#to live for enjoying being alive rather than living in fear of death | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hadesrise · 2 months ago

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## murder for you, baby !!

summary──── a justifiable serial killer on the loose, and jason finds himself being enamoured by him.

pairings──── jason todd x dbd!ghostface!male reader

warnings──── nsfw content, serial killer themes, dead dove do not eat, sexual arousal in response to violence or torture, murder, blood, deaths, gore, foul language, bottom!jason, top!reader, reader’s physique is described as tall and broad ( the slasher build ), possessiveness, choking, praise kink, blood kink, knife play ( reader carving his initials on jason ), toxic!reader ( ? ), sorta toxic relationship but also not, unprotected sex, love-making, pet names, overstimulation, dumbification, degradation if you squint, lil’ bit of manipulation, creampie, doggy style, mating press, biting, marking, oral ( r. receiving ), voice kink ( ? )

author’s note──── not me coming back with halloween themed fic after halloween days have passed lol. i’m alive, y’all !! hope you enjoy this one that took a fucking month to write 😭

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ; this post may contain disturbing contents that may not be suitable for every reader — a reader discretion is advised. MINORS DNI !!

Gotham’s been terrorized by the worst people you could ever imagine, the kind that’ll stick with you forever and take residence to your nightmares if you were unfortunate enough. Many were hurt or even murdered as a result of the villains’ terrorization, with vigilantes running through the night to capture and send them to Arkham Asylum.

With the existence of a Psychopathic Clown, his equally psychopathic girlfriend with PHD’s that’s been wasted down the line, the Mother Nature freak, the ridiculously huge man with a gas mask on, the green coloured living question mark, and many others, no one would’ve ever thought anything could get any worse.

Until some criminals’ bodies turn up across the streets in such disturbing manner that haunts the witnesses to death.

One, a criminal who murdered young and homeless boys, gutted deeply to the point of their intestines hanging out. Another, a criminal known for kidnapping and selling people’s organs, mutilated with their torso torn back to expose the organs settled inside of them. Another one, a priest-turned-criminal who’s been violating women and children, crucified naked in his own church with his eyes gouged out, a Bible verse carved in his chest; ‘And if your eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away.’ Matthew 18:9; his penis cut off and body seemingly violated as well. Another more turns up, a governor-turned-criminal who’s been feeding into the rich despite their oath of generosity towards the poor, severely tortured with the skin on his back cut open, ribs severed from the spine and broken to the sides in order to create the illusion of wings, fluttering lungs pulled out from their chest cavity to resemble an eagle’s wings, with the word ‘traitor’ carved on his forehead.

The brutality and gruesome nature of the murders has set an alarming panic and fear across Gotham City that forced civilians into locking their doors at night. Criminals who were unidentified and not found by Gotham Police Department were also turning up in a form of miserable, tortured soul, along with the evidence and proofs of their crimes being carelessly laid beside their lifeless corpse.

The killer taunts those who are in charge of justice within their city each time the damned were unfortunate enough to be hunted down; pigs of failure written in the criminal’s blood right beside the drawing of a police’s logo.

However, despite how gruesome and disturbing the murders were, most people couldn’t deny that it was doing the city a favor. Justice System has failed more times than one could count to the extent of victims yearning to exact revenge themselves against their perpetrator, which causes most to react rather positively to the wrongful, unlikely hero who had seem to suddenly appear out of nowhere. The haunted finally getting the chance to slay the traumatic demons with the help of another psychopath on the loose.

Another justified monstrosity shouldn’t be the counter against one inhumane monstrosity that caused so much pain, trauma, and misery. But kindness could not vanquish one’s tainted blood. Forgiveness could not suddenly wash away the sins engraved deeply into one’s soul.

Imperfect, the victims muttered. An imperfect yet perfect way to save our burning souls wrongfully condemned by the criminals.

Red Hood has heard their murmurs.

Silent whispers of gratitude that fell on deaf ears, their previously dim soul brightening in relief and sanctuary with smiles on their faces as the Universe had finally took mercy on them and sent a Fallen Angel to slay the Demons away. He’s watched their spirit uplift, no longer chained down by the trauma and fear of the monsters that once ruined their lives, able to walk the streets carefree of tormentors. He’s watched their stiff posture visibly loosen, lively peacefulness settling itself at last within their haunted eyes. He’s watched them glow with happiness not feeling the presence of their perpetrator every couple of seconds, finally capable of living without needing to constantly look over their shoulders in paranoia and fear.

Ghostface is what the serial killer’s called, nickname born out of the mask that resembled a ghost always being left behind in crime scenes, each slightly different.

Jason has seen you. He didn’t mean to, really.

The temptation to get at least one look at you was great every-time he patrolled, wishing to just catch glimpse of an immoral hero who could make sacrifices no actual heroes could — who’s doing exactly what he wished before for Batman to do.

The Universe seems to have granted his wishes when his eyes catches the void of ghostface’s eyes, your mask tainted in splatters of blood from the dead criminal below you. Jason feels his world come to a stop as you slowly rise from crouching position and reveal your unnaturally tall height, broad shoulders visible under the black hooded leather. You hold silence and calmness despite being caught, tilting your head slightly to the side.

His heartbeat quickens yet he doesn’t feel fear. Jason idiotically steps closer as if he was in a trance, burning your existence within his eyes to engrave in his memory. Your bloody knife barely grazes his neck to stop him before using it to tilt his chin up, your figure looming and towering over him while seemingly staring into his eyes through his helmet.

A sense of peacefulness overcomes Jason being in your presence despite the absolute brutality and mercilessness that surrounded your entire being. You were deadly, silent, certainly creative with your work that it deems almost artistic, as if the criminals’ bodies were your own canvas to paint on — and Jason finds solace in you. A man he always needed, someone who’d be willing to cross the line and get rid of the actual evil for the sake of victims that’d be forever haunted if it continues to exist.

“I’ve heard things about you, Red Hood.”

Low, raspy, monotone voice speaks, sending shivers down his spine. It sounds cool and handsome regardless of the obvious use of voice changer, somehow littered with tiniest hint of flirtatiousness.

It takes him quite a while to answer, barely managing to let out a “yeah?” as he feels you drag the knife slightly closer to his pulse. His heartbeat quickens, but slows down when the cold metal was finally pulled away.

“Pleasant things,” You hummed, before your voice lowered a few octaves, “Can’t say the same about Batman.” Anger seems to seep through your tone that felt a little more than just sympathy for victims of villains Batman refused to put six feet under. Jason wondered if you’re also one of the victims his father failed.

“You… You know him that much?” Jason’s voice shakes from the nerve, your presence somehow greatly affecting him.

“I think everyone knows him enough,” You chuckled, but it sounded so empty that Jason can’t help but feel the goosebumps rise on his skin. It was quite chilling to meet someone who shows only a certain amount of emotion which could even be felt expressionless due to the monotonous pitch. The ghostface mask certainly did its job of making you seem more less human, the unmoving expression of ghost being horrified to death adding to the eeriness of your toneless mechanic voice.

Jason’s breath hitched when you took one step closer.

“But I know more about you. Your little past and the sufferings you’ve endured,” It’s spoken as if his life was one of your necessary investigation in your twisted justice. “It’s unfair, don’t you think? I would’ve gutted the Joker like a fish if it were to happen to my son.” There’s a condescending way in which you spoke, not directed at Jason but to Bruce.

“How—” Jason swallowed. “How did you—”

“I can make your dreams come true,” You interrupted him with a tempting offer, shutting him up effectively. Wide grin plastered your face despite not being seen behind your mask. “I can kill the Clown for you, Red Hood. If it means it’ll silence your troubled spirit. If it’ll bring you peace. I can hurt him on your behalf just like he deserves.”

It was like a whisper from the devil, slithering its way into Jason’s heart and mind to possess his soul, mirroring the one which whispered on Adam and Eve’s ears.

He’s been wanting — needing — to hear those words come out of Bruce. His suffering and death seemingly being brushed off as a cruel accident shattered him more than he’d ever admit, Bruce’s unhealthy coping mechanism and morality getting in the way of showing his love for Jason that left the younger man feel lesser than he was. Bruce was a complex person that’s sometimes difficult to understand, his impressive ways to stick to his morals being exactly his character, but Jason wanted for once, to actually feel how important he was to his father.

Was that too much to ask for, or was he just unworthy of the entirety of it?

“Why would you do that for me?” Confusion and subtle suspicion filled his tone as Jason narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out your intention despite the rush of hope that shot throughout his chest. He forced himself to feel nothing when you leaned in closer.

“Because you were wronged, of course.” You simply stated. “You are a victim. Not more, not less. You deserve a little more than just empty justice. And I’m a man who got tired of vigilantes that are afraid to make sacrifices for the greater good.” Then, you tilt your head slightly to the side in a way that’s somehow alluring. “But I can also say I’m intrigued by you.”

Jason’s heartbeat quickens again when your big hand seems to wrap perfectly around his throat, fingers resting just above his pulse points. It makes such filthy thoughts flood themselves into his mind, your long and quite thick fingers falling victims to his tainted imagination, and he had to give everything in himself not to bare his throat more for you. You seem pleased of his lack of disobedience and bite, having expected him to shove your hand away or flinch back before you could touch him. You’ve seen Red Hood once and how his uncontrollable rage resulted in violence, heavy burdens and extreme trauma turning him into a ticking time bomb that could explode any minute with the wrong move. He was absolutely lethal, the bullets serving as the evidence of his wrath and resentment towards the underground scumbags. It’s amusing that you have the man of violence himself now somehow completely under your control, surprisingly quiet and shy and obedient. You wondered if this is how he was before he was ruined by the cruelty of the world.

“You want it, don’t you? For me to kill the Joker.”

Jason feels as if you know everything he wants. Is this what it feels like to be important?

It takes a little while for him to answer, but he eventually came up with a “You’ll do that?” which sounded vulnerable and weak for the first time in his second life. Your heart clenched at the doubt and seemingly child-like vulnerability in which he uttered the words, as if he was afraid to trust something after being betrayed countless of times, reminding you of the sole person you’ve even began doing all of this for. They were quite similar yet so different — your older brother and Jason.

You hadn’t meant to cross his boundaries and unknowingly step into the empty hole that made home in his heart. Unconsciously slithering in like a snake by touching the subject his heart was longing for, not realizing his childhood’s still remaining within his spirit.

All he wanted was love and to feel safe again. You didn’t know the Red Hood was so adorably pitiful. A smirk plastered your face.

“I will,” You reassured and leaned your face inches away from his, the hand on his throat lifting his helmet slightly.

Jason doesn’t retaliate, blinded by a meat of hope dangled in front of him. He doesn’t move as the lower half of his face was exposed, and you lifted your own mask the same using your other hand. Jason willingly, obediently closes his eyes before your lips attached to his — a kiss of death, tasting like blood and cruelty. Warm and soft despite your rough, cold-blooded, corrupted soul. A kiss from the devil.

When Jason opened his eyes, you had already disappeared into the darkness with blood stains on the ground you stood before, a single note left behind; Hell will reopen for the Clown.

After neatly tucking the note inside his jacket and making sure no evidence has been accidentally left on the crime scene, Red Hood smiles for the first time in a long while and reaches for the comms without a heavy heart.

“Batman, I found another body.”

Whatever happens, he’ll have no knowledge of the following misfortune that’ll befall on the Joker. It’s the righteous serial killer’s doing, after all.

What was used to be a maniacal laughter turned into screams of agony and pain. Strong stench of death and blood makes euphoria rush within your mind, the feeling of slicing through flesh with your knife bringing pleasure and ecstasy that made your pants tight. There’s a certain amount of satisfaction in the way your own actions cause serious harm and scarring to criminals who once deemed themselves powerful, being reduced into nothing but a powerless prey that could easily be gotten rid of.

You feel increasingly powerful the more you strip them of their dignity and arrogance as they shed blood on the holy ground. Your existence alone striking them with crippling fear and anxiety feeds into your ego, yet you never stray away from the sole purpose or reason for your murders — making them taste their own medicine.

From what you found on countless deep dive and research, Joker preyed on Red Hood when he was still a young child full of life and joy, having been under the name Robin at the time. Second Robin to be exact, considering he was a lot different from the first one. It actually surprisingly pained you when you’d seen how much of an adorable, dorky, nice kid he was before misfortune cut his life short. You would’ve never thought you would find a kid adorable in your entire life, the little menaces often being nothing more than a headache to be around with that caused a certain dislike to grow towards them within you, but Jason was everything a cute kid was. Just excited to be there, to be fighting alongside Batman, to be relevant.

Such a precious boy ruined for the sake of shits and giggles for the Clown. For the sake of getting under Batman’s skin. And the Bat couldn’t even make fucking amends to his flaws as a father and mentor.

Well, he didn’t need to anymore.

You’ll give Red Hood— Jason Todd —what he wants. Yearned for. Perhaps, even what the other civilians who have fallen victims to this vile criminal want. You would stop at nothing until every criminal is gurgling and choking on their own blood.

Joker’s scream shoots a jolt of electricity within your body as your knife pierce through his skinny thigh and to the ground, pinning his leg down. You had been doing an effective job of reducing the maniac into nothing but a screaming, cowering average victim by torture. Bruises, burns, gashes, and stab wounds littered his body that was done carefully enough to not be life-threatening. Fucker was laughing maniacally at first, of course. It irritated you so much that you might’ve went a little overboard.

Watching Joker heave and struggle to breathe from the pain, you tilted your head and roughly grabbed his throat. It catches him off guard and he grips your wrist, barely even having the strength to fight you off. You’re amused by the entirety of Joker’s nature, how he’s still just an average man that can easily be overpowered — nothing that makes him special enough to not be killed, becoming proof of Batman’s selfish willingness to let the victims suffer than bring them actual peace.

You’ve never uttered a word since you captured him and it unnerved Joker from the beginning, but then, words finally come out of your mouth in a form of monotonous, mechanical, emotionless, eerie voice as you lean over him; “Laugh it out, Joker. Why so serious?”

It sounded like a death sentence.

He’s right in a way, because another of your knife pierced the corner of his mouth soon as you uttered the words. Your other hand tightened on his arteries to choke him while you drag the knife to slit the side of his mouth into a grin, following the lines of his red lipstick. It was certainly not a clean cut, but an artist has their own creative ways to make their art. Tears mixed in with blood that gushes out of his face, complete horrors written across Joker’s eyes which boosts your satisfaction. You go on and do the same thing to the other side of his mouth, before finishing your art piece by carving ‘J’ on his painted cheek.

You resist the urge to moan at the sight of blood coating your fine piece, always finding it to be an amazing finishing touch.

From then on, Joker was brought to literal Hell.

Jason flinches when a playful knock sounded from his safe house’s window, cautiously approaching to see ghostface waving at him through the glass. His eyes widened and immediately opens the window to let you in, not wanting anyone to see you — your sudden appearance distracting him from the fact he’s never given anyone the location of his safe house.

He stops in track at the blood splatters across your mask, and just then had he noticed you seemed to be hiding something behind your back with one hand. It definitely strikes his curiosity, but he somehow didn’t feel like you were holding something that could harm him.

“You got something for me, ghostface?” Jason feels you grin under your mask.

“Got you a present,” Your raspy, rough voice enthusiastically quipped.

Jason’s breath hitches when you show what you were holding — the Joker’s decapitated head in a square glass container tainted by its blood. You obviously had planned to bring it barehand, but you considered the possibility of its blood dripping down on his safe house and becoming a false evidence to point him to the murder, which prompted you to put it inside the container. An unbelievably sweet gesture for a fucking psychopath like you.

Jason could feel his heart beat rapidly as he takes in the animal’s state, carved up grin and the letter J and the horrors seen in its lifeless eyes proving the absolute misery and suffering it went through before being put down. The monster was finally, finally slain and gone forever from his life. Nightmares detangles from his spirit and the past unwraps away from his soul, utter peace and relief spreading throughout his chest. Tears gathered in his eyes at the feeling of being free at last from the life long torment, breath shaking as his knees wobbled.

The child in himself, the innocent Robin that was killed unfairly, finally rests in peace.

Then he sees you, his hero, waving your seemingly new knife playfully in the air with your outfit splattered in blood without a care that you actually saved him, and Jason feels a sudden surge of arousal and will to submit. To give you everything, anything.

“Do you love it, Red Hood?”

Without answering you, Jason grabs the glass container with shaky hands and sets it aside on the counter before stepping back closer to you again, blood rushing to his veins from arousal. He removes his helmet with a thud on the floor and falls to his knees in front of you, lustful and yearning emerald eyes looking up at you.

“Let me thank you, please.”

It makes you groan as your pants significantly tightens more.

You slide your knife back into the holster before cupping his beautiful face in your hands, and thank fucking Heavens there wasn’t any blood on it that would taint his face, because he’s a sight to behold. He’s truly a gem, something precious you had never seen before. “So beautiful,” You whispered, making Jason flush. “Baring yourself to me for such a simple present, doll?”

“Not a simple present,” Jason mumbled as he snuggles on the palm of your hands. “You saved me.”

You hum appreciatively, getting the itch to bare yourself to him as well. “You wanna thank me by what?”

Jason looks back at you, face flushed with a little hint of uncertainty and embarrassment, doubts. “I— uhm,” He stammers, but encouraged by your thumb’s gentle stroke on his cheek. “By… by becoming yours.”

Your cock throbs. Fuck, he’s so fucking adorable, you just wanna fuck his guts out. You’re usually tempted to gut people, not fuck their guts— which is funny to say the least— but you weren’t going to say no when the Red Hood’s so willing to offer himself up.

“You wanna take my mask off, doll?” He seems surprised by your question as if he hadn’t thought of it, making you chuckle. “If you wanna be mine, I gotta be yours too, don’t I?” It was dangerous to reveal your identity to him, but you couldn’t care less, especially when you could just fuck his brains out to shut him up. That’s the plan, first time that didn’t include butchering or cutting a body up.

Jason fucking Todd and his effects on you.

The emerald eyed male hesitantly grasped your mask when you led his hands to it, slowly lifting it over your head. He’s met with a fucking luscious feature to ever be adorned on a man and dark, lustfully murderous blood red eyes that makes a whimper slip past his lips. You merely widened your eyes at the sound he made before immediately grabbing his jaw and smashing your lips against his, swallowing Jason’s surprised gasp.

He reciprocates the insatiable hunger you displayed, tongue dancing along with yours and moaning into the kiss when your fingers lightly tugged on his hair. You pull him up in amidst of making out and squeeze his ass, encouraging him to wrap his legs around your hips. You detach your lips from his to trail kisses down his jaw and neck as you walked towards his bedroom, questionably knowing where it is, and Jason tilts his head back to give you more access with closed eyes. Letting him stimulate both of your restrained cocks by grinding down, you sat down on the bed and sucked on his throat as Jason moaned.

“Please, please…” He whimpers, uncontrollably moving his hips in a perfect rhythm yet he seemed to want something else.

You pulled away and traced his lips with your thumb, watching as he naturally took it in and sucked, giving you a desperate look. Swiftly turning off the voice changer attached to your neck in a form of choker, you chuckled when his hands fiddled with the belt on your hooded coat. “So needy, aren’t you?” Your real voice sends shivers down his spine.

An alluring, low, slightly rough pitch and somehow more emotionless than when you were using the voice changer. It makes his cock twitch and empty hole clench down on nothing, the need to be stuffed full of your cum swarming in his belly. You’re fucking bewitching, a man made up from every guy and girl’s fantasy, wet dream, and your attractiveness mirroring the Devil’s that would tempt and lure others to sin.

How the fuck were you real?

“Speak up, pretty bird.” You smirked, “What do you want?”

“Your cock,” Jason mutters, cheeks tinted in pink. “Wanna suck your cock and make you feel good.”

“Fuck…” You shifted in place, “You’ll do that f’me? Get my cock nice and wet to take you apart? To fuck your guts out?”

Jason shakily inhales and nods, climbing off your lap and kneeling on the floor. You lean back on your hands as he unstraps your belt and slide your zipper down, slightly raising your hips to help him get rid of the excess clothes. Your thick and lengthy cock smacks against your clothed stomach, making Jason’s mouth water. Thick veins throbbed on your big shaft, the tip angry and red from arousal leaking precum. It wasn’t just big, it was long, and Jason squeezes his thighs together to keep himself from just riding your cock all day.

His hand wraps around the base, starting to stroke it with a content rhythm. God, you were so fucking big. It’d definitely split him open if you shove it in so suddenly and fill him up nice. It’d make him scream his head off from the unbearable length and girth, almost too much, and Jason wants you to force him to take it. Pin him down and fuck him despite his pleas to stop.

Jason swipes his thumb over the slit, smearing precum, pumping it for a good amount before licking a stripe up the underside of your cock. You shudder, removing your gloves to slip your bare fingers through Jason’s hair, encouraging him to take you in. He obeys, relaxing his throat first before sliding your cock inside his warm mouth, and you groaned at the warmth that surrounded you. It almost didn’t fit from how big you were, but Jason braced himself and took it in further until he gagged as the tip touched the back of his throat. Wrapping his hand around your shaft that he couldn’t take in, stroking gently as if to apologize.

A moan slips past your lips when he starts bobbing his head, tongue brushing against the underside of your dick. “Fuck… Doin’ so good,” You roll your head back. “Such a pretty face to fuck, ain’t ya?”

Jason whines, tears gathered in his eyes as he sucks and fastens his rhythm. Curses, grunts leave your lips that left him feeling all hot and bothered, his other hand moving to skillfully pull his pants down and free his aching cock.

You see him touching himself and a smirk adorns your sinful face, gently scratching his scalp with your nails which earned you a whimper from him. “Go on, fuck yourself. We both know it wouldn’t fit that easily without proper prep,” Expression twisting into a cocky one, your grip on his hair tightened. “I’ll do as I please with your mouth until you’re done.”

Without waiting for his approval, you roughly shoved your cock deep down his throat and moaned loudly, throwing your head back. Jason gagged with a loud whimper as his eyes rolled back into his skull and cum shot out from his throbbing cock, hips jutting forward and twitching due to the sudden orgasm. You chuckle lowly, amusement and lust glinting in your bright red eyes, before you pull back and ram on his throat again.

Jason’s cries and moans were muffled as you ruthlessly use his throat to gain pleasure. His mind has already turned into mush from your assaults, white cum and precum staining the floor yet he doesn’t put up a fight. Taking it all like the good, obedient boy that he is. He’s reached behind him to insert two fingers in his awaiting hole, walls clamping down on the digits from the arousal of his throat being utterly wrecked.

Yesyesyes, please. He chanted in his mind. Use me, mark me, cum in my throat, make me yours.

The moment you fulfilled your promise and delivered him the head of his enemy, he was already yours. It’s all he ever wanted. Unquenchable thirst that always gnawed on his throat and hunger that left his stomach restless, his soul practically teared in half from being battered and beaten. He matters now — mattered enough to you, that you went ahead and killed the source of his misery. The love exploding in his chest was almost unbearable; he was already high on cloud nine from the moment he’s seen you present the head so cheerfully.

