instead, he quietly infiltrates your life. He learns everything about you—your fears, your dreams, your weaknesses—and uses that knowledge to become indispensable. He convinces you that he’s the only one who truly understands you, the only one who can keep you safe in a world that’s out to destroy you.

In your relationship, Johan is a paradox. He’s gentle, considerate, and impossibly kind, but there’s an undercurrent of control in everything he does. He’ll encourage your independence on the surface while quietly sabotaging any attempt to leave him. He’s the type to smile and say, “I’ll wait for you,” even as he ensures that no one else ever gets close enough to take his place. To Johan, love is about possession, and possession is eternal.

———

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru whose philosophy is steeped in a twisted sense of superiority and duty. He believes that the strong have an obligation to protect the weak, but only those who are worthy. His disillusionment with humanity has left him with a stark view of the world—most people are parasites, unworthy of existence. But you? You’re different.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who sees you as a rare exception to his disdain. Your quiet intellect and detached nature resonate with him, a kind of purity he thought had been lost to the world. You’re not a parasite; you’re a treasure, someone who needs protection—not from the world, but from yourself.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who loves you with an intensity that’s almost reverent. He admires your mind, your resilience, but he also sees your fragility, and it terrifies him. He doesn’t want you to break under the weight of the world, so he takes it upon himself to shield you, even if that means isolating you from everything and everyone else.

In your relationship, Geto is controlling but not overtly so. He frames his actions as concern, his possessiveness as devotion. He doesn’t raise his voice or demand obedience; instead, he calmly explains why his way is the best for you. He creates a world where you feel safe and cared for, even as he slowly strips away your autonomy.

To Geto, love is a responsibility, a sacred bond that justifies any action. He doesn’t see himself as manipulative or cruel; he genuinely believes that what he’s doing is for your own good. And even if you hate him for it, he’ll accept that—because your hatred is still a form of connection, and he’ll take anything you’re willing to give.

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♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who was drawn to you the moment he noticed the sharpness in your eyes. You had a mind that cut through deception like a blade, a presence that remained unshaken even under scrutiny. You never sought validation, nor did you waver under pressure—you existed on your own terms, and that made you utterly fascinating to him.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who admired your strength but saw it as something that could be refined, polished into something even greater. And who better to be your guide than him? His involvement in your life was never forceful, never imposing. It was patient, meticulous. A thoughtful conversation here, a well-placed question there. “You’re remarkable,” he’d muse, studying you with a gaze that saw too much. “But do you ever wonder if you’re carrying too much alone?”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who never took anything from you—rather, he gave. Insight, solutions, a sense of ease. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, you began to turn to him. Not because you had to, but because he always seemed to have the answers, the right words at the right time. A reassuring presence in the background of your life, always available, always understanding.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who never demanded your dependence, yet it became inevitable. He never corrected you outright, only offered perspectives that made you rethink your choices. “I trust you, of course,” he’d say, a gentle lilt in his voice. “But sometimes, even the most brilliant minds need a second opinion.” And over time, you found yourself hesitating before decisions, waiting—expecting—his input.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer whose love felt like a safety net you didn’t realize you needed. By the time you noticed how much of yourself had subtly reshaped around him, it no longer felt like change—it felt like growth. A natural evolution, one where he was woven into the fabric of your existence. And that was all he had ever needed.

———

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who recognized something rare in you the first time he met you. Not just intelligence, but an elegance in how you carried yourself. A quiet depth, the kind most people overlooked. You weren’t swayed by charm or intimidation; you existed in your own world, untouched by the trivialities that consumed others. And that made you irresistible to him.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who never sought to change you—no, that would be crude. Instead, he aligned himself so seamlessly with you that his presence felt like an inevitability. He listened with an attentiveness that made you feel understood in a way few ever had. “You’re extraordinary,” he’d say softly, his admiration never loud, never overwhelming. Just a simple truth, spoken like a secret only he was privy to.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who became your quiet refuge, the person who knew exactly how to soothe the weight on your shoulders. He never told you that you needed him, never implied that you were weaker alone. But somehow, in moments of uncertainty, his words would surface in your mind. “You overthink things sometimes,” he’d once told you with an affectionate smile. “You don’t have to bear it all alone.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert whose influence never felt like pressure, only gentle guidance. He never dismissed your thoughts, only reframed them. “You’re brilliant, but even the most brilliant minds falter under unnecessary burdens.” His words never undermined, never dictated. Yet they lingered, shifting the way you perceived yourself, the way you navigated your own decisions.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who, without ever asking for it, became the foundation you leaned on. And by the time you realized how deeply his presence had integrated into your life, it felt too natural, too comforting to pull away. After all, what was so wrong about relying on someone who had only ever wanted the best for you?

———

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who was intrigued by you from the start. A woman who stood with unwavering confidence, who carried an unspoken wisdom in her gaze. You weren’t someone easily impressed, nor did you seek approval from others. You knew your own worth, and that fascinated him.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who never sought to diminish your strength, only to ensure it was preserved. “You’re exceptional,” he’d tell you, watching the way you dismissed the weight of his words. “But strength isn’t just about standing alone. It’s about knowing when to let someone stand beside you.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru whose care never felt like control. If anything, he encouraged your independence—praised it, even. But beneath that praise was something else, a quiet implication that true strength was knowing when to yield. “You don’t have to prove anything,” he’d remind you, his voice soft but firm. “Not to me. Not to anyone.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who never outright questioned your choices but always offered an alternative. “I trust you,” he’d say with a smile, never condescending, never doubtful. “But have you considered another perspective?” And it was never an argument, never a dismissal—just enough to make you pause, to make you wonder if your certainty was truly your own.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who, with time, became the voice in your head, the presence you unconsciously sought out before making a move. Not because he had ever demanded it, but because he had gently guided you to a place where his insight felt indispensable. Where, without even realizing it, you had come to need him just as much as he had always needed you.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who made his love feel like a sanctuary, a safe place to rest. And in the end, you never saw it as dependence—you saw it as trust. A quiet, unshakable trust that tethered you to him in a way you couldn’t quite explain, yet never wanted to escape.

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♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who folds his hands neatly on the table as you tell him, your voice unsteady, that you think the relationship needs to end. He listens without interrupting, his expression as serene as ever, the faintest trace of curiosity in his eyes.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who tilts his head slightly, the movement so slight it’s almost imperceptible. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” he says, his tone warm and understanding. “I can see how difficult this is for you.”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who doesn’t argue or plead, instead leaning back in his chair with a thoughtful expression. “If you feel this is best for you, I won’t stop you,” he says, his voice measured and calm. “But I do wonder…” He pauses, just long enough to make you glance at him. “Is this truly what you want? Or are you running from something you don’t fully understand yet?”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who lets his words linger in the air, unchallenging yet heavy, like the weight of a velvet curtain falling over the conversation. “Regardless,” he continues, “I respect your decision. You’ve always been someone who values their independence.”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who, as he pays the bill and walks you to the door, doesn’t make a single misstep. His movements are fluid, his smile genuine. “Take care of yourself,” he says softly. “I only want what’s best for you.”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who watches you walk away, his expression neutral, almost unreadable. There’s nothing overt, nothing dramatic, just a quiet shift in his gaze that feels like a shadow passing over the sun.

———

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who sets down his coffee cup with a soft clink when you tell him, in a trembling voice, that you need to end things. His expression doesn’t change—calm, patient, as though he’s hearing something inevitable.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who leans forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand as he listens to you. “You feel like you’ve lost yourself,” he repeats, his tone thoughtful. “That must have been so difficult to admit.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who doesn’t try to dissuade you, doesn’t argue or press for answers. Instead, he nods slowly. “If leaving is what will make you happy, I won’t stop you,” he says gently, his words carefully chosen, as though he’s weighing each one before speaking.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who lets the conversation drift into silence, his gaze soft yet focused. “I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he says after a moment. “And if you ever need anything—anything at all—I’ll always be here for you.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who watches you stand and gather your things, his smile faint but sincere. “You’ve always been strong,” he murmurs as you hesitate at the door. “Even now.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who remains seated long after you’ve left, his expression unchanged. There’s no visible reaction, no sign of distress—only the quiet stillness of someone who never truly lets go.

———

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who sets aside his tea with a quiet sigh when you tell him, in a shaky voice, that you want to break up. He leans back slightly, his dark eyes thoughtful as he processes your words.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who gives you his full attention, his brows furrowing slightly in concern but not disbelief. “I see,” he says softly. “You’ve been feeling this way for a while, haven’t you?”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who nods slowly as you explain, his expression calm but attentive. “You don’t feel like yourself anymore,” he repeats, his tone careful and deliberate. “That’s not something I ever wanted for you.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who leans forward, his elbows resting on the table as he regards you with a quiet intensity. “If this is what you need,” he says, his voice low and steady, “then I won’t hold you back. You deserve to be happy, even if it’s without me.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who stands as you gather your things, his movements slow and deliberate. “You’ve always been someone who knows their own mind,” he says, his voice almost wistful. “I admire that about you.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who watches you leave, his posture relaxed but his gaze lingering on the door long after it’s closed. He doesn’t move for a long time, his expression serene, though there’s an almost imperceptible tightness in his jaw—a subtle crack in the façade.

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♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who, after the breakup, doesn’t chase after you. He respects your decision—or so it seems. He remains polite, understanding, and almost distant, as if he’s already moved on.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who reaches out with carefully calculated timing, sending you little notes or messages that seem innocent. “You left your favorite book at my place. Should I drop it off, or would you prefer I mail it?” A reasonable question, but the reminder of how well he knows you lingers in your mind.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who subtly plants seeds of doubt without ever making it obvious. He’s a ghost in your life, popping up in conversations with mutual acquaintances, always painted in a positive light. “Chrollo’s been so generous lately; he helped fund a library downtown.” His altruism makes you wonder if you misunderstood him.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who manipulates circumstances so that you start to feel isolated without realizing it. A lost job opportunity here, a canceled appointment there—small inconveniences that seem coincidental but slowly erode your confidence.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who remains patient and kind when you reach out to him in moments of weakness. “I’m here for you, no matter what,” he says, his voice soft and reassuring. “You don’t have to do this alone.” It feels genuine, but his subtle inflection reminds you of how much easier life felt when he was by your side.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who ensures that you remember the best moments of your time together. A framed photo he “forgot” to return, a familiar scent in a letter—it’s never blatant, just enough to make you second-guess whether leaving him was truly the right choice.

