#not really yandere just the tags i lurk in

[trashlama]

ROTTMNT RAPH X READER, ROTTMNT FUTURE LEO X READER X LEO SKETCHES

- Did I mention that I have a thing for muscles?

- May color this later

- I got so much to color...

Rough-Rough Drafts ↓

THANK YOU GUYS FOR LOOKING!!!

[gremlingottoosilly]

Cleaning services (perv!Konig x fem!cleaner!Reader)

Konig needs help in decluttering and cleaning his house. Unfortunately for you, he takes quite a huge liking in having pretty things like you around. And he isn't very nice about it.

TW: Perverted Konig, age gap, Konig masturbates at you without consent, implied kidnapping, yandere Word count: 3754 This work on AO3

There is no shame in having a professional cleaner, König tries to tell himself. 

Yes, he is a grown man with a very dangerous job that requires having a lot of responsibility. He holds the lives of his soldiers in his hands and risks his life every day not for the sake of his country, but certainly for the sake of his wallet and the reputation of KorTac. 

Hiring a professional cleaner for his house shouldn’t make him feel humiliated and embarrassed, and he knows it. Cleaners are basically like soldiers – doing stuff that other people can’t for a certain amount of money, providing services for the clients who can afford it. Besides, it’s a support of his local community – after everything he took from the people around his town, it’s only natural that he would support this growing business of cleaning services. 

There is no shame in having some nice old lady cleaning his house and watching over it while he is too busy trying not to kill himself or drown his head in liquor after a particularly rough mission. When you lose two guys on a run that was supposed to be the quickest task possible when you’re returning home with an injury that isn’t really that serious but brings your whole mental state into a very dark place, and when you’re forced to take 3 weeks of leave in the place you hate, hiring a cleaner to take care of everything really shouldn’t make him so ashamed of himself. 

Even if he can clean his space – the house is just too big for only one of him, and his ribs still have this funny feeling of fantom bullets traveling around his guts. So, he dials up the number of the cleaning services because he is too fucking old to understand their weird website and messenger ordering, even though speaking with a human operator on the other half of the line is somewhat more humiliating that having no idea of how to use a modern interface. 

There is no shame in asking for help, his therapist is trying to shrill it in his head all of the time and yet he is still hesitant when the cleaning professional is knocking on his door, finding this place surprisingly fast. König braces himself, thinking about all the ways he could avoid having a conversation – he drew a quick map of the place, put down the room cleaner shouldn’t be entering – his gun safe, mostly, already repeated in his head how he would greet them and swiftly extract himself from the situation. 

“Guten Tag, please, come in. This is the map of the place, don’t go to the red door on the right, don’t hesitate to ask questions, I will be on the second floor.” He takes a few wide, swift steps to his door and stops. Thinks again, overthinking, thinking too fucking much about everything, anxiously checking on his phone to read the message that yes, his cleaner is here and he should probably open the door or they would burst down the window. “Guten Tag, come in. Map of the place is here, don’t go to the red door to the right, please hesitate to ask questions, I will be somewhere around the house, lurking in the shadows” He braces himself to open the door, ready to see that sweet old lady who would spend the next 8 hours cleaning his house and then turn back another day to rinse and repeat until his house stopped looking like a place where a very, very miserable man lives. (Even if this is true) 

But, there isn’t a nice old lady with a bunch of cleaning supplies and determination to make someone’s life easier. 

But, there isn’t a cold middle-aged woman with a very professional no-nonsense attitude who wouldn’t even talk to him before going straight to work. 

But, there is a young girl. Well, not a girl, of course, if he had to guess you were somewhere around the “Too fucking young, but definitely legal” spectrum. Young enough to not be alive when he was already going to school, young enough to make him sweat, and definitely not old enough to be accepting a job where you’d have to spend so much of your life cleaning and scrubbing and sorting and…

There isn’t anything shameful in ordering a cleaning service when you genuinely need it, but you’re young and you’re pretty and he isn’t even wearing a mask because he is an old dumbass that forgot about it, and you look at him with your shiny eyes and…

Maybe, he should clean on his own – would definitely be less shameful. 

— Sir? H…hello? Good morning? Can you hear me? 

Yes, he can hear you. 

Yes, he would love to hear you every single day of his life, when he wakes up and when he falls asleep. 

— Ja. I apologize, I…thought it was mail. 

It’s a dumb excuse, but he can’t really say that he was just too fucking mesmerized by your shiny eyes and perfect hair and nice figure and basically everything about you. He has this nasty habit of imagining a future with people around him – with people who just fucking want to be left alone, and yet he still stares and looks and it’s probably ultra uncomfortable for them – but he can’t help imagining the life with every cute lady in the grocery shop or elegant lady sitting next to him on a train. 

He has a pattern – people who are not interested in him in the slightest. He has a pattern, a preference, cute girls, smart girls, popular ladies that were never even so much as looking in his direction. He could probably score someone now, having a colonel’s salary and honorably discharged payments, but he gave up on trying to find anyone. He has friends, company, has work where he spent most of his life anyway – he doesn’t need anyone, he wants to think. 

Then you waddle into his life with a bunch of cleaning supplies and a small vacuum, barely able to handle everything in your hands. He rushes to help and envelops your hands with his – you are so much smaller in comparison, he has bear-like arms and horribly big everything. he feels awkward when he gently removes everything from your arms – when he tries to help by simply putting everything on the table of the next room. 

König hated this house – it was big, it was empty, and the only reason he didn’t sell it was because Mother’s things were still locked in her old bedroom and every time he tried to clean it and evaluate the cost of the house, he decided that he will Do It Other Day. Coincidentally, all of those days were also followed by three-month minimum missions, making him utterly unable to do everything about this place anyway. 

This is why you’re here – a hired cleaner, a sorter, you promised to de-hoard everything and see if there is anything of value. Perfect for someone like him, especially since he is paying you double for spending the whole day and a few days more in his house exclusively. 

Now, he looks at how awkward your smile is, how you fidget with the edge of the broom you brought, and how you can’t even start a conversation because he is simply staring at you, staying in the living room of this dead, almost abandoned house. Now, he looks at how cute you are, how perfect, and remembers that he didn’t score with anyone in half a year already – not even in terms of sex, the casual flirting was also forbidden since half of his unit was transferred and the new people weren’t really fun of his tough methods of breaking rookies in. 

When was the last time someone genuinely smiled at him? 

Ah, he is staring again. Scheisse. 

— Where do you want me to start, sir? 

He wonders how much he should pay you to clean him instead. Would you be gentle? Rough? Would you call him a pervert, which he is, and then slap him and yell at him for being such a horrible old dog who is ready to pounce at every pretty girl in his presence? He would do anything that would set his mind free of the thought about Mom. Her bedroom. This whole house that he can’t call home ever since he turned 6 and understood why Father was always so, so angry. 

— The living room. If it’s not too much. 

He barely stops himself from talking more – you look weird, you loom surprised, you look at him like he is fucking stupid and, in fact, he is. Of course, it wouldn’t be too hard for you, you’re his clean, for fucks sake. You come here to clean, you get good money for it, he shouldn’t feel guilty for using your services because, in some way, he actually provides you with a job and a cute thing like you shouldn’t go to other houses, with old perverts that can do unspeakable things with the adorable worker. 

Ah, yes, perverts like him. God, he is hopeless. 

— Alright. Do you want to note something, like if there is anything I shouldn’t touch? 

He would allow you to take your adorable, yellow glow-wearing hands to get into his personal savings and all of his bank accounts, if you’d want to. He curses under his breath, hating how professional you are – hard worker, perfect, simply a fantastic person who deserves more than working for him. You aren’t trying to shy away from the job and he almost resents you for it. 

You’d make a good soldier, he thinks – you’re able to hear the orders and oblige to them, you’re obedient and came even before the discussed time. You’d make such a perfect private for his unit, he observes. 

Ah, right, he was supposed to answer you. Shit. 

— No. Just don’t go to the second room on the left. 

— Alright. Anything else? 

He grumbles under his breath, trying to get into the right headspace to deal with someone like you. König knows it’s rude, to just ignore and leave you like this – but if he were to stay in he same room as you, he would do something horrible, disgusting, and completely dishonorable to you. So, he leaves – escapes – to his office. Father’s office, mostly, the only thing here that belongs to him are some documents and useless papers – and a laptop that he drags to every other room anyway. 

He doesn’t like this room, it reminds him of the worst episodes of his early childhood – yet, this is his only reserve. He doesn’t want to leave the house because the territory is secluded and if something were to happen to you, he would be the only one able to help. He also doesn’t want to leave his gun collection with you – he doesn’t want you to find it and freak out or hurt yourself. 

This is what he tells himself, at least. He wants to be there with you, in the same room preferably, but horrible for his anxiety, because he wants this illusion, phantasm of having a loving relationship. Of having a woman in his life, a lovely housewife who would cook for him, clean for him, and would be absolutely spoiled with gifts and attention. God knows he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body – but he will carve one out of his ribs for you. 

And he only knew you for an hour tops. 

König feels like literally the worst man alive when he spread his legs and starts stroking his hard, glistening cock. He brushes over the swollen, red tip, not allowing himself to have any lube other than spit and oozing pre-cum – he tries not to cum embarrassingly quickly, thinking about your perfect gestures and smiling face. How perfect you look in your cleaning uniform – not like maids from the occasional porn he was watching, but still beautiful. Your body is perfect even with all of those ugly layers and grey fabric – and he can’t stop thinking about the sway of your hips or glimpses of your legs under your dress.

He thinks about you, bent over his couch, trying to clean the especially dirty spot on the furniture – how the material of your dress would be tight around your ass. The image makes him grunt quietly, stroking his barely wet dick even more – the pain from the dry sensation only makes the pleasure all the sweeter. He is hard, was hard for the past 10 minutes as you were introducing yourself and whatever your deal is. He is dirty, perverted, knowing only your name and your face – and he is still stroking himself, thinking about paying you extra just so you’d get on your pretty knees and suck him. Would you be sloppy, messy, get his cum all over your face so you’d have to wash it off? Would you be experienced, eager, trying to get as much seed as possible with that pretty tongue of yours? 

He is a lost cause because he hears the sounds of vacuum – you’re only a few rooms away from him, trying so hard to clean his house for him, to work through every bit of furniture and everything he acquired for the past twenty years or so – and he moans loudly, knowing that you don’t hear anything. You’re probably listening to music or some silly girl’s podcast about planets and gardens and maybe some university lectures. He’d pay for your courses, he would get you any book you want – having his salary and barely spending it made him softer in the saving habits. 

He can afford to splurge on a pretty girl who just needs a rich Austrian mercenary to sweep her off her feet. But, he is old – but, he is a monster who preys on someone helpless, using her pretty face to jerk himself off, and he doesn’t even deserve your number, although he has had it since accepting the service. 

His cock is big, angry red in his hand as he runs his finger over the bulging vein, teasing the sensitive flesh – always loud in bed, with grunts and moans of pleasure, he can barely contain himself now, only forcing his mouth shut when he doesn’t hear the sound of vacuum anymore. He strokes his dick fast, angry, and slams it into his fist, trying to make the pain last longer, so he won’t cum after a minute or two. He has the stamina to last longer – but it’s also the first time he was so horny since…he can’t even remember. 

König thinks about putting you in his bed – like a perfect housewife, you would hug his waist with your legs, would allow him to lick and grope at your tits, and won’t scream too much when he’d force his tongue inside of your precious pussy, taking every last drop of your pleasure. He wouldn’t want to be forceful, angry, you’re too precious for this and too weak for his strength – but he can imagine slamming into you in a matting press, cumming inside and not even pulling out, warming his cock in the heat of your body. 

Father would kill him for doing something so dirty in his office – but he is long dead, devil save his soul, and it’s König’s office now. Even when he barely uses it, even if he doesn’t really need this. It came in handy when he had to jerk off to the pretty cleaning girl who cleaned up after him – so, somehow, his father managed to improve his mood 15 years after he died. 

He cums with a low groan, whispering your name – he doesn’t understand how a pretty thing like you still works here and wasn’t taken by someone else already, but he would take what he can get. Never the one to get the first dibs, never being someone’s first choice – he feels terrible for thinking about you in such a low way, but his pleasure sticks to his fingers and, at this point, it’s too late to feel bad. 

Drying the tip of his dick with a tissue, he spends a good few minutes with spread legs, his soft cock laying on the chair, with cum still oozing out – such a waste, honestly, would be much better to stuff you full of his cock or even take your pretty ass, spread you slowly. Keep only the tip in, not pressuring you into anything more until you’d start moving yourself, like a good slut you will be. 

So perfect under him – the images and sounds of your voice are running through his mind, making him breathe heavily. If he was younger and had as much sex drive as before, he would already be hard – but he needs some time to relax, thinking about your pretty legs and adorable face. 

It takes him a few minutes of listening to your sweet voice to understand that you were not, in fact, a hallucination or a mystical fairy coming to make him come. You were standing outside of the office door, looking embarrassed and clearly hearing at least some of his horny mumblings – you avoid looking at him, and your fingers are trembling when you tug at the sides of your dress. Guilt immediately rushes to him again, he looks at you like a perfect treasure you are – and he is a horrible monster trying to hoard all of it to himself. 

— What is it, liebling? 

Petname goes smoothly from his tongue and he can only hope that you don’t know German – he is too embarrassed to talk to you, too anxious, his newfound shyness is a result of both your beauty and the post-nut clarity that already made him feel like a monster. He contemplates just giving you money and sending you off, paying double for the false call, and leaving you a 5-star review so you won’t get in trouble with your boss. 

You look so meek from his angle of view – he has to fight the urge to pinch your face, squeeze your cheeks, grab your waist in his firm hands, and just lift you in his arms, holding you to his bed. Maybe getting a nice set of cuffs to ensure you would never escape from him. 

— I finished with the living room and…well, I just wanted to ask if you want the decluttering work to be done today or tomorrow. 

He remembers how he basically paid you for a few days worth of work – and he smiles at exactly how perfect this decision was. Of course, you are a smart girl, a modest girl, you aren’t staying the night and would rather waste time on the road, much to his dismay, but at least he would see you for a few days already. 

He might not even let you go after. 

— Ach. Today, if it’s not too…

He stops himself again – of course, it’s not too much, you are a professional, not just a friend that comes to clean his place for a pack of beer and maybe some pizza. He doesn’t know how to talk to you, anxiety eats him whole, and he has to just avoid looking at you to avoid further embarrassment. 

— Alright. I will do it right away then. 

You smile awkwardly, your lips are twitching and he already knows that you could hear him moaning your name and sweet little praises while stroking his cock. You aren’t biting the hand that feeds you, not running away screaming at how perverted he is – poor girl, you probably need money more than you need personal safety if you’re fine with him heaving like this. If you were his, he would never allow you to be so careless. 

He moves behind you in the most dreaded room of the house. Mother’s bedroom, a room that she only used for sewing and only allowed him in when he was extra whiny after another failed fight with his bullies. All of her thighs are here – ever since she passed away, he just moved everything to one room and locked it, barely bothering to keep a key. He hates being here, almost as much as being in Father’s office — this room smells like death and old paper and you scrunch your nose in an adorable expression when you take a step inside. 

— I will divide everything into categories, alright? 

— Gut.

You look at him nervously, clearly scared that he is watching over you now. It might feel like a logical decision – after all, it was his mother’s vintage things, who knows what kind of jewelry she kept here, something that he won’t even notice gone until it’s too late. You and him both know, however, that this isn’t the reason he is looming over you. A perfect obedient thing, you deserve something better than his affection, but he still locks his gaze with yours, looking at your hands and going through various furniture pieces. 

You work like a fairy, not an ounce of laziness or exhaustion in your actions – even after you already spent a few hours cleaning his living room, you act like a Cinderella that got a bunch of magic mice up her rags. He licks his lips, looking at your perfect ass you as sit on your knees, starting with decluttering every little box there is. 

— Can I just put it back in boxes or…

You look the the contents – vintage makeup, some jewelry, head pieces that don’t look particularly expensive but were definitely well-loved. You wonder who they belong to – probably a wife, or, maybe, some of his relatives who lived here. He doesn’t seem like a married or divorced man – he does, however, look insanely lonely. 

It takes him a good few seconds to respond, too mesmerized by the little song you were humming a minute before. He imagines you in that old, chunky jewelry, some necklaces that cost more than your salary – and the thought makes him salivate. 

He smiles, leaning closer to you – hot breath on your face, you shift immediately, scared. He is so fast for someone so big, his movements are perfect and his eyes are cold – you feel the chill deep in your bones when he moves even closer, his lips almost brushing against yours. 

Suddenly, you are very aware of the fact that he locked the door to this tiny room when you both moved in. 

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt. 3

Word Count: 9k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, noncon, dubcon, drugging, kidnapping, obedience training, mentions of suicide, forced breeding, forced pregnancy, stalking, pet names like kitten, sweetie, pretty, ownership, manipulation

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti , @m0onlustre , @ve1vet-cake @letgobro @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leialmela

AN: It seems like these chapters just get longer and longer xDD. Hope yall don't mind! This is also on my A03 if you feel its too long to read on tumblr. Please heed the warnings and don't read this if you're sensitive to the subjects. Also! Reader has no specific skin tone, I just use images I think represent the chapter well, you can imagine her however you want! If you want to be added to the taglist please let me know, also please make sure your tumblr settings allow you to be tagged! <3

"I hate you," you whisper, your voice barely audible, muffled by his chest. The words come out broken, hollow, lacking the fire they once carried. But it’s all you can manage, the last flicker of resistance in a sea of overwhelming fatigue. "I know," Sylus replies, his voice soft and almost indulgent, as though your hatred is just another part of the game to him. He holds you tighter, his hand continuing to caress your hair. "But it doesn’t matter, sweetie. You’re mine now. Hate me all you want, I’ll still take care of you."

Read Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 4

You ease yourself into the bath, the water just a touch hotter than you'd like, enveloping your skin in a near-burning sensation. It’s almost too much, the heat prickling at your body, but you stay still, letting the warmth slowly settle around you. Steam rises in soft, curling tendrils, and you can feel the tension in your muscles begin to release, even as the heat clings to you, almost suffocating in its intensity. Your breath catches for a moment, but soon you adjust, your body reluctantly surrendering to the soothing, yet overwhelming, embrace of the water.

Despite the searing heat, you slowly begin to lose yourself in thought. When was the last time you'd allowed yourself to truly relax since this whole nightmare began? As much as you hated to admit it, the water felt good—comforting even—offering a fleeting sense of escape. For once, your worries seemed to dissolve into the bathwater, sinking like stones to the bottom. No thoughts of impending doom, no fear lurking at the edges of your mind. Just you, the gentle bubbles, and the soft, soothing scent of cherry shampoo drifting in the steam.

And no Sylus.

Your face twists into a scowl at the very thought of him. No. This was supposed to be your time, a moment for yourself. You can’t let him invade this too. Don’t think about him, you urge yourself. Focus on the bath. Focus on the warmth. Desperate to banish any trace of him from your mind, you sink lower into the water, leaving only your nose and eyes above the surface, your breath shallow as you try to disappear beneath the heat.

But it doesn’t work. His presence lingers in your thoughts like a shadow you can't shake—the memory of his touch, his voice, the sickly sweet promises he’d whisper after those twisted "sessions."

Before you can stop yourself, you plunge fully beneath the water, submerging yourself entirely, as if you could drown his memory along with your thoughts—perhaps even drown yourself if that’s what it takes to make it all stop.

The deafening roar of water fills your ears, muffling the world around you. Instinct keeps your breath held tight, but a dark thought persisted—what would happen if you really… let go? Sylus has made it clear he has no intention of releasing you. Maybe this, right here, is your only way out.

A tightness coils in your chest as your body begins its primal fight for air. The burning need to breathe claws at your lungs, but there’s no panic—just a calm, almost eerie resolve. Slowly, deliberately, you part your lips, ready to let the water rush in. This is it. Your escape. The only freedom Sylus can't take from you.

Death.

You wonder what kind of face he would make when he would discover your barely warm body bobbing in the bath water, having escaped the clutches of his captivity in a way he could not undo.

You wished you'd be around to see it.

Just as the warm sensation of water touches the back of your throat, a sharp tingling prickles across your scalp. A second later, you're violently yanked from the water, gasping for air as the bathroom floods back into focus. You blink wildly, clearing the stinging bathwater from your eyes, only to be met by a familiar face.

"Why willingly subject yourself to waterboarding?" Sylus asks, his tone laced with disappointment, as if you’ve failed some unspoken test. You glare at him angrily, grabbing at the grip he has on your hair.

"Don't tell me I'll have to supervise your baths too?"

"Let go!" you shout, clawing at his fingers, desperately trying to free your hair from his grip. To your surprise, he does, and you quickly retreat to the far edge of the tub, pressing your back against the cool porcelain. Water clings to your skin, dripping down your face as you try to steady your breath. His eyes roam over you, calculating, as if taking in every detail. Suddenly self conscious of your naked figure, you hug your arms around your breasts. You notice, for the first time, the shopping bags dangling from his other hand. He sets them down with unnerving care before casually crossing the bathroom to grab a stool.

You watch warily as he pulls it up beside the tub, seating himself directly across from you, his eyes never leaving your face.

"I wasn’t trying to kill myself," you snap, your voice sharp as you avoid his gaze. "I’d rather not give you more reasons to watch me."

Sylus chuckles softly, clearly unfazed by your defiance, as if your words barely register. Without another glance at you, he begins rummaging through the bags at his feet, his movements methodical and unhurried. After a moment, he pulls out a small white box, and you narrow your eyes, watching as he carefully peels away the packaging. Something small and silver tumbles into his palm, catching the light.

"Nail clippers?" you ask, disbelief creeping into your voice.

He nods, then casually tugs down the collar of his shirt, revealing the jagged red scratches you had raked across his skin during the last time he had forced himself on you. The sight of them makes you smirk—small, uneven lines, but they’re there, vivid reminders that you hadn’t gone down without a fight. You can almost feel your nails digging into him again, that brief moment of satisfaction before he'd pinned you, your resistance crushed beneath his weight.

"The first step in taming an angry kitten," he muses with a grin, "is taking her claws." His voice is disturbingly light, almost playful, as he reaches out toward you.

You hesitate, staring at his outstretched hand. Your instincts scream at you to pull away, but what choice do you have? Reluctantly, you slip your hand into his, your fingers trembling ever so slightly as he curls his hand around yours. His grip is firm but not harsh, his skin warm against your own, the casual dominance in his touch making your stomach churn. He watches you closely, his gaze never wavering, as if daring you to resist.

"Isn't that called declawing?" you mutter bitterly, trying to keep your voice steady as you avert your eyes. You watch instead as he presses the clippers to your nails, the metal cool against your fingertips. The soft snip of each nail being cut echoes in the quiet bathroom, a steady, unnerving rhythm.

Sylus smirks, tilting his head as he replies, "Oh?" His tone is amused, almost mocking. "Would you rather I pull them out instead?" His voice remains calm, and you're unsure if he's joking or not.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. Each clip of the clippers feels more invasive than the last, stripping away not just your nails, but a part of yourself—your small weapon of defiance.

It struck you as odd. Just yesterday, the two of you had been locked in a bitter struggle on his bed—panting, groaning, bodies slick with sweat, fighting for entirely different goals. For him, dominance. For you, escape. And now here he was, calmly and methodically clipping your nails, the act almost tender, as if you were lovers sharing an intimate moment.

Neither of you speaks until he finishes. Sylus turns your hands over slowly, inspecting his work with the same detached precision, ensuring he’s clipped them short enough. Finally satisfied, he releases your hand, letting the clippers fall from his grasp with a metallic clatter against the bathroom floor. You frown down at the newly cut length of your nails, feeling stripped of yet another small defense.

Before you can dwell on the thought, he leans over the bath, his face inching dangerously close to yours. There's hardly any space to retreat, and you’re forced to face him, your breath catching in your throat as his presence looms over you. His lips find the soft skin of your neck, leaving light, deliberate kisses that send a shiver of tension through your body.

Sensing your stiffness, he chuckles under his breath, the sound low and familiar, before cupping your face in his hand. His fingers are firm, cradling your jaw with unnerving gentleness.

"Relax..." he whispers, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, almost teasing kiss. "I won’t do anything now. Didn’t I promise you a break?"

His words echo in your mind, bringing with them the memory of his promise from this morning. Instead of threatening you for obedience, he’d dangled a twisted form of kindness—a reward, rather than punishment. A carrot, not a stick.

Promising that if you didn't put up a fight this morning, that would be the only time he would be inside you that day.

You would have been an idiot to refuse such an offer. Almost daily assaults had left you feeling sore and exhausted. Sure, you knew he was offering you crumbs of kindness as a way to train you into obedience but you were much stronger than that. He wouldn't break you so easily.

You simply hummed and nodded in agreement, giving him a small kiss back. You had come to learn that the quicker you returned his affection, the sooner he would relent. It worked, as he almost immediately smiled and leaned back on the stool. He suddenly reaches is arm up and looks at the watch on his wrist.

"Come on out. I bought a few things for you, sweetie," Sylus says softly, his eyes drifting back to your still-exposed body. You tense instinctively, sinking lower into the water as if it could shield you from his gaze. His words may be gentle, but the weight of his attention feels oppressive, suffocating.

Sensing your discomfort, he lets out a quiet laugh. "I’ll turn around. Just don’t try drowning yourself again," he chuckles, as though reading your mind. True to his word, he turns his back to you, but the tension in the room remains thick, your heart pounding in your chest. You wish, more than anything, that he would just leave, give you a moment of peace, but you know better than to ask.

With a deep breath, you grip the edge of the tub, steadying yourself as you rise from the water. The cool air hits your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the bath, and your wet feet make a quiet slap against the cold tile as you step out. Quickly, you reach for the white towel resting on the sink and begin to dry yourself, moving with an urgency spurred by your skepticism that Sylus will stay turned away for long.