You see how he looks up at you, emerald eyes almost displaying hearts with how much he was melting. He’s taken your murderous act as an affection, and you couldn’t be more happy, because it’s what you intended.

“Shit, baby… Gonna cum soon,” You panted, thrusting vigorously. Jason hums and flexes his throat to provide you more pleasure, making you tighten the grip on his hair. “You want me to cum down your throat?”

You earned a desperate whine from him, closing his eyes to prove he was waiting for it. His fingers kept their own assault on his prostate, scissoring and stretching the squishy walls, muffled moans escaping him.

God, he looked so fucking gorgeous. He’d look even more gorgeous with your dick ramming inside him.

Jason feels your big cock throb in his mouth and his fingers move more aggressively to pleasure himself, wanting to reach his high at the same time as you. Stimulating your tip with the back of his throat a few times, you moaned loudly with a curse when Jason slightly flicks his tongue over your sensitive underside, forcing an orgasm out of your body. White, thick, warm seeds spurt out from your slit to his awaiting throat as Jason whimpered in delight and shot another layer of cum on the wet stained floor, hips thrusting in the air.

He greedily swallows every drop that spilled down his mouth despite the euphoria making him feel dizzy as his body slightly trembles.

You chuckled, breathing heavily, pleased expression spread across your face. “Good boy. That was such a good throat-fuck.”

The raspy, sultry tone of your voice makes electricity and chills run through Jason’s spine as his walls clench down on his fingers, yearning to be filled. Jason certainly doesn’t have a womb — it’s anatomically impossible — yet he couldn’t help but feel like it’s there, waiting and aching to be fucked and bred. He needs your cum to be pushed so far inside him. Need to be marked entirely as yours inside and out. Need you to rearrange his guts, fuck his brains out, breed him full, then fuck your cum further back into him.

Jason pulled his fingers out, whimpering at the loss of contact, before looking back up at you with begging eyes. “Can you-?” His voice cracks as he swallows, “Take me apart, please. Make me yours, fuck, I wanna be yours.”

You noticed tears gathering in his eyes, as if being rejected of his want to be your possession would be an ultimate heartbreak in his life; a life-threatening, gnawing thorn in his heart that’ll tear him apart piece by piece and shredding his soul. Jason thinks he can’t live without becoming yours, his savior’s. He can’t live without the source of his safety, the man that fulfilled his silly little dream and sacrificed his own sanity for it.

It absolutely amuses you that he’s become so attached just because you’ve driven him away from harm’s way. A little dumb, but he was your little dumb doll.

You gently caress his face and Jason leans into your touch, making your lips curl upwards into a smile. “Of course, doll.”

It leads to Jason being pressed face first on the mattress as you rail him from behind, sinful and alluring noises leaving his lips stained in drool. Your name escapes him like a chanted prayer, hands gripping the sheets, electricity sparking within his mind that left him dumb and unable to think coherently.

“Fuh-fuck! mgh, ah- yes, oh my god—!” He cries out when you pulled almost entirely back and rammed your cock roughly into him, almost seeing stars in his vision.

The roughness in which you handled him, the perfect angle of your hips allowing you to force pleasure out of his body every-time you thrust, the way you push his back down on the mattress to make him arch more into your merciless tactic, leaves Jason absolutely delirious. You didn’t just fuck him good; you fucked him with absolute vigor and violence, occasionally biting strongly on his shoulder to draw blood, showcasing your natural instincts as a serial killer. He feels your big fucking dick throb and gets impossibly bigger inside him each time his blood seeps out the broken skin, and Jason’s head spins at how much it drove arousal in his core.

“Good fuckin’ sex toy,” You grunted, roughly slamming your hips against his and causing a sharp moan to erupt from Jason.

“B-big—! s’too big- fuck!” Jason whines, tears spilling endlessly down his cheeks.

You smirk as you feel your ego skyrocket at being able to reduce a rather muscular man into nothing but a whining, blabbering bitch. “Yeah? I do split you open, don’t I? But you love it since you’re such a fuckin’ slut.”

“oh- aghn! y-yours— hnngh! Your s-slut! No one else’s-!” He chokes out, desperately reaching for you behind him.

“So fuckin’ adorable,” You chuckled and grabbed his hand, pinning it back to the mattress as you hover over him. You seem to fit against each other perfectly well, your large and tall body able to encage him that left Jason’s stomach fluttering. He’s taken a lot liking of the fact you’re bigger than him, considering he’s never been the smaller one when he was with others. It gives him a sense of shelter.

“p-please— pleaseplease- oh! cum— fuck… cum in me again!” Jason blabbered.

You can’t help but comply to his request, fastening your pace and drilling more into him. Incoherent sentences spill from his drooling mouth when he feels your cock pulse within his walls that signified your soon release. There’s a purpose in which you thrust your hips now — more sharp and angled yet a little sloppy, aimed to brush against his prostate and make him feel utterly good.

“Shit… Cummin’, doll.” You grunted right in his ear before shoving him on the mattress by the back of his nape and slamming all the way down on his already gaping hole.

Jason nearly screams, voice cracking, as his orgasm hits like a strong tide of wave at the same time you spilled thick layer of white semen into his fucked out guts. You ride out your orgasm by thrusting slowly a few times as Jason’s body violently shakes from the aftershock. He subconsciously whines in annoyance when some of your previous cum seems to overflow and replaced by your recent one, bucking his hips as if to use your big cock as a plug to keep them all in. His belly felt full from how much you’ve been filling him with your seed yet it still didn’t feel enough. Jason wanted more; he knew you weren’t going full on him yet.

You swiftly turned him around on his back without pulling out and kissed him roughly. Jason mewls into the kiss when the position makes you push more deeper into him, his hands immediately clasping at the back of his thick thighs to pull them up and make it easier for you to fuck.

“My cute little thing,” You murmured against his lips and bit the skin to draw blood, Jason’s hole squeezing down on you from both the pain and pet name. He greedily whimpers your name, holding onto you for life and yearning for more of you despite already receiving what he wants.

It was so fucking adorable and arousing to see him desperate for not just you, but your entire being as well, willing to welcome such darkness with open arms and tearful smile. You weren’t really a desirable person; so many people have thrown themselves at you for your conventionally attractive features and masculine body type that swoons hundreds yet cower away in fear and speak of you in disgrace when shown the demons living inside of you. No one could seem to look past your murderous, cold-blooded psychopathy — some have attempted to, which only resulted in your darkness growing bigger when they break their own promises. You weren’t meant to be loved. Your destiny was written in the stars and the Gods have cursed you with eternity of living in loneliness and madness without cure. You were meant to be feared, a lonely and violent soul that couldn’t be tamed, your sole purpose of existence being a destroyer; nothing more or less.

Jason, however, seems indifferent to your fate.

Instead of running away in disgust and fear at your acts of violence around the city, he was seeking for you. He’s seen what you’ve done, what you could do without feeling remorse, what monsters lie beneath your existence — and still, he graciously opens his heart (and legs) for you. There’s love and desire within his eyes where distaste should be, touch so soft and warm it baptizes your tainted skin. You’re soaked in blood yet Jason takes his time with you to clean them up. Born with thorns yet he willingly prickles his fingers on them.

You’re a danger everywhere you go, but to him, you were home.

It makes your heart clench; he’s broken the Gods curse and it costs him his freedom, because now he’s caught up in your webs. You wouldn’t let him go, like a snake that’s wrapped itself around its prey in a death grip.

Jason wanted to be yours. What better ways to fulfill his wish if not possessing his body, soul, and spirit?

“Sweet dumb thing,” You purred, hips thrusting slow and sensual, unable to forgive parts of his walls that weren’t touched by your cum. “Mine to fuck, ruin, or make love to. That’s right, yeah?”

Jason nods, moaning softly. Your hands now replaced where his were on the back of his thighs, bending him almost in half as you roll your hips to gently brush against every weak spot he has. The sudden shift in rhythm and atmosphere confuses Jason for a bit, his fogged mind unable to comprehend the situation at hand, but the intimacy strikes a further pleasure that was nearly mind-breaking. He’s been reduced to a moaning mess, blood, sweat, tears and cum coating his body.

“p-please,” Jason keened, like it felt agonizing to be loved ever so gently. “I— ah… I want- I want you,” He stuttered out between moans.

“You’re having me, aren’t you?” Replying, you nipped on his neck and sucked, leaving behind a purple bruise.

He nearly cries, shaking his head. A waterfall of tears streamed down his face, and you find yourself captivated by them. It was almost ethereal despite being one of human’s responses to most things imaginable; your victims always shed one or two accompanied by begs of mercy, but all you’ve ever thought of them was amusing. It’s been used as an escaping tactic from you before, which was never successful due to your lack of morality and sympathy towards your target. They were pathetic, but Jason was divine. Tears suited him— not tears of fear, but tears of pleasure and utopia.

Your focus snaps back on reality when Jason suddenly pulled you down by the nape and bit down hard on your shoulder. A pleasured groan leaves your lips at the pain, hips bucking, making him whimper.

“Jason—”

“Please,” He cuts you off and finally murmurs; “Wanna f-feel how… mhm-! how you actually love…”

It strikes something in your core. Despite your perfect skills of hiding your true nature and never being caught, Jason saw it right through you, how you were holding yourself back for his sake. Quite ironic to witness a cold-blooded killer care for someone enough to go soft, even though it looked like you were going rough on him, and it warmed Jason’s heart. But he was a greedy, fucked up human being who wanted all of you. It wouldn’t be enough until he knows he’s taken you fully.

An amused laughter erupts from your chest. Eyes darkening in lust, Jason feels one of your hands wrap around his throat warningly as the other pushed his torso flat down on the mattress. “You… You’ll be the fuckin’ death of me, Todd.”

You pull all the way back before ramming in, making Jason let out a loud, choked up moan as his eyes rolled back into his head. Your thrusts relentless and powerful, slamming against Jason’s body with an intensity that made his head spin, your hand holding his throat as a leverage. Your name spills from his lips like a prayer, something that seems to ignite a possessive feeling within you. Jason can’t help but mewl when your grip tightened on his arteries, throwing his head back to let you gain fully control.

The way he’s so obedient and putty in your hands despite knowing you can kill him if you truly meant to makes you love him even more, fucking him and taking away his ability to breathe wasn’t enough. Greediness turning overboard with the darkness and psychopathy that lies within your existence; you almost wanted to cut him open and crawl inside his guts so you could truly claim Jason, inside and out. You wanted to be more closer to him, see how far you can go without Jason pushing you away or getting disturbed.

Jason’s eyes widened when a cold metallic silver touched his cheek, seeing you holding your signature knife through blurred vision from his tears. However, he doesn’t flinch away like you expected him to, instead his walls squeezes down on your cock and his own twitched against his stomach. The unexpected reaction pulls a loud groan out of you, your hips bucking.

“Shit, Jay… You lettin’ me kill you or somethin’? Good fucking cunt just tightened on me,” You rasped, thrusting your cock against his prostate.

Jason gasps, his hands grabbing the mattress and holding it in a tight grip. It’s so shameful how turned on he was at the danger that lurked around you, his usually sharp instincts relinquished to be replaced by naiveté and stupidity for love. He must’ve gone insane; getting killed was one of his triggers because of his past yet his soul yielded nothing in retaliation to the possibility of your blade slicing through him. All of him seems to have come to love and trust you too much just because you’ve decapitated the beast his entire existence feared, which a part of him found utterly ridiculous and idiotic, but not enough to stop.

He wouldn’t stop himself from loving you — not when you’ve given him the love he always yearned for.

You lean in and ghost your lips over his as you dragged the knife on his torso, lightly scraping him. Jason’s breath quickens, his pupils blown wide in lust and need, anticipation seemingly running through his body as his moans turned into desperate whines.

“p-please…!” He chokes out a whisper, rolling his head to the side and whimpering when you snapped your hips warningly on his. “feels— fuck! feels g-good—! c-carve me… hngh! carve me u-up-! shit… make me fuckin’ bleed…! please,” Jason nearly cries for you.

Groaning out a curse, you reflexively bite down hard on the crook of his neck and push more of your cock inside him, causing a loud keen to erupt from Jason as he squirms and cums on his own stomach at the addictive sense of pleasure and pain shooting through his body.

You licked the blood that seeped out from his skin, satisfied at the clear bite mark you’ve left visible before sensually grinding your hips. Jason whimpered quietly, his body still trembling from the aftershocks of his orgasm.

“That’s it, doll. Let go, feel good. m’not gonna hurt ya, sweetheart. It’ll all feel good,” Whispering sweet words, you slowly press the tip of the knife just above the v line of his hip and drag it down. Jason hissed at the prickle of pain and tensed up, but the pleasure of your cock stimulating his sensitive walls was too great that forced him to relax. “It’s alright, doll. Jus’ carving you up with my name, so you’ll be mine forever. Isn’t that what you want? Be fuckin’ mine?”

Jason moaned softly, nodding his head. Series of pleasepleaseplease blabber out of him accompanied by heavenly noises he’s been making since you started taking him apart, his brain too fucked out that forcibly twisted pain into pleasure as all he could think about was becoming yours. You, his savior, his God, claiming him by marking him up with your name. Jason feels like he could fucking squirt from just that thought alone.

His blood seeping out from the letters of your name arouses you to no end, your cock throbbing inside him while you continue to move, the darkness within you being thoroughly fed of its bloodthirsty hunger. This is the first time it doesn’t gnaw at your skin to drive your knife deeper, pull the guts out, and splatter redness everywhere; instead, it wanted to be gentle, as if Jason was a significant existence too precious to hurt even for the Devil. A proof that Jason was always meant to be yours, the only one who the monster inside you would rather love than kill.

Carving the last letter, you laughed breathlessly in satisfaction and stabbed the knife on the headboard before slamming your lips against his, devouring his pleasurable noises. Jason whines, arms wrapping around your neck to pull you impossibly closer, arching his back when you switched into a much faster and rougher pace.

“Cummin’, fuck!” You grunted, to which Jason wrapped his legs around your hips to make sure it stays in.

“I-in— in me… fuck- oh my god— please… please, cum in me. Make me full again, p-please…” He begs, clenching his walls around you to push you over the edge, his own orgasm nearing.

Seeing him covered in his own tears, sweat, blood and drool fills you with nothing but pure ecstasy knowing it’s all because of you. The most appealing, ravishing man being a slutty mess right beneath you, begging to be bred and full of your cum, does feed too much into your ego. No one can do anything to take you away from him now, because you’re wrapped around his fingers as much as he is around yours.

“Anythin’ for ya, doll.” You chuckled, thrusting a couple more times before shoving your twitching cock deep into his guts with a moan and releasing your load. Jason mewls, his hole throbbing and squeezing down on you as he throws his head back, tainting his abdomen once more.

Riding out both of your highs, you let out a raspy groan and kissed his lips again, Jason weakly reciprocating due to the overstimulation. His body trembled hard, mind almost shutting down from the exhaustion and too much euphoria. “So good, doll. Took me like a good fuckin’ boy. Fuckin’ amazing.” You praised.

Jason could still see darkness in your eyes, the murderous devil, but there’s a hint of happiness he didn’t recognize before. Love and adoration filled your expression despite the violence engraved in your soul, and Jason finds himself smiling against your lips lightheadedly.

He whispers your name like a forbidden secret, then a curse that completely binds you to him; “I love you.”

You could get used to this, you suppose. There’s nothing more poetic than violence meeting love — two opposites can’t coexist with each other, but perhaps it’ll be forced to. After all, the Devil in you decided he was an untouchable divinity no one shall ever harm, not even yourself, despite its never-ending monstrosity towards humanity.

“I love you too, my Jason.”

When Joker’s decapitated head on a makeshift spear turned up that night, stacked upright in front of Arkham Asylum with blood splattered across the ground in words ‘True Justice for the Tortured Souls’ and a bloody ghostface mask laid aside for everyone else to see, Jason knew he was now in safe hands.

People say, never make a deal with the devil.

They never said he couldn’t love one, did they?

1K notes · View notes

dilfartist · 5 months ago

Text

Just obsessed or love obsessed?

Tw; Kidnapping, sensitive topics, Yandere behavior, Obsessive behavior, marriage mentions, abuse, physical abuse, mentions of Suicide on Yoosung’s part, mentions of death, NSFW on the end of Asmodeus’s part,

Which yanderes are actually in love with their darlings? Which yanderes simply obsess over their darlings?

Fandoms: Naruto, JJK, Demon Slayer, Death Note, JJBA, Chainsaw Man, Baruto, Obey Me, and Mystic Messenger.

Characters; Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, Mahito, Toji, Geto, Sukuna, Douma, Tengen, Mitsuri, Akaza, Gyutaro, Muzan, Light Yagami, Chilchuck, Laios, Ascended Astarion, Dio, Kira Yoshikage, Jotaro, Josuke, Yoosung, Mammon, Asmodeus, and Denji.

Notes: {Most of these are just ramblings, sorry if they mirror each other in similarity. Not all characters from each show/movie will be on this list, just a few that came to mind.}

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!

Somewhat proofread

Reader's description; Female/GN

Obsessed

These yanderes have no love for their obsession. Although they want you for romantic purposes, they could never love you. Most of these yanderes treat you like a pet rather than an actual lover.

Mahito

Mahito sees humans as toys. Humans are there for his entertainment. Their tears, their fear, their panic, and their crys are all for his pleasure. Mahito has only managed to love the suffering of human beings.

Mahito harbors no love for his darling. Sure, Mahito favors you compared to other humans and he doesn't outright kill you or torture you, but your relationship is more like a farmer favoring one of the farm animals he’s leading to the slaughter, so he allows it to live a little longer than the others.

If you were to ask him if he loved you since he’s gone out of his way to keep you to himself and demands romantic actions out of you; he’ll respond with a laugh, finding it laughable you’d assume so.

“Love you?” Mahito giggles, “You know, I was manifested by the strong emotions of humans, but love isn’t one of them. But hey, if it makes you feel any better, you're my favorite human!”

Sukuna

Sukuna was born evil, not giving two shits about the human race he once belonged to. Love, in the eyes of Sukuna, is a feeble emotion that only exists to continue giving humans a reason for their pitiful existence and to keep their kin cared for. Those who sing songs of romance irk Sukuna. As if the human race couldn't get more irritating. Though he will admit he enjoys a good lovers quarrel. The negative emotions that cause the birth of curses and the scenes of women and men plucking out the eyeballs of their lover's hidden sweetheart in an act of rage; never fails to give him a wicked laugh.

Lust. Lust is what Sukuna feels for you. Love is nowhere in sight. Any act of love you find yourself partaking in with Sukuna isn't because Sukuna desires loving contact, but because you loathe the thought of acting this way with him. He relishes in the resentment you feel towards him. Kisses, hugs, cute nicknames, and lingering touches in favor of disturbing you. Sukuna is obsessed with you due to your enjoyable reactions. Such a scared little thing, he thinks. In a world of humans Sukuna views as insects, you are Sukuna's shivering prized chihuahua.

If you were convinced Sukuna was in love with you and asked about it, he'd laugh in your face.

"Maggots, such as the human race, invented love to maintain relevancy and keep their young alive. What else are they good for if they can only birth a few babes before their bodies break. They might as well drop dead once production is no longer available. Unfortunately for all living creatures, they continue their life spans." Sukana speaks with distaste. He leans his cheek against his fist, gazing down at you from his throne. "I find the emotion despicable. Although.." Sukana begins, lips curling into a cruel smirk, "I could think differently if it came to you, my dear pet." You don't miss the flash of amusement in his ruby eyes at the sight of your grimace.

Douma

Douma will never love anyone. Douma is stated to have no emotions but that isn’t necessarily true. Douma can feel emotions for himself, it’s others he cannot feel emotions for. Douma may have claimed to feel love towards Shinobu but Douma wanted to feel something, or at least convince himself he felt something before the end of his life. Truly Douma could never love his darling even if he tried.

Contrary to popular belief Douma does treat his darling like he loves them...50% of the time. The other half of the time he acts on his sadistic nature.

He is one of the yanderes that will kill his darling with no hesitation if he needs to. Douma will hesitate if his obsession is strong enough to dissuade him. If his darling ever dies or somehow escapes then he’ll forget about them. In his eyes, you’re replaceable since you never were loved in the first place.

“You know, (Name), I think I’m actually in love with you!” Douma would smile down at you as you sat in his lap. “Can’t you hear it! My heart flutters at the sight of you!” he’d pushed your head to his chest, “Such an exquisite feeling.” he cooed at you, hugging you closer. You scowl knowing every word from his lips is a lie. You wonder which one of you he’s trying to convince.

Ascended Astarion

Astarion before the ascension would genuinely love his Darling. And if he didn’t he wouldn’t even be with his Darling. However, if his darling allowed him to go through his accession, all his love would vanish from his body. Once a vampire spawn becomes a true vampire, they become a shell of the person they used to be.

Astarion is no longer the person you once knew. In fact, he resembles his former master in ways. His spawns, his mean attitude, his view of other people as less. It’s a sicking sight, truly. He no longer treats you as an equal. You’re a pet to him, even if he says you are his consort.

You both know Astarion doesn’t love you anymore. Yet neither of you have said a thing about it. Astarion finds it rather amusing you think he could love someone as pathic as you. His old weaker self did and he won’t repeat any actions from the past. And still, he refuses to allow you to leave his side. His darling will be reassured but they know the love of their life is no longer around.

“I love you, my dear pet. That’s what you want to hear, isn’t it?” he’d chuckle darkly at you, his tone full of mockery. You wish his words were the truth, but they’re not.

Dio Brando

Even in normal circumstances, Dio wouldn’t be able to love. During his normal life, Dio only loved the pleasure he sought in hurting others. He forced himself to act like he loved Jonathan and George Joestar, but in reality, he was only using them for his advantage. Once he turned into a creature of the night, the was no way he’d be able to love. All of his humanity, including his human emotions had been erased.

Dio’s darling is merely for his entertainment; he does not yearn for a real connection. You’re simply a pet. He’ll care for your health so you won’t die, he’ll feed you well so you won’t starve, and he’ll even buy you nice things to keep you in line. Other than those few things, he could care less about you. He enjoys keeping you around because of your reactions. You’re just so human! It disgusts him and excites him at the same time.

“Poor dear,” Dio sang cruelly as he held you in his lap. “Shivering in my lap like a lamb awaiting for the slaughter.” he’d chuckle darkly after.

Kira Yoshikage

Yoshikage never loves any of his darlings. He takes without a second thought, caring not for the person that fuels his obsession. Yoshikage may take the time to learn about his victim but after some time your fate will be the same as any other darling. Depending on which stage of Yoshikage you get that is.