———

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who remains composed and graceful post-breakup, never pushing boundaries or demanding your attention. He doesn’t reach out directly, but his presence feels inescapable.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who ensures you hear about him through others—always in glowing terms. “Johan organized a fundraiser for the children’s hospital. He’s such a kind soul.” The stories make you question how someone so compassionate could have ever harmed you.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who plants doubts in your mind with precision. A single comment during a chance encounter: “You seem tired. Are you sleeping well?” It’s not accusatory, but the implication lingers, making you wonder if you’re truly okay on your own.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who subtly orchestrates situations where you feel overwhelmed and vulnerable. A sudden financial setback, an unexpected confrontation at work—problems that only seem to resolve themselves when he’s tangentially involved.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who appears at just the right moments, offering support that feels both coincidental and inevitable. “I didn’t mean to intrude, but I noticed you were struggling. Let me help.” His calm demeanor makes refusing him feel illogical, almost cruel.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who always speaks to you with warmth and understanding, his words like a balm to your insecurities. “You’ve always been strong,” he says softly, “but even the strongest people need someone to lean on.” His sincerity feels unshakable, even as his influence quietly tightens around you.

———

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who doesn’t fight the breakup, respecting your decision outwardly. He gives you space, never contacting you directly—yet his presence feels as steady as ever, a quiet force lingering just out of reach.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who subtly ensures that you notice his absence in your life. His knowledge of your routines allows him to step back at critical moments, leaving a void that feels unnervingly hollow.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who uses logic as his weapon, planting subtle doubts with precision. A chance meeting at the grocery store leads to a calm, reasoned conversation. “You’ve always been independent,” he says casually, “but it’s not weakness to need someone, you know.” His tone is gentle, unassuming, but his words stay with you.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who doesn’t sabotage you outright but instead carefully positions himself as the only stable constant in your life. When other relationships falter or opportunities slip through your fingers, he’s always there, offering quiet, unwavering support.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguruu who uses your own logic against you. “I understand why you left,” he tells you in a rare moment of vulnerability. “But I wonder if you’ve thought about what you really need. What makes you happy?” His words are measured, reasonable, and devastatingly effective.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who never pushes too hard, his manipulation so subtle it feels like guidance. His calm demeanor and thoughtful advice make you question whether he’s truly the villain in your story—or if you’ve misjudged him entirely.

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♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who waits patiently, never rushing, as the cracks in your resolve begin to show. He continues to be the steady, reliable presence in your life, always there when you falter but never overtly pushing.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who uses your love for independence as the final thread to weave you back to him. He leaves an innocuous invitation one evening: a handwritten note left in your mailbox. “There’s something I think you’d find interesting,” it reads. “Come if you’re curious. No pressure.”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who takes you to a quiet library hidden deep in the city, its dimly lit shelves lined with rare, obscure texts—exactly the kind of place that would ignite your curiosity. He shows you something you’ve never seen before: a book you’ve spent years searching for, one you’d nearly given up hope of ever finding.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who smiles softly as he places the book in your hands, his voice barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t let you miss out on this,” he says. “It’s too perfect for you. It belongs with you.”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who, as you flip through the pages with trembling hands, adds, “There are more like this. Rare treasures, hidden away. I’ve already started gathering them for you. No one else would understand their value the way you do.”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who, with his calm voice and unwavering gaze, ensures you feel that only he could ever truly see you, that his presence in your life is not control but a partnership you’d be foolish to walk away from.

———

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who never pressures you, never raises his voice, and never crosses a line—his demeanor as gentle and perfect as it’s always been. He remains at the edge of your life, always watching but never intervening overtly.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who appears on your doorstep one rainy evening, his expression calm but his eyes soft with concern. In his hand is an envelope. “I wasn’t sure if I should show you this,” he says quietly, “but I couldn’t bear to keep it from you.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who hands you a collection of documents—letters, reports, and photographs that seem to detail a series of coordinated misfortunes in your life. The lost job, the failed opportunities, the strange tensions with old friends—all traced back to a third party whose name you don’t recognize.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who lets you pore over the evidence in silence, his presence steady but non-intrusive. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he finally says, his voice low and steady. “But I’ve been keeping an eye on it. Whoever it is—they’ve been trying to isolate you. I’ve done my best to protect you, but...”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who watches as the realization dawns on you: the world is far more dangerous than you thought, and you are far more vulnerable than you ever realized. His timing is perfect—just as your walls are crumbling, he positions himself as your only sanctuary.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who places a hand on yours, his touch warm and steady. “You don’t have to face this alone,” he says. “You’ll always be safe with me.”

———

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who lets you spiral on your own, his involvement so subtle you don’t even realize how carefully he’s guiding you back to him. He never imposes, only steps in when absolutely necessary, his calm presence soothing your growing unease.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who, one evening, reaches out with a cryptic message: “I found something that might interest you. Thought I’d share it with you before anyone else.” Attached is a link to a seemingly unrelated incident—a local scandal, a breach in security at a place you once frequented.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who meets you in a quiet café to discuss it, his tone as calm and logical as always. “It’s strange, isn’t it? The way things have been unraveling around you.” His words are measured, his expression thoughtful, as though he’s piecing together a puzzle.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who, after weeks of planting subtle hints, reveals his “final discovery”—a detailed explanation of how vulnerable you’ve become without him. He shows you the ways the world has already begun to erode your security, pointing out how reliant you’ve unknowingly been on his guidance all along.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who leans back in his chair, his eyes calm but piercing. “I never wanted to burden you with this,” he says softly, “but I’ve been handling it for you. Keeping you safe. If you’d rather face it alone, I’ll respect that. But... I hope you’ll let me help you, as I always have.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who knows exactly when to pull back, leaving the choice in your hands—but ensuring that the only logical answer is to stay with him.

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♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who doesn’t pressure you after helping you with the book and other rare treasures. Instead, he gives you time to process, staying polite and distant as though respecting your boundaries.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who contacts you weeks later with a calm, measured voice. “I just wanted to check in. You seemed troubled last time we spoke. I hope I didn’t overstep by helping you.” His tone is apologetic but faintly accusatory, planting the idea that you’ve been ungrateful for his efforts.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who listens carefully as you stumble through your words, his quiet sigh barely audible over the line. “I understand,” he says softly, “but it’s disheartening, you know. I’ve always supported you, even when you pushed me away. I thought we were a team.”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who turns the conversation into a reflection of your supposed failings. “I never wanted you to feel weak or helpless,” he says, his voice laced with disappointment. “If anything, I was trying to help you see your potential. Was that really so wrong of me?”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who subtly reframes every moment of doubt you’ve ever had as evidence that you need him. “I saw how hard you were struggling,” he murmurs. “You didn’t see it, but I did. I thought... I thought you trusted me enough to let me help.”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who lets silence hang in the air, his tone calm but weighted when he finally speaks again. “But maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should’ve let you fall instead of trying to catch you. Would that have been better?” His logic is irrefutable, his manipulation so subtle that it feels like an honest conversation.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who ends the call with a resigned but loving note: “I’ll respect your decision, but know this—I only ever wanted what was best for you. I hope, one day, you’ll see that.” The guilt lingers long after the conversation ends, pulling you back toward him.

———

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who doesn’t push after revealing the evidence of your supposed “stalker.” He lets you sit with the knowledge, never bringing it up again unless you do.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who runs into you by chance at a quiet café. He smiles softly, his demeanor as kind and understanding as always. “You look well,” he says warmly, but there’s a hint of concern in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who, when you thank him for helping you, brushes it off with a graceful wave of his hand. “I only did what anyone would’ve done,” he says. “But it’s good to see you taking control of your life again. I was worried about you for a while.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who, over the course of the conversation, gently reminds you of all the ways you’ve struggled since leaving him. “It’s not your fault,” he assures you, his voice soft and soothing. “You were trying to be strong, but the world isn’t always kind to people like you—people who see things differently.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who subtly blames you for your insecurities without ever making it obvious. “You’ve always been so brilliant,” he says, “but sometimes you get lost in your own mind. That’s why I stayed—I wanted to ground you, to help you focus on what really matters.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who smiles sadly when you start to falter. “I know I’m not perfect,” he admits, his tone tinged with regret. “But I’ve always believed in you, even when you didn’t believe in yourself. That’s why it hurt so much when you left—it felt like you didn’t trust me anymore.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who leaves you with a parting comment that stays with you long after he’s gone: “You’re strong, but strength doesn’t mean pushing everyone away. I hope you’ll remember that.”

———

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who remains calm and composed after showing you how vulnerable you’ve become. He doesn’t push or pry, allowing you to come to your own conclusions—or so it seems.

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who waits until you reach out to him, his voice steady and reassuring when you speak. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he says sincerely. “I was worried you might’ve felt overwhelmed after everything I told you.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who never raises his voice or shows frustration. Instead, he uses reason to guide you back to him. “You’ve always been so determined to stand on your own,” he says, his tone thoughtful. “But sometimes, it’s okay to admit when you need help. It doesn’t make you weak—it makes you human.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who subtly reframes the breakup as a mistake on your part. “I didn’t want to say this before, but when you left, I was... worried about you. You’re so capable, but the world isn’t always fair. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t lose yourself.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who carefully plants the idea that you were at fault for how things ended. “Maybe I was too involved,” he says, his voice tinged with regret. “But I only wanted what was best for you. If that came across as controlling, then... maybe I need to rethink how I approach things.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who gives you just enough space to doubt your own decisions. “I never wanted to take anything away from you,” he says softly. “I wanted to help you build something better. But maybe I failed in showing you that.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who ends the conversation with a quiet, almost resigned comment: “Whatever you decide, just know that I’ll always be here for you. I can’t promise I’ll stop worrying, but I’ll try to respect your wishes.” His logic, his kindness, and his subtle manipulations leave you questioning whether you ever truly understood him—or yourself.