As you dry yourself, you notice something unexpected—when you reach between your legs, your hand freezes. A slight gasp escapes your lips as you spot it: crimson streaks, trailing down your inner thigh. For a moment, you stare in disbelief, watching the droplets of blood slowly slide down your leg. Then, reality hits, and you frantically press the towel to your skin, catching the blood before it can reach the floor.

"What's wrong?" Sylus asks, his voice suddenly alert as he turns his head, catching your gasp. His eyes lock onto the bloodstained towel, his posture shifting as he steps toward you, concern etched across his face. "Are you hurt?"

You swallow hard, a strange mixture of emotions flooding through you. "My period..." you say softly, almost under your breath, but then, a smile creeps onto your face, one you can't suppress.

Relief crashes over you like a tidal wave. You’ve never been so happy to see blood in your life.

You aren’t pregnant. You aren’t pregnant.

Your mind races, the implications still sinking in. It’s not over, but for now, you’re safe. Your hands shake as you pull your gaze from the red stain, your breath coming in short, shaky bursts. Then, a creeping awareness settles in—you aren’t alone.

Sylus is standing behind you. You feel his presence before you see him, the weight of his silence pressing against you. You quickly wipe the smile from your face, the relief vanishing as you turn slowly to face him.

"My period... it’s just my period," you whisper, your voice trembling, barely able to hold steady. You try to read his face, desperate for any sign of how he’s reacting. His expression shifts—concern morphs into a frown, and then... nothing. His face goes blank, like a mask slipping into place. You search frantically for any flicker of emotion—anger, frustration, relief—but it’s as though he’s walled himself off, unreachable.

Was he angry? Disappointed? You couldn’t tell, and that terrified you. Your stomach twists in knots, anxiety bubbling up again. The relief you felt moments ago is quickly replaced by a new dread. One disaster averted, but what now?

"Right," he says calmly, his voice devoid of any warmth, as though this is just another mundane detail in his well-controlled world. He reaches for the bloodied towel in your hands, his movements smooth and deliberate, like nothing about this situation surprises him. "Don’t worry about this. Just finish dressing."

He leans down, pulling open the cabinet under the sink. Your heart skips a beat as he sets several packages of pads and tampons on the counter, each one the exact brand and size you regularly use. A cold chill runs down your spine. How long had he been watching you before bringing you here? How much does he already know? The intimate knowledge of your life, right down to your feminine products, feels like another layer of control—a calculated invasion disguised as care.

"If you don’t want to use these, I’ll have Luke and Kieran get different ones," he says, his tone disturbingly casual, as though this conversation is perfectly normal.

Your throat tightens. "No, these are fine... thank you."

He gives a slight nod, but it’s mechanical, his face still unreadable, and he turns to leave, collecting the rest of your discarded clothes from the bathroom floor. His steps are quick but unhurried, a man always in control of his actions, of everything around him. He leaves you standing there, shaken, and once again, you feel small under his gaze. Whatever he’s feeling, he’s locked it away. You’ll never know unless he decides to let you.

The door closes behind him, and you’re left alone with your thoughts—and the creeping realization that you may never be truly alone again.

After gathering enough courage to leave the bathroom, you cautiously crack open the bedroom door. You peer out, spotting Sylus lounging on the leather sofa, his eyes glued to his phone. His posture is relaxed, casual, as if nothing unusual has happened. But the moment you step into the room, he looks up—his gaze sharp, as though he’s been waiting for you.

"Took you long enough," he says, a smirk playing at his lips, amusement evident in his voice. The cold, distant air he had in the bathroom has vanished, replaced with the easy confidence you’ve come to expect. He’s back to being the Sylus you recognize, the one who shifts between charm and control like flipping a switch.

You force a smile, trying to match his casual tone. "Yeah, well, drowning myself was starting to seem tempting again," you quip, keeping your voice light. You move past him toward the bed, wanting nothing more than to put some distance between the two of you. But before you can get far, his hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist with a gentle but firm grip. The sudden contact sends a jolt through you, freezing you in place.

His touch isn’t rough, but there’s something in it that holds you captive, a subtle reminder of the power he holds. You glance down at his hand, then back up at him, unsure whether to pull away or let him guide the moment.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, his voice soft now, almost concerned. But the question hangs in the air, heavier than it should be.

"Oh! Uh... yeah?" you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. As much as you wanted to ignore him and crawl into bed, the thought of food was too tempting to resist. Sylus stands, his grip on your wrist still firm, tugging you toward the bedroom door.

Your heart skips a beat as you watch him press his finger against the scanner beside the door. Why is he letting you this close? The lock hums and with a soft click, the door swings open. You stare at it, a thousand questions racing through your mind.

He turns back to you, his playful demeanor from moments ago evaporating in an instant, replaced by something darker, colder. His eyes lock onto yours, and suddenly, the atmosphere feels suffocating.

"Behave," he says, his voice low and serious. "Don’t wander off without me, and if you try anything... you won’t leave this room or the bed for weeks. Understood?"

The threat in his words chills you to your core. You're frozen in place, trying to process what’s happening. Is this real? Are you dreaming? Why now? The door stands open before you, a symbol of freedom, but it feels more like a trap, a carefully laid test. The air between you crackles with tension. One wrong move, and you know there will be consequences.

You shake your head quickly, pushing aside any fleeting thoughts of rebellion. Not now. Not yet.

Trying to break the moment, you turn your gaze toward the unopened bags still sitting in the corner of the room. "Didn’t you say you bought me some stuff?" you ask, your voice tentative, eyes flicking toward the bags. "I’m curious about what’s in them."

Anything to steer the conversation away from the potential threat.

"It’s okay, you can look at them later" Sylus says, his voice smooth and reassuring as he swings the door open wider. The invitation seems casual, but there’s something unsettling about how easily he offers it. His hand loosens slightly around your wrist, though he doesn’t let go completely, as if to remind you that the freedom he's offering has limits.

Your eyes flick from the open door to his face, searching for any hint of what’s really going on. His expression is calm, almost too calm, as if he’s in complete control of the situation, confident that you won’t dare make a move without his permission. The open door, the promise of something beyond this room, suddenly feels less like an escape and more like a stage he's set for you.

Every instinct in your body screams that this isn’t as simple as it looks. It’s a test, another subtle power play to remind you where you stand. The reassurance in his voice only deepens the pit in your stomach. He’s letting you out, but on his terms.

You force a nod, trying to swallow the growing unease. "Okay," you murmur, though the word feels foreign in your mouth, like you’re agreeing to something you don’t fully understand.

Sylus smiles—a small, practiced curve of his lips, but his eyes remain unreadable. He steps aside, making room for you to pass, yet the tension in the air doesn’t dissipate. It lingers, wrapping itself around you like a noose tightening with every step you take toward the door.

As you step cautiously past the threshold, the hallway beyond the door reveals a world of striking opulence. The air feels cooler, heavier, carrying the scent of leather and polished stone. Beneath your bare feet, the floor is a dark, sleek tile, almost black, with a high gloss that catches the low light and reflects distorted, shadowy images of the surroundings. Each step echoes slightly, the subtle tap of your feet magnified by the smooth surface, giving the space a cavernous, eerie quality.

The walls are a deep, charcoal black, lined with intricately carved molding that runs up to the high, coffered ceilings. Elegant sconces along the walls cast pools of soft, amber light, their glow bouncing off the glossy tiles, adding an extra layer of depth to the room. The lighting is deliberately dim, creating an atmosphere of perpetual twilight, where shadows stretch and warp across the dark floor, leaving certain corners cloaked in deeper darkness.

To your left, a grand staircase spirals down, its wrought iron railings twisting in elaborate, almost gothic designs. The banister is polished ebony, gleaming faintly in the soft light, while the steps are lined with a deep, crimson runner that stands in stark contrast to the black tiles, offering a rare touch of softness amid the cold, hard surfaces. The staircase seems to descend endlessly, vanishing into shadows that hint at more hidden secrets below.

Expensive art lines the walls—large, dark oil paintings that seem impossibly old, their subjects watching with melancholy or judgment. The frames are thick, gilded with gold, though their luster is muted with age. Between the paintings, mirrors with heavy, ornate frames reflect fragments of the space, but never enough to give you a full view—only glimpses, distorted by the interplay of light and shadow.

Despite the mansions undeniable beauty, there’s a coldness that seeps through the dark tile, a chill that seems to rise from the floor itself. Every detail, from the smooth tile to the velvet drapes, feels curated and perfect, yet it lacks any warmth or comfort. The space feels like a cage disguised in luxury—beautiful, yes, but suffocating in its grandiosity.

"Kitchen is downstairs" Sylus says, nodding in their direction. You quietly make a mental note of everything as you descend. This is your chance to map out the house, make a potential escape route. Even if Sylus was close behind, you shouldn't waste this opportunity gawking at everything. So he's filthy rich, so what?

Your eyes flit from the deep shadows that pool in the corners of the hall to the heavy drapery that conceals what’s outside. Every window, every door, every hallway could be a potential escape route if you ever get the chance. You tell yourself to remember where they are, how the house is laid out. A plan begins to form in the back of your mind, hazy but determined. One way or another, you’ll need to know this place inside and out.

Each step down the staircase feels like a test, a countdown of sorts. The further you go, the deeper you descend into Sylus’s world. The weight of his gaze makes it hard to breathe, but you know you can’t falter now. You keep your pace steady, your face expressionless, pretending that this is just a simple walk down the stairs, but inside, your thoughts race. Every second counts, and you’re not going to let this moment slip away unnoticed.

The rich, savory smell of roasted chicken invades your senses as you reach the last step, filling the air with an unexpected warmth. The faint crackle of fire and the clattering of pans echo from the nearby kitchen, the sounds weaving into the dark, quiet luxury of the house. It’s a stark contrast to the cold, empty grandeur surrounding you—this small slice of normalcy, of life. But the moment feels fragile, like it could break at any second.

Your foot barely touches the last step when Sylus’s hands clamp down on your shoulders. The sudden contact sends a jolt of fear through your body, your heart lurching as you instinctively jump.

"You’re jumpy," he says softly, his voice smooth but carrying a hint of amusement, as though your fear is entertaining to him. The warmth of the kitchen clashes with the cold tension between you, and the contrast makes the moment feel surreal.

Sylus guides you away from the comforting noises of the kitchen, leading you into a room that exudes the same dark, expensive elegance as the rest of the house. The atmosphere shifts as you step into the space—less intimate, more like a showpiece designed to impress rather than to live in. It’s reminiscent of a living room, though everything feels just a little too perfect, too polished.

Your eyes widen as a massive flatscreen TV comes into view, its size nearly absurd against the backdrop of rich, dark wood paneling and plush furniture. "Huh? I didn’t know they made TVs this big..." you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. The screen is so large, it feels more like a home theater than a living room—something you’d only expect to see in movies or magazines. While the Hunter's Association paid you well, this level of luxury was foreign to you, something you'd never even considered owning.

Sylus follows your gaze to the screen, his expression unreadable. "Is something wrong with it? Too big? I can have it downsized," he offers casually, though his eyes search yours intently, as if he’s genuinely concerned about your comfort. His suggestion catches you off guard, and you cock your head in confusion. Why would he even suggest such a thing?

"No! It’s fine," you say quickly, shaking your head, still baffled by his willingness to adjust even something so extravagant for you. "I’ve just never seen one this huge."

Sylus nods, seemingly satisfied with your response, and motions toward the sofa. "Sit," he says, his tone soft but commanding. The sofa is deep, covered in smooth leather, and it practically swallows you when you lower yourself onto it.

He wastes no time sitting next to you, checking his watch again. You fiddle nervously beside him, feeling out of place in such a space. First he lets you out of his room for the very first time in weeks, and now the both of you are sitting on the couch casually as if this was routine.

You desperately wished you could tell what he was thinking.

"Chef should be done in a few minutes" Sylus said, interrupting your anxious thoughts. He tenderly intertwines his fingers with yours, lifting your hand up to press a soft kiss against your knuckles. His gaze is unwavering as he looks at you.

Your gaze shifts, briefly breaking away from his piercing eyes, and lands on a shelf in the corner of the room behind him. Something there catches your attention—an old, meticulously cared-for record player. Its polished surface gleams in the low light, a relic of a different time. It’s beautiful in its simplicity, standing out against the modern opulence surrounding it. You wonder briefly about its significance. Why something so old in a house filled with the latest luxuries?

But the question fades as Sylus’s thumb gently strokes your hand, pulling your focus back to him. He's being tender right now, and feeling bold, you start talking.

"I didn't think the leader of Onychinus would live in such a grand place" you say calmly, eyeing his reaction. Instead of anger of irritation, he simply smiles as if he already realized you had figured out his identity.

"Oh? What were you thinking then?"

"Well...I figured you would be in hiding" you say plainly, gritting your teeth a bit. "This place is pretty easy to spot. Lots of hiding places too."

Sylus chuckles as if you just told him something funny. "Sweetie nothing gets in or out of this place without me knowing, that's hardly a worry"

You mentally curse yourself. Of course he has cameras. Why wouldn’t he? A man like Sylus would never leave anything to chance, especially not in a place like this. Escaping wouldn’t be as simple as memorizing the layout of the house. You’d have to make it past the cameras, the eyes constantly watching, recording every move. The realization makes your stomach sink. Even your thoughts of escape feel smaller, less attainable now.

The air grows thick with the scent of steam and roasted chicken as a figure appears around the corner. The chef, an older man with deep-set lines in his face, moves with quiet precision. He says nothing as he places an exquisite spread of chicken and side dishes on the table in front of you. Everything looks impossibly perfect—the golden-brown skin of the chicken, the vibrant vegetables, the delicately arranged plates. It’s the kind of meal you might see in a restaurant you could never afford, yet it feels out of place here, too refined and elegant for the suffocating tension in the room.

The chef doesn’t speak, not a word, but he gives a small nod in Sylus’s direction before quietly retreating from the room. His presence, brief and silent, only adds to the strange, controlled atmosphere. You find yourself wondering if he knows—if he’s aware of the twisted dynamic at play here—or if he’s just another piece of the puzzle that makes up Sylus’s meticulously crafted world.

For a moment, you think about the cameras again. They’re watching, just like Sylus. Always watching. You force yourself to focus on the meal, trying not to give away the panic bubbling beneath your calm exterior. You smile faintly, but your mind races with the next hurdle: it’s not just about getting out of the house, it’s about getting out unseen.

Sylus glances at you, his hand still resting on yours. "Eat," he says softly, his voice smooth but with an edge of command beneath it. The invitation sounds pleasant, but you know better. This isn’t a request.

You nod, swallowing hard, a knot of anxiety tightening in your throat. You start with the green beans, methodically chewing, your mind already strategizing. Green beans—protein and energy for running. Every bite, every move from here on out has to be deliberate, with purpose. Escaping this place was never going to be easy, but now it feels even more impossible. Still, you cling to the idea that preparation is key. You’ll need your strength for when the time comes.

As you chew, you glance at Sylus and notice something unsettling. He hasn’t touched his plate. His gaze is fixed on you, watching, as if he’s waiting for something. The unease that had been simmering beneath the surface now starts to bubble up. You meet his eyes, silently questioning why he’s not eating. He smiles tenderly.

"I’ll be tracking your ovulation window from now on," he says casually, as though he were discussing the weather. "Since you’ve gotten your first period since staying here, now would be a good time to start."

The words hit you like ice water, chilling you to the core. You freeze, your fork halting mid-air as the meaning of what he said sinks in. The casualness of his tone, the way he drops such a personal, invasive statement into the conversation as if it’s nothing, leaves you reeling. He’s watching you, gauging your reaction, his smile lingering in the same unsettling way.

The room, with all its lavish furnishings and exquisite food, suddenly feels more like a cage than ever. It’s not just about being physically trapped anymore—it’s the knowledge that even your body is under his control. He’s tracking you, monitoring the most intimate parts of your life. Any illusion of autonomy shatters, leaving only the cold reality of how deeply he intends to dominate every aspect of your existence.

You force yourself to swallow the bite in your mouth, your heart pounding in your chest. Stay calm, you tell yourself. Don’t react. Not yet.

"That won't guarantee a baby" you retort, trying your best to hide a scowl. You know you’re pushing him, testing the boundaries, but the words slip out before you can stop them. The shift in his expression is immediate. The amusement that once danced in his eyes evaporates, replaced by something darker, more calculated.

His face contorts into a deep frown, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he processes your defiance. For a moment, he says nothing, and the air between you feels charged, thick with unspoken tension.

"Maybe not the first time," he starts slowly, his voice dropping a notch, finally picking up his own fork. His tone is calm, but there’s a cold edge to it, like he’s already several steps ahead in whatever twisted game he’s playing. "Or the second time."

He takes a deliberate bite, chewing slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, as if daring you to interrupt. After what feels like an eternity, he swallows and leans back against the sofa, his gaze sharp and unrelenting.

"But it will eventually."

The words hang in the air, a dark promise. His voice is measured, controlled, but beneath the surface, you can feel the underlying threat. Sylus isn’t just talking about biology; he’s making it clear that he will keep trying, over and over again, until he gets what he wants. The casual way he says it, as if it’s inevitable, sends a shiver down your spine.

The words settle in your mind, their dark implications unfurling like a slow, creeping poison. You can’t take it anymore—the calm, the control, the endless power games. Something inside you snaps. The fear, the careful restraint you’ve held onto for weeks, crumbles all at once. Before you can stop yourself, you slam your fist down onto the table, the sharp clatter of silverware echoing through the room.

"Do you even hear yourself?" you shout, your voice shaking with rage. "You think this is some sick game? You can’t just… you can’t control my body like that! You can't just—" Your voice breaks, the dam of emotions bursting wide open. "You think you can force this? That you can just keep me here, like I’m some… some breeding stock? Like I don’t have a say in my own life?"

Your breath comes in short, ragged bursts, your heart pounding in your ears. The words are spilling out now, unstoppable. "You think tracking my ovulation, making your plans—doing whatever sick family fantasy thing you have in mind—is going to work? You have no right! No right to decide what happens to me, no right to decide my future for your delusions!"

Sylus's fork clatters back onto his plate, his face blank at first, but the tension in the air is palpable. He doesn’t interrupt, just watches as you lose control, like he’s waiting for something—maybe for you to exhaust yourself, maybe for you to break down entirely. But you don’t care anymore.

"You’re insane!" you spit, your voice cracking as the emotions surge, unstoppable now. "This whole place—this whole twisted world of yours—it’s a prison. Do you even get that? It doesn’t matter how much money you throw at it, how many things you control, it’ll never make you anything but a monster!"

The words hang in the air, trembling with the rawness of your outburst. Your chest heaves, your hands shaking uncontrollably. You’re on the verge of tears, but you refuse to let them fall. Not in front of him. Not now.

"I'll kill myself before any child of yours ever calls me mom" you say, your words ringing through the still and quiet mansion.

Sylus’s expression shifts, the mask of calm slipping ever so slightly. His eyes narrow, and his lips press into a thin, tight line. For a moment, the room feels like it’s holding its breath. Then, as if something in him cracks open, he smiles. A slow, unnerving grin spreads across his face, the darkness in his eyes momentarily replaced by something even more disturbing—amusement.

You stare at him, dumbfounded, trying to process the sudden shift in his demeanor. The anger you had expected never comes. Instead, a low chuckle rumbles from his chest, growing louder, filling the room with an eerie echo that makes your skin crawl.

"Are you done with your little tantrum, kitten?" he coos, his voice dripping with condescension. The way he says "kitten" sends a shiver down your spine, the pet name laced with eerie sweetness. Without warning, he reaches out, gripping your wrist with an unsettling gentleness, pulling you toward him with ease.

Before you can react, he yanks you down onto his lap, forcing you to straddle him. Your body stiffens, the weight of him beneath you both unsettling and humiliating. You feel trapped, like prey ensnared in a hunter’s grasp. His arm wraps around your waist, locking you in place. You try to pull away, but his hold is unyielding.

"Poor thing," he murmurs, his voice soft but taunting as his fingers trail lazily up your back, "you’re just a little ball of anger, aren’t you?" His smile widens as his hand slides into your hair, gently tugging it, controlling even the smallest movements. You feel the tension in your body spike, but any resistance you try to muster is immediately swallowed by the cold reality of his control.

"You know," he continues, his tone light, almost playful, as if you weren’t just screaming at him moments ago, "I could let you keep fighting me. Let you wear yourself out like a kitten clawing at something it can’t catch." He chuckles again, his fingers tightening in your hair, forcing your head to tilt just enough so that you have no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes, dark and unreadable, lock onto yours with a frightening intensity.

"But we both know how this ends, don’t we?" he whispers, his voice dropping into something dangerously low. His smile never fades, but the amusement in his eyes sharpens into something cruel. "You’ll tire yourself out. You always do."

A whimper escapes your lips as his grip tightens in your hair, the pressure mounting to the point where it’s impossible to hold back any longer. The tears you’ve fought so desperately to contain now spill freely, streaking down your cheeks. Your body trembles as the emotional dam breaks, the fear, frustration, and helplessness flooding out all at once.

Sylus notices. His expression shifts, softening in a way that feels strange. The cruel amusement that once gleamed in his eyes fades, replaced by something disturbingly gentle. He loosens his grip on your hair, letting his fingers glide down to your cheek. His thumb brushes away the hot tears, wiping them tenderly.

"Don’t cry pretty girl," he murmurs, his voice a quiet coo. The gentleness in his tone feels like a strange juxtaposition to the fear still gripping your chest. His other hand slides down to cradle your face, keeping you close, but no longer with the same force. "It’s okay. I promised I’d take care of you, didn’t I?"

He presses soft kisses on your lips as they tremble and you just let him, the weight of the situation crashing on you. "Just take my cum and have my baby, I'll take care of everything else. Doesn't that sound easy?"

You jerk your head away from him at the mere thought of him impregnating you.

He turns your head back towards him, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your tear-streaked cheek, the touch almost reverent. The sensation makes your skin crawl, the tenderness a cruel mockery of the power he so clearly holds over you. You want to pull away, but his hands keep you there, gently holding you in place as if to soothe the very tears he caused.

His lips move to your hand, kissing your tear-stained fist, as though he’s trying to console you after making you break down. The gesture feels wrong, every soft touch an extension of his control masquerading as care. He’s not only comforting you out of kindness and love but he’s reminding you that even your pain belongs to him, that he can take you to the brink of despair and then pull you back whenever he pleases.

"You can scream, you can break my things, you can throw tantrums, but in the end..." His voice lowers, chillingly calm. "You’re still mine. You still belong to me. Your anger? It’s nothing. It won’t change anything."

The room feels smaller now, his words wrapping around you like a vice, tightening with every breath. You can’t breathe, can’t think, the weight of the situation crashing down on you all over again.

"And as for your outburst..." he says, his lips curling into a faint smile. "It will have consequences."

Your body trembles as his thumb brushes away another tear, his touch tender, almost soothing. And despite the revulsion that twists in your stomach, despite every fiber of your being screaming at you to push him away, you don’t.

You can’t.

You’re just so exhausted.

Without even realizing it, you lean into him, your body betraying your mind. The weight of your exhaustion is unbearable, and the fight you’ve held onto for so long begins to slip through your fingers like sand. Your head rests against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing providing a sick sort of comfort that you hate yourself for needing.

He holds you gently, his arm wrapping around your waist, securing you against him as though he’s protecting you. The irony is suffocating. This man, who has twisted your world into a living nightmare, is now the one offering you comfort. And as much as you despise him for it, for the control he wields over you, you sink deeper into his embrace, desperate for the warmth and the momentary relief from your own anguish.

"There you go," he murmurs softly, his fingers stroking your hair in long, calming motions. "See? It’s not so bad, is it?"

The words cut, each one a reminder of the power he holds over you, but you’re too drained to care anymore. The anger, the defiance, the hatred—it’s all still there, burning under the surface, but right now, the only thing you can feel is the weight of your own exhaustion pulling you down, dragging you into a state of reluctant surrender.

"I hate you," you whisper, your voice barely audible, muffled by his chest. The words come out broken, hollow, lacking the fire they once carried. But it’s all you can manage, the last flicker of resistance in a sea of overwhelming fatigue.

"I know," Sylus replies, his voice soft and almost indulgent, as though your hatred is just another part of the game to him. He holds you tighter, his hand continuing to caress your hair.

"But it doesn’t matter, sweetie. You’re mine now. Hate me all you want, I’ll still take care of you."

You hate him for saying it. You hate him for making you feel like you need him. But in this moment, you’re too tired to fight him. You allow yourself to collapse into the illusion of safety, just for a little while, even though you know it’s a trap.

You wake to the sensation of being moved, cradled like you’re something fragile. It’s disorienting at first, and for a brief, blissful moment, you don’t remember where you are. But then the cold reality slams into you.

Sylus.

Your eyes flicker open, and through the haze of sleep, you realize he’s carrying you. His arms are steady, but the feel of his hold sends a chill down your spine. You try to shake off the drowsiness, to push yourself upright, but your limbs feel weak and uncooperative.

"Shh," he whispers, his voice gentle, though it only makes the situation worse. "Go back to sleep. You’re safe."

Safe. The word rings hollow in your mind. You know better. Even though his touch is soft and careful, even though his voice is low and comforting, you know exactly where you are—exactly who holds you.

Your heart sinks as you hear the faint whirr of a door opening. He’s taking you back to the room, the one where you’ve spent so many weeks locked away, trapped. A lump forms in your throat as you realize what’s happening, but you’re too weak to fight it. You had a brief taste of freedom, even if it was a twisted version of it, but now he’s putting you back in your cage.

Sylus steps into his room, the dim light casting long shadows over the dark, lavish space. He moves with deliberate care, like he’s handling something precious, lowering you onto the bed with a gentleness that feels grotesque in its contrast to what he’s actually doing.

Your body sinks into the mattress, your limbs too heavy to lift. You manage a weak protest, a soft whimper of resistance, but he shushes you again, his hand brushing the side of your face with infuriating tenderness.

"Sleep, kitten. You need your rest."