You could encounter a quick death if you met Yoshikage at the start of Dimond is unbreakable. He’d be interested then when he finds the right time to kill his darling and take their hand. If you come across Kira in the middle of Dimond is unbreakable then your death will come after a while. It depends if he likes your personality since during this stage he begins to prefer knowing a woman’s personality when taking their hand. If he meets you by the end of Dimond is unbreakable then you have the most probability of living. He’d be so concerned about keeping his identity a secret he might keep you around longer and settle with befriending you instead of outright killing you.

Kira really has no love for his darling. The only care he has for his darling is keeping their hands beautiful to fuel his obsession. Kira is less obsessed with his darling and more obsessed with their hands.

“Darling you must keep yourself clean,” he’d chid, pulling out a pack of wipes to desperately clean the dirt from underneath your beautiful fingernails.

Love-Obsessed

Both their feelings and obsession grow together as they come to know you. They love and are obsessed with you. These yanderes see their darling as actual partners and do love them, unlike the obsessed yanderes.

Naruto Uzumaki

Naruto loves you with all of his being. Growing up as a boy with no family and for a short while in his childhood no friends, he yearns for a real connection. He wants to love and be loved. So when you come into the picture, he swears no harm will come to you. Even if the leaf village is at stake.

Naruto does everything he can to please you because he believes you deserve everything good that comes to you. His generosity isn’t meant to be taken as a way to manipulate you, unlike some characters. Naruto strives to keep you happy. He’ll do everything he thinks will do right by you.

Naruto sees his darling as his partner in crime. His one and only. He refuses to look at anyone else. He’ll keep you safe even if it means keeping you locked away.

“I love you more than anything, you know,” Naruto whispers to you as he snuggles up to you. “I’ll never let anything happen to you, believe it.”

Denji

Denji’s been through a lot. No one has been there to love Denji for who he really is. Everyone loves Chainsaw Man...then there's him. All of a sudden you come into his life. Dissimilar Makima or any woman in his life, you care for him. You’re genuinely kind without expecting him to do something for you. His feelings grow for you due to your kind nature.

Being Chainsaw man comes with its cons. He’s always in danger and his loved ones are always in harm's way because of him. He grows paranoid. What would become of you once it was revealed he cares for you?! He manages to pull some strings and finds a place for the both of you to live together. Sure you can’t leave but at least your are safe! Plus, Denji is a great guy who gives you everything you want.

Denji doesn’t force you to care or love him, he implies wanting your tenderness but never forces you. He loves you. He goes as far as fighting every demon in your name.

“I like you...like a lot.” Denji starts off slowly. He’s at your side, crouching to your level. His eyes show vulnerability, “...you don’t have to like me back but I won’t allow anyone to hurt you. I wish things could be different...I really do.”

Yoosung Kim

Yoosung falls in love with his darling very quickly. Originally, Yoosung fell in love with the Mc in eleven days. Instead of his obsession and love growing together, Yoosung falls in love first then his obsession begins to grow. Though Yoosung is in love with his darling he still compares them to Rika despite his darling and Rika not sharing many qualities. He loves his darling for their kindness but also because they share the comfort Rika gave him.

Yoosung doesn't care if he puts his darling in harm's way despite claiming the opposite. Yoosung loves his darling enough to be in harms way along with him. In a way it’s like a romantic double suicide

“You’ll only talk to me, right?” he’d ask. Despite this question being sent through text you could hear the question asked in Yoosung’s voice. “I love you so much, do you really think some guy like Zen could compare?”

Mitsuri kanroji

Mitsuri is heavily encouraged by love in her daily life, so of course she’d be in love with her darling. Her darling completely takes over her mind, invading every thought she has. She doesn’t see her behavior as weird or obsessive. After all, isn’t it ideal for a lover to be utterly in love and devoted to their special someone?

Her obsession and love for you grow at the same pace. She’s so in love with her darling, every action she takes is in the name of her darling. She constantly reminds her darling of her love and devotion, not caring if her darling doesn’t reciprocate.

Her obsession is fueled by the constant rejection she’s faced in her life. She’s clingy, clingy to the point you feel suffocated. She needs her darling's reassurance and will be unsettled by her darling giving anyone else praise she deems too much.

“You’re so amazing!” she’d coo at you, latched onto your right arm, batting her lashes. “I’m so glad you’re mine, (Name).” she’d hum, pushing her face into your sleeve.

Sakura Haruno

She is a very dedicated person. Despite the lack of love she received from Sasuke, she stood by his side the entire time no matter what. When she loves, she loves hard. This also applies when she begins to obsess over her darling. Even if you don’t share her feelings she will never move on. Sakura is a very persistent person, and if she truly desires something then she’ll achieve it.

Her obsessiveness comes later on when she really gets to know you. Once the obsession starts, there’s no way of getting rid of her. Her love overpowers her obsession, which is worse.

If you thought Sakura being at your hip most of the time was annoying, then your hell is with Yandere Sakura. Sakura will never leave you alone. However, you have a savor named Tsunade. Sakura listens to Tsunade with out a doubt. However, Tsunade doesn’t really care for your situation. Sakura can be annoying but she doesn’t bring harm to you. So...not her circus, not her monkeys.

“Gosh,” she’d sigh dreamily as she lay against your chest, “I’m the luckiest girl in the village, aren’t I?”

Josuke Higashikata

The king of romance himself! Josuke loves his darling dearly. Even going as far as to think twice before hurting his darling if they dare insult his hairstyle. Unlike all the others on this list, Josuke would be in love with you first before the obsession would even begin.

Josuke never lets his darling forget his love and dedication towards them. He reminds them he loves them every chance he gets.

Josuke is more normal thanks to his genuine love for his darling. However, that won’t stop him from acting on his obsession. If his darling ever found out about his obsession and attempted to leave, he’d hesitate to

“Oh, these?” Josuke would look down at the bouquet in his hands. He’d rub the back of his neck with a grin, “Just wanted to get something for the lovely girl I call my girlfriend!”

Laois Touden

You are as important as Falin is to him. His mind is full of thoughts of you. Although Laois is obsessed with you, he treats you right. He never oversteps boundaries, always makes sure not to hurt or overwhelm you, and always listens to you and your needs. If it weren’t for his unhealthy obsession, Laios would be the best boyfriend.

Laios obsesses over his darling the same way he obsesses over monsters. Laios carries a notebook full of facts about you. What monster food do you prefer? Easy! You love boiled mimics! After all, Laious put it down in his note book and Laious is dedicated to being correct about his darling.

His love goes as far as locking away his darling; If necessary that is. He’d rather explore the word with his darling. He won’t repeat allowing someone so dear to him to be hurt again. Laios nearly lost his sister and he’ll be damned if you were ever harmed.

“I don’t think I say it enough,” Laios comments completely out of the blue. You and him sit at the breakfast table, still in your midnight clothes. Laios looks at you sweetly, his chin against his palm. “I love you.”

Obsessed to Love- obsessed

These yanderes start just obsessed with their darlings with either no feelings or ignoring their growing feelings. As time goes on, they begin to fall in love with their darling.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji finds it hard to love after his late wife’s passing. So when you come into his life he’s as distant as he can be. Toji’s rude and nasty to you. Not because he dislikes you- well, not fully anyway- but because Toji can sense his attraction towards you. It scares him; it Angers him even. Toji’s had his fair share of one-night stands, feeling nothing after them besides passing sentiments of guilt because of his late wife. However, you’re different. For some reason, the fuzzy feelings he felt with his late wife have come back when he’s around you. He loathes these feelings. In a way, Toji finds this as a betrayal, and he blames you.

However, as time progresses, Toji learns to allow you in. He can’t obsess over his late wife forever. At first, he’s simply obsessed with you. Always around you, you’re constantly on his mind, keeping a tracking device on you, the usual. Then it happens. You show him genuine kindness and show you care for his well-being and it’s like a switch flipped. Toji realizes he’s in love. And instead of getting angry or distancing himself, he accepts it. Unfortunately for you, Toji’s left broken by his ex-wife’s death and you’re the new love of his life.

You’re immediately kidnapped and taken away to live with him. The one person he loved died, he will not have that happen again. Toji knows he needs a stable life to keep you around and he refuses to use another woman for her money since he finds it disrespectful to you. Toji’s gambling habits cease nearly quickly. He works for the both of you to have a stable life because he love you enough to try. Toji never outright tells you he loves you, but you can tell in the ways he acts around you.

“I’ve gotta say, you’re the biggest pain in my ass.” Toji would grumble. You both lay on the couch together, him on the bottom while you lay ontop of him with a blanket wrapped around you. His hands fiddled with your hair, one of his quiet ways to show his love.

Akaza

At first, he felt like he was betraying his first love, Koyuki. Akaza distances himself because of the guilt that consumes him. He feels so weak, which pisses him off. And he can’t help but find himself getting angry at his darling as well since you caused this weak feeling to initiate. If it weren’t for his guilt at the onset Akaza would be categorized in the love-obsessed category. Once he learns to move on and realize his feelings will not be leaving any time, then he’d be loving towards his darling.

Immediately, His darling is kidnapped. Akaza has learned from his past to always be near his loved ones; his darling wouldn’t suffer the same fate because of his carelessness. He’d keep them in a nice house deep in the forest. Akaza remembers every part of the forest just in case you attempted to run away. The house would be nice and furnished and his darling could request items to be placed into the house. It’s more of a house for his darling than a shared house.

Very loving towards his darling. If it weren’t for the circumstances, Akaza and his darling's relationship would be seen as the ideal romantic relationship. Akaza didn’t want his darling to be taken away, he’d much rather have his darling willingly. However, his trauma and immortality dissuade him.

“You’re so beautiful...” Akaza would murmur to you. You watched in the mirror as the demon brought your hairbrush back to your hair, gently going through the strands. “So beautiful, my love.” he’d press a small kiss on your shoulder blade.

Jotaro Kujo

Jotaro already has too many problems to worry about romance. Jotaro’s obsession disturbed him. He has other priorities such as saving the world from enemy stand users, yet he often finds himself thinking about you rather than the problem at hand. It becomes a problem for him. There’s even a point where he becomes annoyed by your name alone. However, as time goes on he learns to accept his feelings of obsession. Then he’ll have to accept the romantic feelings that soon follow after he accepts his obsession.

A while back, I wrote Jotaro as a yandere that would hold you captive and overall be very intimidating towards his darling. Now that I look at his character, he’s more likely to act regularly with his darling. Jotaro will come off the same as any man who has a healthy relationship with their significant other. The only reason he’d become intimidating towards his darling is because they’re trying to leave him. No matter how obsessed jotaro finds himself, he ultimately won’t force his darling by his side. Jotaro recognizes the danger he puts his darling in when they date, he realizes how selfish he is just being near you. Jotaro genuinely loves his darling, so although he does try to intimidate his darling into staying with him, he would allow you to leave if that’s what you truly wanted.

Jotaro is the type of Yandere to allow you to leave but have you on his mind ever since. There are memorabilia of yours around his house. Pictures hang upon his walls that he hasn’t bothered to take down. There’s even a framed picture of you right next to his bed.

Tengen Uzui + Wives

The Uzuis would be off put by their darling at first. Despite it traditionally being on the man’s part to decide if he wants to marry another wife, Tengen puts his wife's decisions above his. Tengen isn’t the type to simply marry someone because of a little crush or obsession. One, he needs to feel strong feelings towards someone before he considers putting a ring on it. Two, Tengen respects his wives too much to decide marriage on his own. Tengen would introduce the topic and his darling to his wives slowly, giving them a little time to decide whether to feed his obsession or not. Ultimately, Tengen gets their blessings.

Their obsessions don’t blossom until marriage. Ideally, their darling is not as strong as them. They become very protective of them, especially Tengen if this is after he retires. Time passes and they all grow to love their darling, they’re obsession turns into a love obsession. Each one of them won’t keep their hands off their darling. They are in general very touchy with each other, but with their darling, it’s times 100.

At least one of them has to accompany you. Not only to keep you safe but to make sure you never think of leaving them. They don’t mind kidnapping their darling if they need to.

“Don’t splash around so much,” Tengen complained to his other wives. They all sat in the bathtub, cleaning each other. You sat firmly in Tengen’s lap. “Stop hogging cleaning them, Suma!” Makio barks at Suma. “I am not! Lord Tengen! Makio is trying to say I’m hogging the sponge, but I’m not!” Suma whines. They were taking turns washing your body, whilst Hinatsuru washed your hair. Tengen presses a small kiss on the back of your head.

Asmodeus

When Asmodeus first met his darling he only saw them as someone he could seduce for a moment of pleasure. It isn’t until he makes a pact with his darling that his obsession begins. Sure, Solomon also has a pact with Asmodeus and he’s not obsessed with him. You’re different. You help him with problems and spend time with him. And such a cutie you are you do it no questions asked. The obsession sets in when he manages to sleep with you. It was like your body was crafted for him. It’s addicting really. Your taste, your touch, your sweet voice! He’s even considered never touching another again.

He’ll stick around you more which leads to a connection between you...or maybe just in Asmodeus’s eyes. Love, an emotion he’s only been able to share with his brothers, will develop in the time shared with you. You’ve surprised him again! Asmodueus will grow into a possessive person. Not even his brothers will have the fortune of spending time with you. Asmodeus becomes harsh with his brothers, like a cat hissing at other cats for being too close to their owner. Lucifer has to step in ever so often because Asmodeus is close to ripping out one of another demon’s eyes with his claws because they got too friendly with you.

Don’t think you can just leave him either; That isn’t an option whether it be due to your exchange coming to an end or you not wanting a relationship anymore. It just won’t happen. If you have to go back to the human world, that just won’t slide with Asmodeus. He’ll find a way to be with you. If Lucifer doesn't appeal to any of Asmodeus’s requests to keep you in Devil Dom, then he has no problem going with you. Nor does he have a problem possessing random people to see you every day. Now, ending the relationship with Asmodeus will lead to a moment of pain. A moment of pain because there is no way you’d be apart for more than a couple of months. His brothers won’t force you to be in Asmodeus’s arms nor will they stop talking to you until you give in to dating Amsodeus again, they care for you as much as they care for their brother. Nonetheless, you will have earfuls of them trying to convince you to be with Asmodeus again. Not to mention every demon in Devil Dom has been in your DMs on Devilgram. All of his adoring fans call you every name under the sun. No matter how tough your skin is their words will get to you. They even began to spread hate against humans which got the attention of both Lucifer and Diavalo. Now you’re having a conference with them, where you simply decide to go back to him. It’s better for everyone.

“Don’t you feel so much better~” Asmodeus coos to you, his fingers deep inside your cunt. “No one can make you feel as good as I can!” Asmodeus presses a trail of kisses down your neck, “No one could love you as much as i do.”

Mammon

When you first met, Mammon only saw you as an annoying human. Another task on his list that his brother put on him. Then he began to get to know you and that view quickly faded. Unlike other yanderes, Mammon fell in love quickly compared to the others. Suddenly, Mammon was proud to be your first man. So proud in fact that many reconsider his sin being greed.

Though greed is definitely his sin. He’s so greedy he won’t allow his family to take your time away from him. Mammon nearly snarls like a rabid dog at the thought of anyone stealing you away from him. If it’s his brothers then he won't have as much of a problem, he’ll complain but won’t harm them. Let another demon try the same and he won’t care if he breaks a few bones. Not even caring for Lucifer’s chiding.

His love is apparent. It’s overwhelmingly sweet, overshadowing his tough-guy act. You won’t even mind his obsession because his love delays any concerns that arise because of his actions.

“I’m your first man, so I should be your most important priority,” Mammon huffs clinging to your waist tightly. You scheduled a lunch with his brothers due to Mammon taking up your time, now you think you should cancel it. Mammon shows no sign of letting go any time soon and it’s getting harder to breath.

Chilchuck Tims

There would be no way in hell Chilchuck would allow himself to fall in love or even think of any romantic thoughts of his darling, at first. After his wife left him and took away his children, leaving him alone, he couldn’t bear the thought of another romantic relationship. His obsession starts slowly because he distances himself since he can tell he feels attracted to you.

He hates the fact he often has dreams of you or the fact he remembers your favorite foods. He especially hates it when he gets a foreign fuzzy feeling in his chest when it comes to you. He’s often rude and closed off to his darling. He comes off meaner to his darling than anyone else. It has gotten to the point the others often call him out on his behavior to which he scoffs and turns away.

It isn’t till he learns that not everyone will leave him and he can learn to be a better partner Chilchuck opens himself to being romantic with his darling. He grows to love his darling so dearly. He writes to his daughters about his darling. Even goes as far as mentioning them every chance he has to his companions.

And although he’s finally going through the process of learning to forgive himself for his divorce, he’s still paranoid. If you show any signs of leaving him, he won’t immediately lock you away but he’ll become uncharacteristically clingy. Every hour he’s snuggling closer to you, asking about your day. He even begins to stop complaining about small things you do that annoy him at times. If you are attempting to leave him, good luck. That isn’t happening. Besides Chilchuck’s small size, he’s incredibly smart when it comes to dire situations. Such as you leaving.

“I...I love you.” Chilchuck admits, his face has an expression of the first taste of sour candy. It’s almost as if the words stung the tip of his tongue each time he spoke.

Gyutaro

You’re interesting to him. Whether you’re ugly or pretty, Gyutaro envies you. Those who are attractive get to live happily without the misery of being ugly. It makes him sick. You are treated better than he was that’s for sure. But as he comes to know how kind you are to others, especially the less fortunate, he begins to obsess over you. You’re so beautiful, much more attractive than him anyway. How could he not think of you.

Gyutaro learns more about you by stalking you. He’s always around, going as far as to hide in the dark of your room in the mornings just to get more of you. Gyutaro never thought about marriage as a mortal, he was too caught up in caring for his sister and many girls never even glanced his way when it came to romance. You change his mind. He can imagine you in a beautiful wedding dress as you profess your love to him not even cringing at his ugliness.

He genuinely loves his darling. Gyutaro wishes he could have met his darling when he was a mortal, his life wouldn’t have been so depressing, and he could have even tried to find a better occupation and live a normal life with you. He’s selfish, after all, he’s faced so many hardships, why can’t he take the few things that bring him joy? No one else deserves you. Once you’ve lost your beauty, you’re better off dead than in the hands of others.

“So beautiful...gahahaha!” Gyutaro laughed manically to himself. He sat in the corner watching you closely, his hand covering his wide smile. “No one else could compare!”

Possibly love-obsessed (unsure)

These yanderes could either love their darling and never admit it or not love them at all. It depends on the situation or stage of the relationship.

Suguru Geto

(Only Non-Sorcerer Darling)

Geto believes that he could never love a Non-Sorcerer yet has an obsession with his darling. Geto felt the need to dehumanize the Human race since his change in ideology to cease any doubts he may have about his decisions. There may be a part of him deep down that isn’t fond of the idea of hurting Non-sorcerers but is too far gone to even think about ending what he started. Geto strives to protect the weak. When he was in high school he believed that the weak were Non-Sorcerers until his perspective changed to Sorcerers being the weak ones due to the Non-Sorcerers being in charge and harming the ones keeping them safe from curses. He found the acts of Non-Sorcerers to be unforgivable which is why he went to the extreme of choosing to start a genocide.

There is a part of him that despises his darling. How could some random monkey make him feel this way? It’s perplexing. Sometimes he wants to gouge out your throat and watch as the light fades from your eyes to give him the pleasure of his original ideology: All Non-Sorcerers should be terminated. Yet he cannot bring himself to put the plan into action. Especially when you’ve been such a good pet and listen to his every command. He won’t admit that he craves to be around you. He loves holding you tight as you both drift to sleep, he loves the sweet kisses that he forces out of you, and he loves the way you moan out his name. A filthy monkey shouldn’t have the pleasures of indulging in his greatness, yet he refuses to kill his darling.

Even Geto doesn’t know if he loves his darling. He’s adamant he only sees his darling as his pet, but deep down he might love his darling. Though that would never come to light.

“You’re a good pet. Always listening and obeying my commands.” Geto comments as he reads his daily newspapers. You brush his hair quietly, focusing on the raven strands gently pulled by the bristles of the brush. “Good. Just as all monkeys should.”

Sasuke Uchiha

It isn’t that Sasuke is incapable of loving because he definitely loves the people in his life. However, he is too emotionally immature to truly love his darling. He yearns for their touch and love but he can’t for the life of him reciprocate the affection.

Sasuke has forgotten the feeling of love since It had been ripped away from him at such a young age. He assumes his love for things in his life is just extreme liking them. Sasuke extremely likes tomatoes and Sasuke extremely likes talking walks but the word love never seems to come to mind. If anything he just won't admit it to himself. He can love.

It won’t be until when Baruto begins that Sasuke is finally classified as Love-obsessed. He’s more truthful to others and himself. He can finally admit he’s in love with his darling...to himself. In Baruto, Sasuke is more open to being vulnerable around his loved ones and even tries his best to repair relationships with advice from Kakashi.

“I care about you...” Sasuke would say, not daring to look you in the eyes. “...a lot,” he adds in awkwardly.

Light yagami

Many believe Light to have no love for anyone, for whatever reason. However, this is not the case. Light's love for his family is one of the main reasons he decides to become Kira. Or what he believes to be justice. Light started out wanting to be a cop because his father was a cop and Light wanted to bring justice to the world. Light wants the world filled with good and his family surrounded by good instead of unjustified evil. The reason he’s so cruel to Misa and even uses her to his advantage is that he never shared these feelings in the first place. Misa forced him into a relationship with her and didn’t seem to mind him not wanting it. He’s very different with his darling.

I put him on this list because there are two ways Kira could feel about his darling. One, he’d be obsessed with them but wouldn’t love them. This would happen if they were involved in the Kira case and Light would obsess over them because of it. Two, his darling is a random citizen who shares his feelings and judgment, and Light loves his darling dearly.

Even if Light truly cares for you, he won't admit it because of his focus on the Kira case.

Muzan kibutsuji

For Muzan to care about his Darling, they would have to have certain qualifications. One, they knew of Muzan before he transitioned into the first demon. Two they either could relate to Muzan’s past as a human or they didn’t have any judgment towards Muzan because of his sickly appearance. These are a few situations that would lead to Muzan's obsession. Once Muzan turned he had past wives who killed themselves because of his cruelness. Muzan had no feelings toward them which is why Muzan would be more likely to love or care about his darling if he had known them before his change.

If Muzan’s darling had none of these traits then Muzan would be purely obsessed with his darling. Muzan would need a connection with his darling. There is a slim chance his darling could win over his true affection, but the chance of it happening is nearly impossible.

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planchettewrites · 5 months ago

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"Red Hair" Shanks (One Piece)/AFAB!Reader

DESCRIPTION: Imagine being "Red Hair" Shanks' wife.

CONTENT: Angst (Shanks losing his arm, talk of infidelity), Fluff (Weddings, Falling in Love)

A/N: Shanks my beloved. While I work on an ideally long Sanji fic, I needed something to post. Hence, this Shanks imagine. This can be read as OPLA!Shanks or Anime/Manga!Shanks. My friend Claudia always tells me being Shanks' wife would be a rather depressing endeavor, but to that I say, bring it. Enjoy bbys!