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♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who watches you crumble before him, your voice thick with regret, your hands trembling as you reach for him. He doesn’t stop you. Instead, he lets you grasp at his coat, his touch featherlight as he brushes away the tears staining your cheeks. “No, my love,” he murmurs, his voice velvet-smooth. “You were simply lost. But now you’re here, where you belong.”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who holds you that night, his body heat wrapping around you like a silken cage. His lips trace the slope of your neck, his breath a whisper of devotion. His fingers skim the ridges of your spine, languid and patient, memorizing every inch of your body. “I would forgive you a thousand times,” he breathes, “as long as you never leave me again.”

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who makes love to you as if he’s weaving scripture into your skin, each touch deliberate, each thrust a vow. His hands map your body with a reverence that borders on obsession, his lips branding you with soft, lingering kisses. And yet, there’s an edge beneath his tenderness—a silent warning in the way his nails dig just a little too deep, the way he marks your throat with his teeth.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer whose dark gaze never wavers as he cups your jaw, tilting your face toward him. His voice is soft, almost hypnotic. “Say it,” he coaxes, rolling his hips with slow, devastating precision. “Tell me who you belong to.” When you moan his name, it’s a prayer he drinks in greedily, his smile both serene and possessive.

♡ Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer who strokes your hair afterward, his lips grazing your temple as you succumb to exhaustion. His voice is barely audible, a lullaby meant for your ears alone. “Even if you left me again, I would always find you.” And though his words should unnerve you, the weight of his arms around you is far too comforting to resist.

———

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who cups your face in his hands as you break apart before him, your apology spilling from your lips in frantic sobs. He hushes you gently, his thumbs smoothing over your damp skin, his eyes filled with something you can’t quite decipher. “You don’t need to apologize,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I knew you’d realize, sooner or later, that I was only protecting you.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who takes his time with you that night, his touch languid and knowing, as though he’s unraveling you piece by piece. He kisses down your spine, savoring every shudder, every hitched breath. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, his hands molding to your hips, holding you in place as he takes what is his.

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who moves with slow, intoxicating precision, drawing out every whimper, every moan until you’re trembling beneath him. His grip tightens, his control absolute, and yet his voice remains unbearably gentle. “You were made for me,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “No one else will ever know you the way I do.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert whose every touch is a calculated act of devotion, his movements measured, each moment orchestrated to ensure you never forget the way he makes you feel. His lips curl into a soft smile when you cling to him, your breathless cries spilling into his skin. “That’s right,” he purrs. “Stay with me. Just like this.”

♡ Yandere! Johan Liebert who traces lazy circles against your bare shoulder as you lay entwined in the aftermath. His voice is almost absentminded, laced with quiet amusement. “It’s fascinating,” he muses, “how easily you let me shape you. But that’s all right—you don’t need to think about that.”

———

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who watches you with quiet patience as you stammer through your apologies, his fingers threading through yours as if to ground you. He tilts his head, his gaze unreadable. “You don’t need to explain,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over your knuckles. “I always knew you’d come back to me.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who handles you with deceptive gentleness that night, his touches reverent, his kisses lingering. And yet, there’s no mistaking the quiet command in his movements, the way he holds you against him as if daring you to slip away. “You’re mine,” he murmurs into your skin, his teeth scraping over your pulse. “You always have been.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who takes his time breaking you down, his pace unhurried yet devastating, his hands keeping you right where he wants you. His voice is low, soothing, as he whispers against your ear. “You don’t have to think anymore,” he coaxes, his fingers threading through your hair, his grip just firm enough to remind you of his strength. “Just let me take care of everything.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who leaves traces of himself all over you—bruises shaped like fingerprints, love bites blooming across your skin like evidence of his devotion. His lips brush against your temple, his voice a promise disguised as a lullaby. “You’ll never need anyone else,” he murmurs. “Not when you have me.”

♡ Yandere! Geto Suguru who holds you close as you drift into unconsciousness, his fingers idly tracing patterns over your spine. His voice is barely more than a breath, a thought he speaks into the darkness. “Even if you wanted to leave, I’d never let you.” He pauses, his lips curving against your skin. “But you won’t, will you?”

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

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

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

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

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

[luv-lock]

⸻ ᴀ ʟ ᴡ ᴀ ʏ ꜱ ᴍ ɪ ɴ ᴇ ⸻

Pairing: Dark Maegor I Targaryen x Fem Reader

Summary: You were always his. From the moment you were born. And it's going to stay that way, whatever you like it or not.

Warning: Targcest, Graphic depictions of violence, Non con, Maegor himself is a warning.

Notes: English is not my first language. Art belong to dalberadiata. Hope you enjoy!

Maegor kicked a rock with all the strength his young body could muster, the jagged stone skittering across the ground and disappearing into the brush. His chest heaved with frustration, his fists clenched at his sides, and his face contorted in a mask of anger.

But no matter how much he trained, no matter how hard he fought, his father’s gaze always passed over him. Like he wasn’t even there.

His foot slammed into another rock, as he ground his teeth in fury. He wanted to be king. He would be king. One day, they would all see—his father, his brother—all of them would see.

“Boo!”

A voice, sweet and sudden, pulled him from his thoughts. His body stiffened as he turned, already prepared to strike, but it was only her. His sister, always sneaking up on him, always playing her games. She popped out from behind a tree, her eyes sparkling with mischief, a playful grin on her lips.

“Did I scare you, Maegor?” she teased, laughing softly as she plopped herself down beside him on the grass without waiting for a response.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t smile. Of course, he wasn’t scared. His hands flexed at his sides, still shaking with the remnants of his anger. He wasn’t in the mood for her games. Not today.

But she didn’t seem to notice. She never did. Instead, she sat beside him, her fingers absentmindedly plucking at the flowers that dotted the ground. She hummed softly, her hands busy weaving stems together as if there wasn’t a care in the world.

“I’ll be king one day,” he muttered, his voice low, angry. His fists tightened as he stared ahead, his vision still blurry with unshed tears. “You’ll see. I’ll be a great king. Someone important. Stronger than father. Stronger than anyone.”

She nodded, but he could tell she wasn’t listening. She never really listened when he talked about his plans. She was too busy with her flowers, too lost in her own world of pretty things and laughter. He frowned, watching as she twisted the stems in her delicate hands, her smile never faltering.

“What are you doing?” he snapped, his frustration bubbling up again.

She looked up at him then, her eyes wide, as if his anger didn’t bother her at all. Her smile only grew, and she held up the thing she had been working on. “Done!” she announced, her voice soft and sweet, like the sound of a gentle breeze. She leaned over and placed it on his head—a crown of flowers, woven with care, resting lopsided on his dark hair.

Maegor blinked, confused, his anger momentarily forgotten. He reached up to touch the crown, his brows furrowing as he tried to understand what she had done.

“What is this?”

She smiled at him, that same sweet, soft smile that always made something in his chest ache. “Even if you don’t become king, you’re still my king, Maegor.” Her voice was full of warmth, full of love. “Always.”

He stared at her, the confusion in his eyes deepening. She was always like this—so full of life, so bright. Too bright for someone like him. Too soft for a world as harsh as theirs. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond.

But now, when he looked at her, the only thing that remained was death.

Her body was cold in his arms, a shell of the girl she used to be. Her eyes, once full of light, now stared blankly ahead, her mouth silent as always. But that was alright. She didn’t need to speak. She didn’t need to smile.

He still loved her.

Even like this.

She was dressed in beautiful silk, her hair brushed and perfect, her lips still stained with the remnants of the last kiss he’d given her earlier. She looked like a doll. Fragile. Beautiful. Untouched. He dragged his hand down her neck, savoring the coldness of her skin, feeling the shiver of pleasure that ran through him.

But the silk? That was a pity. He was going to rip that apart anyway.

He pulled her into his lap, her body limp and pliant, her head lolling to the side as he pressed his lips to her neck. He bit down, hard, savoring the taste of her skin, his teeth sinking in deep enough to draw blood. His hand slid between her legs, fingers pushing against her cunt, trying to get her wet. She didn’t move, didn’t react, but he didn’t care. She would be ready for him. She had to be.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered into her skin, his voice dark and rough as he kissed along her neck, his bites growing harder, more savage. “You’ll give me a son. A true son. Something none of those useless cunts could do.” His fingers moved faster, harder, forcing her body to respond. “We’ll name him Aegon. After father. What do you think?”

He pulled back, his eyes gleaming as he looked at her face. Her tears were falling now, silent as always, sliding down her cheeks like the rain.

Oh, right. He had cut her tongue out.

He laughed then, a deep, guttural sound that echoed in the room. How could he have forgotten? She had screamed, hadn’t she? Begged him to stop, to leave her alone. She didn’t want to be his wife. She didn’t want him. But that hadn’t mattered. Not to him. He had made sure she couldn’t refuse him ever again.

He wiped her tears with his thumb, pushing it into her mouth as he did. “It’s alright,” he whispered, his voice soft, mocking. “I love you still. I like you more like this.”

Then he kissed her, hard and rough, his mouth devouring hers as his hand gripped her neck, holding her in place. She didn’t kiss back, didn’t move, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need her to.

He shoved himself inside her, his thrusts brutal, each one harder than the last. Her body didn’t fight him, didn’t resist. She took him in silence, her tears falling faster now, her eyes empty as they stared at the ceiling. But Maegor didn’t stop. He pounded into her, growling with each thrust, determined to make her his in every possible way.

“You're mine,” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous as he fucked her harder. “Always have been and always will be.”

She didn’t respond. She never did. But that was fine.

When he was done, when her body was limp and unconscious beneath him, he pulled out, only to push his seed back inside her, forcing it deeper, making sure she would carry it.