He moves to the door, and you hear the unmistakable sound of the lock. The finality of it sends a fresh wave of despair through you. You’re back in the same room, the same prison, despite the moments of fragile comfort you had shared. It all meant nothing. You’re still his prisoner.

You turn your face into the pillow, tears pricking at your eyes once more, but you’re too drained to cry again. Your body aches, your mind is foggy, and sleep still tugs at you, relentless in its pull. You hate that you find any sense of comfort in the bed, in the quiet, but there’s no fight left in you tonight.

With the sound of the lock still echoing in your mind, you close your eyes and let yourself slip back into unconsciousness, knowing that tomorrow, nothing will have changed.

You wake suddenly, gasping for air, your skin slick with sweat. The sheets are tangled around your legs, suffocatingly warm. For a moment, you think it's just another nightmare—the kind that leaves you feeling claustrophobic and panicked—but the heat in the room is real, heavy, and stifling.

You sit up slowly, blinking in the darkness, your breath coming in shallow gasps. Something feels off. The usual low hum of electricity, the steady whir of the ceiling fan, the soft glow of electronics—they’re all gone. Silence presses down around you, and the air in the room feels thick and still, almost oppressive.

The power’s out.

It hits you slowly at first, like a distant thought struggling to surface. The heat, the silence... no fan, no lights. And then it clicks. The power’s out. The fingerprint scanner.

Your heart skips a beat, adrenaline spiking through your veins. No power means the security system that’s kept you locked in this room—trapped and helpless—is down. The scanner on the door, the one that’s monitored your every movement, is dead. It has to be.

This could be your only chance.

You stumble out of bed, your legs shaky, still groggy from sleep but jolted awake by the rush of adrenaline. Your hands tremble as you feel your way to the door in the dark, the oppressive heat clinging to your skin. The room is suffocating, the air too thick to breathe, but none of that matters now.

You press your thumb against the scanner, holding your breath. Nothing happens. The small screen remains black, unresponsive. It’s not working.

A flicker of hope flares in your chest. The lock isn’t powered. You press your palm against the door and push, feeling it give under your hand. Slowly, carefully, you ease the door open just a crack and peer out into the hallway.

The corridor is bathed in shadow, darker than when you last saw it. The ambient lights, the security monitors, everything is dead. The house is eerily still, the silence even more unnerving than before. You step into the hallway, your heart racing as you move forward, each step deliberate and cautious.

For a brief, terrifying moment, you expect to hear Sylus’s voice, or the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, but the house remains quiet. You know he has Luke and Kieran stationed somewhere, but for now, the way seems clear.

You make your way toward the grand staircase, remembering some parts of the house from earlier. The front door is just ahead, at the bottom of the stairs. The hallway stretches before you, dark and endless, but your pulse quickens with the possibility of freedom.

You take a breath and descend the stairs as quietly as possible, gripping the banister for balance. Each creak of the wood beneath your feet feels deafening in the stillness. Your eyes dart around the hallway, searching the shadows for any sign of movement.

Finally, you reach the bottom of the stairs. The front door looms ahead, and you move toward it, the air growing cooler as you get closer. Your hand reaches for the door handle, and just as your fingers brush the cool metal, you freeze.

Voices.

You hear them—low, muffled voices coming from outside the door. Sylus’s men.

"Shit, powers out. We gotta start the generators."

Your heart sinks. They're right outside. You cant go this way without immediately being manhandled.

You glance around frantically, your mind racing for another way out. The house is massive, full of rooms and corridors, but you have no idea where the other exits lead. Still, you can’t afford to stand here and think—you need to move.

Then you remember. The kitchen. Maybe there's a way out there?

It’s a long shot, but you don’t have any other options. You turn quickly, darting down the hallway, your footsteps light and deliberate on the smooth, black tile. The shadows seem to stretch and twist around you, and every small creak feels like it’s echoing through the silence. You try to keep calm, but the fear of being caught wraps tighter around your chest with every passing second.

You reach the kitchen, and the oppressive heat of the house seems to lessen as you step inside. The room is large and dark, no light to be seen through the windows. The scent of stale food lingers in the air, remnants of a meal long forgotten, but you barely notice it. Your eyes dart to the side door.

It’s small, barely noticeable in the corner of the room, half-concealed behind shelves and cabinets. The door leads out to the horse racing track—you remember Sylus mentioning it in conversation once.

You rush toward the door, your pulse thundering in your ears. You reach for the handle, your hand trembling as it wraps around the cool metal. For a brief moment, you fear it’ll be locked, that this last chance at freedom will slip through your fingers.

Thankfully, with a twist and a click it opens.

The space beyond the kitchen is nothing like you expected—no trees, no breeze, just the harsh, cold landscape of the N109 zone. The dark, black midnight sky looms over you like an oppressive blanket, thick and unwelcoming. No stars, no moonlight, just an endless void stretching above you. The air is still and stale, a reflection of the lifelessness surrounding you.

But you have no time to process any of it. You can’t stop now. You have to keep moving.

Your feet press into the cracked, uneven ground as you forge ahead, your breath shallow and quick. As you walk, the outline of several horse stables comes into view. The structures are dark, the animals inside unmoving, their silhouettes barely visible in the low light. Thankfully, the horses are all asleep. None stir as you pass by quietly, your body tense and ready to bolt at the slightest sound. The only thing you hear is the quiet crunch of your own footsteps on the rough surface beneath you.

Ahead, a tall fence looms in the distance, a final obstacle standing between you and the outer edges of the N109 zone. You approach it cautiously, your heart pounding in your chest as you study its height. It’s rusted and worn, but still sturdy enough to make the climb difficult. You don’t have time to think—you have to act.

Gripping the cold metal tightly, you heave yourself up, your muscles straining with each movement. Your hands slip slightly, the rough texture of the fence biting into your palms as you scramble to find footing. Panic flares briefly in your chest, but you grit your teeth and push through the fear. You can’t stop now.

Just as you manage to get a decent grip, you hear it—the unmistakable hum of power returning. Behind you, Sylus’s mansion springs to life. Lights flicker on in the distance, illuminating the cold, empty halls that only moments ago were shrouded in darkness. The power’s back. It won’t be long before they notice you’re gone. They’ll be coming for you.

It’s now or never.

With a final burst of strength, you haul yourself up the last few feet of the fence, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The metal digs into your skin, but you don’t care. You pull yourself over the top, balancing precariously for a moment before launching yourself over.

You crash onto the other side, landing face-first on the hard, unforgiving ground. Pain shoots through your body as your knees and elbows scrape against the jagged surface, but you don’t let it stop you. You’ve come too far to be caught now.

For a moment, you lie there, dazed and gasping for breath, the shock of the impact making your head spin. The cold ground beneath you feels like both a punishment and a reminder that you’re not free yet. Behind you, you can hear the faint sounds of activity from the mansion—the twins moving, footsteps echoing in the distance.

They know.

Ignoring the pain, you force yourself to your feet, your body protesting with every movement. The fence looms behind you like a dark sentinel, separating you from the life you’re fleeing. You don’t dare look back at the mansion, don’t give yourself the chance to second-guess your next move.

You start running.

The landscape ahead is bleak and dark, with nothing but cold, cracked streets in every direction. There’s no breeze, no noise apart from your labored breathing and the pounding of your feet against the ground. A few tall and bleak buildings reminiscent of a part of a city come into view. You start making your way there.

You’re outside. You’re running. And for the first time in what feels like forever, the possibility of freedom is real, even if it’s still far out of reach.

In the distance, perched on a dead landline, a mechanical crow preens its feathers. Its head jerks toward a running girl, its red eyes locking onto her figure. Without warning, it spreads its metal wings and takes off in her direction, gears whirring as it follows from above.

[ambrosialdesire]

OMG i would like to request yandere bertolt x paradis reader.you can pick whatever part of the timeline you want, maybe he managed to survive to take her to marly, or maybe she just tried to escape on marly or paradis, or maybe he just kidnapped her I don't really care

Thank you

desiderate

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: s4 bertolt x fem!reader word count: 9.5k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, unhealthy relationships, some explicit sexual content, s4 bertolt au, implied non-con, violence, kidnapping mention, stalking, forced kissing (kinda dubcon), slight groping, kinda masochistic bertolt, cigarette usage/smoking, blood kink, knife kink, slight voyeurism, male masturbation mention, panty jerking off mention (?), slight body mutilation, scarification implications, all characters are 18+ synopsis: they've brought you here on this foreign land, a land that was once believed to be completely overrun with monsters. you've been living pretty easy with this new life of yours but it's hard to forget about what he's done to your old home. this singular man, capable of complete destruction despite his nervous demeanor. there may be humans here but the true monster still remained, watching your every move until he was ready to strike. a/n: IM NGL IVE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO REQUEST BERTOLT LMFAO i made bro a creep cause i feel like between bertie and reiner, bertie definitely has the tendency to be lurking and stalking behind corners and constantly following you and finding to opportunity to snatch your underwear to jerk off into LOL the reference that i used for s4 bertolt is this fanart that was used in a tiktok edit but i have no idea who made the art and it's making me scream bc it's definitely how i imagine what he looks like (but with thicker chin stubble) and i want to give the right creds (if you look up s4 bertolt/bertholdt fanart on google and see a tiktok image of him smoking, that's what i'm talking about but i want to give actual creds to the artist) also mb on the smoking scenes idk how it feels to smoke but i do sorta know the distinct smell of it this is also in no way connected to the cacoëthes series just to let yall know hehe i hope you enjoy this anon! thank sm for your request!! and sorry for the wait LOL note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

"Call off your damn hound Reiner, I'm getting sick of his shit."

Pushing past the blond as you entered his home, you made your way to his dining table. You huffed as you sat down, leaning back against the chair as your boot-covered legs kicked up on the wooden table. Reiner rolled his eyes, pushing them back down to the ground with a heavy thud. He crossed his arms, leaning on the wall adjacent from where you sat.

"A hello first would suffice. What's Bertolt getting himself into again?"

"My business!" Exasperated, you threw your hands over your face. "He keeps fucking following me and it's starting to freak me out. You guys know I'm not suspicious anymore, there's no way for me to be able to contact Paradis Island at all."

Saying your old home's name had started to feel foreign on your tongue unfortunately. It's been over four years since you've been whisked away by these two assholes and living here has been nothing but a thorn on your side. You worked under the Warrior Unit, mostly a simple soldier for both Bertolt and Reiner to boss around for basic things. It's nothing different from your time as a scout but it's frustrating working for them instead of with them.

You don't know why they took you away with them instead of breaking out their other accomplice, Annie, but after a handful of screaming, punching, kicking, and biting from you, they managed to drag you off to the boat. You stayed there for an estimated week or so with random strangers coming and going, poking and prodding at you as if you were one of Hange's experiments on Eren and randomly caught Titans.

The two of them finally came back one random night unconscious, battered and beaten to the point where their Titan healing powers couldn't even help them fast enough. You needed them alive — how else were you going to manage escaping this unknown place of theirs — so you helped tend to their wounds, staying at their sides until they were finally awake.

Once they were conscious enough, you punched Reiner square on the nose, spinning around to smash your knuckles right into Bertolt's cheek. Your hand was throbbing in pain but the burning fury you felt was stronger. By the time they woke up, the boat already was leaving the docks, and now you were most likely already miles away from home.

"You fucking assholes."

Blood was dripping down his nose, while a cut just barely formed on the bruised skin of the other. It was in vain however. Steam was steadily coming out of the two of them, meaning that the healing was back in working condition.

"FUCK! I didn't even say anything yet!" Reiner scowled as he placed his hands around his nose, snapping it back in place with a nauseating crack.

Bertolt laid there quietly however, lanky fingers brushing against the welt on his face but he was unable to meet your stare. Tears started streaming down your face, your body crumpling to the floor. You were completely hurt, you trusted these two like they were family, especially Bertolt. Was he really who you thought he was? How could they do this to you? To everyone back in Paradis?

"Why? Why me?"

The two of them fell even more silent, Reiner looking up at the ceiling while Bertolt closed his eyes shut as if he was the one that was currently going through it.

"Well say something goddamnit! Why am I here?" You were beyond angry, voice crackling from how loud you were screaming at them. "Tell me!"

Bertolt finally opened his eyes, pale green staring into yours. You couldn't see him. There was only the Colossal Titan looking down at you as if you were nothing but an insignificant speck on the wall. He opened his mouth, uttering remorselessly one phrase that made you even more resentful of their entire beings.

"I'm sorry."

Now you were here after long months of being processed and interviewed over and over by many Marleyan higher-ups, eventually and finally gaining their trust. You knew they still didn't like you but who really gives a shit, they left you alive and that's all you could be grateful for.

Since you directly worked underneath the two Titan shifters, they were able to get you housing and some basic supplies for you to be able to function properly in their society, as well as a good amount of pocket money to buy whatever you needed. You didn't go out of the house for a month though, still horribly and rightfully angry at them. You were also afraid of the idea that you'd get mobbed immediately once you stepped out and killed on sight by the locals.

Bertolt was the one that finally knocked on your door, tired and baggy eyes focused on the peephole. Part of you wanted to keep the door closed and ignore his presence, but he might report you or something stupidly petty. When you opened it up, the faint waft of bitter tobacco invaded your senses, nose wrinkling at the unfamiliar smell.

As you looked up at him, he felt and looked even more like a stranger than a past friend. It's only been a month but it looked like he had gotten broader at the shoulders and taller. He was wearing a beige uniform, a white undershirt and black tie peeking out of the chest of the long, belted trench coat. His black hair was partially pushed back with gel, slightly being more grown out from the last time you saw him. The way he held himself now in Marley was completely different from Paradis, an eerie calmness surrounding his person. He used to hunch into himself when he was a trainee and a soldier, but now his back was rigid and straight, arms hidden neatly behind his back. The posture reminded you of the utmost dedicated soldiers in the Scout Regiment.

"You haven't been going to work." He softly spoke, his head slightly tilting to the side.

"So?"

"Failure to comply means termination. Termination means you'll get kicked out of Marley. Getting kicked out of Marley means death." Alright, straight to the point. Even the way he was speaking sounded different, as if he had suddenly gained a newfound confidence that was only present here in his homeland.

"You guys really thought I was able to function properly in a new continent where everything is different in a few months? Not to mention, I'm still pissed off at the two of you but fine. I'll come in tomorrow. Goodbye." You proceeded to close the door on him but he stopped it with his boot. Groaning under your breath, you tried pushing at the door so he could back off, but it was to no avail.

His hand grabbed the side of the door and heaved it open with little struggle, letting himself in as you toppled back into the ground from the force.

"You haven't been going out at all. When's the last time you bought groceries?" You flinched, avoiding his judging gaze. How did he know?

"Last month." You muttered as you got up from the ground, brushing yourself off.

Bertolt sighed, glancing off to the side. "Okay. I'll wait here for 15 minutes. Go get dressed and get your money, I'll help you navigate the markets."

You didn't want to but food was definitely running low, and you don't know how long the canned meat in your pantry was going to last in your anger-riddled protest. You made your way upstairs, rummaging through the closet and grabbing the cleanest clothes you were able to find and put on within the time limit he gave. Making your way back down, you found him in the exact same spot, his eyes glancing around the living room.

"Alright. Let's go and we're going to make it quick. I don't think I can stomach standing next to you for this long." You bitterly grumbled, moodily pulling the door open. Bertolt followed after, closing the door for you and taking the lead. What sucked even more was how quickly you had to dash after him, his steps being too large for you to have a steady pace next to him. Maybe him being a near giant compared to a normal person — you noticed as the two of you walked through crowds of people — was thanks to the Titan DNA.

Each passerby gave you a look as you walked on through but never spared a second glance, which was good. You knew that you were an unfamiliar being, a foreigner that was never supposed to be here in the first place. The farmer's market was still open, vegetables and fruits neatly lined up in each stall. He did most of the talking, being able to haggle easier due to his status and the blaring armband that wrapped around his upper arm. You didn't like having to be publicly labeled, it felt like you were merely a product rather than a person.

You were focusing on a stall with jars of honey and jams when some person suddenly shoved you aside with their shoulder, body suddenly losing its balance due to the amount of groceries you were holding on one arm. You prepared for the impact of the cobbled ground but never felt it, instead feeling a firm hand snug in-between your curve of your side and another on your shoulder.

"Careful now." You opened your eyes, meeting his in shock once he steadied you back on your feet. Bertolt's face soon turned to a bright red, his hands quickly leaving you, and his gaze glancing away. Perhaps there really is still some semblance of the man you knew in your homeland.

"Th-thanks..." Adjusting the bag stiffly back up your arms, you proceeded forwards without him, leaving him behind at the stall. It became a usual thing eventually, he'd come over every two weeks to make sure you were fine and the two of you would go out buying your necessities for an hour or two. It didn't erase the fact that you still hated them, but at least he was helping you get comfortable in this strange new world.

You finally started going to work as promised, wearing an awkward and stuffy white uniform that made even the tangling straps of the cadet uniform pale in comparison. According to the paper that came with the uniform, you were to report to Reiner and Bertolt in one of the headquarters' rooms. However, the details were so vague that you were completely lost in the beginning, roaming the hallways without a clue where you were heading.

"Soldier. Face me."

You stiffened, turning around and straightening up. The tall man was vaguely familiar, a full blond beard lining his face and round spectacles hiding his eyes. His right hand raised up as if he was saying hello and you quickly returned the gesture, somewhat remembering that it was their version of a salute.

"Name and ranking?"

"Y/N L/N, er... I'm not sure of my ranking sir. I just know I'm assigned to work for the Vice Captain and one of the Warriors?" You shuffled your feet awkwardly and he nodded, gesturing his hand for you to follow him. He started scratching his ear as he walked, as if he was in thought. To you, he really felt familiar but you couldn't quite place where the feeling belonged.

"Ah yes," His eyes glanced at you, the blue color peeking out from behind the glasses. "Now I remember. You're Reiner and Bertolt's human souvenir from the devil island, aren't you?"

Is that what they called you? And how dare he call your home a devil island! A bubble of anger was rising within you, but you didn't want to take it out on the older man that was helping you find your way. He had to be a higher-up based on his demeanor and you'd rather not get in more trouble.

"...Yes sir, I am."

"You were supposed to be here a month ago." You cringed internally but nodded slowly.

"It's my fault sir. I've only been here for a few months and everything is too... new. I hope my absence didn't affect anything." The man simply hummed, stopping at a door with the words 'WARRIORS UNIT' neatly carved into the wood. You pulled the door for him, letting him saunter in before you entered.

"I found your little pet, you two." His hand pressed against the small of your back, pushing you forwards towards a table where the two of them sat. They looked completely exhausted and were partially bandaged up, quietly sparing a glance at you with a short wave.

You settled yourself in-between them, about to thank the man for helping you but he was already stepping away, going outside to light up a cigarette.

"Don't mind Zeke, he's just... eccentric like that. Hope he didn't offend you." Reiner pushed a pile of papers towards you to sort once you turned back to them, saying something about piling them from who sent them; the important files being from the commander and the Marleyan superiors and the unimportant files being from other soldiers. It slowly dawned on you that you became some sort of assistant to them, a glorified secretary for their war schemes.

"It's nothing too difficult, you're lucky to get this kind of work compared to us and the other Eldian soldiers." Bertolt slightly smiled, continuing to read a paper in his hands and you sighed quietly, beginning to sort. Part of you was grateful you didn't have to face war anymore, but the other part didn't want to be treated differently. Maybe the Marleyans thought that you'd defect once you were on the field or kill as many as you can with a weapon in your hands, going out in a blaze of glory. You never held a gun before though and it was most likely that everyone in this military could shoot you down before you could aim it at one person.

An hour or two passed by and you finished up the sorting, neatly tapping them together. It really wasn't a difficult task at all, were they going to make you do something else for today? You quietly waited for any orders, the two focused on their own thing until Reiner suddenly got up.

"I'll go get lunch for us. Y/N, you can relax for now, there's nothing else we need from you today. Good work." He ruffled the top of your head playfully, just like he did before after a training session in the corps. The blond soon left the room, leaving only Bertolt and you alone.

The two of you sat in silence, your hands fiddling with the seams of your uniform. Was sorting the only thing you're going to be doing during your time here? You'd quit within the month if that was the case but if not, maybe in due time you'll save enough money to open up your own shop. You've always wanted to sell clothing back in Paradis, just like your mother and father.

"You look good in the uniform." Bertolt finally mumbled out, the sound of a paper flipping over barely making it audible. You slightly flushed at the comment, diverting your attention to the closest wall in sight.

"Really? I feel like a wet cotton ball, it's so uncomfortable. The scouts uniform is way better." You grumbled, tugging at the cloth around your legs.

He slightly laughed at that, shaking his head. "No way. The scouts uniform was too tight, not to mention the straps were always so difficult to put on."

"Maybe it's cause you're a literal giant compared to everyone there. I just know they had to customize a whole other set for your ass." He snorted and started laughing, dropping the paper in his hand. You couldn't help but let out a few chuckles as well, crossing your arms together. The two of you bantered for a little bit longer and just for a second, it felt like you were right back home in the training corps canteen.

Everything fuzzed out in your hearing and you soon found yourself comparing home to here. The smells were different, not quite fresh as the countryside air and had a more smoky tone with every breath you took. The sights were different, more machinery was seen rather than grassy fields and trees. The people were different, there was no one recognizable to chat with besides your kidnappers. Everything here had entirely evolved and you were being forced to adapt to it. The realization made you feel a drop in your stomach, tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes.

"Bertolt."

"Hm?"

"I want to go back home." Your voice was meek, heavy droplets falling down and staining the white fabric beneath you. His body stiffened and he got up from his chair, almost slamming it into the table when he pushed it in.

"This is your home." He responded coldly, a singe of irritation trailing off his words as he left the room, slamming the heavy door shut. You started to sob quietly, tightly holding onto the sides of your sleeved arms.

No it wasn't, and Bertolt knew it too.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

Your work schedule was simple: Monday to Wednesday from 9:30 am to 6 pm, you served the Warrior Unit. Every other day, you could do whatever you wanted and that was that. The pay was pretty good for a livable wage, but nothing special. No task you were given from Reiner or Zeke was too difficult either, it was usually just sending out letters to their superiors or sorting anything they wanted you to sort. To be honest, it felt like they were just tolerating you since the Marley government didn't want to deal with you anymore. It sucked but it's better than being belly-up in the ocean.

You haven't tried to make amends with Bertolt after that day because one, it was his fault so why would you apologize anyways and two, he hasn't been around that often in the office space. Reiner explained to you that there will be days, sometimes weeks or months where some or none of them will be here. Apparently when they came back with the failure to retrieve the Founding Titan, the loss of Annie and her Titan, and the inability to capture Eren's special Titan, some nations came together and declared war on Marley.

"Hopefully it won't be so often that we're going to be gone for long. Wouldn't want to have you sit at home and do nothing." Reiner teased with a slight nudge against your arm before downing his glass of liquor.

"I do nothing even when working. Maybe I'll pick up some new hobbies when you guys are gone, like knitting or cross-stitching."

Maybe you can give the creations to your neighbors since you were just doing it for fun. One of them is an expectant mother and since you had moved in, she had been nothing but kind to you. It would be nice to give something to her in return.

"Alright grandma." You elbowed his side hard, rolling your eyes. He grunted and started rubbing the affected area, grumbling under his breath about your temper.

"Where's Bertolt? Aren't you guys inseparable?" He suddenly cleared his throat, adjusting himself in his seat. Back in the training corps and the short time in the Survey Corps, you've rarely seen the two separated. Wherever Reiner went, Bertolt followed suit.

"Probably caught up in something. He'll be here soon, he never cancels without notice." He waved his hand dismissively and you thought none the wiser, tracing your finger around the rim of your glass before taking a swig.

"Already missing him?" You suddenly choked on the liquor, throat burning at the sensation. No way. No way in hell, you'd ever miss him. He could get swallowed up by another Pure Titan and you wouldn't even bat an eye. You'd laugh instead, basking in the blood that would gush out of his torn corpse.

Before you could even say anything back, a soft voice popped into the conversation. "Missing who?"

The two of you turned and there stood Marley's behemoth, still dressed to the nines in his uniform. Reiner greeted him happily, ignoring the question completely, turning towards the bartender and ordering another scotch for his friend. Bertolt settled right next to you, taking the glass in his hand and drinking up the entire thing in one go, some liquid spilling out of the corner of his lips. He quickly wiped it up with his thumb, his tongue peeking out and licking the remnants away. His cold green eyes glanced down at you suddenly, catching you staring at him.

A flush of heat went through your skin, quickly looking away to stare into your partially-full glass. The drinks kept on coming, the haze of alcohol filling everyone's systems. You were the least intoxicated, slowly taking in the new attitudes and information from your drunk companions. It wasn't much but they became more chatty, opening up about their lives before Paradis.

"I joined because of my mother." Reiner moved his glass towards the bartender, his head leaned up against his arm as he watched the brown liquid fill up his cup.

"Oh yeah?" He nodded, taking a sip from the newly refilled glass before speaking once more.

"She had high hopes that our family would've been whole again. Me, her, and my father. He's, uh—" He cleared his throat, turning his attention towards you. A faint dust of pink rested on his cheeks, a cheeky smile growing. "He's a Marley-blooded man, so y'know... I'm not really supposed to..."

"Exist." You muttered as you finished his sentence and he let out a soft laugh, nodding lightly before downing his drink again.

"Harsh, but more or less, you could say that's it. Compared to me though," The black-haired man closed his eyes, huffing softly. "Bertolt here is more tragic."

Curious but puzzled, you turned your attention towards him, his hand running through his gelled locks and he mumbled something under his breath before taking a shot. You did wonder a bit about how this man turned out to be the worst attacker on Paradis Island's humanity, it felt sickening thinking about a sweet little boy being trained into a horrid monster.

"You know I hate talking about it Reiner." The blond snorted, turning on his chair and leaning back on the bar's counter.