653 words | Safe!

Imagine being Shanks’ wife.

You’re not a pirate; you’re far from it. You worked at Party’s as a barmaid; you just happened to be the lucky lady to catch Shanks’ eye. Red Haired Shanks, a feared pirate, was nothing but a man with his hat in his hand asking to marry you. You had feelings for the pirate for a while, so of course, you accepted his proposal. You still remembered his words: “Would you marry me, darlin’? Make me the happiest man alive?” His words made you melt. Everything about him made you melt.

The wedding was nothing special in the grand scheme of things; it was what would be considered a “courthouse” wedding. It was held at the very bar you met, and you dolled yourself up nice: your nicest dress, your best available makeup, and you did your hair the way you like it. Shanks wore his Sunday best—which frankly wasn’t much, but you were always a sucker for the rugged look. The rest of the Shanks’ crew and all your friends were there too. Your officiant was the town elder, who looked at you and Shanks with a smile. He grabbed your hands, wished you eternal happiness, and told the pirate that he better not let a single tear slip down your cheek. Shanks promised.

There were two days he couldn’t keep that promise, the first being the day he lost his arm. As he and Luffy came to shore, you noticed the blood draining from the lost limb and screamed. You screamed so loud you were sure they could hear you around the East Blue. As Makino ushered Luffy away, you practically threw yourself at your husband. You were sobbing, grabbing at his shirt, asking what the hell had happened. He shushed and cooed you quietly, telling you what happened. You wanted to punch him, scream at him for his recklessness, but he was protecting a child that he cared for, and you couldn’t fault him for that. As you ushered him to the medic, you continued to cry. You loved your husband more than anything, and nothing would ever change that.

The second time he made you cry was when he left for the Grand Line, telling you that you couldn't come with him. You were enraged, and you showed it with tears. Thoughts raced of him with a hoard of different women, him getting hurt, or getting betrayed, or worse, his death. You couldn't stand any of those things; you needed to be there with him. You rarely got angry at your husband, but today was the day you became livid at him. Instead of screaming out of sheer horror, you screamed in sheer anger. How dare he? How dare he find it acceptable to leave you here forever? Alone. Alone, without the man you promised to spend the rest of your life with. Beck Beckman and the rest of the crew watched this unfold; you were not one to make a scene, but you weren’t going down without a fight. Beckman had approached Shanks, saying he was more than welcome to bring you.

Shanks shook his head and said: “I couldn’t live with myself if she got hurt.”

You fell to your knees. You weren’t going to beg. You had to accept this fate, the fate of a wife with a husband out at sea. Until you feel Shanks lift your chin and help you return to your feet. He kissed you with passion and pulled you into the tightest hug he could: “Where would I be without my wife by my side? You can come along, darlin’.”

From that day forward, you were on the sea with the Red Hair Pirates. More importantly, you were on the sea with your husband, the feared pirate Red Haired Shanks. Your souls in the ocean together would be, and that’s all you needed to be happy.

Please like, reblog, and comment! I love to hear from readers!

#planchettewrites #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks #shanks #red hair shanks #shanks x reader #shanks x yn #akagami no shanks x reader #one piece #opla #one piece anime

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yandere-daze · 2 years ago

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As you may have noticed, I started getting into Resident Evil and the Leon brainworms are strong. I am so down bad for this man so it was inevitable that I would have to write something for him soon.

So here you go, enjoy!

gn reader

tw yandere, obsession, over-protectiveness, delusional mindset, mentions of violence and guns ( because it´s resident evil), staring, delusional mindset

Please do tell me if there is anything else you would like to have tagged!

General Yandere! RE2 Leon Kennedy headcanons

I believe that rather than an authority figure or someone working with the government, Yandere! RE2 Leon would fall in love and grow obsessed with a civilian

He first sees you in Racoon City, an innocent bystander running away with a zombie following behind very closely. You were scared to death and Leon immediately decided to jump into action, not at all hesitating drawing his gun and shooting the zombie until it dropped to the ground and stopped moving

It has always been in his nature to protect other people and so naturally, he just had to help you out.

But there was also a different reason why he had decided to help you. Truthfully, Leon had just been overwhelmed with relief to see another living human being amidst this hell he had been thrown into. All this time he had feared that he might be truly alone in this, but now there´s someone else. Someone that can keep him company in these dire times. Someone he can talk to. Someone he can protect and keep safe

Of course you´re very happy to see Leon after he had basically just saved your life and so, after you´ve both introduced yourself to each other, you agree to tag along with Leon when he offers to take you with him

I mean why wouldn´t you? Going with him would greatly increase your chances of surviving this entire ordeal and not being completely alone just lifts a huge weight off your shoulders

You´re honestly just glad that Leon lets you go with him, it´s not like you´re really of use to him, so you would have understood if he decided that it was too much to deal with

And yet, when he looks at you with a small smile and promises you that he´ll keep you safe no matter what, you have a feeling that you can trust him to keep his promise

And he definitely does! Whenever a zombie appears, Leon tells you to get behind him while he wastes no time shooting them.

He has to admit though, the way you fearfully hide behind him and stick close to him makes him feel a little strange. Why does it feel so good for you to go to him for protection? Why does he like knowing that he´s the one making sure you´re unharmed, the one taking care of you?

Why does he not want to let go when he protectively wraps an arm around your waist?

Yes, the more time passes, the more Leon starts to fall for you. Going through such a traumatic event with someone else by your side probably speeds up the process too.

You´re both the only partner the other one has. And so, Leon starts to get attached to you. The way he feels about you slowly shifts from someone he met under unfortunate circumstances to someone he met because it was meant to be this way. Fate had brought the two of you together.

Why else would you two be the only living people in this place? There was simply no other explanation.

And he had certainly taken notice of the way his heart speeds up when you smile at him every time you thank him for taking care of you.

He wants to take care of you forever. He wants to show you that he could. Better than anyone else.

And so, Leon gets more and more protective, determined to make sure you both get out of this alive so you can start planning your future with each other.

Because of this, he doesn´t like it when you stray too far away from him. Just having you leave him for around a minute makes him want to make a mad dash to go after you, immensely worried that something might happen to you while he´s not there to protect you.

He´s pacing around the room and biting his fingernails when you tell him you just want to check out a room you saw down the hallway real quick. It doesn´t matter that he already killed all the zombies roaming these halls on your way here, what if there´s another one? What if you´re all alone in that dark room and suddenly the door slams closed and a zombie tumbles out of a locker? What if he wouldn´t be able to get to you quickly enough? What if you died because he wasn´t there?

These thoughts keep eating at him and so Leon practically insists on going everywhere with you, he starts getting really clingy all of a sudden, not letting you walk even two steps without him trailing closely behind.

You might have gotten mad about someone acting that way usually but you can´t really bring yourself to blame him, considering the situation you were in.

Still, you found it kind of creepy how his eyes never seemed to leave your form. Whenever you would turn your head to look at Leon, you would catch him already staring at you intensely.

He´d have the shame to blush and apologize for staring at you but he never really stops doing it either. He just can´t help it, you´re so enchanting he has to always have his eyes on you! It´s like he´s drawn to you.

Um, he always has to make sure you´re safe, is what he meant to say there actually! There´s no other motive behind his staring!

But yes, Yandere! RE2 Leon is like a lovesick little puppy that trails after you and practically begs for your praise.

There´s always this creepily bright smile on his face whenever you thank him for doing something for you. It´s like he´s living off of your praises. And he is, truthfully. There´s nothing better to him than hearing your praise, it makes all this work worth it.

It just feels so good to hear you compliment him so sometimes he makes a show out of killing zombies, trying to look as cool as possible in front of you in an attempt to charm you. He wants you to think he´s cool and reliable. He wants you to think that he´s a good partner. That he could be the perfect boyfriend for you.

Because he´s sure that there´s no one out there that cares about you as much as he does. He would do absolutely anything for you. You could use him as much as you like and he would do it all with a smile on his face.

He just wants to show you how much he adores you, how much he loves you! That you two are meant to be together! He´s too shy to say it to you outright but he knows you must also feel the same way about him. You must! Because you´re soulmates and now that he finally met you, Leon is not willing to let go of you again.

It´s unlikely he would ever lock you up or kidnap you but he desperately wants to be a part of your life.

So please just say you love him back! Tell him you´ll never let him go and Leon will worship you every single day for the rest of his life.

#resident evil #leon s kennedy #yandere resident evil #yandere leon kennedy #yandere leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil 2 #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #yandere resident evil x reader #gn reader #yandere #cw yandere #yandere x reader #cw obsession #cw delusion #male yandere

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enden-k · 2 months ago

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Just out of curiosity, if the things were to be reversed (fear Vika/human Saran), what do you think Vika's characteristics would be? I'm intrigued! Do you think their personalities might change? Maybe Saran would be less closed off? The fear itself (you mentioned it was like phobias? Iirc?) Would change?

Totally not trying to get you to talk more about lore and what goes behind fears/Saran turning into one, no sir-

"fear" is just the term used for any type of paranormal being that manifests due to intense negative energy (most often resentment, anger, hatred, sorrow,...) : theyre ranging from ghosts of deceased, manifestations of fears and phobias, nightmares and spirits etcetc and some are harmless and neutral (they can always evolve into smth evil tho) while others are harmful and evil

saran is not a phobia/fear manifestation like mogu is for example; hes a special case of vengeful ghost who went through a mutation (dont wanna disclose too much or i spoil a good chunk)

if their roles would be reversed...thats such a fun question!!! i think i might do an AU of it even AHHAKJSBCK i thought up a whole changed, alternative storyline now

warning for tiny (non descriptive tho) suicide mention, just in case

if their roles would be reversed, half of it would basically be like "if saran didnt die" scenario. their reversed story wont go exactly like the canon story goes tho bc theres no vengeful saran, no fear seeker eyes, no azais questionable methods

sarans life would go exactly how it did before his death (just the 7 years later, in the current present); hes in his early 30s, finished his studies to become a doctor and doing the amygdala stuff as a side job as azais partner since he still refuses to mingle w the ghost world again tooooo much bc of his upbringing in the cult (he always wanted to be just a normal guy instead of constantly interacting with the paranormal)

amygdala isnt a big exorcist organization like it is in canon story but rather a smaller group of exorcists now (basically, just one elite now instead of 10). azai and saran never had the argument that led to his death and azai didnt go the villainous route (lol) which makes saran still one of the only ones who can see the unseen all clear like he sees the living (like in canon story when he was alive)

which also makes him the first to notice and see vika who is a sorrowful sad puppy ghost full of regret bc he was enticed into suicide by an entity and still young and new to the whole paranormal world. its the first time saran feels for a ghost and doesnt exorcise them. vika ends up haunting him instead of the other way around (bc of course they fall in love with each other <3 in every universe) and sticks to him while saran keeps an eye on him to make sure his pure soul wont get corrupted and he ends up an evil ghost. he wants vika to have the chance to enjoy the life that was ended so quickly so early (vika is around the same age as canon) and vika wants him and only him to exorcise him before sarans life comes to an end one day

basically, less dramatic than canon story i guess? just saran and his puppy of a sorrowful ghost living a more or less domestic life bc theres no amygdala doing shady shit in the background and no certain vengeful spirits eating eyes and trying to take revenge kajscbjk

their personalities are still the same, altho saran has less of a "creepy evil" side since hes no evil ghost anymore and vika is even more puppy i think??

#reply #reverse amygdala stuff #not canon but AU

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corazondebeskar-reads · 11 months ago

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live to rise - chapter four

live to rise series

four: where the light won't find you

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

gladiator!Din Djarin x f!reader

word count: 4.3k

summary: After the Mandalorian is removed from your barrack and you are given a new assignment, you see him fight for the first time.

chapter warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, rape/non-con (NOT involving reader or Din but they are witness to it), implied physical abuse, near-death encounter, mando fic tropes galore

Please heed the series and chapter warnings.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Reassigned. Not terminated. Reassigned. Your hand rests on your heaving chest as you try to settle from the surprise of it all.

The Mandalorian’s been sponsored.

You hadn’t thought it possible; his price was supposedly astronomical. This person must be obscenely rich.

And then your heart drops further. This is why you shouldn’t have gotten so close. Yes, you’d rather have him leave your barracks alive than dead, but you can’t help the wave of sorrow that crests. You had enjoyed his company immensely, even dismissing the feelings you weren’t acknowledging.

It’s not like you didn’t treat each parting as potentially permanent anyway, but sometimes, with your long-term residents, you got a little too comfortable.

You pack up the bedding hastily and head toward Cresh. You know he won’t still be there, you tell yourself, you’re just going to get the cell turned over as soon as possible.

It hurts a little to find it empty, anyway.

Cresh goes through three more C-5s before you hear about the Mandalorian again.

“How did you deal with him?” Hali asks you one night after the attendants have shared the day’s news.

“With who?” you ask, even though there’s no one else she could mean.

“That Mandalorian. He was so gruff and rude. I’m the fifth attendant he’s rejected, and it’s making everyone on edge. Like there’s something wrong with us .”

You shrug it off. “He’s just guarded. He probably doesn’t want someone in his space.”

“Yeah, well,” she grumbles. “It’s not like we want to be in his space.”

“Has anyone explained that to him?”

“I tried to,” she says. “But it’s like he wouldn’t even listen to me.”

Cold clarity finds you with your lips parted and eyes wide. You can’t tell her. But your stomach sinks. The design of those cells puts him at the back of the chamber. If they’re being quiet, from fear or otherwise, he can’t hear them.

They come for you the next day. Two guards. The fear when they beckon you is almost enough to bring you to your knees.

The only reason you don’t panic completely is because they don’t bind you. They just march you between them to the upper levels.

When you reach the lounge, they shove you through the door, and you stumble a little.

“This is the girl, as requested, Madame, but we really can’t spare her from her duties,” says one of the commanders. You don’t know his name; the officers never come downstairs.

“If she’s the only attendant he’ll accept, you don’t have a choice. Or am I paying these frankly extortionary caretaking fees for nothing?”

You stiffen, all nerves sparking on high alert.

The commander stammers a little, losing his composure when he realizes credits are on the line.

“I can handle both, Commander, I swear," you say, immediately wishing you hadn't.

The Mandalorian's sponsor turns slowly, a thin eyebrow arched. You figure you’re already in for it for speaking out of turn, so you clench your jaw and meet her eyes.

She’s petite, but there’s an undeniable aura of danger pouring from her. Her dark eyes are cold, and her plum lips narrowed. Her clothing is intricate and expensive in the way of the truly wealthy—it’s not dripping with jewels or gold; it’s quality fabric tailored immaculately, with delicate embroidery creating striking and flattering designs. She does wear jewelry, but it’s subtle and almost assuredly custom.

“Why you?” she says.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I was his barrack caretaker.”

She hums and blatantly looks you up and down, circling you like a nexu. You keep your head up and force yourself not to follow her with your eyes. To let her prowl and remain uncowed.

It’s unbecoming of a servant, you know. But you want her to know you can handle him, that you won’t be intimated and manipulated by the infamous Mandalorian.

When she comes back around, she has a pleased, sharp grin. Turning to the commander, she crosses her arms.

“Make it happen, or I’ll withdraw my sponsorship.”

“Yes, Madame,” he says.

You don’t want to leave the barracks. Not Cresh and not the servant’s quarters. It doesn’t really hit you until you hug Eli and realize you’ll barely see him anymore.

“Shut up,” he grumbles when you say as much. “You’re going to come by and report, right?”

You nod, sniffling into his tunic. “I will.”

He puts his hands on your shoulders. “This is a good thing. You’ll have better… everything. And you said you trust him, right?”

“I think so,” you say.

“C’mon, I’ll walk with you,” he says.

You shove his shoulder. “You just want to see what it’s like inside.”

“Well, duh,” he shoves you back.

He only gets to peek in, of course. But he still plays it up to get a smile from you. “This is kriffing wizard,” he teases. “You get your own fresher? Practically Canto Bight.”

But you’re not really seeing it through the same lens. Because your new quarters are in the Mandalorian’s cell. There’s a barred gate between you, but your cot is still behind the solid durasteel door, same as his.

Eli sees the fear on your face. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s not locked for you. Your badge will always open it.”

He sets your bag down on the small cot and hugs you again. “You know where to find me.”

“I will,” you say. You don’t catch the look he gives Mando over your shoulder.

You sit down on the cot when Eli leaves, more unmoored here than you’ve been in years. You let it sit, ugly and misshapen in your chest, before steeling your focus.

“Do you have everything you need?” you say.

“I think so,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, and silence resettles. It’s strange to feel so uncertain around him again. “I’ll go retrieve your dinner.”

“Do you eat here as well?” he asks.

“If you wish,” you say. Your hands are folded together and wrapped up in the top apron layer of your skirts.

“I don’t want to disrupt your routine,” he says.

“I’m here to attend to you,” you remind him, feeling a little frustrated by all the things unsaid.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s—it’s nothing,” you say and sigh. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

He’s almost relieved when you only bring one tray. Everything about this has been chaotic and messy. But it’s a sacrifice that has to be made.

You retrieve his tray when you return from dining with the others, but this time, you come back to him after. The lights are out, and you think he might be asleep already, so you duck into the fresher from your side of the bars and wash up for the night.

You settle onto your cot, almost grateful that it’s not any more comfortable than your old one. It’s strange, without the shuffling and snoring of your peers.

And then it starts. A horribly unmistakable sound from the cell next door. You hope you’re wrong. You pray you’re wrong.

You’re not.

You sit up, fingers digging into your knees, and eyes on the ground.

You can’t see into the cells around you, but you can certainly hear your neighboring attendant’s screams and cries.

They’re begging and pleading, but no one will help them. It’s the champion’s right. The attendants must serve every request unless it goes against arena rules.

Very few things do.

It’s not that you’re afraid of the Mandalorian. It’s more like you’re just afraid. But he’s done nothing to lose your trust, so you try not to flinch when he comes near the bars between his cell and your chamber.

While you manage not to, you do flinch each time the noises intensify or change. The sound of skin against skin is constant, but some are more obviously violent, emphasized by the nauseating responses.

“Hey,” he says. “Come here.”

You’re trembling a little, but you tense and try to hold steady as you stand and approach him. The gate is not locked. It only locks when you access the main door, so that you may come and go without releasing him.

If you’re inside? All he has to do is push.

But he doesn’t. “Don’t listen,” he says. “Cover your ears if you have to.”

“I’m fine,” you say.

He doesn’t quite catch it, but he can wager a solid guess from your expression. He sighs. “You can look at me, you know,” he says. “You’ll see me eventually.”

“I might be able to avoid it,” you say.

“I appreciate it,” he says. “But this is all going to be easier if you don’t have to be trying so hard.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want to take anything from you.”

“I’m asking you to. I don’t want the first time you see my face to be in the arena.”

You bite your lip. It makes sense. “You’re sure?”

“I am.”

And you can’t really argue. Not because you’re supposed to do what he says but because you get it. He’s right; you will see him in the arena. But he can control how it happens this way. It doesn’t have to be another thing they just take.

So you look.

Your eyes scan his face like they always do when you see one of your fighters for the first time. Searing it in so you can find it later in the pigments.

You won’t paint him, though. Not like this.

He holds steady eye contact. You feel like he’s waiting for a reaction, but nothing comes. He’s beautiful, but that’s not yours to say.

“I’m sorry,” you say instead.

“Thank you.” He pauses. “Worked, though, didn’t it?”

You blink at him for a moment.

The smallest shadow of a crooked smile flickers but doesn’t ignite. “Distracted you.”

The hall is quiet. You hadn’t realized, but the horrors next door had wound down. Stars, you hope they’re okay. Sleeping or tending their wounds. Not… well. Not forcibly silenced.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, drawing your eyes back to him. His fingers wrap around a bar near yours. Not touching, but inviting.

“Okay.” You’re not really sure what else to say. You’ve heard it before. Some mean it, some don’t. You think he’s genuine, that he’s safe, but that caution is like a little burn that never heals, leaving you to flinch away.

Your fingers twitch, and he thinks you’re about to touch his.

But you wince when the main door of the neighboring cell opens. His eyes bear a plea he won’t voice, but you only hesitate for a moment before pressing your badge to the scanner. His gate clicks and the door whooshes open.

They’re already ducking into the medbay when you catch up, so you stick your hand in front of the sensor to force the doors back open.

It’s the girl whose name you couldn’t remember on the Mandalorian’s first night. Sessa. She startles and whirls around when she hears you, hand pressed to her chest.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you," you say quietly.

She looks at you for a moment, something hauntingly empty in her eyes before she seems to recognize you. She covers her face with her hands.

“Please,” you whisper. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I—” her voice breaks, and you step closer, offering an embrace she folds into.

You don’t say anything. What could you? That you’re sorry? She knows. That it’ll be okay? It won’t. It’s horrible, she doesn’t deserve it, it’s inhumane, but none of those things will help her. She knows.

She doesn’t even really cry. It aches, but the tears don’t come, just the soft prickle of numbness. She’ll survive this, you think. She shouldn’t have to, but she will.

When the time for softness has faded, you let her pull back, and she lets you assess her. She sits on the counter with an ice pack to her cheek and drinks the tea you press into her hand. Her nose wrinkles at the bitter taste, but the tincture within is worth it. A reassurance. Nothing will come of this that she can’t bear.

When she leaves, she hugs you again, and you stay behind in the dark room, leaning against the counter with your arms folded over your chest.

It wasn’t a secret, what happened here. It didn’t always; a lot of the fighters are honorable people. But sometimes… sometimes this life warps the psyche beyond repair. Sometimes, desperate people do desperate things. Become something terrible to survive.

You just hadn’t been witness to the cruelty before.

When you go back, Mando is still awake. Waiting, you think.

“Is she—” he hesitates. He doesn’t want to ask if she’s okay, because the answer is no. It’s not really what he’s asking, anyway.

You nod, lips pursed tight. She’ll live, your silence says. And it’ll have to be enough.

It’s strange. Waking in his cell but rising to follow your old habits anyway. He gets served first, and then you take breakfast down to Cresh as if nothing has changed. Except you can’t linger, you can’t chat and learn of them as you used to. You have to return to the Mandalorian.

It’s strange for the both of you. Your time is usually spent busy or with the other servants. His time is usually spent alone. He doesn’t have a fight that first day and so you are forced to learn to navigate one another.

The gate between you remains closed.

He does push-ups while you fold laundry, executes a series of jumps that cycle between laying on the floor and springing to his feet that exhaust you just to see from the corner of your eye while you clean, and balances on his hands—one and both—while you flip through the agenda on your datapad and try not to be caught impressed.

It’s quiet, this life, with neither of you inclined to interrupt the other. You let him know when you phase in and out to attend to your duties and his needs. Otherwise, you don’t really speak until nightfall.

“I’m sorry,” he says in the safety of the dark. “I didn’t know it would create more of a burden for you. I just… couldn’t trust anyone else.”

“It’s not a burden, just a change. I understand,” you say softly.