“You’ll be a mother,” he whispered, his hand pressing against her stomach, possessive. “The mother of my child.”

His.

Always his.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ

[artdcnaldson]

You asked for blurb ideas & that thought here got stuck in my mind since this morning 🌞

Tennis Reader “thanking” Art after their training session in the locker rooms. ;)

Reader sneaks in men’s locker room after training together till evening, surprising (Stanford) Art under the shower + asking for some steamy extra cardio. 👀

And eventually Patrick walks in. Idk abt that but whatever you write is amazing, in every trope 🫶🏻

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (hj, fingering, p in v), throuple dynamics (+1)

A/N: Ok I’m sorry I know you said Stanford but 2019 era Art is ALLLL I can think about 🩷 forgive me for my transgressions pls

Tashi had set the whole thing up, holding his hand through it. Because Tashi and Patrick were off globetrotting for the tour— France, if he remembered correctly. Tashi just wanted to make sure he was taken care of, that his needs were being met. In his career… and otherwise.

You were a player out of… USC? He thought that sounded right. Recently graduated, doing well in the pros, already highly ranked with an excellent record. The perfect first player for Art Donaldson to coach.

She set up the entire thing, met with you to get things organized, and penciled training into his calendar with a tiny note.

Have fun without us -T

You were doing such a good job, even unwittingly— putting on the sweetest little show for him. When you’d miss a serve or a ball went out of bounds, you’d do a peppy little jog then bend over to grab it, completely unaware of the effect it might have had on him.

“I need to see how you play,” he had said as you dropped your bag on the side of the court. You smiled and nodded, and took to the opposite side of the net.

He beat you embarrassingly easily the first set. Sweat was beading on your forehead as you met him at the benches between courts and guzzled down water. When you finally came up for air, a little trail of water went from your plush bottom lip and down your chin.

He watched you lick the moisture from your lips, then wipe at the rest with the back of your hand. He swallowed hard.

“Do you want my advice?” He scratched at the back of his neck as you peered up at him expectantly. “You need to loosen up, you’re too tense.”

Your eyes widened at his direction, but you nodded. “Yeah, okay, Mr. Donaldson.” You drank down another gulp, then jogged back to the other side of the court, eager to please.

He watched you bend over, retrieving a couple of balls that you’d hit into the net, flashing tiny white spandex beneath your tennis skirt.

Jesus Christ, Tashi was evil.

By the afternoon, sweat dripped down your arms, along the line of your throat, dampened the baby hairs framing your face and the back of your neck, tacking them down to sticky skin.

“Why don’t we head to the locker rooms inside, then we can meet upstairs and go through a training plan.”

You smiled, looking so sweet and eager. “Okay.”

He was grateful for the shower— molten against aching, underused muscles. He hadn’t exactly just given up on everything after retiring, but his muscles weren’t being used the way they were used to— the constant strenuous training.

He closed his eyes, letting the spray hit his face and soak into his skin.

He heard a squeak and jumped, eyes flying open to the sight of you naked underneath one of the other shower heads, quickly adjusting the spray from ice cold to steaming hot.

“Turned it to cold on accident,” you said over your shoulder. “Women’s locker rooms are under maintenance. You don’t mind, right?”

He turned, cheeks burning pink as he tried his best to play it cool— act like he wasn’t checking you out. “No, uh, it’s fine.”

Were you in on it with Tashi? It certainly felt like it as he watched you lathering your body up with soap, maybe focusing too much attention to your tits.

You glanced over, caught him looking, and smiled. He turned away quickly with his pulse thrumming in his throat.

Fuck. He was already hard. It wasn’t exactly a surprise— he’d been half-hard just at the sight of you in that fucking outfit on the court.

He heard you laugh and looked back at you. You were looking right at him, amusement evident in your expression. “She said you’d be easy, but, Jesus, I thought you’d put up more of a fight.” 

You shut off the water of your shower and made your way over. Water dripped from your body, rolling down your skin in delicate rivulets. You stopped in front of him and ran a hand down his chest, making him shiver.

“Tashi told you?” His words trailed off into a groan as your hands moved between his legs, stroking the length of him in your delicate grasp.

“She told me to say thank you after every lesson,” you said. With each step forward you made, he took a step back, until you had him pinned against the cold tile. He moaned as your thumb ran over the tip of his cock, and you smile sweetly. “She showed me exactly how I should do it.”

“Showed you?”

You sped your hand up, twisting slightly with each tug upwards. “Mhmm. On Patrick. She went first, then I showed her what I learned.” You laughed softly, lips brushing along his jaw. “I’m a very fast learner. Patrick was very impressed.”

Fuck, he was going to get back at Tashi for not letting him be there for that. The mental image was enough to make his cock pulse in your grip. Maybe he’d just have you recreate it for him the second Tashi and Patrick came home.

Your lips brushed along the like of his jaw as you continued to jerk him off, your hand slick and tight and relentless. Just like Tashi’s would be. God, you really were a fast learner.

It would certainly make being your coach a lot easier.

“Art,” you hummed, breath hot against his ear. He nodded wordlessly, almost afraid that if he spoke, he’d wake up from a fugue state to find out that he’d just imagined it all and was mid-jerk off session.

Your lips moved against his throat, nipping gently at the expanse of soft skin. He tasted like sweat and tap water. Your words came out as a whisper, “You can fuck me now.”

He laughed shakily, flushed red down to his chest. “Now? You don’t want me to go down on you, or—“

He was cut off when you grabbed his hand and moved it between your legs. Dripping wet, silky soft, absolutely aching for him.

You moaned softly, leaning fully onto him for support as he rubbed at your clit. “T-Tashi—“ You stammered, losing that seductive bravado you’d walked in with. “Told me I should make you work for it. But, fuck—”

Art laughed softly. “You’re too needy.”

“Do you know how fucking sexy you sound when you play tennis?” You whined, breath going shaky as he pushed a finger inside of your aching cunt. “Halfway through the second set, I— god— I considered dropping the pretense and fucking you right on the— on the court.”

Tashi wouldn’t have that. When she came home, she’d clock that impatience train it out of you. She’d make you sit and watch, get so desperate you’d beg and cry for it. She had to do it to Patrick before— she would know just how to get you to the point she needed you at.

The tennis would be up to Art.

You were so wet, clenching around his finger, craving more. What the fuck would be the point in denying either of you any longer?

You whined when he moved his hand from you, but he wasn’t going to keep you waiting. He pinned you against the cold tile wall, lifting you up to where he needed. You smiled at him,wrapping your legs around his waist, coaxing him closer.

A shiver ran through you as his cock brushed over your folds— so close to where you needed him. His tip notched against your entrance and he pressed into you slowly, relishing in the way you held your breath, in the way your body opened up for him so eagerly.

He pressed his forehead against yours when he bottomed out, and you panted as you adjusted to him.

You were impatient. So fucking impatient. You rocked your hips against him, begging wordlessly for more. He leaned in, kissing you slowly.

“Art,” you gasped, pulling away from the kiss as he fucked into you, slow and deep. “Patrick told me that I should tell you that you’re supposed to fuck me, not make love to me.”

Of fucking course he did. “Is that what you want?”

You nodded, somehow looking so sweet split open on his cock. His hips met yours in a particularly harsh thrust and you cried out in surprise. You moaned so seeetly, your lips turned up in a smug grin. It was exactly what you wanted.

Your back slid against the slick tile wall as he drove into you again and again and again. Your cunt was so warm, and tight, and so fucking wet if squelched obscenely with each thrust.

Wet kisses were peppered along his jaw and throat along with soft murmured thank yous and praise.

“You’re so deep, Art,” you moaned into his ear. “Feels so good. Thank you, thank you.”

It had been a week since Tashi and Patrick were home. A week of having to find satisfaction with Patrick’s fucking lewd Snapchat videos and his hand.

And here you were— a sweet, tight, Tashi-approved plaything. Your manicured nails rubbing at your clit, your pussy clamping around his cock as you drew closer and closer to the edge.

What better foreplay was there than tennis?

You came first, which was a fucking Godsend. He had no doubt Tashi would’ve flayed him if she found out that he couldn’t even manage to get his new toy off before he did. Loud— not caring if anyone heard.

Tashi would train that out of you too, lest you get them banned from every fucking country club in the state. Or a TMZ article whispering about a tawdry affair.

He shut you up with a hungry, searing kiss. Tongue moving against yours, muffling your cries. He came buried as deep as he could possibly get, with his tongue shoved down your throat and his grip bruising your soft thighs.

The water had gone icy when you both detached from each other, finally taking the actual shower you needed. You happily shared a shower head since you’d wasted enough water as is.

You redressed, tied up your wet hair, and sat on a bench, tapping away at your phone while he did his best to look presentable, and not like he’d just fucked the athlete he was supposed to be coaching.

“Tashi and Patrick say hi,” you said casually, offering a killer smile.

Maybe retirement wasn’t that bad.

NEED to be the toxic triplets’ little plaything im clawing at the padded walls of my enclosure

Anywayssss feel free to send more blurb reqs 🩷

[awhoreintheory]

Circus Boy

Directly inspired by @erinwantstowrite 's art!!! post

Request from awesome amazing cool Anon

Over the years, circuses have lost their spark.

Dick would know— he’d literally grown up in one. Back then, the circus was a symphony of effort and artistry. Weeks, sometimes months, were spent perfecting routines. Performances were designed to dazzle, to inspire awe, no matter the country or culture of the audience. The comedy sketches weren’t just filler— they were genuinely funny, capable of drawing laughter even from the most reluctant parent dragged along by an excited child. Every act had a rhythm, a purpose, and above all, passion. The performers took pride in their craft, and the audience responded in kind, feeding off the energy, cheering and clapping until their hands were raw and their throats sore. 

Now? Now they were dull. Predictable routines recycled ad nauseam. Costumes that looked like they were bought in bulk from a clearance rack. Tents and stages slapped together with the barest effort to resemble grandeur. The magic, the joy—the soul of it all—had been replaced with a singular, glaring goal: profit. No one cared if the audience laughed, gasped, or even paid attention, so long as they paid their entrance fees.