"C'mon. Let her in on your situation, after all—" He stood up, walking over to him and placing his hand over his shoulder, leaning in close to his ear that you almost barely caught what he said.

"You owe her that much."

Reiner made his way to the bathroom, leaving the two of you alone once more together. The thought of trying to decipher what he meant flew past your inebriated mind and so you sat in silence, instead thinking that you might as well make your way home now. It was probably already past midnight, and you were sure that you were waking up late with a massive headache. As you finalized your decision, turning in your stool and towards the door without a goodbye, the thump of glass hitting wood snapped you out of it.

"I was raised only by my dad." Bertolt started and you slowly turned back towards the counter, your full attention on him.

"Don't know what happened to my mom, he never really told me and I was never curious enough to ask. It was just the two of us for as long as I knew but even as a kid that could barely read, I knew that he wasn't... okay." His fists clenched together and you could hear the cracks of his joints from how tightly he was gripping.

"When you're born an Eldian and live in the farthest parts of the internment camps, medicine is hard to get by and treatment is even more difficult to obtain. The minute I became eligible to join, I took the opportunity." You don't know what compelled you in the moment, but you placed a hand on one of his fists. He started relaxing once he realized that you were touching him, still stiff as he reminisced further.

"Did they give him the meds?" Bertolt nodded, taking in a shallow breath.

"A few days right after I inherited the Colossal, they started giving him everything they promised and he was getting better day by day. It wasn't until I left for our mission in Paradis that his condition evolved into something worse." You swallowed nervously, slipping your fingers into his and holding his massive hand gently. His head turned towards you, his eyes soft as he looked into your gaze.

You've never seen or heard him be so vulnerable before, guilt forming in the pit of your stomach. For him, he was fighting a one-sided war against your home, all because he wanted to take care of his dad. Yet in return, he caused the displacement of so many from their families, ripping them apart with a few kicks into the walls.

"When Zeke came on Paradis and we finally met up, I asked him about my dad and he told me that despite all the medicine and treatment that he's been getting, he wasn't getting any better. I had to see him again, no matter if I had failed the original mission or not. I couldn't die on that island without being able to see him again and I just barely made it. Sometimes the way we escaped made me wonder how I even made it out of there. It was only for a few months that I got to spend with him once we came back, but he passed away in his sleep last month."

His hand tightened around yours, though not enough to break it. No wonder he started to look more disheveled and exhausted recently, his whole reason for getting where he is was now gone. You pitied him but that didn't excuse the murders of thousands he did in your homeland. At the same time, it didn't mean that you should bring that major fact up, not when he was currently grieving.

"I'm sorry Bertolt."

"It's alright, you don't have to pity me. I have more to be sorry about towards you and the others. I'll never be able to properly make it up, nothing I'll ever do will be enough to wash away the blood on my hands."

The two of you sat there in silence, a warm hand around one cold hand. You really should leave now, before Reiner comes back and you'll be stuck drinking even more than you wanted to. You attempted to finally slide off the wooden seat, but he clenched your hand gently and tugged you towards him instead. Your eyes fluttered in both confusion and tiredness as you stood in front of his sitting frame. Blinking once, his face appeared right in front of yours. His free hand slid behind and rested against the nape of your neck, feeling thin but calloused fingertips tenderly brush against the skin as he pulled you even closer.

Okay... this was getting a little too weird for your liking. Beginning to open your mouth to verbalize your annoyance and trying to move back, he then took the opportunity to press his lips against yours.

You could taste the alcohol that the three of you had been previously been consuming intertwine with the tobacco's bitterness of the cigarettes he used, a vagueness of something sweet brushing up against your tongue as he tried to coax you into returning the action. His stubble was rough against your skin the more he moved, digging deeper as he pressed further into your mouth.

You had half the mind to bite that damn muscle of his, but the warmth of both the alcohol and him was stupefying, hypnotizing. It felt like you were melting against him, a warmth pooling in your stomach and in-between your thighs. Slowly, you convinced yourself to return the kiss, gravitating into his embrace. It was stupid of you to do considering you hate the guy but hey, who doesn't do stupid shit every now and then? Fuck, you even started wrapping your arms around his neck and shoulders.

There wasn't much people in the bar anyways, either too drunk off their minds to care or simply ignoring the disgusting couple intertwining themselves in the public space. The bartender was off chatting with another patron, most likely used to the sight of a couple making their passion uncomfortably known to others. It's the Colossal Titan user, who on Marley dared tried to say something about it?

The hand that once was holding yours, grabbed at the crook of your back to draw you even more impossibly near him, then sliding down towards the curve of your ass. To your utmost surprise, he clutched and squeezed at the flesh firmly, feeling you up with this sudden confidence that you would never thought of him having before.

"Annie."

Sobriety hit you like a cold bucket of water splashing onto you once you heard her name slip through his swollen lips, taking no time to immediately shove the man right off of you. He just told you his story, that his dad had just died last month, and here he was, kissing and groping you and then suddenly calling out Annie's name. You were breathing hard, eyes wide as saucers as you stared down at him in shock.

"What the fuck? What the fuck!?"

Bertolt's hand reached out to you, as if he was trying to make you lift him back up. You've never felt so nauseated to hear those very words come out of his lips as a valid apology, like it was no big deal.

"I love you."

You ran.

You ran out of the bar, into the blackened sea of night, never once looking back. If you did, you were afraid of what you might see in his eyes or if he was chasing after you. With tears lingering in the corners of your eyes, one single thought remained.

Out of everyone in the squadron, why did it have to be him?

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

For a month and a half the day after what happened, you never saw Bertolt in the office or around the internment zone.

It was probably the first time him and Reiner were ever separated for this long, the blond telling you that it was his own decision to be sent off into the battlefield alone. You wondered if he told him what he did to you after he came back from the bathroom, or excused why he was on the floor and why you were gone. Reiner never said anything about the incident, so it soon faded in the back of your mind into obscurity.

He wasn't your first kiss anyways, some now-dead nobody trainee back in the day was, and the two of you were drunk, stupid shit happens. Part of you also somewhat knew about Bertolt's fondness for the Female Titan user, originally not knowing about how close they were previously, but damn it. For a heated moment to be ruined like that left a sour taste in your mouth, and you couldn't help but hate him even more for it.

"He's back."

"Who?" Reiner's fist came down on the top of your head playfully, catching your attention from the paperwork.

"Y'know who. Better talk to him now before he passes out from exhaustion from the looks of it. Also, because I know you miss him~" He teased and you swatted his fist off of you, watching him as he walked off towards the main room laughing, leaving you with a pit in your stomach. You really didn't want to talk to him, even if a month had passed on by, but legally, he was your superior. Professionalism before personal feelings unfortunately.

You finally got up, walking slowly to the destination before taking in a deep breath and entering the medical unit. Bertolt was near an open window, a lit cigarette lazily nestled in-between his fingers as he stared out of it. He was the only person there and you swore that every time you saw him, he started to look more unrecognizable from his previous cadet days. His hair wasn't slicked back anymore, falling at the front of his eyes; in fact, you thought it might've grown out a little more from the last time you saw him. The Titan marks were still prominent on his face, like he had just transformed not long ago.

Wiping your clammy hands on your puffy uniform, you approached him, pulling up a chair nearby the bed and sitting down stiffly.

"Welcome back sir."

His head turned towards you and you swore that you felt the room grow colder as he gazed into you through the black strands of his messy hair. Maybe you were the only one that noticed, but his eyes were dead, hollow but still held some sharpness in those pale green irises. This was no longer the Bertolt you knew, this was a numbed man that got mentally thrown and torn apart in the arms of the constant war, the constant transforming, and the constant murder of many.

"Hit me."

"E-excuse me?" He must’ve gotten faster because you didn't realize how quickly he grabbed you until he pushed the palm against his healing skin. It was burning to the touch, as if you were right next to a blazing bonfire. Instinctively, you started to try and wiggle out of his grip but he held steady.

"Hit. Me." Bertolt's grip grew stronger around your wrist, fear creeping in through every cell in your body as you watched the surrounding skin pale from how hard he was holding. "That's an order."

You swallowed but nodded quickly in agreement, just so he can let go of you before any bones shatter. He immediately released you straight away, the action as fast as he previously took ahold of you and took a hit of the nearly burnt out stick. You had to hype yourself up for it, thinking back on every rotten memory you’ve had with him, balling up your fist and striking him as hard as possible where he originally placed your hand. The force made his head swing the other way, the cigarette butt dropping on the ground as your knuckles throbbed in agony. It was like directly punching a stony wall, not like the previous time you punched him on the boat to Marley.

You let go of the breath you didn’t even know you were holding, straightening back up as you held onto your wounded hand. "And how do you feel, Bertolt?"

Bertolt’s body didn’t move, but his hand began to slowly trailing up to the injury, pressing his fingers against the forming bruise. You flinched as he pushed his hair back to where you could finally see his eyes, exhaling the smoke that he previously took in through his nostrils. He glanced over in your direction and let out a soft chuckle, although you noticed that it didn't quite reach those dull eyes of his. There was one thought that lingered in your mind as you stared back into his gaze, that he must've gone crazy fighting in the frontlines.

"Good hit, make me bleed next time." ...What? "Though, I'm surprised that you decided to visit after... what we did the last time we saw each other."

Recovering quickly from trying to process what he just said at first, you cleared your throat, crossing your arms. "The Vice Captain requested me to visit his right hand man, who am I to refuse his wishes?"

He simply hummed in response, reaching for another cigarette in his pocket and his lighter. Placing the unlit stick at the side of his mouth, his eyes caught yours once more, a slight smirk forming. "When'd you start talking like the soldiers? You forget the years we've spent together already since I've been gone, or did you finally get in trouble for treating us like equals?"

You scoffed, pulling your lips in a thin line. "You're the one that gave me an order earlier, and I've had a recent revelation that I had to start acting like a subordinate rather your friend or buddy or whatever the fuck we are, so yeah, I guess it's the latter."

"Ahh, better watch your language then or I'll have to report you for profanity against a superior." Bertolt was of course joking, the mocking tone intertwining with his words. As you felt your eyebrow twitch in annoyance, the sound of lighter clicked and ignited, your eyes watching him pull the flame near.

"Y'know..." He started as he took in a drag, leaning his head back towards the ceiling and soon exhaling the smoke out slowly. "I've been thinking about you the entire time I was gone."

A heaviness plopped itself back on your shoulders, and you wanted nothing more but to excuse yourself out of his premises. You were about to say something to leave him alone, but he kept on talking, droning on and on about how he was counting down the days when he could finally see your face again. Bertolt mentioned that you were the only reason he kept on fighting, why he kept on killing so his commanders could see that he was doing such a swell job as their loyal Titan holder and let him leave early. What a horrible ideology, most of those people could've been innocents.

"And another thing, I kept thinking back on the kiss we shared that month ago." All the color drained from your face, turning and taking a step back to try and run, but felt his hand grasp onto the fabric right against your back. His voice had the same disdainfulness as before, a demandingness that you didn't even know he had in himself to project.

"Don't leave and turn back around. That is an order."

You grit your teeth, finally turning back around once he let go of your uniform and find him standing, his tall stature hovering over you. Nervousness crawled up your spine, flinching once you felt his cold fingers reach over to caress your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. His eyes scanned your face, inspecting your features quietly before taking another drag of his cigarette. He then neared your face and press his lips against yours.

Recoiling at the abrupt kiss, you tried to push him away but the grip on your face was painfully tight, almost akin to the hold on your wrist earlier. You could do nothing but endure this assault, a slight whimper slipping out as the soreness of your face grew.

Bertolt's tongue brushed against your lips, trying to coax you into opening them. You might as well obey, just to get this over with and the fact that you were running out of oxygen at an alarming rate. Once you did, he pushed the smoke in your mouth as he deepened the kiss, the burn in your lungs and in your throat getting worse. In a panic, you bit down as hard as possible to free yourself, the taste of iron combining with the bitter nicotine. You quickly doubled over and started coughing, watching in tears as vague smoke came out of your mouth with every heave and breath.

"Ah." You peered up at Bertolt from within your teary vision, the tips of his fingers on his lips and pressing against the wound you inflicted. It was deep from what you're able to see, but already started to heal itself. Yet, that's not what at all made you run out the room in distress, almost vomiting into the bushes once you stepped foot out of the building.

You watched in mortified horror as he smeared the crimson around his lips and chin, a seemingly euphoric and satisfied expression reflecting on those pale green eyes of his. He looked down at your frozen form, crouching down and reaching over to your face with his bloodied fingers. A small whimper slipped out as he smeared the substance on your mouth, a hungry grin forming.

"Isn't this a beautiful sight? My blood on your lips, I wonder if I can make you bleed for me soon." It felt like he wasn't supposed to say it aloud, but maybe he wanted you to hear, to have a taste of what his true self was like. That thought alone made you run out, leaving him on the ground once again.

This time, you had to make sure you'd never see the sick fuck ever again.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

And this brings you back to the beginning, in Reiner's home completely agitated and frightened for your life.

The past few months, Bertolt resumed his normal duties along Reiner and you; although you limited your interactions with one another, you can’t help but notice that he was following you everywhere. Not just at work, but the times where you were on your breaks, going out to eat, shopping for groceries or clothes, even in your own home; you saw him. You barely caught him sometimes, he'd disappear in a blink once you tried to get in a second glance to confirm who you saw.

He lingered behind corners, staring at you with such a frightening glimmer in those dull eyes of his. He was usually expressionless as he stared into your very soul, not a single crooked smile or the usual slight upwards curve of his eyes. Nothing, absolutely nothing. And the strangest part was that he never said a word, just... stared. Sometimes he just stood there right in the public's view, crowds of people passing besides him without a single glance towards the weirdo in their way.

There was nothing you could do about it, he wasn't technically bothering anyone and due to the internment zone being rather small, they already knew that he was associated with you. How unfair it was. You wished you could live like them, ignorant and dismissive of the monster that stood right next to them.

Him being right outside of your window was your final straw, the lamplight just barely highlighting his features as he stood in your backyard. You screamed and backed up into your dining room table once you realized that he was right against your window, pressing his hand against the glass as his breath began to fog it up. His eyes were crazed, the first time you ever saw anything in them after weeks of ignoring him. You flung the drapes over the window — as if it could do anything to protect you — before running upstairs and hiding in your closet for the rest of the night.

If he was able to sneak up on you, to be that close without you noticing… what else has he done?

"He's being a fucking creep, Reiner. If it's not him trying to figure out that I'm some kind of double-crosser, it's him being some kind of perverted stalker." He snorted at your remark and you could tell that he was not entirely convinced. You took in a shaky breath, finally putting down your foot.

"Then I would like to request that I leave the Warriors unit and work somewhere else. I don't care where and if I have to move, all I want is to never see Bertolt ever again." Reiner's expression suddenly hardened and he pushed himself off the wall, leaning on the table opposite of you. You've never seen him quite as serious until now, unease filling your stomach.

"You do realize that we cannot protect you once you leave the unit, right? The only reason you're alive still is because of us, Y/N. Anywhere else in the other units, the generals and commanders will watch you like hawks for any mistake you make, minor or not. They would use any excuse to have your head." His hand rested on your shoulder and squeezed it firmly, checking his surroundings before leaning close into your ear.

"Look. I know about Bertolt's strange behavior, trust me, I've already noticed he's been off ever since he came back from that recent excursion. I don't know if I can convince him to stop doing this to you, but I mean it when I say that you're better off staying in our unit." He then leaned back and lightly smiled for more reassurance; a part of you felt that it was the scout in him that was talking and that made you feel a little better.

"We're all you got in this world and your best chance for living. C'mon, just give him one more shot." This wouldn't be happening in the first place if you left me back in Paradis, you thought bitterly but hesitantly nodded your head.

"Okay, fine. But you better get it in his head that I don’t want him stalking me anymore or I’ll report him to General Magath and leave the unit, no matter what the consequences are." You got up and headed towards the exit, turning your head to see him slowly push in your seat. He noticed that you didn't leave yet and lifted his hand up, almost waving goodbye.

"No promises," Reiner held up his pinky, slightly wiggling it. "But I'll do my best."

You scoffed, but smiled regardless.

"Then whatever happens, it'll be on you."

The next day continued on as usual, something normal for once as both Reiner and Bertolt weren't in today. You thought that they must've gotten deployed to another war since you hadn't seen any of the other Warriors either, but you continued work as usual for your shift. Even if you weren't required to, you might as well lighten the load for you the next time around.

By the time you were done with half of the stack, you finally called it quits, seeing that the sun had began to slowly set behind the towering buildings right outside of the windows. Clocking out, you slung your satchel over your shoulder and pushed past the doors, quietly walking back to your home. Now that you started to think further during your trek, it's strange that you didn't get any notification from Reiner about their sudden leave. He'd always gave you some kind of heads-up even if you didn't ask, either through a note or in person.

Was this something so serious that not even you can know about? That would make more sense, you're technically just an underling to them, you didn't need to know more confidential information from the Marleyans as a Paradisian; not like you wanted it or had any use for it anyways. The orange glow of the sun began to fade, the sky slowly turning darker by the minute as lamplights started to flicker on right on cue.

You were so close to home that you started to pick up the pace, a feeling of anticipation running through you. It's not like you felt scared, no. This was the first time in days that you finally felt like you didn't have to look over your shoulder, the first time in months where you didn't feel like you were being watched.

In a matter of minutes, you finally reached the front door of your home. You rummaged through your bag for the keys, taking your time as you pushed through the unfortunately crowded mess. There was no need to rush anymore, not until they come back, and hopefully Reiner was able to talk Bertolt out of his abhorrent, unprofessional behavior. Letting out a happy hum as you finally found what you were looking for, you pushed in the key and turned it open, only to be greeted with a gut feeling that caused goosebumps to immediately form on your skin.

Something was wrong. Despite everything being in their right and respective places, there was something... off. Standing still at the entrance way, you scanned the environment slowly, a lump forming in your throat as they darted to-and-fro nervously. The windows were locked, you knew they were, and none of the drapes seemed to be moved or altered from their original places. There was only one entrance and to get to the backyard, you would have to take the side fence door at the outside of the resident. You almost were tempted to back out of your own house, the one place where you've considered as the safest haven from the outside. This feeling, it had to just be that you were unused to being finally left alone... right?

You finally took a step inwards, the wood creaking underneath your boot. Mentally, it felt like excruciatingly long hours had just passed by for you to get another step, internally praying that your mind won't play tricks on you from the various sounds that were occurring in the considerably old home. There's nothing or no one here, you're just being a paranoid baby.

Exhaling slowly, you finally shut and locked the front door behind you. Repeating the phrase over and over gave you confidence to continue forwards, determination in your eyes. You'd be damned if Bertolt thinks he could scare you out of your own home, you'd rather go to prison than try to stay at his home for temporary shelter.

You lost your appetite to prepare a simple dinner, now knowing that you'd prefer not to try cooking something when you've just arrived in fear for your life. However, you carefully made your way towards the kitchen, grabbing a knife out of the wooden block. The sound of the metal sliding out of its sheath may have been the loudest thing you've been currently hearing. You gripped onto the handle tightly, turning towards the stairs.

You knew you weren't alone here, the house may settle now and then, but this felt different. This was different. No matter what your brain was telling you, your gut was telling you otherwise.

Crrreeeaaakkkk...

You froze, feeling suddenly out of breath as you stared at the ceiling with wide eyes. The sound came from your room, there was no doubt about it. A memory of Bertolt trying to secretly make breakfast for you flashed into view, the sounds of pans clashing below waking you up. You should've questioned how he gotten in the house in the first place during the earlier stages of this thing of his, but you were far too hungry and tired to even notice until now.

In meticulous steps, you made your way to the staircase, trying to make sure you didn't step on the wrong board and alert the intruder of your presence. Hell, he might've already known since you unlocked the door. The hallway never felt longer than it was before as you approached the room, the moonlight shining down on you and the weapon held in your dominant hand. There was more creaking the more you came towards the door, your heart pounding in your chest in the rhythm of a thousand Abnormals sprinting towards their next delectable meal.

The door was slightly ajar, alarms ringing in your head. You never have left the doors in your room open in your life, especially when sleeping and even when you left the premises. Someone is in there and you know who it is. Taking in a deep breath, you leaned in gradually towards the crack in the door, trying to control the trembling in your hands as you peeked through.

The stench of blood first hit your nose, then the sight within nearly made you scream in horror. Bertolt was in your room, sitting on the middle edge of your bed, all bloodied from head-to-toe what you were able to tell from the street's lamps dully illuminating the surrounding room. Though that was stomach-churning in itself, the action he was performing on your bed made everything even more heinously depraved.

The bastard was fucking his fist with your panties wrapped around his cock, his pelvis erratically jutting into the tight hold he put around it. His lips were slightly parted, almost barely audible groans slipping out with every stroke. Even worse, you could hear just the cusp of your name with it, your own face growing warm.

You had to report this to General Magath, now. Burn your bed and used underwear once you got the chance to second on the list. Reiner failed, maybe even never went up to him, and now you had to take the drastic way out of this. He finally took things way too far; if not your underwear, it might’ve been you.

You took a step backwards, immediately paling as the floorboard behind you squeaked loudly under the weight. The movement from within your room paused abruptly, anxiety and dread crawling up your veins with every passing moment. The sound of the bed springs being relieved of any weight on them immediately alerted you that you needed to start running or hide until he leaves. It was too late, the door opening with a grinding, crackling noise.

"Welcome home, Y/N."

Bertolt lunged at you, instincts kicking in as you swung the knife, aiming for his throat. You knew it wouldn’t kill him, you’ve seen Mikasa do it years ago and he healed without any trace of the injury left, but it would give you enough time to get to Magath’s residence. At least, that’s what you tried to do, but he moved last minute, the blade only digging into the side of his face towards his mouth.

He was stunned by it at first, a nauseating feeling permeating within your stomach as you watched the skin and muscle separate as he opened his mouth, blood streaming down his jawline in thick streams. Then he started chuckling, pressing his hand against the wound roughly and almost pulling it apart. This was no time to stay shocked however. You took this final opportunity to run, carefully trying not to cut yourself as you made your way down the stairs.

"Y/N!!!" Oh god, oh god, oh god. You reached the entrance, turning the lock and pulling it open, the cold air of the night blasting in your face. Freedom was right there in your grasp — just right there — before a thickly drenched hand from behind grabbed ahold of you from the mouth and pulled you back inside.

You couldn’t scream as his bloodied palm held firmly down onto your mouth, tears streaming down your face as he lodged himself right between your legs. He was crazed, his pupils dilated with excitement as he stared down at your quivering form. You could the hardness straining against your uniform pants, a sob stuck in your throat. The inflicted wound on his face was obviously starting to heal, steam coming off of it.

"Good try, too bad you aren’t strong enough to even try to finish the job." He took the knife out of your hold, his blood still staining the edges. Bertolt neared it towards your throat, your body fighting back as it approached closer and closer.

"Hey, you’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep moving like that." He scolded, as if he wasn’t the one with the weapon, the cold blade right against your jugular. You froze on cue, taking in sharp breaths with your nose to try and not to panic even more.

"You weren’t meant to see me uh—" His face flushed pink, scratching his uninjured cheek with his pointer bashfully. This bitch was acting like he didn’t just break in your home, committed a perverse act on your bed, and about cut your throat open. Bertolt slightly adjusted himself, rubbing his still-hard cock against you. "But it was pretty exciting, how long were you watching? Did you get excited?"

You wanted to shake your head, only flinching as you felt him unbuckle the belt, nimble fingers unbuttoning and zipping down your pants. You had no choice but to feel him slip his dirtied hand into your underwear, his fingertips pressing against your hole. A proud smile grew on his face, a vast contrast to your horrified expression as the two of you made the same realization. You’re wet.

Bertolt pulled the knife away from your neck, short relief coming out of you in waves, but he didn’t drop it or throw it aside. No. He used it to tear your uniform shirt open, a muffled yelp escaping you as the cool air made contact with your bare skin.

"We’re going to have some fun together, okay?" You felt like throwing up in his hand, hoping that you’d asphyxiate from it. Your heart stopped as you realized that he was nearing the tip of the blade on your lower stomach, right below your belly button.

"Right after I carve my name into you."

[if-loves]

etude op. 10 no. 4 (torrent)

// Yandere Dr Ratio

Sum: When the rain falls, so too does your tears.

wc: 3278

warnings: implied depression, suicidal thoughts, implied suicide attempt, ooc ratio probably

a/n: sorry for the disappearance LMAO uni was holding me by the neck and not in the way i enjoy

also this was a whole load of yapping ngl maybe i projected too much xd

also pls let me know if i missed any tags!! i’d hate to mistag/forget any cw tags

likes & reblogs are appreciated! asks are more than welcome ❤️

As a student with the honor of studying directly under the one and only Veritas Ratio, you’re more than used to the bluntness of his words and his marking. After all, he’s the Dr Veritas Ratio, arguably one of the most intelligent people, beings even, in the cosmos, and you’re just a mere academic. Sure, you’ve had your theories and whatnot, but compared to someone like Dr Ratio you’re basically a child.

Everyone tells you that you’re incredibly fortunate to be able to have someone as prestiged as him as your tutor, that you would take advantage of the opportunity and use it to further your own studies and knowledge, but you’re not quite sure if furthering your studies is truly what you desire. Coming to university was already an expectation from your parents, who in their right mind would reject them when they’ve already saved all that money exclusively for your studies?

You don’t think yourself to be especially smart or gifted in anything. To yourself, you are just a regular person who will go on to graduate, find a job, and maybe settle down if you were given the chance. You don’t expect much for and from yourself.

However, Dr Ratio clearly seems to think otherwise; or else why would he choose you of all people to be under his tutelage?

It has been almost twelve cycles of the moon, and you have yet to figure out why. The agreed period of mentoring is coming to its end, and he expects a full length thesis and three separate reports from you concerning your studies and experience under him, and you cannot for the life of you think of anything that could ever satisfy him. In the whole period of his guidance, he has never once scored you above a low thirties. The more it happened, the more you thought it was more of a him issue than yours - but that’s what people who can’t take criticism say, so perhaps you’ll refrain from thinking that thought.