He sighs, an edge of frustration biting. “I disrupted your routine.”

You snort. “So?”

“I separated you from your friends.”

You sigh. “Will it make you feel better if I pretend to be mad?”

“Why aren’t you?”

You sit up on your cot. “Nothing about this life is fair, and it’s all temporary. Everyone leaves, one way or another. Everything shifts. This is just another phase of my time here, and there’s no point in being upset about it.”

He lets it sit for a minute. “How long have you been here?”

“Three years. I have just under two left.”

The weight of the time is not lost on him, and you can see the hint of a grim smile. “You haven’t let it break you.”

You return the smile. “Not yet.”

He reclines against the wall, legs sprawled and dangling over the side of his bed. “For what it’s worth, I truly am sorry. It was a selfish thing for me to ask of you.”

“I’m glad you’re not alone.” You mean it. It may have disrupted what you knew before, but getting moved here did the same for him. And it took away his opportunity to talk to others. “I’m glad you trust me with this.”

He sighs, bittersweet. “Me too.”

Something shifts, then, that you’re grateful for. The guilt and awkwardness dissipate and leave behind that budding comradery you had started to forge together. A sense of peace.

It’s one of the better nights of sleep you’ve had in a long time.

You’ve never been in the stands before, let alone in the box. Though it’s exposed to the open sun, the vents wash it in cool air, unlike the curved benches where the crowds jeer and hiss.

No, up here in the sponsor box, surrounded by the important and the rich, you’re considered fortunate. The Mandalorian’s sponsor is late, but you’re in place. While he waits for battle, your services shift to her.

“You’re still here,” the Madame says as she approaches her seat.

You stand to the side, stiff and silent, until she draws near. “Yes, Madame.”

She gives you an appraising once-over. “Good.” Her voice is as sharp as her eyes, and she settles to watch.

You don’t really know the protocol here. Your days serving in the lounge were passed silently, circling the room with a loaded tray. Here, you’re meant to cater to her alone.

She doesn’t speak to you, though. Doesn’t acknowledge you. She lounges, coiled and elegant, like a tree viper.

You don’t want to watch the fights. You don’t. But you know, now, that you must. You owe it to the barrack caretakers; you can’t leave this responsibility to the other attendants alone. You all bear the burden together.

When the first fight ends in a double loss, both fighters fatally wounded, you know you’re not strong enough for this. The nausea rises until all you smell is blood, a phantom sense as the sand turns red beneath each pair’s feet. You’re shaking and all you can think is how glad you are not to have to hold a tray of glasses.

And then it’s time.

The Madame sits up, focused, and you know. Teeth dig into the soft flesh of your cheek to hold your breath steady and shallow. Quiet as possible, as if you need to strain to hear what’s playing out in front of you.

And you think, he should not be caged, for he is power and beauty and ferociousness. You can see why his people followed him to death. He is death.

His opponent lands exactly one strike, and you almost think the Mandalorian allowed it. Like he was gauging the strength and will. He prowls, teeth bloodied and bared, a snarl natural in the set of his lips. You think it’s laid in beskar steel, a scar you can’t smooth out into the soft curve of a smile.

No, that’s been stolen from him, too.

He asks his opponent’s name, and you think he’s carving it into his ribcage, so each time he breathes, it impresses upon his lungs.

When he moves, it’s calculated. Like the arena is a map he’s plotting, each strike or dodge choreographed and steadfast. There are no weapons today, just fists, and though his opponent has the advantage of razor-sharp teeth, they never even come close to slicing him open.

And then it’s over. The Mandalorian’s broad hands dwarf the other fighter’s jaw as he secures his grip and snaps. The body falls limp and the Mandalorian sneers at the crowd before he looks up.

There’s no way he can see you, but it feels like it. It feels like he sees you there, and doesn’t find what he was afraid of.

He’s not in the room when you get back down, and you pre-set his towels and clean clothes, so you won’t need to go hunting them down if he wants to shower. It’s still mid-afternoon, and you’re buzzing with the leftover cocktail of adrenaline and cortisol when he comes back.

Neither of you speaks at first as he goes into his half of the cell and cracks his knuckles, sighing deeply once the main doors are shut.

“Are you okay?” he says.

You’re surprised until you realize you shouldn’t be. He knows how weak you are. “Yeah,” you say.

“Are you afraid of me now?” he says quietly, not looking at you.

Oh. You get up and come closer to the gate. “No. I’m not.”

He meets your eyes and must find the truth in them, nodding grimly. “So what did you think?”

“Why do they have you fight with a shirt on?”

His eyes widen. “What?”

“Well, it’s just, they usually—um.”

“What?”

“They usually make the more attractive fighters wear as little as possible. You know. To appeal to the crowds.”

Huh. He thought it was a choice made by the few he’d seen showing skin. And then he can’t help it. You won’t look him in the eye, and he can’t resist. “You think I’m one of the more attractive fighters?” he teases.

Your cheeks burn, and you look very seriously at the ground. “I—I mean like, um, objectively—“

He spares you. “It’s because of my tattoos. They don’t want me out there covered in Mandalorian symbology.”

“Oh,” you say, imagination kicking off. “Can I—I’m sorry, that’s so inappropriate of me. I just… like… art.” It sounds so stupid and crude, but you mean it.

“I’ll show you when I’m clean,” he says with a shrug.

He always seems to understand. It’s a comfort you’ve never known before.

When he gets out of the fresher, though, you realize you have severely overestimated yourself. Because your first thought when he steps into his room is fuck. He’s big. You know he’s big. And broad. But without a shirt on? Stars. And he’s still a little wet, his crumpled curls dripping down his shoulders.

You have got to get yourself under control. You’re pretty sure you’ve already been busted, though, because he’s suddenly looking at you, something a little dark in the lines of his face, and you feel flayed under his disapproval.

Your brain reboots in time to recover, though, as you really do take in the way his skin is bathed in black ink. A lot of it is abstract, sharp angles and curving arcs intertwining with constellations and letters in a language you don’t recognize. Some of it almost looks like smears of paint, the ink laid across his body in a manner so akin to brushstrokes that the craftsmanship is breathtaking.

But there are a few pieces that differ, ones that stand out against the intricate patterns. You realize you’ve stepped up to the gate once he does the same.

“These are incredible,” you say. “How long did this take?” You nod at the swirl of ink on his bicep that wouldn’t look out of place in your own work.

“A very long time,” he says.

“I’ve never seen anything like it. What was your first one?”

He turns around, and you’re struck by the mythosaur skull that takes up most of his back. It’s almost shimmering.

“The ink…” you start.

He turns back around. “It’s imbued with beskar.”

Your jaw drops. “It’s what?”

“It’s—I’m going to be honest, I don’t fully understand the process. But we use a small amount of molten beskar in the ink for certain tattoos. These have it, too.” He indicates the two on his front that had stood out from the rest.

“Do you mind if I ask what they are? Why they’re the ones that use beskar?”

“No,” he says casually. “They’re things that I should never be without, parts of my armor that can never be fully taken. This,” he taps the diamond-esque design on his chest, “is a beskar’ta. Every Mandalorian has one. It’s the heart.”

You’re staring, unashamed, as he indicates the other glimmering mark on his shoulder.

“This is a mudhorn, the symbol of my clan. Someday, my son will have the same one. He’s too young. Or, well. He’s…” he pauses like he can’t decide if he wants to get into this. “He’s not ready yet.”

“So… so you always have it with you. Your armor. The beskar.”

“Yes. Not everyone gets them, but many do.”

“That’s beautiful.” You’re a little speechless. Not just from the beauty of the art but the sheer idea. “That’s…”

“You can see why Gideon doesn’t want them to be seen.”

“Yeah,” you say, a small scoff slipping out. “No kidding.”

You step back, and he tugs on his shirt, ruffling his still-damp hair like nothing world-shattering has happened. And yet, the room seems to have tilted and knocked you to the side, the shift undeniable.

You don’t realize why until you remember the look on his face when he caught you staring the first time. It wasn’t discomfort. It was hunger.

It’s not a tension, exactly, that settles between you. It’s more like an acknowledgment. Something is going to change. It’s just a matter of when. And it lingers in the air for weeks.

It happens, like almost all things here, in the wake of fear.

You return to the cell before him, having fled the box as soon as his narrowest victory was called. Not that it gave you much of a head start, but you had time to grab a medpack and fresh clothes before they brought him in.

He never uses the arena freshers anymore, not even just to wash away the sticky, fresh blood. No, he’s still quite coated in it when the door snicks shut behind him, his face gaunt and haunted.

You think, at first, that he was afraid to die.

Who moves first is irrelevant. Your only focal point in the galaxy is the way he feels pressed right against you, fingers digging into your soft flesh like he’s trying to pull you into his ribcage as you embrace.

You’re not being much gentler, clinging on as you shake with unshed tears.

He lets go of your waist to clutch your face in his bloody hands. “Promise me you won’t watch.”

“What?” you say, rearing your head back to look at his furrowed brows and pouted lips.

“Don’t watch. When it happens. I don’t want you to have to see.”

Oh. “Stop,” you whisper, but he’s shaking his head.

“It’s all I could think about. Look away, and don’t find out what they do with my body. Promise me, kar’talyc.”

All that comes out is a sob when you try to argue.

His hand cups the back of your head, and he pulls you against his still-soaked chest.

Once you’ve settled a little, he pulls back but leaves his hands on your shoulders. “Promise.”

“Mando—“

“Din.”

You blink at him for a moment. “What?”

“My name is Din.”

next chapter

*Din calls her kar'talyc, which basically means "bleeding heart" (from kar'ta, meaning "heart," and talyc, meaning "bloody.") He's been calling her that in his head since the last chapter.

*tattooed Din and his mythosaur were inspired by this art by @xxlumos

*title from "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" by Tears for Fears, but I listened to the Lorde version while writing this and highly recommend it for the vibes. The original is quite a different mood lol.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #mando x you #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian fic #gladiator!din djarin #fic: live to rise

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mirisss · 3 months ago

Text

Tainted Love

Vampire Choi Beomgyu x human reader

Warnings: Blood, death, mentions of being chased, I think that’s it, let me know if I’ve missed anything!

Wordcount ≈ 8.5k

Another Halloween special! I hope you guys enjoy it!

Please reblog!

Third Person POV

Beomgyu was not just any vampire; he was the Vampire King, a title that weighed heavily on his shoulders. Born into the oldest generation of vampires, he inherited not only their timeless beauty but also their immense power and ancient wisdom. His castle, perched high on a desolate cliff, loomed over the fog-covered valleys below, its spires piercing the night sky. The moonlight bathed the stone walls in an ethereal glow, casting long shadows that seemed to dance around him as he stood alone in the grand hall.

Though his features were captivating—skin like alabaster, eyes a mesmerizing shade of crimson, and hair as dark as the night—Beomgyu often felt like a ghost haunting his own home. The grand ballroom, once filled with laughter and music, now echoed with silence, each empty corner a reminder of the life he could never truly embrace. For centuries, he had lived in this splendid prison, surrounded by opulence yet suffocated by an overwhelming sense of solitude. He had watched the world change from the tall windows of his castle, observing the fleeting lives of humans with a mixture of longing and despair.

A dark curse hung over him like a storm cloud, one that had been placed upon him in the early days of his reign. It had come from a rival who was jealous of his power—a sorcerer whose heart was as black as the magic he wielded. The curse decreed that anyone Beomgyu dared to love would meet a tragic end at his own hands, a fate he could not bear to inflict upon another. It was a tormenting paradox; the more he craved connection, the more he felt the icy grip of isolation. Every day, he awoke to the chilling truth that his heart was bound by chains of his own making.

For decades, he had resisted the allure of companionship, distancing himself from the fleeting relationships that could lead to heartbreak. He would watch from the shadows as couples strolled through moonlit gardens, their laughter ringing like sweet chimes in the night air. Each joyous moment only deepened his own sorrow. He had nearly convinced himself that he was content with his solitude, filling his time with the ancient texts and scrolls that chronicled the history of his kind. Yet, within him lay a simmering yearning for love, for someone who could see past the legend of the Vampire King and into the depths of his soul.

The loneliness gnawed at him like a relentless predator, whispering in his ear as he wandered through the dimly lit corridors of his castle. At night, he would often find himself standing at the edge of the balcony, staring out at the vast expanse of the world beyond. The stars twinkled like distant memories, each one a reminder of what could have been if he had only dared to break free from the shackles of his past. He could feel the warmth of the sun on his skin as he imagined a life where he could laugh, love, and be loved without fear of destruction.

Yet, the curse loomed larger than life, a shadow that clung to him and darkened every hopeful thought. Beomgyu understood that to love would mean to embrace the danger of loss, and so he remained in the fortress of his heart, alone yet alive through the stories of those around him. He had made peace with the idea that perhaps he was meant to be the guardian of love, rather than a participant in it, destined to watch over the joys of others from afar.

As the centuries dragged on, the castle stood as a monument to his isolation, a beautiful but haunting reminder of a life unlived. But in the quiet moments, as the night deepened and the stars shone brightly, Beomgyu would still whisper into the darkness, a silent prayer for someone who might one day break the curse—someone who could see the man behind the monster and dare to love him despite the risks. The longing in his heart remained, an ember waiting to ignite, and he held onto the hope that perhaps, one day, love would find a way to conquer even the most ancient of curses.

One particular night, as the moon hung low in the sky, its hue a deep, blood-red that cast an eerie glow across the landscape, Beomgyu found himself wandering the dense woods surrounding his castle. The trees loomed overhead like ancient sentinels, their gnarled branches twisting and reaching toward the heavens. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, a reminder of the autumn chill that had settled over the realm. This night felt different; there was a strange tension in the air, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

As he meandered along a narrow path, lost in thoughts of his eternal solitude, Beomgyu suddenly caught sight of something unusual among the underbrush. A figure lay motionless on the ground, half-hidden by a tangle of brambles and mud. His heart quickened with an unfamiliar sense of urgency as he approached. When he drew closer, he could see that it was a woman, her once vibrant clothing now soaked and torn, clinging to her skin like a second layer. Her long hair was matted and filthy, strewn across her face and the earth beneath her.

Despite the monstrous reputation that surrounded him, Beomgyu’s heart was as gentle as a butterfly flitting from flower to flower. The sight of her, vulnerable and alone, stirred something deep within him—a longing to protect rather than harm. He knelt beside her, his hands trembling slightly as he brushed a few strands of hair away from her pale face. He could feel the warmth of her skin, the faint rhythm of her pulse, and it sent a wave of relief flooding through him. She was alive, but barely.

With an instinct born of centuries of solitude and the desire to nurture, Beomgyu carefully scooped her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest. As he stood, the night enveloped them both, the shadows whispering around him as if aware of the fragile life he now held. He could feel her heartbeat against him, a steady reminder that she was still with him, and he vowed to do everything in his power to keep her safe.

He hurried back to his castle, his long cloak billowing behind him like a dark cloud. The path was familiar yet felt foreign in this moment; he had walked it countless times alone, but now it pulsed with the promise of connection. Upon reaching the castle, he carried her into the grand hall, the flickering candlelight casting warm glows across the ancient stone walls. He laid her gently on a lavish velvet settee, surrounded by rich tapestries and ornate furniture that seemed to sigh in the presence of a new soul.

Beomgyu moved quickly, his instincts kicking in as he prepared to help her. He retrieved warm blankets from his chambers and draped them over her shivering form, taking care to ensure she was comfortable. He filled a goblet with warm herbal tea, hoping it might revive her, and knelt beside her, watching over her as the night deepened. The blood-red moon filtered through the tall windows, casting a haunting glow over the room.

As he waited, he couldn’t help but wonder who she was and how she had come to be in such a dire state. What dangers had she faced that led her to this moment? The questions swirled in his mind, but they were overshadowed by a growing sense of protectiveness. For so long, he had watched from the shadows, observing the fleeting joys of others but never participating. Now, with this woman resting before him, he felt a flicker of hope that perhaps fate had smiled upon him.

Time stretched, and just as the clock struck midnight, she stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing bright, stormy eyes that widened in surprise as she took in her surroundings. Beomgyu held his breath, a mixture of hope and fear flooding his senses. He remained silent, giving her the space to gather herself, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Where am I?” she whispered, her voice hoarse yet melodic, echoing through the grand hall like a sweet song.

“You are safe,” Beomgyu replied softly, his voice a gentle murmur that seemed to soothe the air between them. “You are in my castle. I found you in the woods, unconscious and alone.”

Her gaze drifted over him, taking in the ethereal beauty that radiated from his being. For a moment, she seemed lost in thought, processing the surreal reality of her situation. “I thought… I thought I was done for,” she murmured, a flicker of gratitude passing through her eyes.

Beomgyu felt warmth blossom in his chest at her words, an unfamiliar sensation that he had long since forgotten. “I will ensure you are well cared for,” he promised, though a shadow of uncertainty loomed in his heart. Could he allow himself to grow close to her, knowing the curse that bound him?

As she shifted to sit up, the blankets falling away, Beomgyu quickly stepped forward, offering her his hand. “You should rest. I will bring you something to eat, and when you feel ready, I can help you find your way home.”

For a fleeting moment, their eyes locked, and in that shared gaze, he felt a connection that defied logic—a bond forged in the quiet understanding of two souls who had encountered darkness. Perhaps, just perhaps, she was the light he had been yearning for all along, a beacon of hope in his eternal night. As he turned to leave the room, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this encounter would change the course of his life, drawing him ever closer to the love he had thought was forever beyond his reach.

When Beomgyu returned with a tray of warm food and a steaming cup of herbal tea, he found Y/n sitting up, her expression a mixture of confusion and wariness. He set the tray down on the ornate table beside her and took a seat across from her, careful to maintain a distance that respected her space while still conveying his presence.

“May I ask your name?” he inquired, his voice soft and inviting, hoping to ease her anxiety.

“Y/n,” she replied, her voice still a bit shaky but gaining strength. She offered a tentative smile, and Beomgyu felt a rush of warmth at the sight. “And you…?”

“I am Beomgyu,” he said, inclining his head slightly in a gesture of respect. “The king of this castle.” The weight of his title hung in the air, but he delivered it with humility, not wanting to overwhelm her. “I found you in the woods. Can you tell me how you came to be there, alone and unconscious?”

Y/n hesitated for a moment, her brow furrowing as memories flooded back. “I was…” she began, her voice trailing off as she searched for the right words. “I was being chased. I don’t know who it was or why, but they were after me.” Her hands trembled slightly as she recalled the fear that had gripped her heart. “I ran as fast as I could, but I fell into a lake and got soaked. Then, when I tried to escape, I ran straight into thorns and branches.”

She paused, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I was terrified, and I just… I couldn’t go on. Eventually, I collapsed from fear and exhaustion.”

Beomgyu listened intently, his heart aching for the pain and terror she had experienced. “You were incredibly brave to escape at all,” he said gently, wanting to offer her some comfort. “To face that kind of fear and still keep moving… it takes strength.”

Y/n looked up at him, a mixture of gratitude and disbelief in her eyes. “Thank you, but I don’t feel very brave,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I was running for my life.”

He nodded, understanding all too well the weight of fear. “You are safe now,” he reassured her, wishing he could take away all the pain she had endured. “No one can reach you here.”

As she sipped her tea, the warmth spreading through her body brought a sense of comfort that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Beomgyu watched her closely, noting the way the tension in her shoulders seemed to ease with each passing moment. He wanted to know more about her, to understand the depth of her spirit, but he was also keenly aware of the shadows lurking in the corners of his own existence.

“Do you have somewhere to go?” he asked, his voice low and careful, aware of the vulnerability in her situation. “Friends or family who might be looking for you?”

She looked down at her hands, tracing the lines of her fingers as she considered his question. “I… I had friends in the village, but after what happened tonight, I don’t know if I can go back. I don’t know if I can trust anyone anymore.” Her voice quivered, the hurt of betrayal evident in her tone.

Beomgyu felt a pang of sympathy. “You can stay here as long as you need,” he offered, the words spilling from his heart without hesitation. “This castle may be lonely, but it can be a refuge, a place where you can heal.”

She looked up at him, surprise flickering in her stormy eyes. “You would do that for me? A stranger?”

“Yes,” he said earnestly. “For now, I would like to help you. I want you to feel safe again.” The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope stirring within him. Perhaps this woman was meant to be part of his story—a bright light in the darkness that had shrouded his existence for so long.

Y/n studied his face, searching for any sign of deceit, but all she found was kindness and an unwavering resolve. There was something about Beomgyu that made her feel drawn to him, a connection that went beyond the circumstances of their meeting. Slowly, she nodded, a tentative smile breaking through the remnants of her fear. “Thank you, Beomgyu. I’d like that.”

In that moment, the barriers that had kept Beomgyu confined within his lonely castle began to crack, allowing the possibility of companionship to seep through. With every word shared, he felt the weight of his curse lift, if only slightly. Perhaps, just perhaps, love could find its way back into his life, wrapped in the fragile form of a woman who had weathered her own storm. And as they shared their stories beneath the watchful gaze of the blood-red moon, both Y/n and Beomgyu sensed the dawn of something beautiful, a new beginning crafted from the remnants of their pasts.

Beomgyu rose from his seat with a newfound sense of purpose, determined to make Y/n’s stay in his castle more comfortable. As he left the room, he couldn’t shake the feeling of warmth that had blossomed in his chest. She was no longer just a stranger; she was someone he wanted to protect, to cherish, and he felt compelled to do right by her.

He wandered through the winding halls of the castle, each step echoing against the cold stone walls. Memories of grand balls and laughter filled his mind as he made his way to the storeroom where his mother’s belongings were kept. The castle, once a place of merriment, had become a tomb of solitude, and he wanted to reclaim a piece of that joy for Y/n.

As he entered the room, dust motes danced in the beams of moonlight filtering through the tall windows. Beomgyu scanned the rows of old trunks and forgotten treasures, his heart heavy with nostalgia. He opened a large chest, revealing a collection of exquisite gowns that had once belonged to his mother—each dress a vibrant testament to her elegance and grace. Though they had long since fallen out of fashion, the gowns remained beautiful, their rich fabrics and intricate embroidery telling stories of grand celebrations and heartfelt moments.

He selected a soft, flowing gown made of deep sapphire silk, the color reminiscent of twilight skies. It had delicate lace sleeves and a fitted bodice that flared out gently at the waist, its beauty nearly breathtaking. The fabric shimmered even in the dim light, and Beomgyu felt a twinge of guilt for not having found her something more modern, but he hoped the dress would be better than the wet, thorn-ripped garments she had worn.

As he held the gown up, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of how Y/n would look in it. Her bright eyes would shine against the fabric, and the gown would lend her an air of grace and strength.

After searching through a few more trunks, Beomgyu also found a simple cloak made of soft wool, its deep emerald hue a perfect complement to the dress. It would provide her warmth and modesty, and he believed it would suit her perfectly for the chilly nights in the castle.