But recently, whispers of something different had started making waves in Gotham: a circus gaining a reputation for being... well, different.

Dick’s curiosity was piqued. He hadn’t planned to go, at first. But the memories of his youth, of what the circus used to mean, stirred within him. Before he knew it, he’d wrangled (read: blackmailed) together as much of the family as he could to go see it. Which, wasn’t a whole lot considering quite a few were out of state currently, but it was enough to make him smile.

“Why must I come along? I do not see the point,” Damian groused, arms folded tightly across his chest as the group approached the circus grounds. Despite his protests, he made no move to make a stealthy exit.

“You’re coming because it’ll be good for you,” Dick said, ruffling Damian’s hair just to annoy him. Damian promptly swatted his hand away, glaring daggers at his adoptive brother.

“You don’t even know if it’ll be good,” Tim chimed in, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “What if this thing is as boring as all the other ones you’ve complained about?”

“Then we’ll all get funnel cake and call it a night,” Stephanie said brightly, making it clear where her true excitement lay. “I’m in it for the food, anyway.”

Dick pouted. “You didn’t have to say the quiet part out loud!” 

“Don’t underestimate funnel cake,” Duke added with a smirk. “It might be the only thing saving this trip if the show’s a flop.”

Dick rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t waver. “You’re all so cynical. Just... trust me, okay? I have a feeling about this one.”

Sure, a lot of the decorations seemed cheap thus far, but Dick can’t blame them. They’re clearly low budget, with only two shows a week, versus the seven to ten a week Dick was used to. The difference was the genuine passion and excitement in the eyes of the performers. And they were just doing pre-show stunts on the street to rouse excitement! 

Tim hummed thoughtfully. “This place has been gaining rapid popularity,” he said, the subtle edge in his tone making it clear he was already analyzing every detail. Dick saw his fingers twitch as if to take a picture. 

Dick glanced over at him but didn’t comment. He recognized that tone— Tim was in detective mode, quietly piecing together threads no one else could see yet. He did, however, take the opportunity at his siblings' distraction to subtly herd them in the direction of the tents, eager to get a good front-row seat. Damian noticed, but he didn’t do much more than roll his eyes.

Steph, however, rolled her eyes dramatically. At Tim, not Dick. “Can you just enjoy one thing without looking for a criminal conspiracy, Tim?”

Tim matched her with a roll of his own eyes, the two slipping into a bickering match that’d put an old married couple to shame if they weren’t so aggressively gay. Meanwhile, Dick let his attention wander to the stage, studying the equipment with the practiced eye of someone who’d lived this life.

Suspended high above was the trapeze rig, its bars wrapped in worn leather, the steel cables taut and secured to thick iron frames. The safety net below, while a little faded, looked sturdy enough to do its job. Not brand-new, but serviceable.

To one side, a highwire stretched across a dizzying height, its slim cable shimmering faintly under the tent lights. The rigging showed some signs of age— slightly dulled bolts and scuffed counterweights—but nothing that made Dick worry. It would hold, even if the daredevil walking it would need nerves of steel.

A teeterboard sat center stage on the ground, its spring mechanism ready to launch performers into flips and vaults. Nearby, a stack of brightly painted crates and barrels hinted at comedic skits. Clowns would probably tumble over them with exaggerated flair, while a sturdy seesaw-like prop suggested slapstick gags involving plenty of unintentional (and intentional) falls.

The whole setup had a charming scrappiness to it. The equipment could use a little TLC, sure, but Dick had no doubt it would hold up under pressure. He could tell the performers had put their trust in it, and that meant something.

For a moment, Dick felt a flicker of nostalgia. The way the crew moved, the crisp efficiency with which they handled the gear— it reminded him of home, of the way his parents had always treated the stage with reverence, as though it were sacred ground.

“Do you see how high that wire is?” Duke muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and apprehension as he followed Dick’s gaze.

“I see it,” Dick replied softly, his heart tightening. He couldn’t help but wonder who had the guts to walk that cable, let alone pull off any stunts on it. He’d definitely have to stick around and chat them up, maybe have a little friendly competition. 

“Awe, man,” Duke sighed, visibly disappointed. “Guess we weren’t excited enough.”

Turns out “early” wasn’t early enough because the seating area was packed. The whole first three rows were aggressively claimed, forcing the group to settle for seats in the middle of the fourth row.

Steph and Duke promptly excused themselves to grab popcorn—or, more accurately, for Steph to scout for funnel cake. Dick had to respect the consistency.

Damian glanced at Dick, then at Tim with a withering look. “Drake, cease your ramblings. They sour my mood.”

Tim blinked, clearly taken aback. “Wait, just me? Steph was talking way more!”

Steph, who had been halfway out of earshot, whirled around with mock offense. “Excuse me? I wasn’t the one turning this into an episode of ‘True Crime: Circus Edition.’” 

“Yeah, because you’re too busy planning how to steal funnel cake from children,” Tim shot back, crossing his arms. Damian’s eyebrow twitched. Dick wondered why peace was but a mere illusion. 

“Oh, please,” Steph quipped. “You’d be the kid I steal it from, Drake.”

Before Tim could come up with a retort, and Damian became a convicted felon, the lights dimmed, cutting their bickering short. A hush fell over the crowd as the familiar low hum of a drumroll began to build.

The ringmaster strode into the center of the stage, clad in a dazzling coat of crimson and gold that shimmered under the spotlight. If you looked any closer than that, you’d see how tacky and cheap it was. His booming voice carried effortlessly across the tent.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Welcome to a night of wonder, daring, and delight!” the ringmaster announced, his voice ringing through the tent as the steady drumroll built the tension. “Prepare yourselves for the extraordinary, the astonishing, the absolutely unbelievable! The show begins... now!”

The drumroll reached its peak, and with a dramatic flourish, the spotlight swept upward to reveal the first performer perched high above the stage. A man in a sparkling gold costume waved grandly to the crowd before swinging onto the trapeze. The audience clapped politely as he performed a few rudimentary tricks— basic flips and graceful swings that showcased control but lacked flair.

Two more performers joined him, each clad in similar glittering costumes. They moved with confidence, transitioning through formations and passing between trapezes, but the moves were predictable and lacked the edge Dick was hoping to see. Certainly, nothing that would make this rinky-dink circus as popular as it got so quickly. 

Tim leaned toward Dick, his tone flat. “You dragged us here for this?”

“Underwhelming,” Damian muttered, his expression neutral but his tone sharp.

Dick didn’t respond immediately, though he couldn’t disagree. The tricks were technically fine— safe, practiced, polished— but there was no spark, no passion. No magic. He resigned to going home disappointed and also to the inevitable flaming via siblings. 

But then, just as one of the performers finished an awkward landing on the platform, the ringmaster’s voice boomed again.

“And now, prepare yourselves for the prodigy of the skies, the one and only Amazing Arach-Kid!”

The spotlight shifted upward again, revealing a much smaller figure poised on a separate platform, high above the others. It was a boy— young and wiry, dressed in sleek crimson and black, his face obscured by a half-mask (not dissimilar to their domino masks, actually) that glimmered faintly in the light. For a moment, the crowd was silent, uncertain what to expect.

Without warning, the boy leaped.

The gasp from the audience was audible as the kid— Arach-Kid?— launched himself into a dramatic triple flip, his body twisting gracefully through the air before he caught the trapeze with flawless precision. The crowd erupted into applause, the energy in the tent shifting instantly.

He didn’t stop there. Swinging with a force that sent his trapeze soaring higher than any of the others had dared, he released at the peak of his arc and spun into a double somersault. Instead of catching the next trapeze, he landed neatly in the arms of one of the adult performers, who looked genuinely startled by the boy’s precision. He grinned, waving excitedly at the audience as they roared with applause. 

From there, the routine transformed. Arach-Kid became the centerpiece of the act, seamlessly incorporating daring flips, twists, and transitions between trapezes. He was passed between the adults with perfect timing, their previous mediocrity eclipsed by his sheer skill and energy.

“Whoa,” Duke murmured, leaning forward in his seat. “He’s... good.”

“Who is that kid?” Tim asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Better than the rest of them combined,” Damian said bluntly, though his tone carried the faintest hint of approval.

The boy ended his routine with a jaw-dropping quadruple somersault, catching the final trapeze one-handed and hanging upside down with effortless control. Gasps and cheers erupted from the audience, their applause thunderous as he let himself swing for a moment, letting the crowd bask in his daring. Then, with a fluid motion, he swung back, releasing the trapeze bar for one final flourish.

Dick leaned forward, his breath catching as the kid’s body twisted into the unmistakable maneuver— the signature move of the Flying Graysons.

The crowd roared as he executed the technique perfectly, his form flawless, his timing impeccable. He landed with a clean dismount, arms raised triumphantly, and offered the crowd a playful bow before darting off to the wings. Even with the stage empty, shouts and applause echoed for a long time after the boy left. 

For a moment, Dick couldn’t move. His stomach churned as memories of his parents on that same trapeze flooded his mind. No one else knew that move. No one could. His parents had created it, and Dick had learned it from them. It was their legacy— his legacy.

So how, in the name of all that made sense, did this random kid just pull it off perfectly?

The lights shifted again, smoothly transitioning to the next act: a somewhat clumsy but undeniably entertaining tightrope routine. One performer started with a wobbling walk, arms flailing for comedic effect. Another joined, balancing precariously with a broomstick for support. The final performer added a unicycle to the mix, pedaling shakily across the thin wire as the audience laughed and clapped in delight.

It was… objectively funny.

But Dick barely noticed. His good mood had evaporated, replaced by a heavy knot of unease in his chest. At this point, they must have a hive mind with how they immediately filed out of the tent without a single word exchanged. 

“That was—” Tim started, breaking the tense silence.

“Dick,” Steph interrupted, her voice low, “did he just—?”

“That was your move,” Tim finished firmly, his eyes locked on Dick’s.