The sun had long set, leaving your side of the planet at the mercy of the night. In front of you, a too-bright screen from your laptop glares at you with a blank page, as if demanding you finally do something instead of staring out of the window wistfully as if you were some widow lamenting the loss of her husband.

It takes you everything not to just give up and curl up in the warmth of your bed.

With the nth sigh of the day, you woefully start typing, frustration in the pits of your mind. What in the world could you even write about, anyway? The spinning of the sun? No, you’re sure there’s thousands of papers written about that, similarly for the moon; you’re not one for mathematics either, so that was out of the question. Science isn’t really your forte either, so your options for a paper that would gain Dr Ratio’s approval is about zero. Maybe you should just drop out.

When the world is asleep, you remain awake, and so too does something else.

~~~

There are still a few days left before your thesis and reports are to be submitted, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve written utter nonsense.

What in the world are you talking about? Even you didn’t know. Something about some mythicised substance known as Xuixzedlm, that’s apparently supposed to be what the deep oceans of your world is made of, but none have been able to explore said oceans due to their size, toxicity and the creatures lurking beneath its surface. In fact, almost 99% of the oceans have remained unexplored.

You kind of regret choosing such a substance to be the main part of your thesis, considering how little information there is of it. Sure, the main point of a thesis is to propose a theory to be proved, but for something like this where the research is extremely minimal, you’ve ended up circling back to your previous points due to the lack of ideas and, of course, proven research. Not that he’d care about your excuses.

Your days leading up to the submission date are spent typing, deleting, and referencing your paper. You’re a little less stressed about the report because it didn’t exactly require the same thinking as a thesis did, so you managed to finish those in a week. You’d still need to proofread them a few more times to ensure grammar and whatnot was perfect, but ultimately, its priority was far lower on your list.

However, something odd has happened recently.

One evening when you had finally arrived back home after spending most of the day at one of the university’s libraries, you found a silver key with lilac purple highlights and a strange symbol in the middle. You’d asked your parents, but they hadn’t a clue either, leading to some concern that your room may have been broken into. There were a few off parts about that theory, some being that none of your belongings were missing, there was no evidence of lock tampering on your windows, and most of all, why said person would leave an expensive and important looking key on your table.

The sudden and suspicious appearance of the key led to you keeping it on your person at all times, for a reason you’re not exactly quite sure of other than because it felt right. There’s an inexplicable familiarity to it, as if it belongs to you, but you can never seem to recall where you’ve seen it before, if you ever have in the first place.

Another weird thing has been happening ever since you found the key - you’ve been feeling a strange desire to enter the toxic ocean.

The sounds of the waves splashing against the shore invites you in your dreams, and you always take a step forward, one step after another until the water almost touches your toes. The sun is setting upon you, the breeze gently blowing; the sight in front of you is the picture of ethereal. Just as you take one more step, just as you fall into the abyss, someone pulls you back and you are jolted awake.

Scholars say dreams are the subconscious taking its turn, toying with fantasies and fears indiscriminately. Sometimes they mix, giving birth to hopes that only end in hopelessness, happiness that only ends in despair. If this is true, does your subconscious desire death?

~~~

Veritas Ratio has always thought himself as logical. Most have thought the same of him as well, the rest thinking him some sharp-tongued snake that will not hesitate to bite them should he see fit.

When it comes to you however, he feels an unexplainable feeling in his chest and head, a desire that has only grown since the moment he chose you to be under his guidance for a year. His harshness may not reflect it, but it is merely his way of showing he cares - by being extra critical of your work so that you know how to improve. Veritas Ratio truly wants nothing but the best for a student like you.

Lately, this feeling has grown much in size and desire, leaving him finding trouble in resisting it. It lingers like a persistent headache, and acts up when you are around, leaving him in a constant battle for retention of sanity. His mental fortitude currently leaves him with the upper hand, but who knows for how long.

For someone who prides themself on being logical, he sure feels illogical as he stares at your student ID photo.

It’s one of your least flattering pictures he’s sure, but he finds himself staring at it all the same. The nuisance in his head keeps telling him frankly worrisome thoughts, but he feels no desire to act upon them… at least, the sane part of him doesn’t.

He knows there’s something special about you, and some selfish part of him doesn’t want this mentorship to end, to let you go. There’s no way of being able to guarantee ever seeing you again, so what if…

No. Irrationality has no place in his ideals, let alone in his life.

~~~

You’ve submitted your thesis and reports to him, and now you sit in front of him with your heart pounding in your chest. Is there anything scarier than the judgment of your teacher?

Your hands are laid on your lap, the key in your pocket. The coldness of it transcends the fabric of your pants, a constant reminder of the mystery it holds, and the thoughts it brings. Even now, you find your heart yearning for the sea.

You’re afraid to look at him. You’re afraid of what his expression could tell you, of the disapproval you’re expecting. You’re afraid of disappointing him once again, afraid of his rejection and the harsh words that will inevitably leave his lips. He will berate you once more, and you will be left to silently take it because truthfully, you know he’s right.

The silence continues, and you feel a sudden dizziness and the urge to throw up. You wish the sea would swallow you whole.

“I do not have enough time to finish reviewing everything today, so proper feedback will be given one week from now in person. As for the next few days, they shall continue as normal, as you are still under my tutelage. Do not forget, you still have readings to finish before tomorrow’s class.” He shuts his laptop and takes his alabaster head with him, once again leaving you to drown in the torrent of self-deprecation.

The sea embraces all, doesn’t it? It will lap up all those who dare to offer it their lives, no matter what achievements the person has made in their life, no matter if they are even a person at all. The sea… welcomes all.

(It’ll welcome you, right?)

~~~

After you left the university, you found yourself on the train to the beach. Night is upon the city, but the ocean doesn’t sleep.

People filter out of the trains one by one, until only you are left in the carriage. Announcement after announcement of stops and the sound of the train’s wheels scraping the tracks below it are the only disturbances in the otherwise peaceful silence. Despite the quietness, you cannot hear yourself. The key in your pocket feels like it is burning itself into your skin, but it is also the only thing keeping you awake, a reminder that you are still alive.

You wonder if the ocean too will eat the key, or if it will sink into its depths. Will you sink to the depths?

The train stops at its end, and your legs automatically move. You walk until you hear the sound of waves crashing onto the shore, until you are stopped by a barrier. In an act of madness (or is it desire?), you scale the wall until there is no more to scale, until you see the other side.

There is a certain beauty about the ocean that you can’t quite describe to anyone, that pictures cannot replicate. It brings you a sense of peace, like all will be right in the world. If you could just…

The jump down from the barrier is no easy task. It is a long way down, and the sand can only soften the drop so much; yet, you jump.

Something hurts, but you’re enamored by the sparkling surface of the water. It beckons you, inviting you to a new world beneath its surface, a place to be free of all worries and pains. A place to sleep peacefully, no nightmares or dreams to plague you. It offers you everything the world cannot.

You feel your bag drop off your shoulders, like a weight lifted. A hand takes the key out, holding it tightly as you walk towards the promise of a home. What mysteries will be answered by this new world?

You’d like to apologize to your parents for the disappointment that you are. You had neither the mental fortitude nor the drive to be a success, and you’d like to apologize to Dr Ratio for wasting a year’s worth of his time on an incompetent student like you. His time would have been better spent on honor students, not a mundane, average student like you. You are destined to be just another cog in the wheel, and once you rust, you will be thrown out just like everyone else has and will be.

You find yourself a step away from the water, just like in your dream. You think you see a door. The key in your hand burns hotter. The world pauses. You take a step.

The feeling of the liquid never comes, but being pulled does.

“Just what in the universe are you thinking?!” This voice… is familiar. This voice… Who is it? It can’t be Dr Ratio, no…

But those amber eyes, so familiar, it has to be…

But why? Why?

“I…” Words fail you, just like they always have. What could you possibly say to him? He must think you mad, unfit to graduate, unfit to live perhaps.

“Do you wish to be swallowed by the gaping abyss? For what? To prove the existence of Xuixzedlm? Do you think your life so worthless that you think sacrificing it for nothing is what will make it meaningful?!” He is… angry. You’ve never seen him like this. Dr Ratio doesn’t get angry. “So? Say something, anything, that could possibly help me understand why you’d attempt such an act of foolishness!”

“Why does it matter to you?!” You shout, wringing your arm free from his tight grip. He has pulled you far enough from the gentle ocean, far away from the door. You look back at it, and it remains floating above the water. The key is still in your hand.

“Are you so dull that you need to ask such a useless question?” He scoffs. He moves to grab your arm again, but you instinctively bring the hand holding the key to your chest, afraid that he would take it from you. His eyes, shades of intense amber, follow your hand and lock on to the key you hold. He frowns.

“Yes! Yes, I am! I am so utterly stupid that teaching me is a waste of time, that you should leave me alone! If… if I wasn’t here, then there’d be one less stupid person in the universe! Isn’t that what you want?” Are tears running down your face, or is the sky weeping on your behalf?

He stares at you, and his lips do not move. It goes on like this, until you are both drenched in the rain, clothes wet and only the tempting sound of the ocean, and the pitter-patter of raindrops blending into the dark waters. Moonlight briefly shines upon the both of you, and you see his face clear - there is no anger, only contemplation.

“If you have nothing more to say, then leave me alone.” You turn around and set your sights upon the floating door once more, the key still held to your heart. With a resolved mind, you once more walk towards the beckoning arms of the abyss, the promise of no tomorrow.

Dr Ratio doesn’t stop you until you are one foot in the water. There is a searing pain, but you are one step closer to the door, to a stagnancy that life could never offer you. You are one foot in the water when a familiar symbol appears on the door, like an eye staring at you. You are one foot out of the water when you realize what it is.

“You have lost your mind.” He says, pointedly. You struggle in his grip, but he doesn’t falter. If anything, his hold only tightens. The pain from the water is nothing compared to the pain of losing freedom.

“Let- me- GO!” You desperately push against his chest, legs swinging. Why couldn’t he just let you go? Why did he care so much? What value do you bring to him, other than more evidence that he is far more blessed than the rest of the universe ever could be?

“Struggling will do you no good. Stay still, and I would not have to restrain you like this.” He glares at you from the corner of his eye as he brings you further away from your salvation, and the final straw is when he wrestles the key out of your hand. You’re inconsolable as he takes you past the barrier, brings you to his vehicle, and takes you to the place you can only assume is his apartment.

You let him guide you to the bath and clean your injured foot with a gentleness that is unbecoming of him, and he runs you a bath all while you grieve. Both of you say nothing as he treats you like a child, and you let him bind you to the bedpost without any struggle. To struggle is to fight, to fight is to have a desire to spread your wings; you lost that the moment he took you away.

Dr Ratio, or rather Veritas as he insists you call him, has shown you such a different side of him that you don’t know what to make of it. He holds you at night like you’re lovers, kisses you like he means it. He dutifully takes care of you, and you do not respond in kind. Despite this, he treats you all the same, with no trace of the Dr Ratio you’ve known for the last year, and only of the Veritas that you’ve met ever since that night.