With the gown and cloak in hand, he returned to Y/n’s chamber, excitement bubbling within him. “I’ve found something for you,” he announced as he stepped inside, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating the room.

Y/n looked up, her expression curious. “For me?” she asked, tilting her head slightly as she regarded the fabric he held.

“Yes,” he replied, stepping closer. “It’s not exactly modern, but I hope it will be more comfortable than the wet dress you’re wearing.” He laid the gown on the settee beside her, allowing her to admire its beauty.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she gently touched the fabric, fingers gliding over the delicate lace. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed, glancing up at Beomgyu with genuine appreciation. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” he replied earnestly, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks. “You deserve to feel comfortable and safe, especially after what you’ve been through. Please, try it on.”

Y/n hesitated, her brows knitting together. “But what if it doesn’t fit?”

“Then we’ll find a way to make it work,” he assured her, his tone encouraging. “And if it doesn’t fit, we can always look for something else together. For now, let me help you.”

With a nod, she took the gown and stood, the blankets slipping off her shoulders as she stepped behind a screen in the corner of the room for privacy. Beomgyu turned his back to give her the space she needed, the air thick with anticipation.

As she changed, he felt a strange mix of nervousness and excitement. This was a new beginning, and for the first time in centuries, he felt as if he were moving toward something brighter.

When she finally stepped out from behind the screen, Beomgyu’s breath caught in his throat. The gown flowed around her like water, accentuating her figure while the sapphire hue made her eyes sparkle with life. The lace sleeves framed her arms elegantly, and the soft fabric seemed to dance around her as she moved.

“Wow,” she said, a shy smile creeping onto her lips as she caught his gaze. “It’s… really lovely.”

“You look incredible,” he breathed, unable to take his eyes off her. “Like a queen from a long-lost fairy tale.”

Y/n blushed at the compliment, the warmth of his words wrapping around her like the gown itself. She adjusted the cloak around her shoulders, and Beomgyu stepped forward, gently fastening it for her. The intimacy of the moment felt electric, a silent acknowledgment of the bond forming between them.

“Thank you, Beomgyu,” she said, her voice soft but filled with gratitude. “I didn’t expect this at all. You’ve been so kind to me.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he replied, his gaze steady. “You’ve been through so much, and you deserve to feel at home here.”

As they shared a moment of silence, both of them could feel the weight of their pasts begin to lift. In that instant, the castle felt less like a prison and more like a sanctuary, a place where they could both heal. Beomgyu couldn’t shake the feeling that Y/n was meant to be part of his life, a light that could dispel the shadows that had loomed for far too long.

“Would you like to explore the castle now?” he asked, his voice breaking the stillness. “I can show you some of its secrets.”

Y/n’s eyes sparkled with excitement, and she nodded eagerly. “I’d love to!”

And so, hand in hand, they ventured into the depths of the castle, their laughter echoing through the halls—a sound that had been absent for far too long. Each room they entered held memories of the past, but together they began to weave new stories, the promise of friendship and perhaps something deeper blossoming in the heart of the ancient fortress.

As the days turned into weeks, Beomgyu and Y/n’s bond deepened, woven together by shared laughter, stories, and moments that lit up the shadowy corners of his castle. The once lonely halls, steeped in silence, now thrummed with life as the two explored every nook and cranny of the ancient fortress. They ventured through forgotten chambers, read old tomes in the library, and shared meals in the grand dining hall, where Y/n’s infectious laughter echoed off the stone walls.

Beomgyu found himself captivated by Y/n’s spirit—her resilience and warmth were like sunlight breaking through a stormy sky. He loved how she made him feel alive, pulling him from the depths of his solitude and into a world that felt vibrant and full of possibility. The gentle hum of their friendship became a melody that played in his heart, a soothing reminder that connection was not just a distant memory.

Every day, they created new traditions. They would take long walks in the moonlit gardens, Y/n admiring the blooming flowers while Beomgyu listened to her recount tales of her life before she had stumbled into his castle. He cherished the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about her dreams and aspirations, and he felt a sense of peace he had never known. The castle was no longer a prison; it had transformed into a haven filled with the promise of companionship.

However, amidst the joy they shared, Beomgyu felt an undercurrent of something deeper—a longing that grew with each passing moment. He couldn’t deny the way his heart raced when Y/n laughed or how he found himself stealing glances at her when she thought he wasn’t looking. Each interaction felt charged with an energy he could barely comprehend, and yet he welcomed it. In Y/n, he saw the possibility of something beautiful.

And yet, the curse that had haunted him for centuries remained a distant echo, fading in the warmth of their connection. Beomgyu had grown so absorbed in Y/n’s presence that he forgot, even for a moment, that he had ever been cursed. He was no longer the Vampire King bound by fear and loneliness; he was simply Beomgyu, a man enchanted by the light of the woman who had wandered into his life.

One evening, as twilight settled over the horizon, they found themselves on the balcony overlooking the valley below, the sky ablaze with shades of orange and pink. Y/n leaned against the stone railing, her hair dancing in the gentle breeze as she took in the breathtaking view. Beomgyu stood beside her, his heart swelling at the sight of her illuminated by the dying light of day.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Y/n murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Beomgyu replied, unable to hold back the words. The moment he spoke, he felt a rush of vulnerability, but he also sensed the warmth that bloomed in her cheeks at the compliment.

Y/n turned to him, surprise lighting up her features. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely,” he said, his tone earnest. “You bring life to this place, Y/n. You’ve changed everything.”

For a moment, silence enveloped them, the air thick with unspoken words. Beomgyu felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him, as if time had momentarily stopped. He looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of fear or hesitation, but all he found was warmth and curiosity. It struck him then that perhaps he was not the only one caught in this web of emotions.

But as they stood there, lost in each other’s gaze, a flicker of doubt brushed against the edges of Beomgyu’s mind. What if the curse still loomed over him, waiting in the shadows? He had been so caught up in the joy of their companionship that he had forgotten the warnings that had haunted him for centuries. He had never mentioned it to Y/n, and the thought of it now felt like a stone lodged in his throat.

Yet, as he reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, the doubt slipped away, if only for a moment. “Y/n,” he said softly, his voice steady, “I want you to know how grateful I am that you’re here. You’ve given me something I thought I’d never have again—a sense of belonging.”

Y/n smiled, and the light in her eyes made his heart skip a beat. “You’ve given me that too, Beomgyu. I was lost and afraid, but here, I feel… I feel like I can breathe again.”

The vulnerability in her voice made something stir deep within him—a yearning to protect that precious connection. He had never felt so alive, so anchored to another person, and he wanted nothing more than to keep her safe. The curse that had once bound him felt like a distant nightmare, overshadowed by the vibrant reality of their shared moments.

“Let’s promise to always be here for each other,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “No matter what happens, I’ll always protect you.”

Y/n nodded, and for a heartbeat, the world around them faded away, leaving just the two of them suspended in that moment of promise and connection. As the stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky, Beomgyu felt a surge of hope—perhaps love could indeed conquer even the most ancient of curses.

Yet, in the back of his mind, a small voice whispered caution, urging him to remember the shadows that lingered just out of sight. But with Y/n by his side, he allowed himself to believe that love was powerful enough to break any chains—an unwavering belief that filled his heart with warmth and light as they stood together, overlooking the vast expanse of a world that felt, for the first time in centuries, full of endless possibilities.

As the cool night air swirled around them, Beomgyu felt an irresistible pull towards Y/n. The moment seemed suspended in time, as if the universe itself held its breath, allowing him to savor the connection they had forged. He leaned in, the distance between them shrinking to nothing, and gently pressed his lips against hers.

Y/n gasped at the unexpected warmth of his touch, her heart racing in response to the electric spark that ignited between them. It was a feeling unlike anything she had ever experienced—a blend of surprise and longing that sent shivers down her spine. But within that heartbeat of uncertainty, something deep within her urged her to embrace the moment fully. She closed her eyes and melted into the kiss, her lips responding to his with an eager softness that spoke volumes.

As their mouths moved together in a tender dance, time seemed to dissolve. The world around them—the grand castle, the night sky, the distant whisper of the wind—faded into insignificance. All that mattered was the connection they shared, a beautiful intertwining of souls that felt as natural as breathing.

Beomgyu’s heart soared as he felt Y/n return the kiss, a wave of warmth washing over him. He had been so afraid of what his feelings might mean, terrified of the curse that had haunted him for so long, but in this moment, all his fears melted away. There was only her—her warmth, her sweetness, and the undeniable truth that he wanted to cherish her.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers, both of them breathless. “Y/n…” he murmured, searching her eyes for any sign of hesitation. “I—”

But Y/n cut him off, a soft smile breaking across her face. “Don’t say anything,” she whispered, her cheeks flushed. “Just… let’s enjoy this.”

Beomgyu felt a rush of relief and happiness at her words. Instead of voicing the swirling thoughts in his mind, he simply nodded, basking in the glow of their shared warmth. He took her hands in his, their fingers intertwining like the branches of a blossoming tree, and they stood together, savoring the stillness of the night.

The kiss had ignited something deep within him, a flame that dispelled the shadows of doubt and fear that had lingered for centuries. With Y/n by his side, he felt alive, truly alive in a way he hadn’t thought possible. It was as if she had reached into the depths of his soul and drawn forth the light he had thought extinguished forever.

“Can I ask you something?” Beomgyu said after a moment, his voice soft yet laced with curiosity.

“Of course,” Y/n replied, her gaze steady and warm, encouraging him to share whatever was on his mind.

“Do you… do you believe in love at first sight?” he asked, his heart racing at the vulnerability of his question.

Y/n’s smile widened, a playful glint in her eyes. “I think love can grow in unexpected ways,” she said thoughtfully. “But there’s something about this… us. It feels like it was meant to be.”

“Meant to be,” he echoed, the phrase resonating deeply within him. “I feel the same way. Being with you has brought a light back into my life that I thought I’d lost forever.”

As the stars sparkled above them, Beomgyu’s heart swelled with the realization that Y/n was not just a passing moment or a fleeting dream. She was a part of him now, a beautiful melody that resonated with his very being. He knew he wanted to protect her, to keep her close and cherish the bond they had formed.

“Promise me something,” he said suddenly, a seriousness entering his voice. “Promise me that no matter what happens, we’ll face it together.”

Y/n’s expression softened, and she nodded firmly. “I promise, Beomgyu. Together, no matter what.”

In that moment, as they stood on the balcony, hand in hand, the weight of the curse that had once burdened him felt almost nonexistent. With Y/n by his side, he believed they could face anything—even the shadows that haunted him.

As they turned to watch the horizon shift from twilight to night, they felt an unspoken promise settling between them—a promise of love, of courage, and of a future that held the potential to shine brighter than the stars above.

A year had passed since Beomgyu had first found Y/n unconscious in the woods, and with each day that unfolded, the castle had transformed into a sanctuary of laughter and warmth. The shadows that had once consumed Beomgyu’s heart slowly dissipated, replaced by the bright light that Y/n brought into his life. They shared countless moments—quiet evenings spent reading by the fireplace, long walks in the moonlit gardens, and intimate dinners where their laughter echoed off the stone walls.

Beomgyu couldn’t help but marvel at how seamlessly Y/n had woven herself into the fabric of his existence. Each morning, he woke with a sense of purpose, and each evening, he fell asleep to the soothing sound of her voice. She had become his anchor, grounding him in a reality filled with joy and companionship.

Yet, amidst the happiness that surrounded him, a flicker of anxiety lurked in the back of his mind. Beomgyu had never once mentioned the curse, the dark shadow that had loomed over him for centuries. He felt a mix of guilt and fear; guilt for keeping such a significant part of himself hidden from Y/n, and fear that revealing it would shatter the beautiful life they had built together.

He was certain that the curse had either been revoked or was nothing more than a figment of his imagination, a remnant of his past that no longer held power over him. Y/n had been with him for a year now, and in that time, not a scratch had marred her skin. No danger had befallen her since the day he had rescued her from the woods, and with every passing moment, he felt his conviction grow stronger. Surely, if the curse were real, something would have happened by now.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling of selfishness that crept into his heart. He knew that keeping the truth from Y/n was a heavy burden. What if she ever found out? Would she feel betrayed? Would she leave him, seeking safety from the shadows of his past? The thought sent a chill down his spine. The prospect of losing her was unbearable, and so he clung tightly to the belief that the curse was a relic of a bygone era—something that had no place in their lives now.

One afternoon, as they strolled through the garden, Y/n paused to admire a cluster of blooming roses, their petals glistening with dew in the soft sunlight. Beomgyu watched her, the sunlight casting a golden glow on her hair, and for a moment, he felt an overwhelming rush of gratitude. She was a gift, a reminder that love could flourish even in the most unlikely places.

“Look at these roses,” Y/n said, her voice filled with wonder. “They’re so beautiful, just like this place.”

“They’re breathtaking,” Beomgyu replied, stepping closer. “But they wouldn’t be nearly as vibrant without you here to appreciate them.”

Y/n turned to him, her expression softening. “You always know what to say to make me smile.”

Beomgyu chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “I only speak the truth. You’ve brought life back to this castle.”

As they continued to walk, Y/n suddenly stopped, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at him. “Beomgyu, can I ask you something?”

His heart raced at her serious tone. “Of course. Anything.”

“What’s your greatest fear?” she asked, her brow furrowed slightly as she searched his face.

A million thoughts raced through his mind, but he hesitated, caught off guard by the question. He wanted to answer honestly, but the truth weighed heavily on him, a dark cloud looming over their otherwise bright day. “I… I suppose it’s losing those I care about,” he said finally, opting for the safer route. “Being alone again.”

Y/n’s expression softened, and she took a step closer to him, her hand finding his. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going anywhere.”

He squeezed her hand, grateful for her reassurance, but the doubt still lingered in the back of his mind. “I know,” he said, forcing a smile. “But the fear still creeps in sometimes.”

“Then let’s promise to always communicate,” she suggested, her eyes earnest. “If something’s bothering you, just tell me. I want to be there for you, Beomgyu.”

“I promise,” he replied, wishing he could muster the courage to share everything with her, including the truth about the curse. But in that moment, all he could do was hold onto her, cherishing the warmth of her presence and the promise of their connection.

As they walked hand in hand, a newfound sense of hope began to bloom in his heart. Maybe it was time to let go of the past and embrace the future they were building together. Perhaps the curse was indeed behind him, and with Y/n by his side, he could forge a path filled with love, trust, and freedom.

Later that night, as they settled into the quiet of the castle, Beomgyu watched Y/n as she shared stories about her life before she had entered his world. Her laughter filled the room, a sound so beautiful it warmed his very soul. He knew he had to protect her, not just from the shadows of his past, but from any darkness that might threaten their future.

And as he listened, he realized that the curse he had carried for so long was no longer his to bear. The true magic lay in the love they had cultivated, a bond that felt unbreakable. It was a love that could withstand the weight of secrets, fears, and uncertainties.

In that moment of clarity, Beomgyu made a silent vow to himself: he would cherish Y/n, protect her, and never let the shadows of his past dictate the beauty of their future. Together, they would carve out a life filled with joy, laughter, and love—a life where the chains of the past would have no power over them. With Y/n by his side, he finally felt free.

Despite the warmth and light that had enveloped his life since Y/n had entered it, Beomgyu felt the shadows of his past stirring uneasily in the corners of his mind. He had built a fragile cocoon around them, convinced that their love was enough to keep the darkness at bay. Yet, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that the very nature of his existence could threaten everything he held dear.

As a vampire, Beomgyu was bound by his need to feed. It was a primal instinct, a hunger that gnawed at him like a persistent shadow. He had tried to suppress it, to deny its existence in favor of the blissful moments he shared with Y/n, but the call of his nature was relentless. It was time again for him to seek nourishment.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, Beomgyu felt the familiar twinge of hunger surge through him. It was a hunger that was different now, a craving intensified by the love he felt for Y/n. He tried to push it aside, but the pull became too strong to ignore.

Y/n, ever perceptive, sensed the change in him. She turned to him with concern in her eyes, and he felt his heart twist at the thought of her worrying about him. “Beomgyu, what’s wrong?”

“I… I need to feed,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, shame flooding through him.

“What if I offered you my blood?” Y/n suggested, her tone both gentle and resolute.

He felt a rush of warmth at her offer, a mixture of gratitude and dread. Accepting her gift would be an intimate act, one that deepened the bond they shared. But it also held risks he couldn’t ignore. “Y/n, it’s not just that. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I trust you,” she replied, stepping closer, her eyes unwavering. “I know you would never hurt me intentionally. This would be an expression of our connection, a way for us to share something deeply intimate.”

Her words resonated within him, igniting a flame of desire he hadn’t anticipated. The thought of tasting her blood sent a rush of need coursing through his veins. He wanted to accept her offer, to partake in the most profound aspect of their connection. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded, his heart pounding with both excitement and fear.

“Okay,” he said softly, his voice laced with vulnerability. “But you must promise me to stop me if I go too far.”

“I promise,” she assured him, her gaze steady and trusting.

As they settled onto a plush couch in the candlelit sitting room, Beomgyu felt the weight of anticipation hanging in the air. Y/n guided him to her wrist, exposing the delicate skin. Beomgyu’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at her, seeing not just a meal, but the essence of everything he cherished. He leaned in, his fangs grazing her skin lightly before piercing it.

The moment he tasted her blood, a flood of sensations engulfed him. It was warm and rich, a divine nectar that awakened every part of him. He drank deeply, feeling her life force coursing through him, filling the empty void that had plagued him for centuries. With each sip, he felt stronger, more alive, and yet, something within him began to twist—a primal urge taking over.

Y/n gasped, her breath hitching as he drank from her, but rather than stopping, Beomgyu lost himself in the ecstasy of her blood. The sweetness intoxicated him, and he couldn’t help but want more. He was a man possessed, caught in a fever dream of desire, and the world around him faded into obscurity.

“Beomgyu, please!” Y/n’s voice broke through the haze, panic lacing her words. She began to fight against him, pushing at his shoulders, but he was lost in the whirlwind of his hunger.

“Just a little more,” he murmured, though a small part of him screamed in protest. He had never felt such an overwhelming craving, an insatiable need that pushed him beyond reason.

But with every heartbeat, Y/n’s strength began to wane. He felt her body grow weaker beneath his touch, and yet he couldn’t pull away. His instincts took control, and he continued to drink, his mind drowning in the heady intoxication of her essence.

Y/n’s struggles grew weaker, her breathing shallow, and a flicker of clarity sparked within Beomgyu. Horror crashed over him as he realized the gravity of what he was doing. “Y/n! No!” He pulled away, panic flooding his senses.

He gazed at her, eyes wide with horror. She was pale, the vibrancy that had once illuminated her features now dulled. Beomgyu’s heart raced as he fought to process what he had done. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

His voice cracked, tears brimming in his eyes as he cupped her face with trembling hands. “Please, forgive me. I lost control.”

Y/n looked up at him, her breath shallow but her gaze steady, filled with a strange mixture of fear and understanding. “Beomgyu, it’s okay… I’m here,” she whispered, though her voice was barely above a breath.

“No, it’s not okay! I should have stopped. I should have been stronger!” His voice trembled, panic clawing at his chest as he fought to keep the darkness at bay. He had promised to protect her, and yet he had become the very monster he had feared all along.

“Just… breathe,” Y/n said softly, trying to reassure him even in her weakened state. “I’m still here. You didn’t mean to hurt me.”

But the weight of his actions crashed down on him like a tidal wave. He had taken too much; the warmth of her blood that had once filled him with pleasure now felt like poison in his veins. He had nearly destroyed the one thing that mattered most to him.

With desperation, he wrapped his arms around her, cradling her fragile form against his chest. “I’ll make it right. I promise,” he vowed, tears spilling from his eyes. “I won’t lose you. I won’t let this darkness take you away from me.”

He felt her heart flutter weakly against him, and he would do anything to mend the fragile thread of life that connected them. It was a vow etched into his very soul: he would protect her from the past, from the monster within, and from the shadows that threatened to consume them both.

But as he held her, Beomgyu couldn’t shake the feeling that the curse he had thought long forgotten was creeping back into their lives, and this time, it could take everything away from him in the most cruel of ways.

Beomgyu felt as if the world had crumbled around him, leaving only the unbearable weight of reality. He cradled Y/n in his arms, her once-vibrant form now frail and pale, as if all the life had been drained from her. Her heartbeat, which had once pulsed steadily against his chest, was now a fragile whisper, fading with each agonizing second. Panic surged within him, a tidal wave of desperation crashing against the shores of his heart.

“What do I do? What do I do?” he murmured, his voice trembling as he rocked her gently, as if trying to soothe the life ebbing away from her. Tears streamed down his cheeks, mixing with the cold night air as he fought against the overwhelming feeling of helplessness.

He had lived for centuries with the curse that shadowed his existence, but never had he felt its cruel grip quite like this. It was a relentless beast that had now taken the one person he cherished most. Y/n was slipping away from him, and the realization gnawed at his soul like a ravenous predator.

He had never wanted this. The love he felt for her was supposed to bring him joy, yet here it had become a source of unimaginable pain. He pressed his lips against her forehead, feeling the warmth of her skin fade beneath his touch. “Please, Y/n. Hold on. Just hold on for me,” he pleaded, though he could hear the tremor of fear in his own voice.

But the truth weighed heavily on him like an anchor dragging him into the depths of despair. He knew he could not turn her into a vampire—not until the full moon, which was still two weeks away. Two weeks that she didn’t have. The thought was suffocating.

“Why didn’t I stop?” he cried, anguish spilling from his heart like a broken dam. “I should have listened to you. I should have been stronger.”

Y/n’s eyes fluttered open, weak but filled with a tenderness that broke him further. “Beomgyu,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “I’m not afraid.”

His heart shattered at her words. “But I am! I can’t lose you. I can’t let you go,” he begged, holding her closer as if he could somehow shield her from the inevitable. “I love you too much for this.”

She smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “And I love you. Just… hold me. Please.”

He tightened his grip around her, as if afraid that letting go, even for a moment, would send her spiraling away from him forever. He couldn’t bear the thought of life without her, and yet, the cruel reality remained. He was powerless to change their fate, a mere spectator to the tragedy unfolding before him.

“I’ll find a way,” he vowed, his voice choked with emotion. “I’ll do anything—anything to save you. I’ll beg the moon to rise early. I’ll barter with whatever dark forces I must. Just… don’t leave me.”

Y/n coughed softly, a faint smile gracing her lips. “Beomgyu, you don’t need to make promises you can’t keep. Just being here with me is enough.”

As the warmth of her body began to wane, Beomgyu felt a sense of despair clawing at his insides. “No! I can’t let this be the end!” he shouted, desperation spilling over.

But as he gazed into her eyes, he could see the light dimming, the vibrant spark of life that had captivated him slowly fading away. The reality of his situation washed over him like a bitter tide. He had always feared the curse, but now he understood its true cruelty: it didn’t just threaten his existence; it threatened the very essence of what made life worth living.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I thought I could protect you. I thought we had defeated the past.”

Tears streamed down his face, pooling on Y/n’s pale cheeks. “You gave me the happiest year of my life, Beomgyu. Don’t let this darkness win. I want you to live… to find happiness again. Promise me you’ll be okay.”

He shook his head vehemently, the thought of moving on without her unfathomable. “I can’t do that. You’re my everything. I can’t just let you go.”

With great effort, Y/n raised a trembling hand to his cheek, her touch soft yet tinged with urgency. “You must. You deserve to be happy, Beomgyu. Remember me. Live for both of us. Please…”

The weight of her words crushed him, a deep ache blossoming in his chest as he fought against the rising tide of grief. “I can’t… I can’t lose you,” he sobbed, clutching her to him as if she were the very breath of life he depended upon.

“I will always be with you, even if you can’t see me,” she murmured, her voice growing weaker. “Just hold onto our memories. Let them be the light in your darkness.”

The room felt colder, the shadows creeping closer, and Beomgyu could feel her slipping away. He pressed his forehead against hers, wishing with every fiber of his being that he could take her pain, that he could absorb it all and leave her free from the burden of this cruel fate.

“Y/n… please don’t go,” he begged, his voice hoarse, raw with emotion.

But as the seconds ticked away, he felt the warmth of her body begin to fade entirely. Her eyes fluttered shut, and the rhythmic beat of her heart grew fainter until it was but a whisper on the wind.

“Y/n!” he cried out, his voice filled with despair as he realized she was leaving him. The world around him dissolved into a haze of grief and darkness, the walls closing in as he fought against the tide of despair that threatened to consume him.

And then, as if in cruel mockery of their love, silence fell. The beat of her heart ceased, the life that had once shone so brightly in her eyes extinguished in an instant. Beomgyu felt as if the very ground beneath him had shattered, plunging him into a chasm of endless sorrow.

He had failed her. The curse had won, taking the light of his life and leaving him in the suffocating darkness once more. Wracked with grief, he held her lifeless body, a haunting emptiness echoing through the halls of his heart.

In that moment, Beomgyu understood the true weight of his curse. It was not merely the threat of death—it was the certainty of loss, a reminder that love could be as cruel as it was beautiful. He was a king without a throne, a vampire without a purpose, condemned to wander the shadows alone.

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bagelbright-tok · 5 months ago

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Stayin' Alive

Used 'Too many beds,' from the "reverse tropes," as a prompt for this fic.

After the events of N'Doul, you stay with Kakyoin at the hospital, waiting for the rest of the group to come. While being led to the room Kakyoin would be staying in, instead of an empty room, you see... mattresses? Watch out! An enemy appears with a power able to rival your own!

JJBA x fem!reader, TW: Swearing, mentions of death, a dead body, mentions of blood, fighting

Word Count: 2,156

'Text' = thoughts, "Text" = music

__________

No Time To Talk

_____

"Egypt!?"

You knew you should have denied when this teen and his grandpa began raving about a hundred year old vampire who was killing the teen's mom spiritually. Of course, with the context of Stands, you were more willing to believe them; Joseph Joestar, Jotaro Kujo, Noriaki Kakyoin, Muhammed Abdul, and Jean-Pierre Polnareff.

You were in the same boat as Kakyoin-- no commitment other than to Jotaro's mom, a stranger. While you knew the trip would be life threatening-- you weren't expecting a grave example.

The Emperor and Hanged Man. At first, you played your part. Minded your own business, even managed to tune out Polnareff's and Abdul's argument. You'd barely met them; you didn't want anything to do with their drama.

The whole day became one moment. You, Mr. Joestar, and Kujo stared down at Abdul's dead body. You couldn't help but feel a rattling terror and chill. You'd just met this man in Singapore, and now he was dead. Kakyoin and Polnareff were nowhere in sight.

"What--? What do we do?" You shutter.

No one said anything. Not a noise slipped out.

That day was a while ago. You still think of it-- or, well, it haunts you. Your encounter with N'Doul was arguably also terrifying. Another Stand reliant on sound? Not to mention the useless dog the team acquired. Your headphones were destroyed in that battle-- truly the biggest lost to you.

It did save you, though, temporarily.

All of this runs through your head before a doctor approaches. "Miss [L/N]?" You look up. "We are placing Mr. Kakyoin in his room. Please follow me,"

You stand and follow the moving MD. Your mind is still in a static. "Is he okay?"

"Yes, the main damage was fortunately done to his eyelids rather than his eyeballs." The doctor stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Still, there was some damage, and his eyes need to heal."

"Hey, I'm a big fan of it not being as bad as it could have been," you exhale. "How long will it take?"

You begin to see two nurses rolling a bed towards you and the doctor. It seems you are meeting Kakyoin at his room. "We estimate around two weeks,"

"Shit, two?" You look to the doctor. "That's a long time."

"Optimal for healing,"

The doctor stopped with the bed next to the door. As the doctor opened it, the bed was reoriented to fit through the door. You entered.

"What the fuck?" Bed upon beds upon beds. The room is littered with them. "Is this a storage room or what?"

"Ehm..." The doctor is also looking around the room, confused. "N-no! This is.. this is supposed to be Mr. Kakyoin's room! The key is only for this room,"

You snatch the key. "Let me see that!" You turn and compare the number on the key to the one on the door. "Doc, someone's gotta be fuckin' with you! Why are there so many goddamm beds!?" You throw the key back at the man, growing more frustrated.

"To use against you, [Y/N]~!" A voice echoed from within the beds.

You shoot your head around. "Seriously?" you groan. "Can we not get a day off?" The static was ringing now.

"Your Stand is formidable, I hear," the voice coo'd. "I was beyond elated to have been assigned to handle you and Noriaki!" The doctor was yelling in fear, backing out of the "bed" room.

"Yeah? I can tell by the way you talk, you're overcompensating," You scoff at them. "Why don't you show yourself and see how 'formidable' my Stand is!" You point at the beds, challenging the user.

"Oh, please, as much as I would love to, I also enjoy living." The voice laughed, the source being thrown around the room. "First, the battlegrounds should be in my favour!"

A loud thwap echoed around the room as each and every mattress slapped themselves against the walls of the room. One even managing to slam the door behind you. You look around, now spotting the source of the comments and mattresses.

"Cushioning the walls?" You fold your arms. "I'm guessing so when I beat you, you won't hit them so hard?"

"Don't you hear the difference already, [Y/N]?" They tapped on their ears. "I've made the room sound-proof. The noise we make doesn't bounce back, or echo-- and no noise can get in." They smiled widely.

Your eyes widened. "S-so what?" You stutter, pointing a sharp finger at them.

"So what?" They laughed loudly. "Your Stand, Ace's Wand, is entirely reliant on noises and your feelings. I also know, you don't do well without your music, so-!" They spread their arms out defiantly. "-I have made you your own personal Hell!"

"Shit," you mutter. "So what's your power? Mattress making and manipulation?"

"My Stand is Knave! It's a bit more intricate than that," they explained. "I can create objects from nothing and manipulate them as I please. Mattresses were simply the most inconspicuous object for me to make and plaster."

"Inconspicuous?" You doubted

"It got you in here, didn't it?"

"...Touché."

"Enough talk!" The Knave's wielder yelled, a sparkling object beginning to form in their hand. They launched it towards you before it was fully created.

You gasp, rolling out of the way of the brick hurdling towards you. "Ha!" You taunt, perhaps too early. "ACK--!" A strong heavy force smashes into the back of your head. The brick finally crumbled and seemingly vanished.

"Did you forget the part where I can manipulate what I create?" They snickered, another object beginning to form in their hand.

You groan from the ground, holding your bleeding head. Your vision hurts and blurs, but you're coherent enough to be pissed.

'With enough blows like that, I will forget!' You think to yourself. 'I have to try and use my Stand-- even if it'll be hard to control without music!'

You begin to stand, shakily. Another brick hurdles towards you-- this time you duck down. You summon your Ace's Wand-- partially. You hear the brick change trajectory towards you again. Waiting for the last second, you twist out of the way, allowing the brick to instead smash into the ground.

"Using your Ace to hear my moves, eh?" They hummed. "They may not do as much damage, but perhaps quieter objects will do!"

"Fuck you!" You sprint towards the enemy, almost tripping. You raise a confident fist and throw it towards them. You see them try to raise an arm in defense, but they're too slow.

Your knuckles collide into their face-- you can feel their skin wrap around your hand. With the combination of your Stand, the enemy is launched backward into a mattress.

You breathe heavily, wiping your bloody fist onto your pants. The enemy groans in pain. "I--I think--! I think I'll be better off, out of sight as well..."

"What?"

You can only watch in horror as the enemy slowly melts into the mattress, becoming one with it. 'I need to get some fuckin' music in here, fast!' Your thoughts are all you're left with along with the eerie silence now encasing the room.

You take steps to look around the room, waiting for the next attack. 'Knave creating objects doesn't have a noise.' You spin at the disturbance of air behind you. 'Throwing them rips the air-- but that same sound could be Knave coming out of a mattress... they're too similar sounding!' A flat pane of glass is already too close to you and shatters into your face.

You scream, "AUUGGH--!" the shards digging in and causing you to stumble back. 'Shit! They know what they're doing! Sending things I would hear too late to dodge!' You hover your hands over your face, trying not to touch it.

A small ring alerts you again. You shift to left and watch as a long needle of glass flies by into the wall, shattering into the mattress and disappearing. 'T-too close!' You try to think of a plan while avoiding as many of the glass knives and needles as you can.

You don't avoid them all, though. One needle tears itself through your left shoulder-- another one through the same arm. A ceiling attack rockets a needle and it embeds itself nicely into your right foot, which gives Knave the opportunity to shoot knives straight into your legs. You wail in pain and lay on the ground as comfortably as you can. There was a lot of glass in a lot of your body.

You hear the laughing of the enemy. He reappears and stands above your bloodied form. "It's hard to believe that you, the great [Y/N] [L/N], managed to defeat Yellow Temperance," they stated sarcastically. "You were clearly just lucky."

You shake your head. "I'm-- I'm not lucky," you groaned. "Luck doesn't-- augh--! Luck doesn't win battles!" You smile widely, revealing your blood stained teeth.

The enemy stares down in disgust and horror. "What does that mean!?" Now they're on high alert, looking around the room. "You have your Stand summoned! Where is it!?"

You begin to laugh finally. A loud ringing causes the Knave wielder to look up. A gaping hole in one of the mattresses reveals an intercom. "What!?" They scream, reaching up quickly.

A noise begins to emit from it, though, and the moment it does, the enemy is slammed into the ground. "Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk / I'm a woman's man, no time to talk," Now you hover above the enemy, your Stand taking on a horrifying, yet controlled, appearance.

"You are right, my Stand does rely on music," you explain. "However, my Stand isn't a short-range. It can travel up to 100 metres."

"N-no way!" The enemy cried, your Stand beginning to crush them. "Y-you were using your Stand to dodge my attacks! You couldn't have-- have used it to put music on!"

"Wrong, and correct," you smile. "I wasn't using Ace to dodge, but if I were, I definitely wouldn't have been able to put music on."

"The New York Times' effect on man,"

You begin to bob to the music. "Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother, / You're stayin' alive, stayin' alive!"

You turn around and walk away, tuning into the music as the enemy begins to scream in pain. The sounds of shredding and crunching are muted to you.

"Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive!"

The mattresses disappear as you arrive at the door. "Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive!" You open the door, the doctor and nurse standing next to Kakyoin's bed in fear.

When they look into the room, there is nothing but the dents and the splatters of blood on the floor. The Bee Gee's echo through the entire building.

"Hey, uh," you begin. "When you're done with Kakyoin, do you think you could take a look at me, doc?"

You remember the doctor nodding frantically, darkness, and then waking up in a hospital bed two metres away from Kakyoin's.

"Damn,"

***

"Oh my god!" Joseph exclaimed at you. "I didn't think a Stand user would actually attack at a hospital! Those workers of DIO really are downright diabolical!"

"Kakyoin is the most vulnerable," Jean-Pierre pointed out. "It makes sense they would want to take advantage of that and try to get him while he's down."

"I'm more surprised they were able to clock my flaws so fast," you hum quietly.

"Oh." Jotaro noised as he rummaged around his pockets for a moment. "I found a store that sold these things. It looked like the one you had before."

Jotaro reveals a pair of headphones. You widen your eyes and snatch them giddily. "They're exactly like them!" You excitedly announce. "Thank you! God, it's been Hell without my music!"

You immediately pull out your Walkman, pop a tape in, connect the headphones, and play your music. You leave one headphone on while the other rests on your head so you can still hear the team.

"All the pairs of headphones we tried to get you as replacements," Joseph began his complaint, "And all you wanted were your old ones!? I paid a lot of money to get those brand new, top-quality ones the other day!"

"I like my old ones," you shrug. "I don't like how the new ones feel on my head or ears."

You put the headphones on completely, now unable to hear Joseph and his frustrated and annoyed rant about your pickiness. You bob your head to the music and even close your eyes so as to avoid his angry hand signs.

"Music loud and women warm / I've been kicked around since I was born / And now it's all right, it's okay,"

"And we're stayin' alive, stayin' alive / Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive!"

______

E N D

It's been like, two? Years? Damn. Anyways, this is a continuation of my fic, Take Me to Funkytown! It has been a while since I have written for JJBA, and I am still not very good at writing fight scenes, so I hope you lot are able to enjoy this! Shout out to @cheesencrackersinprison for commenting on my Funkytown fic. It was actually the greatest motivation for me to write this.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #x reader #reader insert #Noriaki Kakyoin #Jotaro Kujo #Joseph Joestar #jean pierre polnareff #jjba part 3 #Stardust Crusaders #writing #my writing #fiction #fanfic #my fanfic

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aeroblossom · 5 months ago

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midori occupies every crevice in my brain. so here is some aimless and scattered rambling. it is absolutely not organized, and this is a continuation of my last post. please don't come for me

when alice 'killed' him, he didn't bleed. later in the secret repair room, you find a repaired head that reported a broken left eye, which matches what happened to the midori that alice pushed into the fence. the original midori was gone before he even began to recruit the cast. the only surviving bit of his human body we know of were attached to mai, but even mai ends up drilled or otherwise dies after the last trial.

more than half of him is doll, and the only evidence of his humanity has been destroyed. midori creates and destroys dolls of himself and the others as easy as breathing, abuses and torments people and watches them contort mentally and physically with great interest. he despises his entertainment coming to an end. he's aloof most of the time, unless he's bullying the cast and enjoying himself, or angry, disturbed somehow.

i have half a guess that the midoris that recruited the cast are not the same, but rather several different dolls of himself. this way, not only would he have discarded his physical humanity, but also minimized any consequences of him dying. on the one hand, he has trivialized the life of others as well as others, boldly inviting everyone to try and kill him. on the other, he is human yet at heart, fearing death like any other. trivialized is the less than half of him that is still human, like a majority vote, as he is. the game is a great criticism of democracy - the majority decide for everyone. a collective mass with no space for anyone's individual choice, with the few protesting voices silenced. they are trivialized.

an empty human, soulless. a doll. an aloof, empty husk that finds enjoyment only in controlling and torturing. perhaps he feels alive. perhaps he feels the fear of death and remembers his vulnerability, but from a safe distance, able to detach himself from it.

him having multiple replacements for himself would also mean he is, in a way, immortal. i assume every midori has the same personality, at least. that would be shedding the final layer of being human: mortality.

but one thing remains - shin tsukimi, living with midori's real name and a living caricature of who sou hiyori was. midori is a bit obsessed with him and who he was before he stole midori's name and adopted his general demeanor - the ai shin is a timid, but kind and sweet presence, like shin before the game. midori remarks that he regrets not being able to be the one who kills him. as infatuated as he is with the kindly ai shin, his love of control is first, and when pushed far enough, he 'kills' the ai shin too.

but why this, seemingly, immense need to lose one's humanity? something to do with what he was as a normal human at the beginning of everything? does being human impede him somehow? though regardless of how much he runs from it, he ends up with the very human fear of death all the same, a lack of control over his destiny, a lack of control in general. he loses all composure once he's seen through. the dolls establish that they have a right to make their own choices, and thus that makes them human - breaking shackles, freeing themselves of their circumstances, of control. this was midori's trump card over them - the ultimate trap, death. he puppeteered them by abusing their human psyches and weaknesses and hanging it over their necks like a guillotine, until the same guillotine chopped off his own head in the end.

having seen kai's episode, i wonder what kind of effect his mother had on him. i'll call her mrs hiyori. in her first interaction with gashu, she seems the picture of a great mother, giving him the right advice for kai and sei. gashu takes it to heart, and the results are extremely positive as well. but once the objective is complete, her attitude flips on its head. she suffocates gashu with his circumstances. she forces him to choose one, not the other. she changes as she sees fit, displaying that same suave manipulation midori is famous for. i don't think i covered nearly everything i wanted to say, but this will do for now

#sou hiyori #midori yttd #kimi ga shine #your turn to die #yttd #tbh I think he has bpd + aspd #it's the lack of empathy and obsessive nature for me #hell he gave maple bpd too lmao #i don't care how scary he is he listens to white girl music on a daily basis #wakes up and plays california gurls #🏷

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itsclydebitches · 2 years ago

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Jonelias thought of the day is that Elias must come across as so stuffy and boring to those at the Institute - which, you know, very much helps hide his true nature - but as an avatar of the Eye and a man determined to avoid the End, Elias is someone whose entire being revolves around the interplay of knowledge and experiences. He's compelled to Know it all and his efforts to avoid death invite him to Experience it all too, a fascinating combination of passive observer and, by virtue of being a 200+ year-old in search of true immortality, an active participant too. This is a man whose longevity and thirst for knowledge invites an obsession with life that contradicts the 'Sits in his office doing nothing but spreadsheets all day' image he's learned to cultivate. (Though, to be clear, he does love the spreadsheets.) And I don't just mean "obsession with life" in the sense of him avoiding the finality of death, but actually loving the act of being alive.

I think a lot of what the fandom (rightly) jokes about in regards to his characterization is a reflection of that obsession. Elias has a relationship with Peter Lukas that goes far beyond the cold practicality of an alliance, hinting at a romance (if you steer towards a LonelyEyes reading), or just Elias' desire to still be able to place bets with someone while he's trying to end the world. Similarly, his powers ensure that he's never truly alone - if he dies, he takes the rest of the Archive with him - forever supplying him with a warped companionship that doesn't threaten him like he perceives he was threatened as Jonah Magnus, with his acquaintances working to complete their own rituals. In true Beholding style, he's got the heart of a fucked-up scientist who's endlessly curious about the world around him: 'Oooh what happens if I let my friend waste away in the Lonely?' He shows up at Jon's birthday party not just to secretly gloat and keep an eye on things (ha), but because he legitimately wants cake. Who wouldn't want cake? What's the point of living forever if you can't have cake?? Well, for an avatar the exquisite sweetness of fear is just as good, but my point stands. Beyond his fear of death, that enjoyment is at the heart of Elias' goal, with Jon describing his experience as the Pupil as a kind of agonized bliss and Elias confirming this by saying he was having the most wonderful dream. Morality aside, he likes interacting with the horror of the Entities, something we saw all the way back during the "[PLEASURED EXHALATION]" scene. Learning new things feels good. Experiencing news things is enjoyable. Learning and experiencing Bad Things is especially nice given his patron. Consistently, Elias' setbacks are met with interest, or a mild annoyance that then eventually settles into satisfaction because they are also new experiences for him and the Eye: going to jail, getting to psychologically torture Martin, having his own secrets exposed. There's a lot throughout the series to imply that Elias enjoys watching Jon become the Key, not just because it means he's succeeding in his goals, but because there's genuine interest and pride in seeing him "grow" by Elias' standards. The repetition of "our world," "our patron," etc. implies a connection; the intention to experience this new world with another, to enjoy it rather than simply exist in it for the mere sake of existence. Elias is a man whose entire essence boils down to, "I NEED TO KNOW ALL THE THINGS, EXPERIENCE EVERYTHING, AND LIVE FOREVER WHILE ACHIEVING THAT, TO UNDERSTAND IT ALL SO I CAN CONTROL IT ALL AND HAVE A DAMN GOOD TIME IN THE PROCESS, EVEN WHILE I SUCCUMB TO THE PRIMAL FEAR THAT DRIVES ME I WILL PARADOXICALLY EMBRACE IT, AND YEAH THAT'S LARGELY BECAUSE I SERVE THE LITERAL GOD OF JUDGY SURVEILLANCE BUT ALSO THAT'S JUST ME."

So anyway, I keep thinking about how this characterization could intersect with S1-2 Jon: prickly, awkward, semi-isolated, desperate to be recognized by someone whose authority he believes in. AKA the boss who, at an unprecedented young age, rose to the top of the Institute they both work at, perceived by those around him as far less interesting than he actually is. Parallels, anyone? Imagine Jon getting to really talk to Elias, realizing how much he has to offer after 200 years of life (though of course he doesn't know that), and just constantly being blindsided by not just the knowledge, but the enthusiasm for everything he's learned and been through - the good and the horrifyingly awful that, despite himself, Jon is equally drawn to. Elias recognizes every quote Jon drops into a conversation and has another witty line to pair it with. He doesn't just indulge his nerdy rambles, but participates in them. He's refined in all the ways that Jon expects - books, opera, music, etc. - and also casually drops in references to acid trips and fucking orgies. Imagine an early series Jon who forms a strong bond with Elias outside of the web (ha x2) he's been weaving, becoming dependent on his friendship and just a little bit completely in love. Elias is inherently fascinating, but he's also just Some Guy, and the combination of that is just perfect for a necrotic Archivist who simultaneously wants to be guided by his 'betters' and prove that he's an equal. Why Elias would be interested in turn barely needs stating: Jon is literally Elias' everything, in a horrifyingly tragic and like, Gothic Romance sense? What would that kind of relationship have changed? It would have likely made Elias' job even easier, but what about Jon?

...I'm not saying that Jon's drive to protect humanity would have been warped into something tragically dangerous if he'd first come to see his intelligent, complex, shockingly kind (from his nonexistent self-esteem POV), secretly-an-eldritch-monster boss as the epitome of humanity... but I'm also not saying it couldn't have!

#TMA #The Magnus Archives #Jonelias #this is so rambly I'm sorry #I'm just having a lot of feelings about these two #Jon deserves a corruption arc that he's convinced himself is a hero's journey #as a treat #also I keep thinking about Elias' refusal to define a human #and the Witcher line about Regis - a vampire - being the best of humanity #can a monster be human?#sure why not #especially when so many humans are already monstrous #I just want Jon to rule under a horrifically misguided idea of which humans are worth protecting #his wonderful desire to protect molded into not just the key that will end the world #but the thing that perpetuates its torment #as! a! treat!

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albinocapybara · 10 months ago

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Finally after being stumped on a name for so long, the LeshyCat children concept is here, first, of course, some info on the parents :)

(Btw im not a native english speaker)

If you have any questions about them or my other headcanons feel free to ask too!

How they met: Due to his injuries making it extremely difficult for him to adjust to his new life in the cult (let alone how he would now have to learn how to live with a mortal body again) on his own, the Yellow Cat (who i will be referring to as "Amare" from now on) was assigned as his caretaker to help him deal with the necessities that came with being a mortal again (sleep, water, physical activities and so on) on top of the problems that came with his injury. While Leshy at first felt insulted by this treatment (the whole "i was a god i can do this without the help of some mortal yada yada" thing), he soon realized it was for the better (while also realizing his feelings for Amare :3).

Leshy: Freed from Purgatory in the cult around 100-ish years after his death and 15 years after Narinder was overthrown by The Lamb. All his high priests and his witness (Amdusias, Valefar, Barbatos and Agares) had passed away before his arrival, making the former and current gods of death the only "familiar" figures in the cult (they both changed so much after their last encounters), although he still avoided both of them most of the time (Narinder because of his conflicting thoughts about the older brother, and The Lamb somewhat out of anger at them but mostly fear due to how traumatic Purgatory was for him), but dont worry they eventually made amends along with the rest of the bishops :). Also became friends with bat follower but she isnt relevant for this post

Amare (the Yellow Cat): Rescued from being sacrificed to the dead bishop of chaos in Darkwood after followers of the Old Faith killed everyone else from his village, works as a farmer in the cult. He was the only follower (aside from the first five followers of the cult, who are kept alive and act as advisors and friends for The Lamb) that knew of Leshy's past as an bishop, and though he still held resentment for the former god, The Lamb's seeming disposition to forgive him made the cat consider doing the same for him, volunteering to be his caretaker. Once their relationship was made official, he was given a golden skull necklace to ensure the two could stay by each other's side for eternity.

Now for the children hehe

They are twins (as ive mentioned in my other posts), a daughter named Camellia (Amare chose the name) and a son named (drumroll please im so proud of this name) Havoc! (Name chosen by Leshy of course).

They both have green moss-like fur from Leshy, and the head shape of a cat from Amare, but other than that their bodies are very distinct due to inheriting different parts from their parents

Havoc: His limbs and tail, as well as his longer whiskers, are from Amare, giving him a silhouette very similar to a cat, aside from the antler-like branches he got from Leshy, he also has two sets of eyes like Leshy used to have once, ironically though, he has rather poor eyesight, needing glasses to see things that are a bit too far. Despite his name he is actually pretty calm and enjoys the peacefulness of the cult, though this doesnt mean he is opposed to some occasional mischief, specially with his sister. Wants to help with teaching when he becomes of age (also im thinking about the idea of having him figure himself out as transfem but thats for another time)

Camellia: her limbs and tail, being from Leshy, are quite a bit longer and thicker than her brother's, giving her a broader and taller silhouette, as well as making her quite a bit stronger physically, she also has only one set of eyes and shorter whiskers than her brother, as well as no branch antlers. Is a very active person, playing with other kids and sometimes helping adults with tasks that wouldnt risk injuring her (most of the time they dont let her though). Also loves doing pranks and other forms of tomfoolery around the cult along with her brother. She is also very protective of him, getting into multiple fights with kids (and a drunk adult one time) who pick on him (aka bullies). Wants to follow her parent's job of farming when she comes of age.

#cotl #cotl leshy #cotl yellow cat #cult of the lamb #cult of the lamb leshy #cult of the lamb yellow cat #cotl leshycat #again if anyone has any questions about them or my other headcanons feel free to ask!#im so proud of the name i came up with for their son #after being stumped on it for so long

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monstersdownthepath · 3 months ago

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Herald of Zyphus: Gravedragger

CR 15

Neutral Evil Large Outsider

Adventure Path: Iron Gods: The Palace of Fallen Stars, pg. 86~87

The cruel and capricious Herald of Zyphus, the Grim Harvestman, is every bit as petty and sadistic as his master. Known as Grinning Jack by most and viewed with the same horrified reverence by many mortals as children have for the boogeyman, Gravedragger enjoys spitting in Pharasma’s phace and taking a dancing dump upon anything he believes to be her plan. Far from the Psychopomps’ existence as orderly executioners, reaping those whose time has come, Grinning Jack and his associates live to sow random, pointless, tragic, or ironic deaths, eschewing slaying those who are already on their way out the door and instead choosing the most healthy or lively targets they can for destruction.

Gravedragger has the voice of a high-pitched madman even in his human guise, which he uses to walk unseen among the population (if he’s not literally unseen via at-will Invisibility) until he finds a target whose death suits his criteria. Unlike many Fey or even other fiendish Outsiders who sow discord and woe, Grinning Jack is not at all a patient planner or a cunning mastermind. He uses his 3/day Bestow Curse to strike his victims with sudden frailty before shoving them into an obstacle they cannot recover from... if he doesn’t just use his 3/day Slay Living to knock the target instantaneously dead. For the Herald of Zyphus, a sudden and unexpected death is the name of the game, so he wastes little time in enacting any sort of “plan” for fear of his victim going left when they should have gone right, or ducking when he needed them standing. For him, his acts of murder are accomplished the moment he spots a target and thinks of a means to kill them.

The most work he does is set up ambushes, lurking at just the right corner or near just the right hole for someone to come near before he blasts his victims off cliffsides or bridges with his 3/day Gust of Wind or 1/day Telekinesis, electrocuting everyone in a crowd with his Chain Lightning, or activating Bury Alive. As cruel and terrifying a death as one can inflict, Gravedragger can use Bury Alive to yank any target within 100ft to any open hole he’s adjacent to, causing the earth around it to immediately collapse in on them and suffocating them in short order. Notably, there is no save to resist being buried alive; all he must do is succeed a CMB check (which he has a +25 to) to yank someone a hundred feet and hurl them into a hole. Thankfully, he has no way to swiftly create any holes and must rely on one’s he’s either prepared beforehand, or ones he finds.

Besides his spells, he’s armed with a monstrous +2 Heavy Pick, whose meager 1d8+7 damage can trick one into believing that they can tank his Full-Attack easily. Unfortunately, his pick has a critical hit range of 19-20... and a critical modifier of x4, meaning the LEAST amount of damage a critical hit can do is 32, suddenly making his melee less of a joke. His range, however, IS still a joke; despite having the intimidatingly-named Long Arm of the Reaper, which lets him hurl his pick at targets within 100ft, and despite very clearly having four iterative ranged attacks listed on his statblock, Long Arm of the Reaper very clearly states that his pick gains the Returning special quality, which means he can only make one ranged attack with his pick before he must wait for it to return. Those iterative attacks listed under his ranged abilities? Those are there for reference to tell a DM what his attack modifier would be if he decided to throw his pick at any point during a Full-Attack; he can attack twice in melee at +24 and +19, but if he then throws his pick the attack is made at the third iteration of his ranged attack (+13) rather than +23, and he misses out on his final melee attack for the round because he threw his weapon.

He very, very much wants to stay in melee. Not only are his most dangerous spells touch-range, but he’s got a few more tricks to make melee fights with him awful for everyone else, such as casting Ice Storm directly on his space, a spell which basically cannot damage him thanks to his 30 Cold resistance, but which traps everyone else in difficult terrain to prevent them from easily leaving his 10ft space/10ft reach, or using Greater Invisibility on himself up to 3/day to make almost certain his pick will hit its mark while preventing anyone from fighting back. His DR 10 is easily surpassed by most weapons players would have access to at this level (cold iron and magic), but he’s protected by Unearthly Luck, granting him a +4 luck bonus to his AC (29) and all of his saving throws (+15/+18/+17)... and more importantly, everyone around him must contend with his two 30ft auras, the first Frightful Presence, the second the infinitely more frightening Unluck Aura. Everyone within this aura is slapped with the dreaded Misfortune effect, which cannot be resisted by any amount of saving throws, forcing them to roll all d20 rolls twice and take the lower result. Suddenly, his Bestow Curse and Slay Living become far more threatening, his Frightening Presence goes from an annoyance to a certainty, and his AC--while lower than most Heralds--becomes much harder to hit with any amount of accuracy. Keeping his enemies close is quite literally his best option, as only immunity to mind-affecting effects can protect one from his luck-sapping aura.

Immunity to mind-affecting effects, or a simple Prayer spell. You see, ANY luck bonus--no matter the source, no matter how small, and no matter what dice roll it affects--protects one from the Unluck Aura. Even the niche Crafter’s Fortune spell can shield the entire party for weeks from the mischief of Gravedragger, halting his foul aura without them risking losing the bonus by attacking or casting spells... to say nothing of how frustrated Grinning Jack must feel when he’s trying to fight halflings, his natural predator, whose simple, racial +1 luck bonus to saving throws completely protect them from his most powerful, debilitating ability. Do not, however, allow yourself to laugh at him or think he’s a joke, or think he’s barely worth the effort of dispatching, because that’s exactly what both he and his god want.

You can read more about him here.

#Horrible Heralds Month #Monster Spotlight #CR 11 to 15 #Pathfinder #Dungeons and Dragons #body horror

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clumsiestgiantess · 2 months ago

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Honestly I don’t feel like finishing the October horror prompts stuff right now…

BUT I have this one short story saved from a while ago that I do really like, and I want y’all to have it! Enjoy!

It’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of thing, being copied. It’s little snapshots taken from your life — less than a second of living that gets bottled up as information and stored in some vault deep underground. A security measure, world leaders decided, for when the planet inevitably comes to an end.

…whenever that will be.

The war ended before the threat of nuclear extinction became reality. All those years of people scrambling to get implants that would preserve them after death, all the times people had fought with money and power over who would be saved and who wouldn’t — and now you can do it for free.

For a long time, the servers inside the Humanity Vaults went untouched. Without a fear of mass death lurking in the air, no one was willing to take the information back out once it was stored. People went on living, kept getting implants and snapshots to give themselves the chance to get another life at the end of theirs. Or several.

Just like those desperate rich people who froze themselves to be revived when technology caught up with their ideas, so it seems all of society would do the same — their lives copied and stored until someone found a way to revive them. And that someone, or rather something was SLT. Simulated Life Technology. It gave the digital information a virtual body, processing things a brain, nerves, and hormones normally would through a simulation.

Unfortunately, people were expecting physical bodies and actual brains, not simulations. So the technology flopped.. until a video game company picked it up. People became obsessed with their games due to how real the characters seemed. It was artificial intelligence trained with real, lived-through, human thought.

That’s where things finally begin, with a program — a game — that lets you simulate running the life of an actual person right on your laptop.

I’d heard about the game before, but never played it myself. There was no end goal, no story, just some fake person wandering around a screen. It just didn’t seem interesting to me. So it was all the more jarring when I went from reaching for the gym doors one morning to stretching an arm into an endless void of white.

I shrieked at the sudden change, and didn’t stop shrieking as I found no exit to the place — pounding on walls I couldn’t see. I finally ran out of breath when I turned around and saw the glassy wall of a theater-sized computer screen behind me — some guy staring me down from the other side, mouse in hand and keyboard at the ready.

Choking for breath, I stumbled backwards and fell on my ass. “N-No,” I managed to squeak out. I could barely put two and two together as I increasingly got closer to a panic attack, but once I hit the back wall dreaded realization tinged the back of my mind.

It’s supposed to be a simulated me.. not… me me. Only it isn’t me. I’m probably still at the gym. I’m sure the original me didn’t even notice.

Wait.. so simulations actually have a consciousness!?

“HELP! Please! There’s been a mistake! Simulations aren’t supposed to be actually alive! No one said these stupid computer people were conscious!” I rushed to the glass to bang on it and demand my release, but was immediately deterred by the very large form of a person reaching for me. I yelped and ducked down expecting to be snatched up, but his finger only tapped the screen.

In seconds, soft carpet seems to grow up from beneath the floor, and a little living room takes form all around me. A table pops up from the floor; a shelf slides in from the wall to my right. Something bright bubbles into existence behind me and I find a window on the opposite wall.

A window! I race across the room and try desperately to open it and escape that way, but even when I do I find a fake landscape lit up on the wall behind it. The sudden and jarring lack of exits sends me stumbling backwards, staring blankly at the false background. Oh fuck, this really is a computer. How am I inside a-?

“Hello?”

I flinch so badly I trip on my leg and nearly fall to the floor again. My hands slam over my ears as he speaks again. “Sorry, I don’t think my mic was on. Why are you- oh! I turned the volume up all the way when it was off, my bad.” There’s a brief pause of blissful silence. “Is this better?” I look up at the collosal stranger with tears in my eyes, but they either don’t notice or don’t care.

“Alright, first things first…” he mumbles, “Let’s get your sanity bar back up.” My legs weaken and I have to brace myself on the fake couch beside me in the fake room. “What.. do you mean?” I ask in a shaking whisper. “You know, your little hunger, hydration, and sanity bars? Ohh wait this is probably a tutorial.” He shrugged off the interaction so nonchalantly it made goosebumps lift across my arms.

Glancing around the room, I try to find the stats he’s talking about, but all I can see are structures and furniture. They’re all nearly real, save for the slight pixelated fuzz on the very edges of everything. It’s like looking through a headset. My stats must only be visible to the player. The real person.

If it’s all fake — some video game — then… but I’m not some made-up character! I’m real! I- I have to be. Only real people can think like this, right? This is only supposed to be some simulated bullshit that draws on my memories, which I won’t even know they have. Not.. not another entire me. With shaking arms, I lift my hands up to my face.

They’re tinged with those same fuzzy pixels.

I’m not real. Wh- Why? Does real me know about this? I didn’t know about this. Are there OTHER me’s? How many times have I blinked and become a fake reconstruction?

“Woah!” I’m startled out of my thoughts by that guy — that player’s — voice. “Your sanity’s tanking! I know the intro said to ease you into it or your sanity would plummet, but I thought I did ease you into this place.” Before I can get a word in he gasps an ‘ohhh’. “My mic was muted! You didn’t hear me introduce myself! That’s probably why.”

I sneer involuntarily. Like introducing himself would’ve done anything to soften the blow of: I’m not real.

“Let’s try again; my name’s Sam, but-” He hesitates. “Just call me Sammy.” I turn to speak, but my mouth goes dry. What is my name? It can’t be Rhea. That’s whoever-is-still-out-there’s name. But who else would I be? I’m not supposed to be anyone else. “Rhea,” I answer abruptly. I don’t know what else to call myself.

“That’s a nice name!” “Do you think I’m real?” I blurt, then immediately regret it as he gives me a strange look. “I mean.. I just… I feel real. This isn’t real.” Sammy goes quiet for a moment, leaning in closer to the screen to look at me. I want to run away, but I hold my ground. There is a wall between us, after all.

“You feel real?” he repeats, “Well.. I mean, you are real — a real SL. But is that what you mean?” An SL, a Simulated Life, is that all I am? My head shakes in slow shock. “I guess you might feel like you’re whoever they took your life data from,” Sammy suggests, “But it’s.. kinda hard to believe you’re real when you’re a flashing image on my laptop.”

A sharp pain seizes my chest and I unsteadily fall onto the couch. It feels real, but it isn’t. And I’m the same.

“What do I do?” I ask quietly, more to myself than anything. Minutes tick by with my face buried in my hands before the feeling of a cold hand on my back sends me across the room screaming. “What the-?!” “Sorry!” Sammy calls before I can go into a full panic, “I meant to pat you on the back. You know.. like: ‘it’s going to be ok’?” He sighs, “I’ve never been good with people.”

I rub my hands over my arms and cautiously peer around the couch. “What was that?” “My clicker,” he admits, as I watch him move around a mouse outside the screen. I can feel my mouth drop open, “You can interact with all this?” He nods as I gesture around the place. “That’s just unfair! You can at least let me have this space to myself!”

“But how will you get food?” Sammy asks me earnestly. “Your hunger bar’s at half by the way.” The second he points it out I realize I’m feeling hungry, but I don’t bring it up. “What? I’ll get it out of this mini fridge right here.” However, as I walk over and pull at the handle, it doesn’t open. I grab it and rattle it around a few times, but it doesn’t open. “I.. I can't…”

“I’m pretty sure only the player can make meals,” Sammy tells me, as calmly as if he were making a passing comment on the weather. “So I’m what? Helpless?! You’re supposed to feed me?!” Sammy leans away from the screen looking wildly confused. “That’s like the whole point of the game… I’m supposed to take care of you and level up stuff by treating you well.”

I just stare at him.

“What..? I- I thought you would at least know that.” I don’t even go back to the couch; I just crumple to the floor. “Wait, you just started getting your sanity back up!” Sammy gasps, “Don’t drop it back down! I’ll take care of you! I’m not like those video game nerds who try to find all the special dialogue by starving their SLs or doing a sleepless run. I just wanted to…” He pauses and his cheeks flush, which actually startles me out of my raw horror of learning that I — or any of the potential other me’s — could be tortured like those examples.

“You wanted to what?” I ask hesitantly. Sammy looks at me. Like really looks at me — leaning close against the monitor. I freeze as the invisible hand of the clicker carefully turns me around, then back. His irises flicker all over me, and I realize I’m still in slightly revealing gym wear.

Worriedly, I take a few steps back. All sorts of media with online digital girlfriends start flooding into my head. “You wanted to what?” I ask weakly. Sammy glances at his door, gets up, and locks it. Fear causes the blood to feel like it’s being drained out of my body.

“Please don’t do that shit to me,” I beg, trying to keep my voice from cracking. “Not on the first day. Please.”

Sammy’s face scrunches up in bewilderment before his eyes widen in realization. “Wait, what? No! No, I don’t want to do anything like that! I just… You’re just… You’re supposed to be me,” he eventually spits out. “The uh.. character traits I put in — they’re mine but — ok, actually I put in a lot more confidence too — but it’s supposed to be me, just.. a girl.”

Ohhh.

“So all the secrecy and the blushing and the-” “I- I’m not blushing!” he gasps. “That’s.. I- You won’t tell anyone about this, will you?” I sigh, just relieved my initial impression was completely wrong. “Of course not. I can’t exactly tell anyone from in here, can I?” “I guess you can’t,” Sammy realizes.

I sit back down heavily on the coffee table in the room, facing Sammy. “So I’m.. I'm really an SL? All these memories, they’re just what was uploaded to the Humanity Vault?” My nerves get fuzzy as Sammy’s head finally moves away from the screen. “Oh.. yeah, I guess. I didn’t realize you had all those memories. No wonder you feel human — that’s all you can remember.” He blinks, “That’s kinda fucked-up, actually.”

Those are all things that were placed in me from the start — I never lived through them. The only memories I’ve made myself so far are the ones when I’m in here. “And that’s why there was such an abrupt cut between being outside the gym to being in here!” I realize, slowly piecing together what exactly I am, “That’s where my uploaded memories end and my actual ones start.”

In a weird way, it gave me comfort recognizing all this. I actually know what I am and why I’m here. Even if it isn’t what I wanted or thought it would be, at least everything makes sense.

“Hey, your sanity bar’s rising again,” Sammy noted. “Kinda weird that it happened when you found out you’re not a person, though…” I nod slowly, looking up at him. “I think the recognition helps. I.. might not be a person, or actually alive, but I feel that way. All of this-” I gesture around the vaguely pixelated room — running my hand over the coffee table. “It feels physically real to me.” “So you.. you feel better about it now? You’re ok?” I begin to nod, then hesitate. “Better, but I’m still not feeling all that great about being some video game character for the rest of my life.”

“I’ll make sure it’s a place you want to stay in, or at least not mind it,” Sammy assures me, “And at a certain level I can add another apartment with another SL! That way you won’t be too lonely while I’m not playing.” I hadn’t even thought about that — about what happens when a player logs off and leaves me here alone, or the fact that I can cure that loneliness by dooming some other poor soul to a simulated life forever.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” I tell him hesitantly. “I think I just need to take some time to calm down.” A microwave meal floats out of the mini fridge as if by magic, but I notice Sammy’s arm moving and I realize it’s the invisible clicker again. “I don’t know if I’m up for a meal right now,” I tell him tiredly, “I really just want to rest.”

His eyes dart to the corner of the screen. “Your hunger bar says otherwise.” I grumble slightly, “Well I say I’m not hungry.” A prepared meal rests itself on the coffee table on the opposite side of me. “I’ve gotta go soon, so I’ll just leave it here.” I stand up abruptly, suddenly aware that I’d be stuck sitting here without the ability to do anything. “Wait! Just do a few things for me before you leave?”

Sammy looks at me confusedly, then leans closer to the screen again and peers around the room. “There should be a manual or something… A new one appears with every update I make. It should have a list of things you can do and how to access them.” “So there’s a whole list of things I can do.. and getting myself basic necessities isn’t on it?”

The entire wall of the monitor flickers and molds into the final wall of the room in only a second or two. I rush to it, suddenly desperate for someone to talk to. “Wait! No, please come back! I still need-” It flicks back on just as quickly. “Woah! I- I’m not going anywhere; I’m just pulling up a different tab to check what you can do on the first level.” I pause about a foot from the screen. He looked a hell of a lot bigger that close — the monitor only displaying me at a tiny size that would fit the whole room and me on it. “O- Ok,” I stammer, stunned to silence by how small I felt right then.

I was left alone for a moment as the wall slid back in. This is how it’ll feel like for me for the next… Until the game gets booted up again. There’s a point when you play any game that you get bored of it and shut it off for the last time. What would happen to me then? I didn’t want to imagine it, but my brain slipped in a couple of thoughts about perpetually starving and being forced to stay awake for maybe forever.

Hopefully I’d end up like a forgotten tamagotchi and just die.

When Sammy returned, I found out that — on the base level — I couldn’t do much of anything at all. The player can’t even buy items for me to interact with yet. All I can do is walk around and sit in different places.

“And how do you get fake game money again?” I ask tiredly. “Well, you can pay real money for it, but you get paid some every in-game day. The amount depends on the level, and there are bonuses I can get for completing different tasks and an extra reward if all your bars are full before the day ends.” Damn, I really am a video game character.

After getting me a few cups of water that I could drink from whenever I wanted, Sammy closed the game and I was left in my single room with a coffee table and an empty bookshelf. Oh, and a pullout couch I can’t turn into a bed, a sink I can’t use, and a mini fridge I can’t open.

There’s one window, one lightbulb that has no switch, and no door. I’m utterly trapped here, but there’s nowhere else for me to run to even if I do manage to get out. If I leave this little game, I stop existing. And honestly, I’m not sure if I want to stay and suffer or leave and stop existing. It’s not like I have a choice, anyway.

I wandered the entire room to be sure, but there really wasn’t a single exit. The only thing that would open for me was the stupid fake window. Sitting down heavily on the couch, I curled up against myself and cried.

#Imagine going about your day only to blink and end up behind a computer screen with no way out…#Clipped into the backrooms only it’s digital and everything is being controlled by someone else #g/t #giant/tiny #<- kinda g/t I mean everything looks small on a screen

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