“It’s not possible,” Duke added, glancing at the now-empty trapeze rig. “Right? It’s your family’s thing. There’s no way some random kid from Gotham knows it.”

“I am more concerned with how he knows it,” Damian said, his voice cutting. His eyes darted to Dick. “This is your domain, Richard. You must have answers.”

Dick didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his breathing shallow. In disbelief, he muttered, “I don’t.”

Steph frowned. “Okay, well... what do we do? Do we just ignore the fact that some kid pulled off your impossible secret family move?”

“No,” Dick said sharply, his voice colder than any of them expected. “We don’t ignore it. We find out who he is, how he learned it, and what the hell is going on.”

Tim’s brow furrowed. “Do you think someone’s trying to get your attention? Like, deliberately?”

Dick shook his head, though his face betrayed his uncertainty. “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, it’s... it’s possible, but...” He exhaled through his nose, frustrated. “I need answers. This isn’t something you just pick up on YouTube.”

The group left the small but packed circus, their earlier excitement replaced by a shared tension. The cool night air did little to clear their heads as they walked in a tight huddle, glancing over their shoulders as if the boy would materialize out of the crowd.

“Something’s not right,” Tim said, breaking the silence.

“Obviously,” Damian muttered.

“I mean it,” Tim snapped. “Moves like that— you don’t just do them. It takes years to learn without a teacher.” He glanced at Dick. “You’re sure no one outside your family knew it? Like, absolutely sure?”

“Positive,” Dick said firmly. “The only people who knew it are gone. Except me.” His voice dropped as he added, “Or at least, they’re supposed to be.”

The group exchanged uneasy looks, about both the situation and Dick’s reaction to it. It takes quite a bit to rattle him, so to see him, well, rattled was weird. Beyond weird. It was downright wrong. 

“Either way,” Duke said cautiously, “we’re going to figure this out. Right?”

“Oh, we will,” Dick said, his voice grim. “We don’t leave things like this unanswered.”

As they disappeared into the Gotham night, paranoia settled over them like a second skin. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t going to stay a mystery for long. 

[verstappenverse]

Home is Where the Heart Is

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: You’re very excited to redecorate, and Max is absolutely smitten.

1k words / Masterlist

Your phone vibrates on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a new message. It’s Max, of course. He had to run out for a few hours, some training before his next race, but he promised he’d be back in time to help with the culmination of your decorating project.

On my way. Ready to hang up those weird plant things you ordered. followed by a laughing emoji.

You can’t help but chuckle. Max had poked fun at your excitement the entire week. You’d been planning this makeover for so long and now that everything was finally coming together you could hardly contain your enthusiasm. You had spent ages scrolling through home decor websites, adding things to your cart with gleeful abandon. Colour swatches were scattered across the floor, paint samples were smeared on the walls. The new shelves, throw pillows, and, yes, the complicated plant hangers he loved to mock, were all waiting in the corner of the living room.

"Okay, well they're not weird, they're aesthetic," you mutter to yourself, smiling as you look at the hanging baskets you’d planned to fill with greenery.

Just as you’re untangling the macrame ropes for the third time, the front door swings open, and Max walks in. He’s wearing that relaxed, post-training glow, one you’ve come to associate with this calm, off-track version of himself.

“Hey you,” he calls out, dropping his keys on the table. His eyes roam the living room, his lips curling into a grin. “So… what are we hanging first?”

You barely register his question as you concentrate on an imaginary layout in your head. "Do you think the sofa should stay in the centre, or should we move it to towards the window?"

Max walks over and stands next to you, pretending to study the space like he’s an expert. "Definitely the centre,” he says after a pause, though it’s clear he hasn’t actually thought about it.

You narrow your eyes at him. "You’re just saying that so we can be done faster."

Max’s grin widens, completely unbothered. "I might not care about throw pillows as much as you do, but I’m here to help. You’ve got my full attention."

“You underestimate the complexity of decorating,” you said with a grin. “It’s an art form.”

He bends down and kisses your cheek, his stubble brushing against your skin as he hovers a second longer than necessary. He walks back and leans back against the wall crossing his arms with a teasing smile. “Promise I’ll bring my A-game."

You shake your head, feigning exasperation, but you’re secretly thrilled to have him here. "I want this room to be perfect," you say, more to yourself than to him.

Max looks at you with soft eyes. "It’s already perfect."

"Max…" you groan, "the couch isn’t even in the right spot!"

"You know what I mean."

Your heart does a funny little flip at his words, but you push it aside for now. "Okay, so this first," you announce, grabbing the ropes and handing them to him.

He takes them reluctantly, staring at the pile in his hands like they might start moving on their own. "Are you sure about these?"

You giggle, reaching for the small hook you bought for the ceiling. "Of course. Plants are a must. Greenery is very calming you know."

Max raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "You’ve seen my old apartment right? No plants there and I was pretty calm."

"You’re calm on the outside, but inside you’re one bad plant decision away from chaos."

He laughs at that, the sound warming the space instantly. “Fine, fine. Where are we putting them?”

You point to the corner near the window, excitedly showing him the exact spot.

As Max climbs up to attach the hook to the ceiling, you sit back on your knees, looking around the half-decorated room. The shelves are still leaning against the wall, the box of candles untouched, and the cushions… well, they’re scattered everywhere. But you can already picture it in your mind, your perfect little sanctuary.

He finally gets the hook in place and hangs the first rope. Stepping back to admire his work and gesturing towards it.

You clap your hands together. “It’s perfect!”

Max shakes his head, chuckling. “You’re way too excited about this.”

"I just love how everything’s coming together," you say, getting up to wrap your arms around his waist from behind. He’s warm, solid, and his familiar scent fills the air, making the room feel even more like home.

The room starts to take shape, and with each new addition Max’s admiration for you grows more than he thought possible. He’d occasionally step back to admire your work, his gaze lingering on you with a look of pure adoration.

Max leans into you from behind, his arms resting over yours. “I like seeing you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Happy,” he says.

You smile up at him, “I am happy. Especially now that you’re here.”

He turns you around in your arms, catching you off guard as his eyes meet yours. There’s that familiar spark of mischief. “You know, I never thought I’d spend my afternoon hanging plants or arranging cushions,” he nods vaguely towards the room, “but if it makes you this excited, I guess it’s worth it.”

“You are so cute,” you tease.

He reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, “Well, you’ve certainly outdone yourself."

You stand there in the middle of your half-finished living room, surrounded by unpacked decorations and the future plans you’ve been obsessing over. But for a moment, it all fades away as Max leans in and kisses you, soft and slow, like you’re the only thing he wants to focus on.

When he finally pulls back, he cups your face in his hands, his eyes locking with yours. “You’ve made this place beautiful, and it’s all the more special because you’re in it.” Your heart flutters, touched by the sincerity in his voice. His hand gently strokes your cheek. "So, what’s next?" he teases.

You laugh, resting your head against his chest. "Maybe we can take a break… but just for a little while.”

Max pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you. “Take all the time you need. This place already feels like home.”

[spidercat2099]

Kento doesn't go out for drinks... usually.

Nanami hadn’t planned on going out for drinks that night. He never did. He’d perfected the art of declining invitations with a polite yet firm excuse—too much work, an early morning, simply not interested. It wasn’t that he disliked his coworkers, but the thought of spending his precious free time in a noisy bar, pretending to enjoy small talk, felt like a waste. Time was valuable, and he refused to spend it on anything he didn’t deem worthwhile.

But then there was you.

You hadn’t asked him outright, just offhandedly mentioned, “You never come out with us, huh? What, do you go home and stare at the ceiling after work?” The way you smirked, teasing but not unkind, had struck a nerve—because yes, sometimes he did exactly that.

And maybe it was the way you said it. Maybe it was the way you looked at him, expecting another dismissive answer. Maybe it was because, lately, he’d found himself lingering in conversations with you just a little too long, noticing the way you tilted your head when you listened, the way you lit up when you talked about something you cared about. Maybe it was because, when he really thought about it, the idea of spending an evening with you didn’t feel like a waste at all.

So he went. He arrived late, and the second he stepped inside, he regretted it—too loud, too many people, the kind of place he usually avoided. But then he saw you, sitting at a corner booth, laughing at something a coworker said, and somehow, it didn’t seem so unbearable.

You noticed him immediately, eyes widening in surprise before softening into something warmer. “Didn’t think you’d actually come,” you admitted as he slid into the seat next to you.

He sighed, loosening his tie a little more. “Neither did I.”

He didn’t engage much with the others, his responses polite but brief. Most of his attention was on you—not that he’d ever admit it. He watched the way your face lit up when you laughed, how effortlessly you fit into the energy of the group. He wasn’t particularly fond of loud, crowded places, but if it meant sitting beside you, watching your eyes crinkle when you smiled, he found that he didn’t mind it as much.

But you weren’t about to let him sit there like an observer. No, you were determined to make him enjoy himself, too. Your eyes flicked to the whiskey glass he had barely touched. "C'mon, that can't be the only thing you're drinking."

"I don’t drink much—" he began, but then the bartender placed a fresh round of shots in front of you.

"Just one?" You held up a glass, tilting your head slightly.

He should say no. He knows he should say no. But with the way you were looking at him, expectant and playful, how could he? With a quiet sigh, he picked up the shot, tapping it against yours before downing it.

"That’s… terrible," he muttered, setting the glass down with a slight grimace.

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. "It is, but it gets the job done!"

He pressed his lips together, but you swore you caught the ghost of a smile. Or maybe you were already tipsy and imagining things.

"One more!" You lifted a finger to the bartender, but before you could complete the order, Kento's hand was on your wrist, lowering it gently.

"Maybe you should slow down." His voice was steady, but there was something in his expression—concern, maybe.

You pouted, glancing at the fresh shot as the bartender slid it over. "But he already served it… I don’t wanna waste it."

He sighed, rubbing his temple. "Look, you won’t waste it. I’ll drink it, hm?" He extended his hand, waiting for you to pass it over.