You never see the key again.

~~~

One day, he has packed up everything. You briefly wonder if this meant that he’d be leaving you behind, but to your disappointment, he brings you along. He has cuffed you to himself, a reminder of the rights you have lost when you let him have his way with you.

“Veritas,” his name tastes like poison. “Where are we going?”

“The IPC has assigned me to Penacony, the land of dreams.” He responds without hesitation, turning to face you. “Naturally, you’ll be coming with me.”

You want to say no. You want him to leave you here, to give you back your key, to bring you back to the sea. The scar on your foot is a reminder of what could’ve been, what he has taken from you, and you haven’t - or rather, will never - forgive him. He will never deserve your forgiveness.

“Have… have you told my family?” You whisper, your throat as dry as the sand on the beach. Your hands fidget, and you find yourself unable to look at him; but truthfully, you don’t need to. He has ensured that every part of him has been engraved into the depths of your brain, and carved into your heart.

“…There is no point dwelling on the past. I am your family now. Clinging to such bygones will only serve to erode your mind, and limit your ability to live life.” He is firm, sounding more like the Dr Ratio you knew. He holds the hand that he has chained to his own and brings it to lips, the band of silver gleaming in the sunlight. It is a reminder. A firm, cruel, reminder of who he really is.

Veritas Ratio is nothing more than an illogical, selfish, arrogant, cruel and lovesick beast who allowed his heart (if you could even call it that) to take the reins.

Veritas Ratio is nothing more than a liar.

[creampz]

⋆ ★ RULES.

#★vegasbaby. is my personal tag for all my work(s). sometimes i don’t update my mlists right away, but any time i post you’ll see things under that specific tag. (fics, hc's, etc..)

minors are to not interact with me or any of my works. must be 18+ or it's an immediate block. it would help a lot if you have some kind of age indicator! i’m not your parent so what you choose to consume despite ignoring my boundaries is up to you. i have mdni everywhere on my blog, but if i catch you lurking at all when you shouldn’t be, i will block you. this is an adult space.

i write requests on my own time and when i feel like it! currently, they’re open. thirsts like these take me quicker to write. please be patient because i try to answer everyone <3

i will say this again, but i do not write smut for minor characters. i will not age them up either. i will not write teen!character or teen! reader. it makes me uncomfy, please don’t ask / request that.

keep in mind, i’m only one person running this entire blog and it’s very hard to monitor constantly. if i don’t get to your ask(s), i apologize :’). i love talking to you guys!sometimes when im away ill run on queue

i write only for fem! reader (smut) — for angst, fluff i don’t mind writing in gender neutral.

please do not translate my works or feed them to any sites/platforms. screampied is my only tumblr & all works are mine. my ao3 is creampz and im gonna start cross posting my work there—whenever i have time eheh.

⋆ ★ BYF/DNI.

do not interact — minor, pro-isreal, kink-shamer, thinspo, racist / anything anti LGBTQ+, etc.

please refrain from stealing my themes, gifs / graphics. inspiration credit is totally fine by me as long as you ask! i’m fine if people want to use my graphic stuff as inspiration but please don’t entirely copy me.

this blog may write & interact w dark content time to time. i always tag properly in case you wanna filter that ( ex. #cw dacryphilia / #cw gunplay ) but nothing too supreme.

this is a safe goofy horny space! racism, unnecessary hate, and dumb tumblr beef will not be tolerated here. promise, i do not care. i’m just here to write and troll

reblogs + comments are wholeheartedly appreciated !!!

i don’t really answer anon hate. you’re gonna be talking to yourself and ignored. i’m not gonna be disrespected on my own blog. if i’m really bored, i’ll troll you with a meme.

don’t rant / vent to me in my inbox. i’m not a therapist and it could not only trigger me but my audience. asking for advice is fine i guess, but just heed my warning.

although my personality is a bit flirty, everything is entirely platonic! don’t take what i say serious lol, also i have dark humor so if you’re not with that, this isn’t the blog for you

don’t critique my writing unless you’re my beta reader. i didn’t ask and you’ll be blocked.

messages are only set for mutuals. if you have something you’d like to talk to me about, send me an ask and i’ll reply privately (or message you personally on my end)

don’t spam my inbox with asks. mutual or anon i will block you, it’s annoying & i promise i saw it the first time.

⋆ ★ WRITING.

before sending a thirst/req, please read the kinks im not comfortable with writing (scroll to see) — if you ask for a kink + trope, etc. i stated i won’t write, it’ll be deleted.

please keep your request/ask a few sentences short, not an entire essay. i’ll elaborate however i see fit. HOWEVER, i’ll make an exception if you have a fic idea you’d like to see me write. ex: “hi vegas! what do you think about … (specific au / character)” if it gets me motivated enough, chances are i’ll write it

info list of things i won’t write: stepcest & incest, pseudo-cest, scat, dub + noncon, pregnant s*x, kidnapping, peeing / piss kink, period s*x, somnophilia, ddlg, age regression, fisting, yandere, race play, vore, vomit, feet kinks, sacrilege (ex. priest! character), high school au's (teacher x student is a hard no: only exception—professor / college aus) free use, g4ngbangs, gl0ryholes, etc. (if i get asked asking for any of these kinks / tropes i will delete them.)

no, i don’t write for mahito.

again because this is a frequent question lol, i do not write smut for underage characters (megumi, yuuji, yuuta, maki, etc) please don’t ask me to age them up either !!

yes, i write for the women in jjk.

don’t request me something you’ve already asked another writer. it puts me in a weird position & don’t ask me to recreate something another writer wrote.

when describing reader, they’ll always be short or depicted as smaller than the characters i’m describing. also, i try to be inclusive to all readers. never in my writing will i describe specifics such as (body type, eye color, hair color, skin tone) unless asked. you’re free to imagine your reader how you want! <3

i never use (y/n) in my fics. nothing against it but i just stick to petnames!

if you have any questions about a kink, a req, etc. just ask me !!

i’d like to end this off by saying please USE PROTECTION !!! fiction is not real life, so please wrap it up or dip. also, consent is key <3 kisses !!!

[yan-lorkai]

Hii can i request, for the Halloween event, yandere Jade or Floyd with a darling who wants to have Halloween couple matching outfits with him but due to having to follow each their respective Halloween dorms themes can't? (them being friends and that being the only 'romantic' approach darling has done yet bonus if they wanted to do an outfit of a couple of a movie/serie or just an actual couple outfit like idk ghost wife and husband or Sally and Jack hehe...)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Tagging: @harukishiyo @kiraiyugen

You had approached Jade with the idea hesitantly, your eyes bright with a mix of hope and shyness - it was now or never, you repeated to yourself like a mantra.

“I was thinking… wouldn’t it be fun if we had matching Halloween costumes this year? Like, a couple’s outfit?” You laughed nervously, twiddling your fingers. “I know we’re in different dorms and all, but… maybe we could figure something out?”

The idea had clearly excited you. He could see the way your lips curved into a smile, your face heated up in embarrassment. Jade listened, his sharp eyes fixated on you as you began to ramble, suggesting outfits from various movies and series: a ghostly bride and groom, Sally and Jack from The Nightmare Before Christmas, or even classic, cheesy ones like a vampire and their mortal beloved.

It was the first time you had made any sort of approach like this, a soft, romantic gesture that hinted at your growing affection - one that he knew very well because you were horrible hiding it. And though Jade’s expression remained calm, there was a glint in his eyes, a hint of something dark and possessive beneath the surface.

The thought of you willingly wanting to match with him, to show even a slight sense of unity, stirred something within him. And he loved it.

Your heart sank a bit at the thought of not being able to do it this year, but the way he spoke made you feel a strange mix of comfort and unease. “Really? Another time?” you asked, hopeful despite everything.

He leaned down, his smile polite yet teasing, as always. “Ah, how unfortunate, my dear… The Halloween festivities demand we honor our dorms, and I must stay true to Octavinelle’s theme.” His tone was almost apologetic, but there was a knowing, almost predatory edge to it.

“But… I can’t say the thought doesn’t delight me. The image of you beside me, both of us dressed as a pair…” He chuckled, his eyes narrowing with amusement. “It’s quite the alluring idea. Perhaps we can make it happen another time?”

Jade’s smile widened, his gaze softening as he looked down at you. “Of course. But for now, wouldn’t it be more… exciting if we kept things a secret? A little game, where only the two of us know what truly connects us?” His words were laced with something you couldn’t quite place — gentle, but with a possessive undertone, as if he was hinting at something deeper than just Halloween costumes. “I assure you, there will be plenty of opportunities for us to match… intimately.”

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, though you couldn’t tell if it was from the excitement of the promise or something more sinister lurking beneath his calm demeanor.

Jade’s eyes flickered, catching the slightest hint of your nervousness, and he stepped closer, tilting your chin up so you met his gaze. “And who knows,” he said, voice low, “if you insist on having matching outfits, I can always… find a way to make it happen. It might not be in the way you imagine, but I assure you, we will be inseparable.”

As he turned, you hesitated, trying to figure out if there was something more you were missing in his words, something beneath the surface. But when he glanced back at you, his smile was as gentle and charming as ever, even as his eyes glowed with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

You felt your breath hitch as he let the words hang in the air, a promise and a warning wrapped up in one. He let go of your chin, his fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary.

“Shall we?” he asked, voice returning to its usual, polite tone, as though he hadn’t just hinted at something that made your heart pound, all the while offering you his arm for you to taje. “The evening is still young, and there’s plenty to enjoy.”

This wasn’t the answer you had expected, nor the straightforward rejection you had feared. But something told you that this, whatever it was, had only just begun.

And for now, you like it.

[thefiery-phoenix]

PLATONIC YANDERE POTTER FAMILY X READER X WEASLEY FAMILY

In this AU, Harry's parents are well alive

You'd most probably meet the Potter family first before meeting the Weasley family and I have a feeling that they'd be friends with each other. You'd meet the Potter family on the day Harry was going to Hogwarts, James did have quite a legacy at Hogwarts for being one of the best Quidditch seekers the Gryffindor Quidditch team ever had. Harry was looking forward to follow in his footsteps and the two of you met at the Kings' Cross Station. Your parents couldn't come with you to drop you off because they had an important business meeting with some client in Switzerland and they left you with your aunt who only dropped you off at the station and took off almost immediately, leaving you all by yourself surrounded with complete strangers. You've never been to Kings' Cross Station before and you had no idea where in the name of Merlin was platform 9 3/4. You've asked the Station master nearby and he thought you were just messing with him and pranking him which was why he just shooed you away

You were at a loss, you didn't know what to do and whom to contact, it wasn't like you were given an official guide as to where the platform was. You started panicking, thinking that the Hogwarts Express would be leaving without you any minute and you'd miss your wonderful chance to go to Hogwarts. You couldn't help but blink back a few tears of frustration as you felt that the situation was spinning out of control. You sighed and sat down on a bench for a moment to think about what to do next. You spotted a family of 3, a young boy of your age wearing glasses with a scar on his head, along with his parents, a man who resembled the boy's appearance, his father perhaps and his mother with hair as Red as the autumn leaves were accompanying their son with his trolley. "Blimey Harry, can't believe you're going to Hogwarts. Time does fly by fast" said James dramatically as he wiped his fake tears away

His wife, Lily glared at him and whispered "Shh... what if someone hears?" "It'll be all right, muggles don't know a damn thing about platform 9 and 3 quarters and Hogwarts and all that" he waved airily as they walked past you. An idea suddenly formed and took shape in your head as you followed them and when you finally caught up to them, you spoke "Umm... hi there, good morning. I was wondering if you could please direct me to where platform 9 and 3 quarters is...I know it exists, I just can't find it..." you finished with a forlorn look on your face as they stared at you in amazement for a moment and they had a silent discussion with each other through their eyes. You were indeed, one of them. "Don't worry dear, we'll help you. Where are your parents though?" enquired Lily as you replied "They're in Switzerland at the moment" "Oh...who came to drop you off then?" asked James as you answered "My aunt. She had some work to do back at her law firm. She's a lawyer so... it's just me by myself" you laughed slightly as they felt sad. Even though they just met you, Harry could already sense you were a bit upset and sad about something, the way your eyes had that wistful and wishful lost look in them, James and Lily didn't think too kindly about your aunt and your parents either at the moment

Attending Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry and boarding the Hogwarts Express for the very first time was a magical once in a lifetime experience which would be memorable in one's life. How could your so called family just abandon you like that without even taking the time off from their work to even see you off properly? And did your family not care about your safety at all? What about all the dangerous and unknown strangers lurking around? The society and world these days isn't really that safe you know especially for sweet little things such as yourself. They decided to accompany you and show you the ropes as you tagged along with them and felt grateful that you'd finally catch your train in time

You noticed Harry's scar and when you asked him how he got it, he just had a sheepish smile on his face and replied "I was trying to catch a snitch at the Diagon Alley on my broom and I accidentally crash landed at Borgin and Burkes near Knockturn alley. The owner wasn't really that pleased with me when I smashed some of his stuff but the incident did kind of catch on with the other witches and wizards from the magical world. Some thought it was amusing and they think I'll follow in my dad's footsteps to become a great seeker like him" "What's a seeker?" you asked him with a confused and bewildered expression on your face. He stared at you for a moment and then it dawned upon him that you could have spent your life living with muggles and you probably had no idea what he was talking about. However no matter, he'd show you and teach you everything

You guys reached the platform just in time and you thanked them for their help as Lily hugged you and smiled "Enjoy yourself dear. Stay safe and have fun but don't get into any trouble" your heart warmed at her words, it was the sort of advice a mother would give to her child before sending them off into the real world all by themselves. You nodded as you boarded the train with Harry, saying your farewell and goodbyes to the Potter family. James and Lily couldn't get you off their minds for some reason, they were concerned with your safety and wondered if you were being treated well at home. Perhaps they'd better write to Harry after he reached Hogwarts to check up on you and update them about you. Just to be safe

You were talking with Harry and your conversation was interrupted when a ginger haired boy around your age dressed in black robes, with freckles on his face peeked in and spoke "Excuse me, do you mind? Everyone else's is full..." "Not at all" replied Harry as he motioned for the guy to take a seat in front of him. "I'm Ron by the way. Ron Weasley" he introduced himself as Harry introduced himself and you introduced yourself as well. The three of you were engaged in discussions when the sliding door opened again and this time, a girl with brown hair asked if any of you had seen a toad, a boy named Neville had lost one. The three of you said you hadn't spotted a toad and when she saw the wand in Ron's hand, she spoke "Oh, you're doing magic? Let's see it then" with an interested look on her face. Ron glanced at the two of you nervously but composed himself as he straightened his posture and uttered a spell which you were pretty sure wasn't even real because instead of turning his pet rat Scabbers yellow, he just made it frightened and it started scampering around everywhere till he finally managed to calm it down

The girl introduced herself as Hermione Granger and she disappeared after she told you three to change into your robes. You finally reached Hogwarts after a few hours and you were speechless by the magnificence and splendor before you. It looked exactly like the sort of castles in your bedtime stories your mother used to read for you when you were little, before she wasn't too preoccupied with her work and had time for you. You went along with the other first years led by a giant of a man named Hagrid who you thought was quite nice and friendly. Then the head of the Gryffindor house, Minerva McGonagall who was also the Transfiguration professor gave you all some background information about the houses

"Slytherin is filled with dark wizards and witches. And crackpots too" whispered Ron to you and you felt nervous, you didn't want to get sorted into Slytherin and lose your new friends. Professor McGonagall then asked you all to wait for a few moments as she needed to get some things ready for the sorting ceremony and as soon as she left, a blonde haired guy spoke "So it's true then, the sayings on the train... Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts" as everyone looked at him in surprise and muttered among themselves. "This is Crabbe and Goyle. And I'm Malfoy... Draco Malfoy" as he introduced himself and Ron snickered in a not so subtle manner. Of course Draco heard it and wasn't really pleased with his reaction as he sneered at him. " You think my name's funny do you? There's no need to ask yours... red hair, a hand me down robe... you must be a Wealsey..." as he turned back to Harry and spoke "You'll have to know by now that there are some Wizarding families that are better than the others Potter. You're a part of the Sacred 28 after all,you don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort..." and glared at Ron again

You barely knew Malfoy for 5 minutes when you intervened "I'm sorry, what exactly makes a family a part of the Sacred 28? And Harry can make his decisions for himself. Of course, if you were a part of a Sacred family, your values and morals would be decent as well. Else you wouldn't be insulting people right off the bat as soon as you meet them". Some of the first years around you 'ooohed' when you said that as Malfoy's face grew hot and red with anger as he snarled "Stay out of this. No one asked you for your opinion" and you just rolled your eyes in response. Harry and Ron stared in amazement at your courage as Hermione was observing the scene from a distance away. It was your first day at Hogwarts and you were already getting ready to fight? She looked on rather disapprovingly but part of her admired your courage and loyalty for your friends by standing up for them. Which was why she also gripped her wand in her pockets just in case she could pull it out if the situation got out of hand. She didn't want anything happening to you for some reason

It was time for the sorting at long last, the moment you've been waiting for and Harry, Ron and Hermione were sorted into the Gryffindor house whereas Malfoy was sorted into the Slytherin house. The sorting hat was placed on top of your head and it muttered "Hmm.... interesting. Very very interesting...." as you nervously looked up at it and asked "What is?" "In all my years of sorting students into houses, you're truly something. You have bravery, courage and loyalty, fit to be a Gryffindor and yet, that cheek, determination and lots and lots of ambition to make you a Slytherin. Plenty of brains, the curiosity and hunger for knowledge is in there as well, you'd do well in Ravenclaw. You're also kind hearted and have the good old nature that Helga Hufflepuff was talking  about...hmm... where to put you?" it asked you

It was quite an interesting predicament because never before did anyone see the sorting hat have trouble sorting someone into a house. Everyone looked at you with bated breath as you could feel everyone's eyes on you which made you a bit conscious of yourself but you tried your best to ignore the feeling. The headmaster, Albus Dumbledore was watching you quite closely as professor Snape, the Potions professor seemed interested as well. After a few moments of deliberation, the sorting hat finally sorted you into Gryffindor which you felt relieved about. Harry, Ron and Hermione felt immensely glad that you were in the same house along with them. You felt an exhilarating feeling course through your body when everyone clapped for you as you joined the Gryffindor table. You were introduced to the Wealsey siblings present there, Percy Wealsey, the third oldest who was the Gryffindor prefect, Fred and George the twins who were overly fond of pranking people and you made a mental note to not get on their bad side. The last thing you needed was to wake up with horns on your head or something or a tail for that matter

Harry, Ron, Hermione and you became fast friends pretty quick but you refused to talk with them when they didn't include you in the quest for the Philosopher's stone. It broke their hearts but it was for your own good,you couldn't be put in danger like that. They cared for you too much and it drove them crazy when you ignored them or just glared at them angrily and stormed off. You finally softened a bit towards them when they said that they didn't want to put you in danger and they just wanted you to be safe. You started hanging out with them again as usual and they were elated, the days you refused to even spare them a second glance was utter torture for them. Harry, Ron and Hermione were like your three overprotective shadows, always around you no matter what. They've appointed themselves as your official caretakers and grew possessive and obsessive of you really quick

Harry wrote to his parents about you regularly as Ron did to his parents as well. During Christmas your parents forgot to send you your Christmas presents and you felt heartbroken. Harry, Ron and Hermione were mad as hell so they pitched in and got you some treats from the Great Hall and a few Christmas goodies of your own like a journal from Hermione, a cute quill set from Ron and from Harry, a book he thought you might be interested to read along with an encouraging note from all three of them. Of course they've mentioned to their parents that you haven't received any gifts for Christmas and you've received dozens of parcels from the Potter family and the Wealsey family, even though you hardly knew them. But they knew everything about you, more than you could know about yourself. You've received puddings, Tarts, cakes, pastries, sweaters, a maroon jumper with a W stitched on it and a snowglobe with a cute tiny snowman inside it. You felt grateful for their presents and sad at the same time for your own parents and family forgetting about you just like that

You were even more crushed when your parents said that they needed to go to France for a work conference and your aunt would be preoccupied with a huge case in the muggle world which meant you couldn't go back home. You were pretty devastated when you were invited by Ron to spend time with his family as Harry stated that his parents would join them at the Weasley's house for a couple of days. You agreed and upon reaching the Wealsey house, you could feel the warmth and homely feeling the atmosphere radiated. It certainly did give off homely vibes. You wished your family was also like this. You were introduced to Molly, who hugged you and spoke "So you're the famous Y/N my Ronald keeps talking about all the time... it's so nice to finally meet you dear" as Ron heatedly yelled out "MUM!" as Fred and George snickered in the background, whispering about how Ron was a simp for you as he told them to shut up

You were even introduced to Arthur Weasley, the father of Ron and the other Wealsey siblings who worked at the Ministry of magic, Bill Weasley who worked as a curse breaker at Gringotts the Wizarding bank in Egypt, Charlie Wealsey who worked with dragons in Romania which you found extremely fascinating. There was also young Ginny Weasley, who'd be starting Hogwarts next year. She was shy at first but she really opened up to you and she had fun being around you. The Weasley family loved and enjoyed your presence, it felt like you were part of their family already

Percy could see you becoming a head boy/ girl or prefect and he wanted to become your guide but Fred and George kept stealing you away to their room to show you their latest inventions. They loved it when your eyes sparkle and light up in curiosity, they feel proud when you take in interest in their inventions as do the other Wealseys when you enquired about their hobbies and pastimes. Molly wouldn't even let you step out of the house when it was time for De- gnoming the garden, she didn't want you getting injured and everyone agreed that it would be best for you if you'd stayed in while they'd take care of the business

A few days later James and Lily showed up at the Burrow and greeted you warmly as all of you sat down together and discussed various things over some nice hot steaming bowls of soup and a scrumptious feast laid out by Molly and Lily. When you were asked about your love life by Ginny, you literally choked on your soup as Molly patted you on the back and James handed you a glass of water. "Ginevra, that isn't a question for the dinner table" said Molly with a death stare as everyone present there became very interested in what you had to say. "Believe it or not, some guy from our Potions class, Troy Mullers asked me out for Valentine's day" "What did you say?" asked Hermione as everyone felt that sudden protective urge to make sure you were safe by all means necessary, even if it meant getting that Troy schmuck out of the way. They won't stand for someone to romantically court you, you were too kind and innocent to have your heart and feelings being taken for a ride by some random immature guy you barely even knew

"I... I rejected him. He wasn't happy about it and he called me all sorts of mean names but... it's not something I'm not used to" you shrugged it off as they all felt anger course through their veins. Who dared to make you sad and upset by calling you mean names and hurt your feelings? In fact Charlie was ready to send a Hungarian Horntail after them and Fred and George would send them Howlers after Holwers and packages with explosive Dungbombs from Zonkos, the Wizarding joke shop that go off as soon as you open the parcel. They were seething and they all came to a single conclusion, you had to be taken under their care for your own good. And judging by the way your so called family was treating you, you wouldn't want to be spend more time with them anymore which was a huge favor for them. Besides, what good is a family if they can't take care of you? Don't worry dear, they'll look after you and care for you like their very own. You've become a part of their families now whether you wanted to or not and it's like they say, family ALWAYS comes first...

[exorcxqsm]

Pas de Deux with Sin

Word Count: 3,5k

tags: yandere;sylus, alteration of religious concepts, manipulative behavior, suggestive content, hints of stalking if you squint

author's note: Hello, little monsters. Welcome to my very first ongoing work here on the blog. I’m intrigued to see how this goes and to find out if you all enjoy this as much as I did. This piece is just a small atmospheric prologue for a story I have in mind. If you find yourself curious about it, feel free to drop a comment on this post—especially since the prologue ends on a cliffhanger (totally intentional, by the way). I’d really appreciate any likes and reblogs. And if you have any requests or questions about this fic, my asks are open, so reach out. Just a little heads up; This is just the appetizer. It will only get darker from here. Read my masterpost to get a taste of the themes this blog will be all about, before continuing. 

In a place where dawn never dared to break and the night held the town in a suffocating embrace, fear lingered like the acrid scent of blood. A heavy dread settled over the streets, wrapping around the inhabitants like a funeral shroud. The twilight twisted every shadow into a lurking menace, prompting the unwary to cast anxious glances over their shoulders as they hurried through the cobbled alleys. 

Amidst this pervasive sense of evil, there stood a cathedral deep within the gnarled woods, a solitary bastion against the encroaching dread. Its weathered stones and crumbling façade whispered of abandonment and haunting, yet in the whispered tales of the townsfolk, it was revered as the last flicker of hope in a Zone gone dark. 

You walked through the woods, your fingers curled tightly around the handle of the basket you’d fashioned, pulling it close to your chest as if it were a lifeline. The biting cold seeped through the fabric of your long black gown, chilling your bones beneath the laced veil that draped over your head, shielding you from prying eyes. Each step was quick and deliberate, a desperate attempt to evade the shadows that loomed, harboring the very things you feared.

As you approached the cathedral, the wooden staircase creaked underfoot. You reached the enormous double doors, pushing with all your strength, the hinges groaning in protest. The doors creaked open, their shrill complaint sending a shiver down your spine. You stepped inside, letting the heavy doors slam shut behind you, the echo reverberating in the hollow silence of the sanctuary.

The cathedral loomed like a forgotten relic, its exterior battered by the relentless passage of time, yet inside, it unfolded into a realm of unexpected magnificence. The marble surfaces gleamed softly in the dim light, reflecting flickers of shadows that danced across the statues lining the walls. Each figure seemed to whisper secrets from the past, while the crucifix at the chancel’s heart loomed large, a silent sentinel in the enveloping gloom.

As you stepped further into the church, the warm glow of votive candles cast a light upon the altar, wrapping the space in a cocoon of safety. You could feel the air shift, infused with the scent of melting wax and a hint of incense, as if the very essence of hope lingered here, waiting for weary souls to find refuge.

The flickering flames hinted at the presence of Father Reymond, who always tended to this sacred place with an unwavering devotion. You reached up to remove the delicate lace veil from your head, its intricate patterns whispering against your skin, when a sudden flicker of the sanctuary lamp caught your eye. You paused, eyes closing momentarily, as you fought against the creeping unease that threatened to invade your thoughts. This cathedral was your sanctuary, your haven amid the chaos.

“Child, I didn’t expect to see you here today. Didn’t you have a fever yesterday?” Father Reymond’s calm, reassuring voice echoed from the shadows, drawing a small smile to your lips as you turned to face him.

“I know I shouldn’t be here, especially with this persistent cough, but is there a better place to heal than God’s home?” 

An appreciative hum escaped him as he continued to light the votive candles, their flames flickering like tiny stars in the twilight. “Your spirit is stronger than any illness, my dear. But I worry about you.”

You glanced toward the stained glass window, its shattered fragments reflecting the growing storm outside, the wind howling like a restless spirit. “The town feels… different lately. Like a weight pressing down on us. Have you noticed it? The murmurs in the night?”

Father Raymond's hand hung suspended in the dim light, an unspoken weight settling in the air around him. A weary sigh escaped his lips as he rubbed his temples, the tension in his shoulders palpable. “Evil has a way of creeping into the cracks of the soul, much like the damp that seeps into these ancient stones. It festers and grows, nourished by fear and despair.”

“Father… Do you think they’re back?” You dared to voice the thought that had clawed at your mind for days. “It feels as if they’re watching us, as if they know more than we do. Sometimes I wonder if this forest is guarding something—or hiding it.”

He stepped closer, his hand resting gently on your shoulder, grounding you in the moment. “Legends often carry a kernel of truth. But remember, my child, we must not lose hope, even when it feels as though the darkness is winning.”

With a heavy heart, you closed your eyes, kneeling at the altar, your hands clasped together in prayer. “I feel like I’m drowning in all this gloom. It’s as if a curse hangs over us. The townsfolk are restless, and I can’t shake the feeling that something terrible is about to happen.”

Father Raymond hesitated, the flickering candlelight casting fleeting shadows across his face, revealing a flicker of concern in his eyes. He seemed torn—caught between the urge to comfort you and the need to allow you space to find your peace.

His footsteps echoed softly as he moved toward the exit, pausing just before crossing the threshold. He turned to look back at your kneeling form, his brow knit with worry. “Remember, light can pierce even the thickest shadows. Do not underestimate the power you hold.”

The dim light of the cathedral flickered as the last echoes of Father Raymond’s words faded into the shadows. Alone now, you knelt at the altar, your breath mingling with the chill that seeped through the cracked stained glass windows. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and melting beeswax, while the flickering candle flames cast dancing shadows that whispered secrets along the walls.

Before you, the crucifix loomed, stark against the darkness—a figure of suffering suspended in time. Its presence filled the space with a solemn weight, and you found your gaze drawn to the eyes of Christ, searching for solace that felt just out of reach. “God… where are You?” you whispered, your voice barely breaking the heavy silence. You clasped your hands tighter, fingers intertwining as if holding onto a lifeline, desperate for connection.

Outside, the storm raged, the wind howled like a banshee through the trees, shaking the very foundations of the abandoned church. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, sending shivers down your spine. With each crack of lightning, the shadows deepened, stretching and twisting as if alive, reaching for you with dark intent. The cold crept in through the broken window, wrapping around you like a serpent, tightening its grip.

You closed your eyes, trying to focus on your prayer, but images of fear and despair flooded your mind. "Please, grant me strength," you murmured, though doubt clawed at your heart like a beast. The stillness of the cathedral felt oppressive, the silence punctuated only by the distant rumble of thunder and the soft drip of rain against the stone. 

Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed through the air, the sound of wood straining against an unseen force. Your eyes snapped open, heart racing as the heavy door creaked open, the sound eerily resonant in the stillness. A gust of wind rushed in, swirling the candle flames and casting erratic shadows that danced across the altar, as if mocking your fragile sense of safety. 

From the depths of darkness, a pair of wings flapped—a quick, unsettling sound that sent a chill coursing through you. The shadows shifted, coiling ominously in the corners of your vision, thickening the air with an unnameable tension. It felt as if the very essence of the cathedral had shifted, warping the familiar into something sinister. You held your breath, your heart pounding in a frantic rhythm that echoed the storm raging outside.

Silence answered, thick and palpable, pressing down on you like a heavy cloak. Yet, amidst that stillness, you could feel him—a presence that brushed against your skin like the cold wind seeping through the broken panes, wrapping around you like a shroud. The flap of crow wings echoed again, dissonant and jarring, slicing through the oppressive quiet. Shadows loomed larger, and the flickering candlelight seemed to struggle against the encroaching darkness, fighting a losing battle.

Then you heard it—the soft, deliberate crunch of footsteps on the worn stone floor. Your heartbeat quickened, a wild drum in the silence, as you strained to peer into the dark, but the shadows swallowed everything whole.

“Praying for salvation, are we?” The voice was low and smooth, dripping with a mocking tone that reverberated in the empty sanctuary, as if the very walls conspired to amplify his presence.

Sylus. 

“Leave me be,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt. You clenched your fists, fighting against the creeping dread that coiled around you.

“I’ve always found it curious how you think the shadows can be kept at bay with mere prayers.” You could hear him moving, the rustle of fabric against stone, a ghostly presence just beyond your sight. He was circling you, prowling like a predator, and the knowledge of his proximity made your skin crawl.

“Why do you come here?” you gritted your teeth, struggling to mask the tremor in your voice. “You don’t belong in the light.”

“But the light only makes the darkness more profound, doesn’t it?” His voice slithered through the air.  “Every flicker of hope you cling to, I can extinguish with a whisper.”

A sudden gust of cold air swept through the cathedral, sending a shiver down your spine. The chill seeped into your bones, and you could almost feel the weight of his gaze pressing down on you, even though he remained cloaked in shadows. “You think you scare me?”

“Scare you? No, I merely remind you of the truth.” He paused, allowing the silence to stretch, thick and heavy, like the oppressive atmosphere of the cathedral itself. “You know I can enter here whenever I please. This sanctuary of yours… it was never meant to keep me out.”

Terror gripped your heart, a vice tightening around your chest. “You’re wrong. This is sacred ground.”

“Sacred?” Sylus chuckled darkly, the sound echoing like a distant thunderclap. “You’re adorning your prison with flowers, but the bars remain. You feel it, don’t you? The pull of darkness, beckoning you closer.”

With every syllable, the shadows deepened, curling around you like tendrils of smoke, heavy with foreboding. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to focus on the crucifix above, the figure of Christ caught in eternal agony. 

But the moment was shattered as a flash of movement caught your eye. Just at the edge of your vision, two glowing red eyes pierced the darkness, watching you with an intensity that threatened to consume your very soul.

“Look at me,” he urged, his voice now a low, sinister murmur, “Embrace what you fear most.”

As you locked your gaze with his, the shadows shifted, revealing his striking figure standing just beyond the altar. Sylus, with his long white hair flowing like silken threads against the backdrop of the gloom, shimmering subtly in the dim light. The tailored black suit clung to his form, accentuating the sharp lines of his shoulders and the strong contours of his chest. Each movement was fluid and predatory, as if he owned the very space around him, a dark lord surveying his domain. Your domain. 

The flickering candlelight danced around him, casting erratic shadows that transformed him into an ethereal specter, both mesmerizing and terrifying.

Your heart raced, captivated and terrified all at once. Those red eyes, glowing unnaturally under the flickering sanctuary lamp, pierced through the gloom, shimmering like embers and sin. 

“This isn’t your kingdom, no matter how you act,” you forced your voice to remain steady despite the tremor in your chest.

His red eyes glowed with a malevolent light, and you could see the corners of his lips curl into a sardonic smile. “Oh, but isn’t that just it?” he replied, his voice smooth like silk. “You think this forsaken place offers you sanctuary. But shadows know no boundaries.”

As he paced slowly around your kneeling form, the very air seemed to thicken with his presence, pressing against your skin like a heavy fog. You could almost feel the cathedral's ancient stones trembling in response to him. “You’re not welcome here. You were supposed to stay away from this place. You don’t belong here.”

“Belonging is such a fragile concept,” he countered, his tone dripping with disdain. “Especially for you. You cling to the idea of safety, yet you invite chaos with every whispered prayer. Your God cannot shield you from the truth.”

“Truth?” you echoed, your voice wavering under the weight of his piercing gaze. “What truth? That you thrive on fear? In darkness?”

Sylus’s lips curled into a smirk, revealing a hint of amusement that made your skin crawl. “Fear is merely a response, sweet girl. It’s what makes you human. And you, with your brave little heart, are so deliciously human.”

You clenched your fists, refusing to let him see you falter. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Yet here you are, trembling in the remnants of your faith.”

The wind howled outside, rattling the broken windows as if in response to your exchange, a mournful wail echoing through the desolate space. You could feel the chill creeping into your bones, yet it paled in comparison to the icy tendrils of fear that wrapped around your spine as he drew nearer.

“This is my sanctuary,” you locked your gaze with his. “You’ll never take that from me.”

“But I already have. Every time you falter, every time you doubt the light, I am here, waiting. You can pray all you want, but I will always find my way back.”

With that, he took a step back, the shadows swallowing him momentarily before he loomed into view once more, his red eyes burning in the dark. Your heart raced as you grappled with the undeniable truth of his words, feeling the weight of his gaze as he surveyed you, a predator delighting in the hunt.

“Remember, sweetie,” he whispered, his voice echoing in the stillness of the cathedral. “Even in your sanctuary, you will never be truly safe.”

You inhaled sharply, feeling the chill of his aura brush against your skin like a cold whisper. “I won’t let you win.”

“Win? You misunderstand.” He stepped closer, letting his face become a dark specter against the flickering candlelight. “This is not a game of victory or defeat. It’s a dance, and you are already caught in my web.”

The flickering candlelight cast a trembling glow over the cathedral, but the warmth was eclipsed by the chilling presence of the man before you. You pushed yourself up from your kneeling position, desperate to escape the oppressive weight of his gaze and the overwhelming dark energy that seemed to seep into your bones.

As you took a step back, he moved with an uncanny grace, blocking your path with a slight tilt of his head, an amused smile dancing on his lips. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“Let me pass.” The tension crackled in the air between you, thick enough to cut.

“Why would I do that?” He took a step closer, his presence enveloping you, making the air feel impossibly heavy. “You should know by now that the darkness always finds a way to draw you back in.” His red eyes glowed brighter as he spoke, his evol radiating in waves from him, wrapping around you like a dark shroud.

You could feel the very essence of the cathedral shifting, as if the ancient stones themselves were complicit in this twisted encounter, urging you to surrender to the allure of the darkness.

“I won’t let you control me!” you shot back, forcing yourself to cut eye contact, even as a part of you ached to remain lost in the intensity of his power.

“But you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be.” His voice lowered to a dark whisper.  “You wear your faith like a mask, but underneath, there’s something that yearns for the desires you claim to resist.”

Sylus stepped closer, the space between you shrinking until you could feel the heat radiating from him—a warmth that felt both inviting and dangerously seductive. “You’re drawn to it, just as I am drawn to you. You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The promising freedom from the chains of your so-called faith.”

You clenched your jaw, fighting against the insidious grip of his words. “That’s a lie. I believe in the light. I fight against the darkness. Against you.”

He leaned in, your bodies almost touching, the intensity palpable. “Is that what you tell yourself?” He smirked, the corners of his lips curling in a way that sent a thrill of dread and intrigue coursing through you. “Lies are such a comforting blanket, aren’t they? You’re a part of this, and you can’t deny it.”

As he spoke, an involuntary urge surged within him—a longing to reach out, to touch you, to bridge the chasm of tension that crackled between you. It was a dangerous instinct, one he fought to suppress, but the pull of your presence was intoxicating.

You could feel it in the way he looked at you.

“Stop,” you whispered, though it felt more like a plea than a command. “You’re twisting everything I believe in.”

“Am I?” His voice dripped with honeyed malice as he moved even closer, his breath warm against your skin, igniting a shiver down your spine.

“Your faith is a fragile thing, sweetie… Just one touch…” His words hung in the air, thick with unspoken promise, as his fingertips brushed against your collarbone, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you.

You gasped, heart racing like a caged bird desperate for escape. “Don’t,” you warned, the word tinged with desperation, feeling it clash against the tide of emotions swelling within you. He was messing with your head—that much was certain.

“Why not? We’re both standing on the precipice, and you know it,” he murmured, his breath mingling with your own. “You’re afraid of what you might find if you let go of your faith. But you’re also curious, aren’t you?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you like the oppressive darkness outside. “I refuse to be a pawn in your game.”

Sylus leaned in, impossibly close, his nose brushing against yours, igniting a blush that crept up your neck like fire. “Then why do you linger?” 

Your knees felt weak, your erratic breathing the only sound beyond the howling wind and rain battering the cathedral’s ancient walls. “I do not.”

In an instant, the air shifted, heavy with an unnatural energy that sent a chill racing down your spine. Sylus’s presence began to dissolve before your eyes. Shadows curled and twisted around him, black and red mist swirling like smoke, cloaking him in a veil of darkness. You reached out instinctively, but he was already slipping away, his form fading into the night as if he were never there at all.

The flickering candlelight struggled against the encroaching shadows, casting erratic shapes that danced across the stone walls. Your heart raced, confusion flooding your mind. Where had he gone? 

The atmosphere thickened, heavy with a foreboding silence that filled the cathedral like a suffocating fog.

As the last remnants of his silhouette vanished, a few black feathers fluttered to the ground, landing softly at your feet. You knelt to touch them, heart pounding, feeling the soft texture beneath your fingers. 

The moment was shattered as a deafening crash of thunder echoed through the night, shaking the very foundations of the cathedral. The candles flickered violently, their flames struggling to stay alive, before plunging the space into darkness.

A gust of wind howled through the broken windows, rattling the stained glass as if the very spirits of the cathedral were awakening. The statues that adorned the sanctuary trembled, their stone faces contorted in silent screams as the storm intensified outside, a chaotic symphony of nature’s wrath.

A cacophony of sounds erupted—distant screams of the wind, the violent patter of rain, and something deeper, an ominous whisper that seemed to rise from the shadows themselves. You felt the air grow colder, the darkness pressing in around you, heavy and suffocating. Panic clawed at your throat as you searched the shadows, heart racing. 

“I hate liars.”

And then, without warning, he was there—behind you, a wraith emerging from the void. The air crackled with a sinister energy as you turned, and the world seemed to spin, your breath catching in your throat. Sylus stood just a breath away, his red eyes glowing like embers in the darkness, piercing through the night.

“Run.”

[animeyanderelover]

I already did the letter T for Dazai in a previous request.

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, stalking, clinginess, manipulation, blackmail, gaslighting, abuse, sadism, isolation, abduction, mentions of suicide

Tags: @shumidehiro @leveyani @izanami78

Yandere Alphabet

Dazai Osamu

Nightmare-What would be the worst experience for their darling? Would they break?

🤎​The worst experience for Dazai's darling would be without the doubt the moment the darker side that has always existed within reveals itself and the warm glimmer in his brown eyes disappears with it. You get to know Dazai merely as a goofy, silly but charming man at the beginning, a facade with which Dazai lures you like prey closer to his side. Until he reveals his fangs. Never forget that this man used to work for the Port Mafia and just because he has switched sides never meant that he really changed. The beast is still there and the moment he lets it out, you are doomed. Because that's when Dazai becomes the full package of a toxic boyfriend. He's manipulative, degrading, gaslights you and hurts you even physically as his warm behavior is replaced with a cold and sadistic attitude. Through all of this though, he never once lets you go. He only tightens his grip on you as he slowly lets you watch how your little life crumbles apart. If you have only him left to imprison you and look out for you, you should hopefully learn your lesson.

🤎​Yes. Chances are very likely that his darling would break in the process of Dazai unleashing his other side. Dazai's feelings on such a thing are quite interesting though. On the one hand he feels a strong and dark urge to break you down and fix you himself if you should ever defy him or reject his love. He isn't afraid of punishing you for you to learn to not dare to disobey him even if he might feel guilty later on. A part of him doesn't want you to break down fully and make you lose grasp of who you are and what you are like though. He's afraid if that would ever happen. Dazai is already a broken man so even if your personality defies him, it's ultimately what he also fell in love with. Breaking you is never really his goal, it's more that he wants to bend your personality a bit here and there to make the relationship for the both of you easier If he'd ever fully break you to a shell of what you used to be though, he wouldn't know anymore what he should even do with himself. You are his light after all. If your light is gone, he's lost once again.

Yell-How do they react to their darling breaking down in front of them?

🤎​There would only be very few circumstances where Dazai wouldn't show a reaction to your tears and your distraught and those are the moments where he is at his most scariest. Those are the moments in which he lets the monster take control that has always been lurking beneath his surface and then all your pain and your tears will be directly his doing as he mocks and humiliates you for it, his own heart broken in such moments because of you as he unleashes his bitterness and pain out on you. In every other scenario, Dazai will show a reaction to your sorrow and your despair by coddling you and comforting you. In general he really doesn't like seeing you sad and being given the chance to be the one to soothe you and help you with your pain is always taken by him. What better chance to worm his way into your heart and mind after all then by helping you when you're at your most vulnerable?

Zero-What are things that always make them snap? What would they never allow their darling to do?

🤎​Dazai's worst fear is being left alone in this world so something that would cause him to crack very quickly is the danger of his darling being killed or seeing them getting severely hurt right in front of him. There is this short moment where his eyes grow dull and all emotions leave his face that makes him look more like a corpse than a living person before a crazed gleam appears in his eyes. Burning rage and indescribable pain take over him and almost blind him. Tears fall down his eyes and not even he himself is able to tell if the sounds spilling out of his lips are sobs or laughter. It's a raw moment where he isn't capable of putting on any facade and it is a terrifying sight to behold. His composure will never crumble faster than when he fears that you might leave him alone in this world where he is still lost after so many years of existing.

🤎​This fear of being left alone by you extends to what he would never allow you to do. To leave him. Dazai will never let you leave him all alone. You are not allowed to die. At least not without him. If you would ever take yourself away from him, he would completely lose hold of who he is and would only remain as a broken husk of something that never felt complete to being with. As ironic as it may sound, he would never allow you to take your own life to escape from this world but especially not from him. If you desire to leave this world, if you ever feel like you can't hold on anymore, don't do anything without him. Let him try to console and fix you or let him join you in the worst case in your final moments so that both of you can die as lovers together. But do not think that you have any autonomy to ever make such a decision by yourself!

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Nightmare-What would be the worst experience for their darling? Would they break?

🍎​Honestly, just being Fyodor's darling is the worst experience one could ever ask for because of his twisted ideology. Differently from Dazai, Fyodor doesn't have two sides within him. There has always ever been one side of his and you'll experience the true terror of that long before you are even aware of his existence. Fyodor sees himself above the sinful nature of humans, as someone chosen from the lord to cleanse this world of impurity. Even his darling is seen as part of the lost souls of humans and their foolish greed, only that you threaten to drag him down with you into hell. Sin has always been sweet for humans and he realizes that in your presence as you tempt and entice him. He desires you yet won't let your stained presence be his downfall. So he claims you, punishes you for the fact that he yearns for you so much and takes you for himself. Little mouse, let him cleanse you of from your filthy life.

🍎​You will be broken because that is Fyodor's goal. No matter how hard you may try of your own accord, you can never be truly free from the sins of humans. On your own you can never reach a pure level and no other human can help you with it either. but Fyodor is different. He can help you, he needs to help you. How else could he ever let you be in his presence otherwise? Sinning is part of your nature and personality so he takes the cruel step of breaking and re-shaping you and by doing so, freeing you of all of your wrongdoings. If you're empty, he can help you to be reborn. With Fyodor you never stand a chance to remain as you are, his cruel and twisted ideology of how to save you would never allow you to stay as you are.

Trauma-How would they act when at their lowest and most neediest point/when they nearly lost their darling?

🍎​Fyodor has never been someone who would ever reveal his weakness to anyone. He's a man who would express never much distraught or despair to anyone, not even to his darling who he keeps close yet simultanously away from his heart. He wouldn't allow you to see him in such a vulnerable state. But he keeps you close. Closer to his body than most of the time if he should ever cave in to his own vulnerability as his grip around you literally and metaphorically tightens. You're never allowed to leave his sight in such moments as his own glowing eyes never stray away from you and hands caress gently the shape of your face, embedding everything about you in his mind so that he can never forget about you. Not your sweet and broken eyes nor your enchanting voice.

Yell-How do they react to their darling breaking down in front of them?

🍎​You only ever break down because of him. From the very moment you've snatched his heart away, he has made it his goal to break you and ruin you. He has been watching your mental breakdown, your panic, the fear and the despair all for so long and it has always brought an serene smile to his face. You deserve it. You deserve all the pain as he delivers God's punishment to you. Seeing your tears right in front of you though as soon as you have been abducted is even more enrapturing than he could have imagined as all the agony and anguish you go through because of him only ever brings one word to his mind. Beautiful. You look beautiful as you suffer for your sinful nature and slowly but surely give in, giving him the chance to give you your salvation. As the first cracks appear, his touches slowly grow more comforting and his words more soothing. Don't resist. Let him save you.

Zero-What are things that always make them snap? What would they never allow their darling to do?

🍎​He can never allow anyone taking you away from him. Differently from Dazai though, his primary fear in such a case isn't even that you might be killed. It is that someone might taint you and ruin you again. He could never allow his partner to be part of the common and vulgar crowd. You need to be pure and free of sin and unfortunately sin is a disease shared among humans. If you were ever to escape his grasp and spend time among others, your pureness would slowly be tainted by their ways. What your broken mind would have recognized as help before Fyodor shapened you to someone else is viewed as a crime, a sin so large that not even death could ever save their soul. How dare they ruin something pure after all? How dare they to drag you down to their cheap and unworthy level where you are not meant to be? How dare they, defying his work and spoiling you to be unworthy of his love once again? Don't worry though, he will save you again and again.

🍎​I already talked about it but something he could never allow you is to let you be you. His own righteousness has already been putrefied by allowing his heart to be infected with you. So the only path left for him to save him from falling victim to sin as well is by cleansing you of everything that would have made you unworthy and dirty otherwise. You shouldn't be like the rest of humanity. Fyodor won't allow you to be like them. Not now that his heart has festered with an obsession for you. You have to change, you have to be punished or otherwise he could never have you, love you, own you. You will never know a peaceful day from then on again as he has made the decision to change you, to turn you into someone he can keep and cherish without succumbing to his own sin. To make this forbidden love possible, he will shape you into someone he can allow himself to treasure.

Jouno Saigiku

Nightmare-What would be the worst experience for their darling? Would they break?

♦️​There are quite a few things that can and will go terribly wrong as his darling. I think what would be worst is Jouno's heightened senses as a compensation for his inability to see. You can never keep a secret from him as your heartbeat, your breath and even your blood flow will betray you and this makes you vulnerable and metaphorically completely naked and completely exposed to this man. Since Jouno has a sadistic and violent personality of his own, he tends to use your inability to defend yourself mentally from him to shamelessly degrade, humiliate and bully you whenever he sees fit. His heightened abilities that make him more sensitive to his surroundings additionally mean that he doesn't do well with strong emotions since they overwhelm him more than others so if his s/o is very emotional, that also means that they can expect little to no comfort and instead major annoyance from his side due to their emotions.

♦️​Chances are that he might break his darling but intially Jouno doesn't seem to worry about this possibility or perhaps he never considers it for long anyways. It isn't fully his intention as he does so but he doesn't seem to be bothered about it at first. He just tells himself that at least now he doesn't have to deal with your emotions and feelings anymore. Until the silence threatens to suffocate him. There is a growing feeling of unease that only festers more and more whenever he spends time with you. He realizes that he misses your quicker heartbeat, the way your breath would hitch and the sound of your voice conveying your emotions always so perfectly. Instead your heartbeat...Instead the very sound of you sounds dull and lifeless, an empty shell with a body that only functions to keep you clinically alive is all he is left with. Unwillingness to admit his own mistake soon turn into slight despair as his touches and his words grow tender. Please...just give him something. Your emptiness is deafening.

Trauma-How would they act when at their lowest and most neediest point/when they nearly lost their darling?

♦️​Jouno has problems opening up to his darling. Vulnerability and weakness have never been pleasures he was able to enjoy in his life to the point where those mere two words sound foreign to him. He, the one who can so easily sense when others around him are feeling low, is unable to do as everyone else. But he takes pride in that. He doesn't want to be viewed as weak, he has to be the strong savior for people after all. So letting his guard down around you whenever something manages to shake him to his core is a strange feeling that leaves him irritated due to the sheer vulnerability. He doesn't even know what he wants to do with you whenever he reaches such a point but he just knows that he wants to be with you. That makes everything always a bit awkward between the two of you as he is left to figure out what to do now whilst you are constantly on edge the entire time he is in your room, fully aware that he can hear it.

Yell-How do they react to their darling breaking down in front of them?

♦️​Most of the time he is reacting quite insensitive. As I mentioned, he doesn't do well with overly strong emotions since his heightened senses make him experience it all so much more enhanced than everyone else and it annoys and irritates him. You can't expect much besides sharp words from him as he mocks you for your own emotional breakdown that cut deep into your already crumbling heart and make everything even worse. Eventually sadistic fun turns into annoyance though as your emotions give him a headache and he becomes mean and degrades and humiliates you through cruel and harsh insults. Until he just leaves you, done with your bullshit. If he actually attempts to be nicer and try to comfort you, he probably still ends up somehow saying something rude as his annoyed temper still breaks through even if he tries to prevent it.

Zero-What are things that always make them snap? What would they never allow their darling to do?

♦️​He absolutely despises it when someone tries to use you to get under his skin. In which way and form that is doesn't matter as it will be in either case a huge success in making him lose his supposed composure as his fierce temper and his violent tendencies break through his composed facade. He loathes it when someone knows that you are his weak spot and takes advantage of that. It is already confusing and frustrating enough for him to navigate through all the emotions he stuffs away inside of him, all caused by you. He can't have it getting even worse by anyone doing as much as putting your name in their mouth in an attempt to win against him or to distract him without him feeling the intense need to strangle that person or cut their tongue off so that they can never speak your name again. He can't have people targeting his weak spot so in order to prevent that, he isolates you from the world.

♦️​He doesn't enjoy disobedience. As he knows that you are his only weakness that could probably make him lose all of his composure, he feels an intense need to control you. Knowing where you are and with whom you are but especially knowing that you are obedient to him gives him a bit more security to hold onto his composure. He refuses to let you use his own emotions for you against him as much as he won't allow anyone else to do this. A little bit of stubbornness might be amusing but know when to stop and never dare to push your boundaries. You will be punished otherwise and Jouno isn't afraid of being rough on you either if you are too daring in defying him. He's only doing this for your own protection after all.

Sigma

Nightmare-What would be the worst experience for their darling? Would they break?

☁️​Sigma's sheer dependence on his darling would probably be the worst part about having him be the one obsessed with you. He cannot imagine being without you because his whole identity and existence is dependent on you. He was created without any chance to figure out who or what he even is, stranded without any purpose. So he fills the void, the empty shell he is, by having you. You give him purpose, you help him figuring out what he is, who he is and why he is and that makes you so much more precious than all the riches he has in the Sky Casino. Sigma can't exist without you as you are his existence and as sweet and nice he tries to be, aware of your feelings about being isolated and essentially put in a golden cage high in the sky, he just can't help it. He needs you and it's this overbearing and dependent behavior that shackles you down and nearly smothers you at times.

☁️​I think the problem with Sigma is that this experience isn't limited to a certain time. It is there the whole time and therefore sucks the energy slowly and constantly out of you if you can't learn to adjust and accept it. It's draining and tiring and will slowly seep the life out of you. Sigma on the other hand can't let that happen. If you lose yourself after all, he has nothing left. If you would turn into a hollow husk, he would have failed in the only purpose he ever had: You. And because he is so incredibly observant and obsessed around you, he quickly notices any shift in behavior around you. He knows that your mental health may suffer but at the same time he is unable to let you leave. So he tries to help you in any way he can but ultimately that only makes him even worse. It's a never-ending cycle.

Trauma-How would they act when at their lowest and most neediest point/when they nearly lost their darling?

☁️​You can feel every crevice of his body clinging to you, his palms sweaty and his breath uneven and jittery. If both of you wouldn't be wearing any clothes, you're sure that he would probably melt together with you because it honestly feels like that is what he is trying to do. Sigma is already normally very dependent and tries to spend as much time with you as he can whilst also continuing to be the host of his casino. Yet he is prone to a meltdown for sometimes no apparent reason at all and with the ever-growing tightness in his chest, he escapes always to the only person he feels safe and alive around. That's only you. He usually just clings as long to you until he feels more stable about his whole existence again before he hesitantly leaves you again. If there is a risk of you being targeted or if he is just in a generally bad mental state, the security around you is tightened even more as he comes and visits you multiple times even in between his work for short cuddle sessions to be able to keep going.

Yell-How do they react to their darling breaking down in front of them?

☁️​He's only that far away from breaking down and panicking with you yet he tries to cling to the last bit of composure he has. You need him right now after all. He can't mess this up. He reacts so incredibly sensitive to your emotions but differently from Jouno who would get annoyed and even slightly mad with you if you should crumble in front of him, Sigma just gets overwhelmed to the point where he feels his own heart threatening to jump out of his chest. Your despair causes him immense stress and anxiety because he knows that he has to fix it but is also always so terrified that he will mess up. In a way he sees it even as part of his purpose and responsibility to look out for you and take care for you but that makes everything only more stressful for him because he's so scared that he will mess up and that he just won't be enough. Even if he is pushed over the edge though, he doesn't leave you. Instead he just panics with you together.

Zero-What are things that always make them snap? What would they never allow their darling to do?

☁️​He would never allow someone else to take you away from him. He just can't effort to lose you because your loss is equal with losing himself too. Everything he has somewhat established has only been because of you as his entire purpose and his reason for existence is only found when he is in your presence. Partially he knows that what he is doing to you only causes you grief and sorrow but he doesn't want to be left alone anymore in a world he doesn't understand and in which he just suddenly appeared one day. It is a determination laced with sadness even if someone has good intentions of freeing you but it is an iron will nevertheless. No one will take you away from him and even the mere mention of it is enough to make his heart drop to his stomach and do intense research on whoever made this remark to him.

☁️In the same manner that he would never let anyone else take you away from him, you aren't allowed to leave him either. Honestly, even if you hate and despise him, he could manage somehow. He would be hugely unstable and anxious but he could go on with his life anyways because you're still in it.​ If you're completely gone from his life though, Sigma feels like a blind man who is left stumbling around aimlessly all by himself. Nothing could kill him more than the hollowness that would grow and fester inside of him if you would be gone from his life. Even if you should hate and despise him and even if you would shatter his heart to pieces and make him suffer everyday, the pain would still be proof that he exists. It's better than the nothingness and the meaninglessness that would befall him if you wouldn't be within his reach. Please, he's begging you! Don't leave him!

[mayullla]

Quest: Find a lost boy who ran away from home to the forest.

Character(s): Orc (Oc / Original work) Summary: You headed to the forest in search of the boy and happened to find an orc camp and somewhere on the side saw the boy in the hands of a tall orc. Tags/warnings: Yandere!monster (male monster), fem!reader, kidnapped/trapped, violence (both to the reader and outside), constant fear of being eaten, running away, being treated like a pet Note: Just to make sure while I was writing this I wasn't thinking the dnd style kind of thing but more so the generic common monsters that you find in games that you must kill RPG. (.... just that the orc is very tall and buff...)

{ - JRPG Quest masterlist - }

Find a boy who ran away from home. The boy had gotten into a fight with his father because he didn't want to help out with work preferring to go out and spend time with his friends. The boy had run away in the morning but didn't come back home even after the sun started to set. His parents were worried and looked everywhere in the village but no sight of the boy.

They found out that someone had seen the boy running to the forest alone. They were in terrified when they heard it and the father wanted to walk straight into the woods and search for his son but was stopped by his friends who tried to calm him down. The man was nothing more than a farmer and it would be dangerous for him to go into the forest like this when there was many monsters lurking within the woods. It was preferable that someone who had the skills to handle it.

That is probably where you come in when you took the quest. Their pay wasn't really luxurious which was understandable for a farmer's family you thought that there could be a chance that their friends also chipped in a bit of money to help out in paying the fee.

But what you found in the search was something different and more severe for it could cost the lives of the whole village.

Ho... you looked at the camp made out of goblins and orcs. This was too dangerous for you to handle alone you thought to yourself as you looked at the armed orcs and the laughing goblins carrying rusty swords.

Goblins in this world are not necessarily the smartest, or most powerful strength or stealth wise as a matter of fact they are known to be weak alone and even beginner hunters can mostly take care of them if given the right training. And while many tend to stick in groups of 30 or less you never really saw this many of them at once.

There were more than 80 goblins from what you can see. Wild monsters that laugh so painfully to your ears as you were sure that there were more. Yet you could not help but gulp when you saw the many orcs around the tribe while not as many as the goblins they were half the many as goblins. Tall green-skinned monsters were taller than the people that you know. Long canine teeth show as they guard the borders of the camp with strong builds, tattoos, and necklaces of skulls both humans and other creatures you knew that these orcs were not for show.

You were supposed to run away and tell the guards of a nearby village that about the camp when you heard a small child screaming voice.

Running to the sound, you found a boy held by his collar by an orc. The boy tried to kick the orc yet it was useless when you compare their builds, the orc was too strong. That child was about to be taken by the orc when you screamed at them with your dagger out ready to hurt. "Realise the kid, unless you want to die." You warned the orc who stared at you. He didn't seem intimated at you, almost as if looking down at you with his bored stare.

He was taller than you, taller than humans. To him, you were nothing but a plant of wood at best or very thin twigs of bones.

Glancing at the child then at you as he moves the child back facing you, closer to you. You wondered if the monster was going to mock you for even trying, when you see his muscles you knew it might as well take three to four knights moving all together to even have a chance to take it down compared to an adventurer like you.

"Trade."

.... What...?

The gruff voice told you, not expecting them to say something like you have to do a double take wondering if you heard that wrong. Yet it seems that you weren't mistaken as he huffed in your silence.

"Trade boy. You stay."

"What..." You could not believe what the orc was talking telling you to trade your life if you wanted the boy to live. You considered it but fear swelled in your heart till you heard the boy's whimper and looked at him. Tears in the boy's eyes, he was terrified.

"You stay... boy let go. You mine." The orc repeated again, looking at you waiting he still held the boy on the neck.

The boy's life was within your hands. The boy whimpered again as the orc's grip tightened on the boy's clothes. He wasn't patient. "Trade!" You screamed at the orc your eyes on the boy.

The orc looked satisfied as he dropped the boy to the ground and as you tried to take the boy away cautious of the orc instead of attacking from a change of mind or taking the boy away saying that was all just him mocking you he instead grabbed you.

"HEY! LET GO OF ME!!" The orc tossed you on his shoulder as if you were nothing but a potato sack. You tried to scream as you beat his back with yours but he didn't seem bothered by your feeble attempts.

You yelled at the boy to get away from here and that you can handle yourself, the boy tried to help yet the moment he tried to grab a strong the orc growled at the flinching boy.