You stared at him for a moment, then shook your head. Instead, you picked up the shot yourself. Without warning, you cupped his face.

His breath hitched. Your palms were warm against his skin, and suddenly, he was more aware of your presence than ever before. His pulse ticked in his throat as he met your gaze, trying to decipher your intentions. He could have stopped you—should have stopped you—but he didn’t.

You brought the glass to his lips, tilting it slightly. His jaw tensed for a brief second before he relented, parting his lips as he let you tip the shot into his mouth. The alcohol burned, but it wasn’t what made his chest feel tight. It was you. The way you were looking at him. The way your thumb lingered, brushing against the corner of his lips, wiping away a stray drop of liquor.

"Better?" His voice was lower, rougher.

"Better," you murmured, but your eyes weren’t on his anymore. They were on his lips.

You leaned in. Closer. Closer.

And Kento, despite every rational part of him telling him he shouldn’t, didn’t move away. Especially when your soft lips touched his. He let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. His hand came up to the back of your head, kissing you deeper.

With reluctance, he finally pulled back. He bit his bottom lip gently as he tasted the contrast of the liquor to your sweet coconut-flavored chapstick.

Your mouth stayed open as you caught your breath. "Tell me. Was it worth it to come out tonight?" you asked.

He nodded, moving his hand to caress your flushed skin tenderly. "Do I get a kiss every time I do?"

You let out a small laugh. "You don't have to go out just to get one. But if you want, I'll give you a kiss every time." You lean in again, kissing his lips gently as if savoring every second. He could get used to this.

[anamina0]

Echoes

Part I , Part II , Part III , Part IV , Part V , Part VI, Part VII , Part VIII

Summary: Fleeing the wreckage of your heartbreak, you land in the chaos of Zaun, pouring drinks at a dingy bar. You're still facing unresolved feelings and emotions towards Ellie, but they’re easier to bury when Vi storms into your life—a whirlwind of sharp words and reckless energy. You start off bad, really bad but it's enough for you to think of something else for a bit.

warnings/themes : angst, heartbreak, lots of trauma, kind of enemies to lovers, unresolved feelings, a bit of violence, au

word count : 3.8k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back at it again, falling just where you started , completely alone , full of sorrow and regrets. Moving away to a completely unknown place was the best escape plan - literally. You knew nothing about this city, save for a few stories your best friend had told you. Yet, even the thought of staying in the same place as her couldn’t outweigh your choice - you'd rather wander off Zaun's shadowed streets, losing yourself for a lifetime than remain bound to the familiar.

City was close to what you have imagined. The fractures that happened few years ago helped to a great extent , after decades of suffering, the city had finally exhaled, though it had not lost its soul. Cleansed of its grime, its fumes, and its shadowed figures, the streets and the people remained exactly as your friend had described them—a perfect echo of her tales.

Finding a job wasn't hard , from now on you'd serve drinks in one of the city’s dim, suspiciously isolated bars—barely more than a shadow in the corner of a forgotten street. Pay wasn't good but it was enough for an apartment and food, nothing else mattered to you. You were trying your best to take as many shifts as you could, working whole night helped you not think about her , during daytime you would typically crash out , exhausted from your job. And yet, she always found a way to reappear.

At the bar, you distracted yourself by watching customers. Most of them came for a drink and a chance to ease their burdens, but for you, the real game was observing them—piecing together their stories from a glance, a gesture, a half-heard conversation. Sometimes , thought of her would reappear . Something would remind you of her scent, her voice, slipping into your mind without warning. But you had mastered the art of distraction, shifting your focus before the memories could take root.

It was in your dreams where she would visit most frequently, escape from her was almost impossible, as though she determined to remind you of what you wanted to forget: that no change of address, no new life, could erase her. She was etched into you, inescapably, a part of you as much as your own breath. But you had to move on , that's what you were best at, carrying pain and suffering throughout your life, god knows you've been doing that since the day you were born.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Can we talk?” she asked, her tone calm but firm, as she stepped closer to you.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “Ellie,” you whispered, bracing yourself for the inevitable fallout. “I shouldn’t have said what I said.” The words spilled out in a shaky breath.

Her green eyes searched yours, unreadable but sharp. “Why is that?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost careful.

“You already know why,” you said, your gaze flickering over her face—her furrowed brow, the tightness in her jaw. Anxiety clawed at your chest, every emotion colliding at once: fear, anger, love, and a desire that burned despite everything. Losing her wasn’t an option, not like this.

“That’s the problem,” she said, stepping even closer, her boots scraping softly against the floor. “I don’t know why. You told me how you felt and then ran off, didn’t even wait for my answer.” Her voice broke slightly, frustration seeping through, though she was clearly trying to hold it together—for your sake. “That’s not fair.”

“I couldn’t take it anym—” you began, but your trembling words cut short as Ellie moved.

Her forehead rested against yours, her breath warm and steady against your skin. “I need you,” she whispered, her voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “More than you could ever need me.”

“Nothing’s going to change that,” she said, her voice unwavering now, as if it was the most certain truth in the world.

* * * * * * * * *

Once again, your own screams tore you from sleep, Ellie had found her way into your dreams.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, the echo of her voice lingered in your ears. You glanced at the clock hanging crookedly on the wall and exhaled in relief—it was almost time for another shift.

You moved through your routine on autopilot: a quick shower, clothes and out the door. The walk to the bar felt like a blur, your thoughts still tangled with fragments of the dream you couldn’t shake.

“Hey there,” you greeted Revek, arguably only person who could be considered as your friend in Zaun , as you stepped behind the counter.

He glanced at you with that signature smirk of his, tossing his apron onto the counter. “Well, well, look who decided to show up. Twenty minutes late, no less.” Leaning against the bar, he crossed his arms and tilted his head. “Alright, what is it this time? Lost your keys? Got cornered by some hooligans? Or let me guess—lost track of time again?” His smirk widened as he tapped the counter, signaling for his usual drink.

“Cut me some slack, you asshole,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “It’s not like they’re paying me enough to show up on time.” You reached for the shaker, pouring his drink without missing a beat. “I just… had a bad dream, alright?”

The smirk faded slightly as he took the cup from your hand, his gaze softening. “Not again,” he said, his tone shifting to something more serious. He took a long sip before adding, “You know, if you ever want to talk about it… I’m here.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you said quickly, brushing him off with a weak smile. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. Now scooch—you’re scaring off my customers.”

Revek gave you a knowing look, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he pushed himself off the barstool, raising the cup in a mock toast. “Fine, fine. Just don’t forget—I’ve got a hell of a good ear for this kind of thing.”

You watched him walk away, trying to shove down the unease crawling up your spine. Fixing your hair in the reflection of a glass, you turned to face the empty bar. The night was long, but at least behind the counter, you could pretend your mind wasn’t a battlefield.

The day had been dragging. The bar was dead slow, with only a few regulars stopping by for a drink and a bit of small talk. You made an effort to keep busy—wiping down the already spotless counter, rearranging bottles, polishing glasses—anything to make the hours pass. Not until she walked in. The air shifted instantly, the tension almost suffocating as the door swung shut behind her. You froze, your hand mid-reach for a glass, and looked up. You’d seen countless faces walk through those doors. From the desperate to the careless, from the downtrodden to the troublemakers, the bar had welcomed them all. Nobody ever stood out—nobody cared about anyone else here. That’s what you liked about this place. People came in, had their drinks, exchanged a few words, maybe played a game or two, and left as if they’d never existed to one another. But her? She shattered that silence like glass. You didn’t know who she was, but everyone else seemed to. Heads turned, conversations halted, and even the usual clamor of the old jukebox seemed to dull in her presence. She strode toward the bar, brushing off the stares that trailed her like shadows. It was obvious she didn’t give a single fuck about anyone in the room. Whatever power she held over the crowd, she didn’t seem interested in wielding it—at least, not tonight. Stopping at the counter, she gave the drinks menu the briefest glance before tapping the laminated surface with her finger.

"Can I have this?” she muttered, her voice low and uninterested, pointing to a drink. Then, without looking at you, she added, “Make it a double.”

“Sure thing,” you replied, watching her as you reached for the bottle. She didn’t meet your gaze, didn’t acknowledge you at all, but that only gave you the chance to study her features: pink hair cut into a sharp mullet, light blue eyes that didn’t seem to care about much, and freckles scattered across her nose like they’d been painted there.

“Here you go,” you said, sliding the drink toward her. She grabbed it without a word, her attention flickering to the room around her. Even now, she seemed utterly uninterested in you—or anyone else, for that matter. She didn’t sip the drink so much as down it, her throat working as the liquid disappeared almost too quickly. You found yourself leaning slightly forward, unable to look away. There was something about her, something impossible to read. You liked puzzles, and she was the hardest one you’d come across in a long time.

Who was she? Some kind of criminal? Or maybe she was the exact opposite? Why was she here? Trying to get drunk, or waiting for someone? Before you could settle on an answer, she tapped the counter sharply, her empty glass sitting in front of her. The message was clear. Another. You poured the drink without hesitation, the silence between you stretching long and tense. As you set the glass down, she didn’t so much as glance your way.

“You’re welcome,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm, hoping to at least provoke some kind of reaction.

It worked—but not the way you’d hoped. She turned her head, finally looking at you, and you almost wished she hadn’t. Her glare was sharp, cutting, and filled with barely-contained anger.

“Just do your job,” she said coldly, her voice low and cutting. “I didn’t come here for chitchat.”

She turned back to her drink, dismissing you entirely, but the tension she left behind lingered in the air, coiling around you like smoke. Whatever game you thought you were playing, she wasn’t interested.

“What an asshole,” you thought bitterly, dragging your gaze away from her and down to the bar. The question lingered in your mind—should you say something? Not because you couldn’t stand up for yourself, but because, you weren’t sure if she was even worth it.

She tossed back another drink, her sharp eyes cutting across the room as she motioned lazily for someone to come over.

“Again,” she muttered, her gaze flicking back to you. For a fleeting second, it softened—just barely. But the moment was gone as fast as it came, replaced by her usual aloofness when a tall man approached her with an appearance that screamed trouble. You busied yourself making another drink, ears pricked to catch their conversation.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here, Vi,” the man greeted her, his tone carrying an edge of wary excitement.

She chuckled dryly, grabbing her fresh glass without even looking at him.

“What are you playing over there?” she asked, dismissive, like she hadn’t even heard him.

He hesitated, glancing at his buddies like he was searching for backup. It was obvious he didn’t want her involved, but too afraid to say no.

“Just some boring cards,” he replied with a strained grin. “You’re, uh, welcome to join.”

“I’ll be right there.” Her words were ice-cold as she turned back to you. “Another one.”

You stared at her silently, letting your expression say everything your words didn’t. She noticed. Of course, she noticed.

But instead of acknowledging it, she took the drink you handed her and headed over to the table of men, sliding into a seat among the kind who spent their nights gambling away the last shreds of their dignity. Vi. That was her name. At least you had that much now. But she was still a puzzle—a unsolvable one. You watched her, lost in your thoughts, until Revek appeared from the back of the bar, his sharp eyes scanning the room before settling on her.

“Haven’t seen her in a while,” he muttered, settling onto a stool.

“Who even is she?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself.

Revek leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Remember I told you abour shit that went down three years ago? Piltover, Zaun, all that Hextech chaos?”

You nodded.

“She was part of it. A big part.”

You squinted, piecing it together. “That explains why everyone knows her down here.” You frowned, the anger bubbling back up. “She’s an asshole.”

Revek chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, you could say that. After everything went to hell, she holed up in some dump around here. Doesn’t talk to anyone. Just drifts between bars, sometimes… worse places, drowning herself in cheap booze.”

“Was she always like this?” you pressed, desperate to understand.

“That’s a long story,” Revek began, but his words were cut off by the sharp sound of glass shattering across the room.

Your head snapped toward the noise. Of course, it was her, standing over some poor bastard, yelling and swearing. Revek shot you a look and stood, ready to step in, but you stopped him with a firm hand.

“I’ll handle it,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

“You sure?” he asked, hesitation in his voice.

You nodded, already moving toward the chaos. By the time you got there, she was on top of the guy, fists flying with a fury that could have leveled buildings. The crowd around them was frozen, too shocked—or maybe too entertained—to intervene.

“Hey!” you shouted, but she didn’t even flinch.

“Stop it! Now!” you tried again.

Still nothing. She was too far gone, lost in her rage. Without thinking, you moved in to pull her off—but before you could, pain exploded across your face, and you found yourself on the ground, disoriented.

The room went silent.

When your vision cleared, you realized, she had hit you.

Vi stood over you, her expression flickering with something almost like regret. “Shit,” she muttered, reaching a hand toward you. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Get the fuck out,” you snapped, cutting her off as you staggered to your feet.

She hesitated, her gaze locking with yours. You made sure she saw every ounce of your anger, your disgust.

“Now,” you commanded, stepping closer.

For once, she didn’t fight back. She just turned and walked.

Days passed, and thankfully, she didn’t come back. Still, every time you stood behind the bar, her face crept into your mind—her cockiny, her sharp eyes, her unbearable attitude. It filled you with rage. You already had too much on your plate; the last thing you needed was to waste energy hating some pink-haired asshole. But despite yourself, you couldn’t stop thinking about her. It wasn’t all bad, you supposed. At least thoughts of her kept you from thinking about Ellie. But replacing heartbreak with anger wasn’t exactly a healthy trade.

It was another calm day, the kind you’d come to appreciate in the wake of the chaos she’d brought. If anything, her outburst had earned you some respect. The regulars gave you a nod, a look, as if standing up to her had proven something. But the peace didn’t last. The bar doors swung open, and the room fell into an all-too-familiar hush. You didn’t even need to look to know who it was. The tension in the air told you everything.

Vi.

Revek appeared at your side almost immediately, his eyes darting toward her. “This gonna be trouble?” he asked, his voice low.

“I’m fine,” you replied, keeping your gaze locked on her as she strode toward you. There was something deliberate in her steps, something… different.

Her eyes met yours from across the room, and you stood your ground.

“I think I made myself clear last time,” you said coolly, though your voice carried that simmering edge of anger you couldn’t quite hide. “You’re not welcome here.”

“I know,” she replied, stopping in front of the bar. Her tone was calm, almost subdued. “I’ll leave. But first, I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

You narrowed your eyes, studying her. There was no cocky smirk, no sarcastic retort. Just… awkwardness.

“I was drunk,” she continued, her voice low. “That guy said something—something that pissed me off. I lost control.” She hesitated, her eyes searching yours. “It’s not an excuse, but… I didn’t mean to hit you. I would never—”

“But you did,” you cut her off sharply, though you could already feel the fight draining out of you. She was being honest. You hated that you could tell, but you could.

“I know.” Her voice softened even more. “I didn’t see you. And I’m sorry. I really am.”

You exhaled, your shoulders dropping slightly as you leaned against the counter. You weren’t ready to forgive her—not entirely. But you were exhausted from carrying so much anger.

“Fine,” you said at last, pouring her the drink she’d ordered last time. Sliding it across the bar, you added, “I appreciate your honesty. I don’t appreciate assholes, though. And you? You were an asshole.”

A flicker of surprise crossed her face as she accepted the drink. For a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something else. But instead, she downed it in one quick motion, set the glass back on the counter, and walked out without another word.

She started coming back. At first, you thought it was a fluke—a one-time thing. But no. A few days later, she was there again. And again.

Sometimes she was alone, sometimes with a new girl on her arm, but the pattern stayed the same. She’d order a few drinks, stay for a while, and leave without so much as a word in your direction. She’d read your message loud and clear. But what you couldn’t figure out was why. Zaun was filled with bars—plenty of them even filthier than this one. So why keep coming back to this one? Was it defiance? Did she just not care about the fact that you didn’t want her here? Then there were the moments that left you even more confused. The way her gaze would linger,as she was hanging out with some random girl, her eyes flicking over to you when she thought you weren’t looking. It wasn’t often, but it was enough to notice. Enough to keep her lodged firmly in your thoughts.

Vi was a mystery. An infuriating, captivating mystery. And for some reason, you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting to figure her out. Maybe it was the distraction she provided, pulling you away from the ache of Ellie. Or maybe it was something else. Something about the way she carried herself, the way she owned a room even when she was silent. Whatever it was, she had you hooked—and you hated her for it.

Today was no different. She strolled in like she owned the place, another girl trailing behind her—a new one this time. She made a beeline for the bar and ordered a round of drinks before sliding into a table suspiciously close to where you were working. Maybe you were imagining things, but it felt deliberate. There were plenty of empty tables scattered throughout the room, especially ones better suited for whatever this was supposed to be. An intimate date? That hardly seemed like Vi’s style. The girl with her seemed sweet. Blonde hair with blue highlights that caught the dim lights of the bar, bright eyes, a soft smile. She leaned toward Vi as they talked, her body language screaming interest. But Vi? She sat back, arms draped casually over the chair, her expression distant, detached. It was like she craved the closeness but couldn’t bring herself to let anyone in.

It was… familiar. Too familiar.

You turned back to the counter, your hands working on autopilot as you wiped down the surface. Yet, no matter how much you tried to ignore her, your gaze kept drifting in her direction. And every time it did, you caught her watching you.

You didn’t like it.

Pouring yourself a drink, you told yourself it was just to take the edge off. One drink turned into two, and before long, the alcohol made everything sharper, more noticeable. You were too aware of her—every glance, every quiet laugh, every time her eyes flicked toward you. When it happened again, you decided enough was enough. You locked eyes with her, letting your gaze trail over her features, daring her to look away. She didn’t. At first, she looked confused, but that quickly morphed into something smug—a slow, cocky smirk creeping across her face. She leaned over, whispering something in the blonde’s ear. The girl nodded, and just like that, Vi stood and headed straight for you.

“Hey there,” she said, her voice calm but carrying that familiar edge of arrogance. Her eyes bore into yours, steady, confident.

“Well, look at you,” you quipped, leaning casually against the bar. “Turns out you can talk.”

She smirked. “Can you blame me? You called me an asshole and made it pretty clear you didn’t want me to talk to you.”

“Both of those things are true,” you replied with a dismissive shrug, though the faint trace of a grin played on your lips. You blamed the alcohol.

“So let me get this straight,” she teased. “You don’t want to talk to me, but you want me to talk to you? Maybe even acknowledge you?”

“Oh, I’ve noticed you acknowledging me,” you shot back, your tone dry. “Not with words, though.” Your hand idly wiped at the counter with a cloth, pretending nonchalance.

Vi chuckled, brushing off your jab. “Fair enough. Since you’re so insistent, let me drop the ‘asshole behavior’ for a minute.” She leaned in slightly. “I don’t even know your name.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward to meet her halfway. “It’s Y/N,” you said, your voice firm. A beat of silence lingered between you, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Then, with a small smirk of your own, you added, “Now get back to your date. Don’t keep her waiting.”

You didn’t wait to see her reaction. The sudden surge of emotions made your chest tighten, and you dropped the cloth and glass onto the counter, heading for the backroom.

Intimacy—it wasn’t something you wanted. Not now. Not with her. Even the smallest brush of warmth from someone else felt like an open wound. You were comfortable in the cold, with the pain. Examining Vi had been easy, safe. She was uncertainty and sharp edges, not softness. You closed the door behind you, leaning back against it and exhaling deeply. Maybe one of these days you’d figure out what Vi was really doing to you. But not tonight. Not yet.

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Note from author: It's my first time writing something ever please please please let me know if you liked that! I think that this fic will have 6/8 parts , so there's a lot unfold here. I kinda changed finale of Arcane, because Vi and Caitlyn don't end up together. Also, I have included Ellie as reader's ex girlfriend, so she will have more appearances in future. It would mean world to me if you shared my work (if you liked it of course) and please don't hesitate to message me, ask me questions about it or let me know what are your thoughts! Thank you!