When you could not see the boy, far away that you were sure that he had time to run away if something goes terribly wrong you started to protest demanding that you would let down this instant as your leg and fist hit his muscles you knew he wasn't pained by any of your feeble attacks and what weapon you had was quickly tossed away by him the moment he threw you on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You were getting close to the camp...

You gulped as the goblins and orcs all stare at you in the arms of the orc, some goblins staring hungrily at you as if you were a meat buffet and maybe that was what they thought of you when one tried to reach out for your arm.

Only to freeze when the orc glared at the goblin growling as if warning the smaller weaker monsters to watch it. The goblin quickly backed away from you fearful of their own monster ally. You wondered if you were safe for a moment. Just a moment you thought that you would not be eaten at least not by them. You wondered if the orc wanted to eat you all to himself.

Into a camp hut, you were tossed into the stiff bed as you wondered if you would die right at this moment. Ripe limb from limb, you wanted to defend yourself but without a weapon and the orc being too tall, you didn't think you could even win much less escape as you will be mobbed by the monsters outside either way.

You didn't know what to do when he didn't do anything to you leaving you to do whatever you please in the tent, yet he did set boundaries when you tried to step out for a moment to look out or when you went too near to his weapons. He was watching you as sharpened his weapon, growling at you when you did something that you were supposed not to do.

While he let you go about the tent under his watch you could not help but flinch when he planned to head out for a moment, suddenly standing from whatever he was doing, grabbing you, and tossing you again to the bed with your leg tied with a rope to something heavy. After a while, he would come back with berries and fruits for you along with unknown meat (what tasted like a rabbit) and a water bucket.

At night he would join you in the makeshift bed holding you in his arms, you looked away from the monster that held you your heart beating fast as it was too close wondering when it would just bite your head off yet instead of that with his tight hold over you slowly he fell asleep, his breathing can be felt by your hair as you fearfully stayed still.

You thought of running, late at night unable to sleep you thought that this could be your chance to run away when all the other monsters were also asleep but the orc's arm was heavy, hugging your waist you could not help but move a little more than intended. As you tried to get up you checked to see if the orc was still sleeping only for you to stop breathing when you see him staring down at you, warning.

He was awake.

You can't help but wince as you tried to pull away in fear when the rope tied to your ankle stopped you from going any farther. You totally forgot about it... you looked down in instinct as if trying to show that you were small and that you were guilty and sorry. The orc huffed as he pulled you closer to his chest. Your head bumped into his long tusk.

Because of how you have been trying to move you were facing his chest now and pulled closer to him your nose bumped into his chest. You closed your eyes trying to act as if you were asleep sure that he was still watching you, daring to make any sudden movements.

He wasn't much of a talker and without your weapon, you weren't much of a fighter, you were a tiny human that a buffed orc kept like a pet in his own home. All he did was command you with one word, not fluent in human language but knowing just enough to force you to do something. For a moment you thought that the orc was actually nice when you noticed how careful he was around you as if you were fragile like glass.

What a horrible thought.

"Eat." A grape in from of your face but you looked away. It wasn't like you didn't want to but right now you just lost hope as he took you farther and farther away from your home. Tossed like a potato sack as the monster went farther and farther away from the nearest village. Yet when they found a village smaller than the one you save the boy was from, you could not help but feel bile come to your mouth as you heard the screams and fires a little away from you. You could not help them not when you were placed in a cage with other pitiful humans and guarded by more orcs.

As you pushed yourself away from the orc who finally collected you when the fire died down a little and more human slaves both young and old. How his clothes were tattered and burnt from the fire and blood stain his weapon and his hands as he grabbed you again and pulled you out of the cage to take you back. For a moment you thought that there was a reason why that skull necklace was on his neck and that it was something that was decoration.

You bite your lip as tears leaked from your eyes when he warningly growled if you were not eating something bad would happen slowly you took the grape to your mouth slowly munching in fear. He huffed again as he took another grape that you were sure was from the village that they raided killing anybody who tried to fight back.

You had to get away. Otherwise, you will really die.

It was a few days after the whole situation as you looked for a chance to run away when the whole place. When the orcs and goblins were moving again that day took a short break near a lake, the orc had left you under a tree to get some water. Maybe he trusted you a little that you would not run away anymore, at least he thought you didn't have the guts to actually run away.

But you did. When nobody was looking, already so used to your presence as the orc's pet you slowly sneaked away and when you were far enough made a mad dash.

You ran and ran even as you felt pain in your ribs you push through the suffering caring about living than a short pain. As you pant tired you still kept running through the forest but you tried your best in fear that this might be your first and last chance you could ever get away from the monsters. You were so desperate even as your legs wobbled you kept on running and didn't see a root of a tree sticking out that your foot caught on and tripped.

"Ow..." You mumbled as you tried to get up but could not help but hiss when you felt the pain in your ankle. You sprained it yet you could not dwell on those thoughts when you heard a loud roar, you knew that he found out that you left.

You need to hide, you need to hide. Looking around you crawled into a hollow log hoping that the orc would not find you. In a few seconds, you hear the sounds of stomps and you knew it was him pulling your legs closed to yourself you prayed that the orc would not look into the log and just give up.

However that hope was only shattered when you saw his face from the hole you crawled in, he was furious you could see in his eyes as he growled that he found you. Before you could crawl deeper into the hollow log away from the monster he grabbed your sprained ankle.

"Mate. Mine." You yelped when he dragged your feet pulling you out of the log with one hand, with how tight he was holding your ankle it hurt so much as he pulled you out upside down. Above the ground, you fearfully looked at the monster as blood rushed to your head. The monster was angry you could see it as he glared at you.

As he looked at your leg, you feared what was going through his head as his hand tightened around your ankle even more as if trying to break it. You screamed in pain as tears flew from your eyes to your forehead and hair. "I AM SORRY!! I AM SORRY!!" You cried out in fear that he would crush your bones to pieces making you unable to walk anymore.

Maybe he understood that you were scared and that you were actually sorry as the strength lessen. Tears still flowed from your eyes as he moved you to his arms now upright as he let go of your leg. You knew that you will not be able to walk for while not when you already sprained your ankle while running away and not when the lingering pain worsened because of the orc hand who was so close to breaking it as punishment for running away.

You are his mate or at least that was what he called you and now you could only doubt that you will ever be able to run away from his grasp. Not when he warned all the other monsters to watch you if you ever escape to catch you, not when he threatened you to dare leave and that he would break your legs if you do. Not when he placed a dog leash on your neck as he held the rope making sure that you will never leave him again.

Note: Okay gotta be honest orcs/goblins are deff not my thing but I had to add either them or goblins one way or another cause it is like one of the most common monsters in RPG games apart from slimes. And since it is like probably impossible for me to think of any goblin scenarios (I tried ;-;) I went for orcs. My mind the whole time was most deff thinking of a buff man than an orc so it may or may not have leaked in my writing. BUT ANYWAY HOPE YOU LIKE IT~!

[trashlama]

Happy Halloween!!!

(Rough Draft) Donatello x Reader

- More doodles below!!!

Sorry it's so messy, I'm gonna try to finish it before the end of October buuuttt, between work and my October writing list I may not get it done before Halloween. Though either way it will eventually be colored.

—Also,

More Donatello doodles anyone?

Also guys btw I freaking realized that I never had actually tried to draw Donatello before today so yeah sorry they're kinda sucky.

Thank you everyone for looking and once again

Happy Halloween!!!

[ofallthingsnasty]

May I request yandere reo mikage manipulating his s/o making them think they need him. This causes Stockholm Syndrome and they later get married and have a child. Reo is praised in the public for being a billionaire, pro-soccer player, good husband and father.

tags: yandere, reo is 20+, emotional abuse, sfw but minors please dni, pregnancy discussion but no pronouns are used word count: 0.7k

Oh, Reo... deceptively sweet and caring Reo. Who needs Stockholm Syndrome when your boyfriend never gave you any weird feelings in the first place, when he showers you with gifts and affection? He is all you could ever ask for, attentive beyond belief and willing to do just about anything for you. He seems to be too good to be true, really: a pro-athlete, rich, only has eyes for you. Who wouldn't get swept up by that? And my, isn't he just like a lovesick little puppy with how he sends you flowers to your workplace, how he picks you up whenever he can - whisking you away for yet another expensive dinner, a new mini-vacation every other weekend. Sweet and handsome and above all, generous - you don't want to leave. It's easy to simply ignore what lurks beneath the surface of that bright smile and boyish enthusiasm: How much he needs you, how he doesn't let go of people he has picked - he's either extremely hot or cold with those few, chosen ones. We've seen how he treats Nagi when all is well, when he can put his faith in someone - but we've also seen how he gets when those feelings get trampled into the ground. He's definitely the type to always try to smooth the waves, who never wants to fight but also has a very peculiar way of communicating any issues he has with your behavior. He doesn't like it all that much when your attention strays from him, for whatever reason. He's extremely emotionally manipulative. Never the one to outright forbid you from going out or even keeping you - but he'll act so cold, will mope for days after you spent a night out, when you dive into one of your hobbies instead of spending time with him. Everything that doesn't suit him is some sort of betrayal to Reo, makes him turn frosty until you apologize for something you don't quite understand. It's subtle and very gradual but you'll soon try to phase out everything that upsets him. It's just so hard to weather his depressive moods, to be in the same house as him while he can't face you without a look of clear disappointment and hurt in his eyes. Not only does he wean you from all your silly little distractions, he rewards you for not giving any of your precious time to your friends and family - even more expensive gifts, the finest food and above all, so much love and praise that it makes you feel dizzy and desperate when he punishes you again after a perceived mishap. He has the art of manipulation down and no matter how much you try to fight against it - you love him. And seeing someone you love so dearly all vulnerable and hurting is bound to shape your behavior. You'll find yourself so entangled in the webs he weaves after just a few months of being together, so dependent on him that you question your ability to ever be single again.

He doesn't view having a child with you as a way to shackle you to him - he genuinely wants a baby, dreams of that picture-perfect little family, of raising a little human with you. A child is the ultimate union between the two of you, the purest declaration of love. That's why it hurts him all the more when you tell him you don't want one right now. Reo just doesn't understand - he has all the money to support you, you've been together for quite a while, had your fun - why not take that jump with him? It feels like you're rejecting him and his love. He won't force you into anything but he'll give you his coldest shoulder yet. He takes your gentle later, honey, just not now and twists it into you completely blindsiding him. He can't even look at you - leaves the house without saying goodbye, doesn't sleep in the same bed as you - hell, you'll even catch him crying once. Reo wears you down emotionally, makes you feel so ungrateful and selfish for denying him this simple thing that you'll fold just after a few days. Does it really matter if you wait another year before you start trying? Doesn't he have all the money in the world to hire a whole gaggle of nannies? What will really change? You only have things to gain. And if it keeps him happy, keeps his eyes shining and you in his good graces, why not start now?

[sehodreams]

not sure if you already written some yandere stuff but if not, how do you think a yandere wonbin will behave?

Maybe mafia!riize (2) counts, but in that concept Anton and Eunseok seem to fit more than Wonbin, and I also have a stalker!eunseok that might interest you.

Yandere!Wonbin sounds really interesting, I'm not that familiar with the genre (though I've watched a couple of animes related to it), but if I'm not thinking in a mafia au like the one I mentioned before, I kind of see him as the classmate that silently follows you around and that already has a reputation with being "odd", or the popular boy that had everything he wanted (Again, sorry if what I imagined It's not correct, I just did a quick research).

TW and tags: dark!riize, yandere!Wonbin, stalking, manipulation, mentions of sexual assault.

There's just something about his aura and physical language that creeps people away, and since he's always by your side, talking to you softly and always looking at you with bright eyes, you never understand when the others tell you to be careful with him, that there's something that really alarms them whenever he's with you and that you should never fully trust him.

Wonbin wouldn't say anything when you tell him what others say about him and you would laugh it off, and since he sees you don't believe them, he wouldn't mind, just smiling at you and shrugging his shoulders.

However, inside he's already thinking how much people don't understand the love he has for you.

He's not the violent kind, he's more, like he likes to call himself, a little fan, watching you from afar and enjoying every little interaction to the fullest.

At first having him around was comfy, he only treated you as a friend and offered his help whenever you didn't understand something in class, but then things started to get weirder, and the warm sensation you had before when he was around, would burn you now.

You felt observed most of the time, it didn't matter if you tried to only study in the library for an hour or if you were forming in the queue for your coffee, you would feel your neck hot with the sensation of someone's eyes over your every move.

It would only be a matter of time until you notice that you have the same sensation when you're next to him, and soon, you wouldn't want him around you anymore.

You would try to run away from him with the help of your friends, saying hi but going to other places whenever he arrived, and not answering his texts as often as before with the excuse of being busy.

He would be disappointed, thinking they are the cause of you not loving him like you used to do (not that you ever loved him, you just saw him like a friend until you started to notice that he didn't see you just like that).

Still, he wouldn't physically hurt them, he knows that would be too obvious and would scare you away, so the best option, for him, is to shoo them, that way you would only have him by your side, and you wouldn't have an option but to love him like you did before.

He doesn't know how to charm everyone, but he knows how to look innocent, and that's more than enough to leave him out of the problem that he would create.

Spreading rumors about you was more than easy, taking into account how much he has observed you before, it wouldn't be hard for him to find a way to make you look bad. If you were having more meetings than usual with your professor to ask for advice, he'd plant the idea of you opening your legs for better grades. If you were talking a bit too much with your best friend's boyfriend, a picture of you just talking in the street would lurk around school with a message saying you had an affair with him.

Anything for him, would be a gun, ready to kill the good girl reputation you had.

People love gossip, people love pointing at someone and talking behind their backs, so he only had to start it, and everyone would intensify it, adding lies and breaking you with their disgusted eyes and whispers, not even your supposed friends daring to look at you or being seen with you.

But not Wonbin, never him, the boy who loved you the most in the whole place would never say something like that, and giving you his shoulder, you could cry as much as you wanted, "it's okay, I know nothing of that it's true, I'll always be here for you", convincing you that, if there was someone in this world in your side, it was him.

At least, that's one kind of yandere!Wonbin, the soft loving one, the other kind, would simply take everything with his own hands.

The other Wonbin, the confident, popular and loved one, would be hard to attract.

You don't even understand why it was you, he could've chosen anyone else who would gladly give him the attention he wanted, and you, on the other hand, wouldn't even try to be in his presence, not daring to interrupt the pretty view of him with his group of friends.

He had everything he could ever need, you don't know if he's rich, there are rumors, and he definitely wasn't the smartest person academically, but he was gorgeous, and you knew that was enough to get far in life.

That's why, you didn't understand what was his need to be behind you all the time.

He would follow you to the library, trying to make conversations with you, "could you help me with this?", he'd say showing you a question. You didn't understand why he asked you, but you didn't have any reason to not help him, so you just did.

He would grip onto that, bringing you more and more questions to learn from you.

Then, he'd offer to take you home with the excuse of paying the favor, and no, he won't take a no for an answer.

He never said it, but you felt there was something happening behind the scenes, his friends would look at you when you walked out of class, or when you sat to eat on your own in the cafeteria and he sat in front of you to keep you company.

He doesn't know how to maintain conversations, even less how to joke, so instead of feeling relieved to have someone around, you would feel extremely uncomfortable, starting to run away when you saw him or his friends near.

And that, of course, would bother him.

Who were you to escape from him? If he showed you an attention he didn't give to anyone else, you should be grateful and receive him with much pleasure, everyone saw you weren't on his level, and you already gained so much from being seen with him, people recognized you, knew your name, and of course it was because you were Wonbin's girl, but being his girl was much better than being nobody, right?

"Don't make me mad" he said when you tried to leave home without him, and you tried to not think much from it, but his voice was so full of decision and darkness that you stopped in your place and waited for him to be on your side, "that's what I thought" he said when you let him take your hand.

You didn't know why you accepted him, he never asked you to be anything, not even his friend, so you had the freedom to leave and not think about him, but you knew, deep inside, that he didn't make jokes, and that if you made him mad, he'd do something about it.

Just like when you tried to refuse his hand prying down your skirt, making a pretty collar with his hand in your throat, he'd take anything from you if he wanted, it didn't matter how he did it, so instead of saying no, you preferred to just not talk and count the days until you could run away from him.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Watching

Past -.- Next

Author’s note: Just what was he up to get caught in a fisher net? Let’s find out shall we!

Summary: Zadakael, is SO Normal. The Normal-est of his brothers. He’s not totally going to change them into a mer without their knowledge and have them be his spouse without them knowing.

Warnings: Stalking. Lurking. He’s A Bit Yandere. GN reader, None? Let me know if I need to add anything.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

Zadakael had been swimming with a pod of his younger brothers and cousins, part of one of the mixed shoals that came about due to them landing on Ancient Terra, and he's so glad that he landed in the water, and not on land, because from what he's heard of others that had the misfortune to do that, they were likely wounded in some way, some badly enough to be unable to active the 'swim through air' ability. So landing near or in the water is preferrable, ideal really. He'd just heeded the call of one of their newest arrivals who'd landed on the beach and was badly wounded.

Some of the local humans already noticed the wounded Space Marine and had called for help to arrive, a few of the bonded humans sending messages to their Bonded Marines, who'd gotten into contact with him since he was closest and had an apothecary in training in his squad at the moment. Getting the flailing loyalist (which was Great, and made things usually easier) them being one of the bite-y little bastards aptly called Flesh Tearers had been slightly annoying to deal with.

But after some growling, and the older son of The Great Angel baring and hissing is fangs at the little idiot had the other letting them him and drag his stupid ass to the sea. He'd caught sight of a pretty human in a boat- carefully fishing. He'd put them out of his mind, at the moment. But, it's been several months and he still comes to this area, watching the human as they fish and boat in these waters, they are so lovely, and he hears them sing to themself, or talk to others over the primitive radio. They seemed to be an excellent hunter of fish and other sea creatures.

For some reason, they'd toss back some perfectly good food back to the sea, still, as he sometimes swam closer, making sure that they didn't notice him. The way they worked on the sea, and supplemented their income sometimes by doing tours with people that don't know the ocean as well. It's interesting to watch them talk, he feels something deep within his soul, as he swims after them. He's heard of Bonds and of what the other's feel when they find their bonded for the first time. It takes one of other brothers pointing it out to him with more teasing than he felt was warranted as he retaliated in kind about realizing he was newly Bonded.

He'd swum off, not in a huff, but to go find his pretty human and watch as they fish. He's startled, he hadn't realized he had gotten so close to their boat. He tries to dodge out of the way when their net catches him and a portion of a shoal of fish and he swears to himself as he tries to get out of the net without breaking it, or harming his human and much to his embarrassment, and he is so glad that none of his brothers or cousins are around to see this display of indignity. He hadn't meant to snap at them so, but he had meant to give them a touch of his blood, to increase the bond between the two of them.

He knows that his human will be drawn to the sea, far more than they were as a someone who uses the sea to make their coin. The soft press of their lips against his haunts his dreams for days after. He continues to watch and wait for them to return to the sea, informing his brothers and cousins that he's allied with in the local area of his human and to send him a message if they come back. To his delight they come back, it takes longer, a few weeks longer than he thought it would. He's so pleased that they have come back to the sea, and he swims up and out of the water a bit to talk to his human.

Crooning at them, Blood Angels are sought after, and thought to be highly attractive, and he knows that they had found him attractive, if intimidating when they first met him, and their reactions to him now are most pleasing as he teasingly flirts with his human, curling around their form and speaking with them. It is difficult, and he gives them a couple more kisses, each with yet another drop or two of his blood dripping into her mouth. He could ask them be his, but that could come with a Rejection. And the thought of them rejecting him has his hearts stinging with pain and has him want to curl around them and drag them down to the depths where they would need him in order to survive.

He shakes off those thoughts. No- no, he has a plan, they will be his, he just needs to be a bit patient, and do this slowly, woo them, charm them. It is slowly starting to work, although some of the younger brothers and cousins that he's been given charge of are being curious little shits and have also started talking to his Human, which he allows, after sternly telling them the Rules, and that they are his human, his bonded, which they are happy for him for. The Flesh Terror keeps teasing him about how he's being a love sick fool.

Which he properly punishes the uppity bratling Scout for and makes him learn respect by having the other go through harder training than normal, and without help from the rest of the squad for being a lippy little bastard. His mood almost always seems to get better when he gets to see his human, they are so lovely, so clever and he is getting to know them. He also, does apologize to them properly for scaring them when they first met, explaining that they had surprised him by managing to catch him in a net, and that he shouldn't have threatened them like that. Also, he'd given them an apology gift, made from sea glass and pearls that he'd carefully harvested, with twine he'd found and cleaned. He had been so pleased when his human had accepted his gift, and after a few weeks, and said that they accepted his apology.

[thatdeadaquarius]

HELLO IT IS I AGAIN (Razor's mom /real)

So you know those imposters aus where characters chase the reader for being an 'impersonator'?

What if... It's a continuation from my ask (where we meet Razor first before everyone), and Razor is just confused at the patrolling knights near Wolvendom constantly asking him if he have saw 'the impostor'

Tbh he just shakes his head. Who tf is the impostor????? Wtf is an impostor???????

Many question marks later..

He had encountered an epiphany (not really it's just the Springvale ppl talking about someone copying the creator's looks).

The 'Impostor' they have been searching is you.

But you're not an impostor! Razor knows it! Andrius knows it! And with how the nature and the monster responded to you, Teyvat knows it too!

So like the good son he is, he sheltered you even more severely.

Ur not allowed to go out of his sights at this point (he'll still take you to places with many lampgrasses if you still wanna make a crown w it)

And my imagination ends there, do you think there's something else he'd do?

Ty for answering my last request btw, ur the best and I hope you get your favorite characters w one 10 pull and your desired artifacts w the best stats <3

Much love and sweets

-Razor's mom

RAZOR'S MOM!! HELLO aw im so glad u liked it :)

Srry about the late reply! 💜💜💜

Ok, so I think this is a good time to point to my shiny

Writing Requests/About Me Post I have pinned on my 👉 blog!!👈💅 taaa daaaa :) i did it guys here ya go

Yall have been GREAT so far abt keeping the requests chill and fun, and i dont have that many "Donts" that arent obvious (homophobia, transphobia, ableism,etc)

♡

Dont worry Razor Mom, i just wanted to use this as a way to talk about this!! /nm /gen

♡

About Imposter AU, there are plenty of other blogs/posts that write for that or posts under SAGAU tag! :)

I said wayyy earlier on in some of my first asks, but basically I really want to lighten up the Genshin SAGAU / Isekai tag and branch out from all these darker Imposter AUs :)

And also add more world-building posts or AUs <3

(language brainrot for example)!!

◇

TL;DR: I am not accepting hunting down/yandere/cult au/imposter au Genshin Sagau, only a funny or chill version of it.

Please check my writing rules post :)

Example: u look like Creator, but everybody's like, "oh lucky them wow rlly blessed, have a free drink, etc.

OR omfg where r they?? They descended to Teyvat oh fuck we lost our god-"

♡

Heres the Razor post !!!

If u wanna check it out :]

Cracks knuckles, Saddle up Baby, bc its time for my version of the Imposter AU 🤭😋😈

(and sorry for answering super late/possible scare Razor mom anon!! :'/ )

♡

So it begins rlly small right?

Like, Razor does not know the new knight patroling Wolvendom's borders

,, weird but ok, he thinks basically

And then when it was time to visit some domains a little closer to Springvale for grinding

(Or rlly just to get some of their tiny restaurants homemade food yumm)

He notices more Favonius knights lurking around than usual

Or at least widening their patrols

And hes like wtf?

Ur like, huh.

I'll ask Springvale ppl wtf goin on

The locals respond that the search for the Great Creator has begun.

...

...you and Razor: 👁👄👁 w h o m s t ❔️

◇

Upon further questioning

(which was apparantly weird that yall didnt know, but eh, u just used the whole "feral wolf child with feral blacksmith parent living in woods ignorance" excuse)

Admittedly yall, quite literally, live under a rock lmao

They explain theres a whole ass prophecy

Abt how the Great Architect would succumb to a long slumber somewhere else in the vast universe after making the planet.

And when the time is right, they will reconnect to Teyvat, and awaken, and descend in a mortal form

(like the archons)

◇

..but the kicker is nobody knows wtf they look like bc:

1. All that lore is hella crumbly and old, and very hard to translate

2. Mortal forms sometimes look different than god forms, so even if they did know some defining features of the Creator, that wasnt guaranteed to be them...

◇

(i.e. they will have brown eyes, well. Thats a fuckton of ppl with brown eyes innit? 💀)

♤

So thru certain signs, that this mysterious prophecy wooooo

Said would happen, the nations of Teyvat and their many supernatural inhabitants are aware the ultimate god has descended

(The crops flourished? Animals got more wily, many of the sick ppl got better for no reason, the Irminsul started regrowing/filling out its base- like how it looked like a lightning struck tree rn 💀)

So every country are now trying to find them to be the first to welcome them home

Needless to say its lowkey a competition

◇

Meanwhile you and Razor are just:

... (゜▽゜;)

"Haha yeah cool..."

(Andrius already told u what u r to Teyvat and explained to Razor)

Ur both immediately slapping a cloak on u and keeping the hood up all the time

Yall dont wanna be seperated :(

Ur both paranoid for diff reasons,

Razor's just scared his Lupical is going to be taken from him again bc there r better, more refined humans wanting to be ur Lupical ;-;

And ur like-

Omfg that sounds like sm work 💀

While its nice to daydream abt what itd be like to be famous, realistically,

U could not handle that shit.

People crowding you all the time?

U cant just look busted anywhere u go, like a midnight snack run

Ppl would also expect u be,

Responsible??

To act like a competent ruler maybe???

Hell no.

U just wanted to play a pretty gacha game and spoil ur skrunklies

(At least, if they do wanna call u that, they dont make u do anything political 💀 but u doubt it)

◇

Needless to say, Razor is glued to ur side everywhere u go.

A domain a half mile away? Oh he'll come with dw

Ur gonna go stop by that food merchant further up the road for ingredients? Cool he'll sniff the best ones!

Ur going to see Andrius??

Oh he needed to see him too-

😭😭🥺🥺 poor babe

♧

Surprisingly enough,

Or maybe not his house is right tf there

Diluc is the first person to actually recognize you.

Razor had been subtly steering u away from Mondstadt for 3 weeks now, ever since yall talked to the Springvale locals

An u cant say u didnt notice, but u werent rlly stopping him

You wanted to be like Venti, chillin among the ppl regardless of ur powers, not the Raiden Shogun :/

And maybe shock some ppl who dont know ur a god like him too lol

◇

Diluc had been looking around the lesser patroled areas of Mondstadt to search for the Architect

He didn't even need those incompetent knights to tell him their god had finally descended

He already saw the signs long before Mondstadt

Bc youve been in Wolvendom, the area has flourished over time, more fish in the water, more game to hunt and bigger, crows making circles in the sky despite there being no corpse

And one of the closest places to you,

Is the Dawn Winery.

Diluc's security against Venti began to hold up better, the staff didn't have to clean as much things like dirt or weather damage to the manor,

His hawk had never been faster delivering his letters, he almost thought the little guy had been drugged with something

◇

He patroled Stormterror's Lair, and deep in the woods surrounding the manor that the knights hadn't bother to go into

Afterall, he figured you'd never had a mortal form before, so u were unlikely to fend for urself for very long in the woods lol

so he wanted to find u quick (aww softy :')

He even made a trip out to the Thousand Wind Temple and Dragonspine (he did report that one to the knights, he didn't want Amber, Bennett, or Creator-forbid Klee, being the few pyro users to have to explore it)

Finally, after doing the further away locations, siginificant in history and rich with leftover magic

Diluc figured that's where you might land first, so he saved Wolvendom for last

It would at least let him check on that wolf kid and maybe get to talk to him long enough to ask him if he's seen anything unusual.

The lord of Dawn Winery manor heads into the Wolvendom woods, just as sunset colors the trees...

◇

It was a Friday evening, the sun was setting, the weather was pleasant and it was time for all of the Lupical to come together and eat a big feast!! :)

About once a month, Andrius will come out for a few nights and dine with all of yall

Hes an old wolf give him a break, he takes long naps

So u cook lots of Mondstadt favorites to eat on and a few Liyue dishes too

Razor, ur favorite helper, has helped u finish the last dish and is now romping around with the puppies bless <3

U guys have dragged ur coffee table dining table setup out to sit and eat at

Andrius lets out a not too loud, not too quiet howl, and as the wolves, Razor and you lmao join in

Yall dig in, bones flying everywhere, spagetti noodles flingling around, it would put toddlers to shame lol

◇

Diluc hears a howl that is too... big to be a regular wolf.

It filled the air of Wolvendom like no howl before it, as he used the glowing lampgrass to help light the path deeper

He sneaks past a hilichurl camp or two, all fast asleep

He scans the woods, and figures he'll search the woods besides the path after he gets to that old stone carved pit-

Food?

Diluc sniffs the air, and squints deeper into the forest

The black branches shade the way ahead, but just barely... he can see the flicker of orange and blue light?

He summons his claymore, bracing it on his shoulder, and creeps into the treeline to better hide him

◇

You swear to god (dammit swear to.. you??) someone is watching you.

You look around the piles of fluffy doggos, happy and stuffed full they r slowly forming puppy piles

Andrius is finishing his meat platter, also sitting on all four legs on the ground

Razor is splayed on his back beside you, eyes closed, his feet sticking out the other side of the table, u chuckle at him

But not a single Lupical seems to be looking at you.

Gulping down your last few bites, you scan the treeline

U refuse to be that bitch in a horror movie where their gut says smth is off and they brush it off or barely look at their surroundings

Turning around to the treeline behind you, u see something... red fur?

U sit up some more, peering over the bushes at the bottom of the trees

You meet a pair of warm brown eyes, widened like they're just as shocked to see you

As u notice his familiar red high ponytail (but also not?? Its weird going from 2D to 3D and still recognizing bitches)

U peer down at his chest, as he carefully stands out of the foliage-

That familiar star shaped button that u can press for the character menu screen, the same thats on Razor, on Benny, on Fischl, on Lisa-

Hovers over Diluc's chest.

◇

Diluc is in the bush, observing the human(???) stranger (he really doesnt want to attract the attention of that.. giant spirit wolf thing)

The figure sitting at a ... table?? (He can barely process all these absurdities at once, hes only got so much brain space)

Has sensed his presence, and as he grips his claymore, ready to demand answers,

Razor startles, and jumps up, smelling the pyro user, he summons his weapon-

The figure locks eyes with him, and all he sees is gold.

Diluc drops his claymore.

☆

♡

☆

Have a cliffhanger bc idk 🤷‍♂️ Also srry it wasnt exactly Mondstadt finding u, and it somehow turned into a whole scenario?? Idk man

🤧 welp i hope that was decent Razor mom! Tysm for ur sweet feedback abt our beloved son 🙏💜🐺

Feel free to always talk again, thru comments, asks whatever!! :D

♡

Cheers,

💀♒️

(guys im so stupid i coud've been signing off with this simple emoji combo the whole time,, 😭i didnt actually think abt emojifying my name, just making it look pretty with some of my fav emojis... 😔)

If anyone reads this u should let me know which one is better lol

💀♒️

OR

🌒🌧🌊Aquarius♒️🌌🌘

OR like a combo???

♡my beloved♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist