#yandere Frankenstein x reader

[lady-ashfade]

Hi! How about Yandere! Frankenstein's monster? Maybe Reader was the doctor's younger sibling?

—£ Yandere!Male!Frankenstein x gn!teen!reader( platonic pairing)

—£ thank you for being my first question for the new thing I’m trying out! Forgive me because I haven’t listened to the story in ages, but lets go on a New Journey together?

—£ warning: yandere behavior, stalking, making up my own story, over all just wholesome

You weren’t supposed to be at his house. This was no place for a child but you had been forced to stay with him.

Your older brother never liked you much and found you annoying. So much younger, so small minded.

So when you moved in his house you could only go a few places, your room, the kitchen and the living room.

So you payed mind to your own things other then him which was great because he didn’t pay any attention to you anyway.

You hated the basement and you’ve never go in there. Your brother would disappear in there for hours and you couldn’t hear anything. It freaked you out. He was odd.

Which is why you should have stayed away from the banging on the door. It was loud and heavy like a large beast was clawing at the door. And deep groaning of what you think was a man scared you.

But it sounded scared and pleading and your heart couldn’t handle it. But with your luck it would be a bear or a wolf, something angered probably by your brother.

Though, you didn’t expect to find a man about five times your size- If you could call him a man. His skin was green with stitches in his skin and bolts around his neck.

He was no man.

He saw you look at him with fear as you stepped back, “Holy-” one wrong move and your death could be near.

He mumbled words but you couldn’t understand anything. He was trying to speak but clearly couldn’t.

He made no fast movements towards you. His eyes wide and you notice that look in his eyes. Fear.

He was scared of you? Why would be be scared of a young teen?

“Uhh…Are you okay?” He didn’t seem to understand you either.

So you showed him he had nothing to fear but the two of you were still worry about each other. But you came around.

He likes it when you smiled at him. You didn’t shout at him, you didn’t hurt him. You were nice.

I think he would think about you often after that. When the doctor came home you told him you found the man in the basement.

“You have been keeping him in the basements this whole time? What is wrong with you?”

Now your brother didn’t want to hurt you. But you forced your way into things that weren’t yours to know. But he agreed to let you see him a few times, though it was only a experiment.

And each time he would acted like a child when he saw you. Happy to see you, and like listening to you speak.

Which is why you read to him each time you saw him. He loved it. Brought him small things so he could be entertained when you were away.

Then he was able to go out into the world. Only with you. He walked behind you while you went to school, something your brother told him to do but he didn’t mind. Even if you didn’t know he was there.

He’d protect you any chance you got. Finding the boys who picked on you and gave them nightmares if he didn’t end up killing them. Or somehow hurting the girls as well, like cutting their hair or making them trip around the neighborhood.

“You know, one day I’m going to take you and move to Hollywood.” You said while looking into the magazine in your hand, “Don’t you think I’d be perfect on stage?” He mumble in agreement.

He’d get rid of your brother one day, chock him to death. And kill anyone he needed to make your dreams come true.

“My sibling.” But his words only came out in muffled and groans. You sometimes didn’t know what he was saying but you didn’t mind.

[kyseya]

The creation

Imagine being the daughter of a wealthy family in the 1800s. Life was strict for you. You didn’t have much freedom and your only goal in life is to become a perfect wife. Your salvation was your brother. He stood up against your parents and helped you when no one else would. Without him you’d be even more lost.

Your brother is a genius. It seems like there is nothing he can’t do. Apart from creating life, that is. You love your brother so much, but there is a side to him you wished he could just abandon. Your whole life you’ve known him and during all that time he’s been obsessing over the topic of ‘life’ in all its forms.

He wants to uncover all its secrets and unlock the ultimate knowledge; to the point of sacrificing himself. That is how obsessed he is. You thought this research would be his downfall. But one day he did it, he created life!

Yandere! Creation who knows how hideous he is. It was no secret after all; both his creation and his scarring appearance. It was not pleasing to the eye. He wished he could forget about it and go on about his day, but it is hard when your creator reminds you every now and then.

Yandere! Creation who was introduced to you one day. His master made it a point to treat you with outmost care and respect, he would not tolerate any other behaviour. He didn’t want to face any punishment so he agreed.

Yandere! Creation who, at first, only treated you well because that was his instructions. But after getting to know you, he realised you deserved every bit of good in the world. You were so bright, almost like the sun itself(the one he wasn’t allowed to see). You were so kind to him. You spoke gently to him and never raised your voice, even during the moments where he did mess up. His master was never outright cruel, but he certainly wasn’t the warmest person. He looked at him like the creation he was. He was not a friend, not a family member, and he would never be.

You were the only one who acted as if he was a real person. You gave him the warmth he sought after but could receive. If he felt sad about his existence, you were there and let him use your as a pillow to cry on. You would hold him and softly comfort him. Not only that, you fought with your brother for his freedom. He didn’t deserve to be contained like some infectious desease.

Yandere! Creation who couldn’t help but fall for you. You didn’t act as if he was a monster, a creature, a being. He felt like a person whenever he was with you. He didn’t have to remember that he’s just parts stitched together into a horrid being.

Yandere! Creation who does everything to be able to spend more time with you. He is far from stupid and he knows how to manipulate situations in his favour. To be honest, he is a bit surprised how many of his antics flies under the radar of his master. The so-called genius might not be the smartest after all.

He loves using his super strength to assist you with different chores. Need someone to accompany you to the market? He’s on it! He’ll carry the stuff for you and fend off any unwanted attention. The men in the village are nothing short of pigs, so you should have someone protecting you. Can’t reach the high shelf? He’ll take down anything you can’t reach. There is no reason for you to strain yourself.

Yandere! Creation who wonders if you’d be happy being his wife?

[yandere-wishes]

EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND GO WATCH LISA FRANKENSTEIN!! I CAN'T EVEN IT BEGIN TO DESCRIBE IT!!! IT WAS AMAZING

[peoplesgraves]

Betty

Yandere scientist x Franken-Reader

You wake to a raging headache. Your head is so filled with clutter and voices that are almost yours that it feels like your brain is going to explode. The pain is eased by a cool washcloth being dabbed on your for head while a gentle voice mumbles words of comfort. You pass out and awake a few minutes later. The longer the mysterious man is next to you the more the throbbing dulls until finally it’s dulled enough for you to sit up.

A few minutes later you try to stand but your legs collapse under you. Your horrified to look down and see blood dripping from crudely stapled and stitched wounds. Each line of stitches reveals a slightly different part. Like you’re some kind of horrible jigsaw puzzle. Calloused hands pull you up and back onto the table. The man mumbles to himself as he gathers supplies and you recognize his voice as the same from earlier.

He pulls a stool to sit in front of you and looks at your torn staples. “You’ve ripped them. If you needed something you know you should’ve asked me instead of hurting yourself like this.” He begins to clean it up paying no mind to your winces of pain. An agonizing ordeal later your leg is fixed and the man who you’ve come to dislike greatly is seriously lecturing you.

“You need to rest while your body heals. Until then you’ll stay in the lab where I can watch over you.” When you don’t respond he turn from his work table to look at you. “Ok Betty?”

You look at him confused and terrified. “I’m not Betty.”

“Of course you are. I used Betty’s brain. Her heart was too damaged but it’s the brain that’s really important.”

You shake your head as much as you can laying down. “I’m. Not. Betty!”

He sighs and sits once again by your side. He Henry grabs your hand in both of his and plays with your fingers as he speaks. “Maybe you’re not Betty yet. But won’t it be an interesting experiment to see if I can bring Betty out?”

The next few weeks are torture. Because of your condition the mad man literally has to do everything for you. He was always clinical about it never overstepping anymore then he had too but still, it was torture. The only things to do where to sleep or to watch as he did his experiments. Sometimes you could convince him to tell you stories wether about Betty, his experiments or worst of all, how he’d made you.

There’s also a voice in your head. While most voices have died off by now one is only getting louder. She warns you about the scientist and begs you to run away. As the voice starts to gain more and more purchase in your mind, it starts to show you things. Memories of Betty and the scientist. One day when Betty has drowned you out, she shows you something horrible.

That night when the scientist tries changing your bandages you pull away from him at any cost. Gritting your teeth through the pain to protect yourself from him. Eventually he gets fed up and can’t help but to ask what’s wrong.

“You killed Betty.” Your voice wavers in fear but still it drips with venom.

The scientist looks mostly neutral. Although he does have a small fond smile. “So Betty is in there and shes trying to save you. It’s cute. Really.” He leans forward and rests his forearms on his legs to be eye level with you.

“But there’s nothing to save you from. I took your heart, all of your discarded parts and I gave them a second chance.”

Betty slips through the cracks and your mouth is moving of another volition. “You’ll just tear her apart and start over once she becomes too much for you.” The voice is yours but not and it freaks you out.

You look for comfort, to cling to something and the scientist steps in. He holds you and let’s you cry into his coat.

“Tell me Betty.” He spits her name like it’s poison, the complete opposite of the way he’d said her name when you first awoke. “Why would I kill my greatest creation?”

The scientist rubs circles on your back. It’s like the more you fall into him the further away Betty gets until you’re brain is quiet for the very first time.

“You’re right. You’re not Betty” a serpents smile forms behind your back and his grip on you tightens “you’re going to be so much better.”

[mci-writing]

Warmth (Midoriya Izuku x Reader)

Warnings: Obsessiveness (near the end), implied major character death, reanimated corpse (it’s Deku), necromancy, Deku is the equivalent of Frankenstein’s monster kinda, a little ooc, mentions of pain, descriptions of skin burning (not exactly but yeah idk how to explain it)

Kofi

Viridian irises glance over the form laid before them, a longing sigh passing through chapped lips and landing on deaf ears. Fingers, cold to the touch and tinted blue from lack of flowing blood and oxygen, slide across the small expanse of exposed (s/t) skin, the thumb stopping just under a closed left eye and softly, lovingly, tenderly rubbing the area. It leaves the warmest goosebumps, so warm it should ache, dulling once the contact is distanced.

Whispers of ‘patience’ sound through the air, chilling down to the bone and causing him to pull away out of instinct. The reactions of those around him tell him that they aren’t really there, but he can’t help his response after being told such for so long. For so achingly long.

“Deku-kun,” He feels himself straighten at the voice beside him, a hand setting itself at the small of his back. The thumb rubs small, circles in an attempt to soothe his worrying, “If you keep tugging at your lip like that, you’ll rip it off.”

He becomes self-aware of his habit after his companion points it out, cheeks warming as he quickly lets it go. He wets his lips with his tongue after, teeth grazing over the bottom one as they pop out. He’s unable to stop the awkward chuckle that follows or the way his eyes flit from those around him to the body on the table.

“I’m sure (L/n)-San wouldn’t mind reattaching it once they wake, Uraraka-San,” Todoroki stands near the door, his eyes never straining from beyond the frame as he speaks to them. It’s hard to miss his tense demeanor from where they’re placed, one of his fangs pointing past his lips.

Izuku feels himself sweat at that, a wobbly smile forming on his face as he brings his full attention back to the other members of their group. The best he can manage out is a small “T-Thanks, Todoroki-San” as his hand connects with (Y/n)’s and laces his fingers through theirs.

Silence fills the room again after that. Midoriya can hear his heart racing and feel (Y/n)’s faint pulse. They pump in tandem together, like always. Yet, it does nothing to ease his fears. He knows that spell they cast was powerful, but they’ve been out for a few days now. The only reassurances he’s received of them still being alive was the small noises they’d make as they rested, the way their hand tightly holds his each time he holds it, and the addictive burn he receives with each touch to their skin.

The book of necromancy did say that some spells would be harder to cast for users with less experience, but Midoriya didn’t realize that translated to needing to rest for so long to regain the little strength of power (Y/n) knew how to use. He would’ve tried harder to suggest something else for their escape.

“Oi, Deku!” The rough voice of his childhood friend wakes him from his thoughts, his thumb and forefinger making themselves known on his lips as they tightly squeeze from the small jump he makes. He’s being side-eyed by shades of crimson, but not many would catch the soft worry behind them, “Me n Shitty Hair’s got the ship waiting at the dock. Cargo truck’s outside.”

Emerald eyes meet the fiery shades, an understanding spoken between them that only their little bubble could process. Without a beat, Bakugou comes forward and lifts the end of the slab they're laying across and Todoroki is quick to grab the other end. They load it into the cargo truck's trunk, careful to ensure they're strapped down in the back before Todoroki hops out. Midoriya watches on, eyes longing for the warmth he’s just lost.

~~~~~

The car only holds four people, debatably three if you wanted to argue whether or not Midoriya could still be counted as human in his current form. He was undead, that much he could confirm from the way his body had been stitched together and the ice cold feeling of his skin when he wasn’t within a certain proximity of (Y/n). He was something like Frankenstein, but the context seemed less science fiction and more fantasy. He had no clue why he had been brought back to life, just that he had been. (Y/n) and Kacchan always avoided the question when he’d ask how he’d died.

That’s another thing, it’s always the three of them. Even now, only Kacchan and (Y/n) were going to board the boat with him. Kirishima was only here to take them there and back.

His gaze pans away from the passing scenery outside to the body pressed against his. His cheeks warm as bright a red as they possibly can at the proximity, yet he can’t force himself to move away from the burning sensation of their skin touching. It hurts in the nicest way possible, making him feel way more alive than he thought possible. It’s why he thought he had just woken from a long sleep instead of immediately thinking he’d come back to life, the warmth too comforting for him to question anything at the time. Both of his companions joked about it being out of character for him.

He takes in the low rise of their chest and the serene look of their face. It’s one of the very few times he hasn’t seen them worried out of their mind since being brought back to life. He’s tried not to keep count of their smiles, one of his favorite aspects about them. If with their lips held in a neutral shape, he’s fighting the urge to kiss them until they swell.

He feels himself warm more at the repeated thought of laying a kiss on their unconscious form. He should be ashamed, but he’s been wanting to be intimate with them for a while now. It’s gotten so bad he gets a little jealous when he catches them and Kacchan away from him, whispering between themselves in a bubble of their own that he feels he won’t fit in.

That thought sours his feelings a little, especially when he knows he could never take them from Kacchan and he could never take Kacchan from them. The idea of them moving forward without him, leaving him out, and further pushing him away from the picture he'd perfectly fit in before his current state, gives him a deep pit feeling in his chest that he doesn't enjoy dwelling on for too long.

But right here… Right now…? He could just give them a quick peck and pretend it didn’t happen. No one would know… Unless they woke up from it or something…

He weighs his options, emerald eyes measuring and tracing the outlines of your lips. He has vivid memories of the one time he managed to get a kiss from them, in the dead of night when the only witnesses aside from themselves were the twinkling constellations. He doesn't remember how long ago it was, but he can perfectly picture the sight of them shyly smiling, their face warm, and (e/c) eyes dilated like a super moon. Their lips fit perfectly against his, slated and locked like they were meant to be attached for eternity, and delectably soft like fresh baked goods straight from the oven. He'd press his lips against them as much as he possibly could, suffocate against them even.

The cons would be them waking and beating the shit out of him... Or Kacchan catching him and beating the shit out of him...

Midoriya leans forward, hand burning as he cups their cheek. He rubs his thumb against their skin as his lips finally meet theirs again. It feels like home, his lips feverishly sucking against the plump flesh like he'll never be able to do so again.

He pulls away once he realizes he's being too greedy, too desperate. He sucks in a deep breath, the butterflies rising to his chest as his heart pounds against his ribcage. He can feel the warm honeydew in his cheeks, worsening when his eyes dart up and meet a certain pair of crimson ones. They stare at one another for a moment, but Midoriya can't read what Bakugou is thinking at all. Bakugou sends him a small smile, or something close to it. His lips quirk upward on one side before he turns back to the road. Kirishima is talking about something, but he's obviously not paying attention.

"'Zuku?" The soft call of his name has him looking down, meeting the dazed stare of (Y/n). They're still relatively exhausted from their overuse of magic, a bit of light missing from their pupils. They press their cheek into his hand, the bags under their eyes heavy, "Are we... heading there?"

"We're going to the dock right now, (Y/n). Kacchan's in the front seat and Kirishima's driving us there," Midoriya informs them, voice low as to not cause them any discomfort. He knows they typically suffer from headaches after too much use of their necromancy abilities, "I'm sure you should be able to rest a bit longer-"

"No, no," They begin to sit up, getting a grip on his shoulder and using it to push themselves up. They let go and force themselves to sit up on their knees, getting in a position where they can easily look out the window, "I have to check that... we're not... Not being..."

Their voice trails off as they grab their head, another splintering headache racking their body from the sudden movement. Midoriya is quick to grab hold of them, leaning their body against his. Gravity lays them back across his lap, their face pressing into the fabric of his shirt while they close their eyes. Out of instinct, he presses his fingers against the nape of their neck, slowly sliding them upwards to press at various spots in the back of their head.

"No one's following us, (Y/n). We made sure of that..." He murmurs, pushing their hair out of their eyes. His hand eases down the side of their face, fingers hooking under their chin and pushing it up so they can see him better, "Get your rest."

"Izuku...," They stare at him for a moment, different emotions flashing through their (e/c) eyes. One of their hands reaches up for his cheek, the flesh feeling as if it'll catch on fire at any moment. They pull away too quickly for his liking, the same stricken look reaching their eyes like every other time they touch him and they're reminded of their afflictions. He's heard them apologize to him in the late hours before.

With little thought, he grabs their hand and presses it back to his flesh. He feels just a little closer to being human again at the touch. He nuzzles into their hold, keeping eye contact with them and watching the confliction beyond their irises. He doesn't care about the way his body screams to flinch away from the heat, pressing more into it as opposed to as opposed to running from it. He tightens his hold when he feels them try to tug away from him.

“Izuku, stop. You’re hurting yourself-,”

"No, it's okay," He responds too quickly, leaning into their touch. He presses his ear to their chest, listening to the steady beating of their heart and the movement of their breathing in their chest. The heat isn't as excruciating, simmering to an addictive warmth adjacent to bodies entangled in a hug. It crawls over his skin and wraps around him like a blanket, "Everything is okay..."

He never wants to leave from (Y/n)'s hold, (Y/n)'s warmth, ever again. He doesn't know how he could ever live without it, especially not now when the cold is even colder than before...

[ozzgin]

Is it just me or can I imagine a yandere with a darling who’s immune system and possibly everything about them just screams weak and pathetic, BUT their darling is actually very strong mentally and has and will create the most fucked up, batshit crazy inventions from what used to be harmless to something that can help them escape and possibly destroy everything in its path.

But at the end of the day, they become sleepy koalas who hug whoever is near them and fall asleep :)

This could be a request or rant, whatever you can think of! I just wanted to see how different yandere writers would interpret this small imagination of mine <3

But as always, stay safe and take care! everyone needs a break some time to time~

Sorry, but the moment I read the Darling's description, I instantly thought of Dr. Finkelstein from Nightmare Before Christmas. You know, Sally's inventor. 😭 So let me quickly write this down while I'm in my Shelley vibes, because I like the idea a lot. With a little twist, if you don't mind. :)

Yandere! Monster x Inventor! Reader

A frail inventor, and their affectionate rag doll that has been carefully stitched together for the purpose of a caregiver. An artificial existence, trapped within the confines of your lonely tower. Or so you might think.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior

"I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel..." [Frankenstein]

You dangle an old, rusty bell for a good minute before leaning back in your chair. The barely audible chimes are quickly swallowed by the loud, mechanical groans of the gears and engines occupying most of this room. No matter, his ears are good. You picked them yourself. And surely enough, within moments, the door to your laboratory opens and someone cautiously walks in.

A tall, slender man. Or rather, something meant to resemble a man. The skin is a clumsy patchwork of blues and grays - you're no talented seamster, sadly - gathering together the body parts in what feels like a parodic attempt at mimicking God and his image. You gaze at the creature approaching you with a tray of tea and sweets. Scarcely your best work, if you must adhere to honesty. Regardless of the quality of your labor at the time of creation, you are proud of the result. How could you not be? You know this man better than you know yourself. Every organ, every artificial nerve cord, every blemish and stitch of his body was placed according to your intentions. A masterfully detailed project that took you years to complete; not an easy feat considering the lamentable state of your health.

"Here's your deadly nightshade tea." The man places a small, porcelain cup on the desk. "Do let me know when I should take you to bed, (Y/N)." You wave your hand dismissively and stretch out your limbs. "Not yet. I am almost finished", you respond, returning to the mound of metal scraps and pipes before you. "Can I ask what you're making?" The pale creature lowers himself to your level, a curious smile plastered on his face. "It's a mechanical heart", you reveal boastfully. "Like the one I have?" You run your hand through the creature's hair affectionately. "Almost. I'm testing out a different way to build the valves, for a more efficient pumping cycle." You continue to explain the intricacies of your novel mechanism, occasionally sipping on your tea. "Who knows, you might have a sibling in the near future."

The man's smile drops in an instant, and his sunken eyes widen at your statement. "What? Am I- am I not enough?" You glance at the creature as he becomes increasingly frantic. "Don't speak nonsense. If it comes out alright, I'll upgrade your own parts as well. I'm a disciple of scientific virtue, of continuous improvement." Nonsense? Vile treachery! You might've chiseled the brain that throbs within the walls of his skull, but his mind is his alone, and you seem to lack a fundamental understanding of his feelings and thoughts. His ardent confessions of love are met with mockingly pitiful grins, in the way a parent soothes a needy child. Even now, your eyes reflect nothing more than sympathy towards his protest. A childish tantrum is what you're most likely thinking. You've no time for emotional bagatelles. He can read you like an open book.

You simply won't understand. There is no place for a stranger in the life he's crafted with his very own hands: you, and him, and the evening tea with a side of butterscotch biscuits, and the bedtime talks, and the stripped branches of the decaying tree that rap at the windows on stormy nights. You might be the Inventor, but he is not just a mere, humble servant, a rag doll to be tossed around or toyed with. As you will soon discover, after all.

You awaken in the midst of night with your temples burning from a much too familiar headache. Although it's not just the pain that has disturbed your slumber. You can hear rattles and thuds coming from the upstairs laboratory. An intruder? Oh, your creations! The sound of glass breaking and metal scraping sends you into spiraling despair. You fumble to reach the nightstand, patting the surface in search for the bell and keys. You shake the handle in a panic, unable to find anything else in the darkness.

The chaotic rustle abruptly stops, followed by descending footsteps. You hold your breath as the chamber door opens, but it's none other than your creature. "Another flare-up? Shall I bring you some medicine?" the man asks with monotonous courtesy. "What have you been doing? What's all that noise?" you demand, agitated, but upon lifting yourself off the mattress you discover your legs are numb and uncooperative. The man hurries to your bed with a worried frown, and you hear the familiar clatter of the keychain coming from one of his pockets. "Have you taken my keys? Cease this foolishness at once!" Indifferent to your reproach, he places a firm hold on your shoulders and forces you back down, tucking you in effortlessly.

"You must forgive my impertinence." he says in a pleading tone. "I do not wish to impede the works of your genius. As your partner, however, it is my duty to prevent you from making mistakes." You furrow your eyebrows at his words. "What mistakes? My invention was flawless!", you argue fervently. "Indeed it was, but not its purpose. What need have you for another being?" It is the creature's turn for a passionate speech. He stands up with a confidence you don't recognize and continues: "You should know by now that I am fit to perform any role. That of your servant, your caregiver, your lover, or anything else you may desire. You can resume your tinkering starting tomorrow, but such blasphemies to our bond as the one today will not be tolerated." He straightens his vest and reaches for the door handle. "I will prepare some tea to help you rest."

Inconceivable. Your own creation, built with your own hands...Has something escaped your attention? His dialogue is deranged, tainted by madness. "Have I done something wrong?" you mumble to yourself, deep in contemplation. "Nonsense." the creature turns to face you briefly. "It was you who created me after all. Everything is perfectly splendid."

[abbyfmc]

My Ideas for #YandereTober & Halloween:

You already read the title.

Yandere Immortal x Female Reader.

Yandere Kraken x Sailor or Pirate Reader.

Yandere Angel x Reader.

Yandere Demon x Reader(Human, angel or other demon).

Yandere Wendigo x Female reader.

Yandere Frankenstein monster x Female reader.

Yandere Scientific abomination x Female Scientist Reader.

Yandere Zombie x Survivor reader.

Yandere Parasyte x Female reader.

Yandere Dark king ghost x Urban explorer reader

Yandere Mad scientist x Subject of experiments reader.

Yandere Clown x Tourist Reader.

Yandere Master of ceremonies x Female Tourist Reader.

Yandere Freakshow x Female Tourist Reader.

Yandere Corpse Groom x Female Reader.

Yandere Drider or spider monster/abomination x Lost Explorer Reader.

Yandere Pirate x Mermaid Reader.

Yandere Vampire x Pregnant Human Reader.

Yandere Human x Angel (male or female) Reader.

Yandere Pumpkin Monster x Female Reader.

Yandere Priest or cultist x God/dess Reader.

Yandere Werewolf x Female reader.

Yandere Naga/Lamia x Fe/male reader.

Yandere Painter x Model Reader.

Yandere Wizard/Witch x Fe/male reader.

Yandere Scarecrow x Female Farmer Reader.

Yandere eldritch evil god x benevolent eldritch goddess.

Yandere serial killer(like a slasher) x Female Victim Reader.

Yandere Cannibal Family x Female Guest Reader.

Yandere Coraline (Concept).

Yandere Fairy.

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: Give Me Something Good to Eat [Yandere Nikolai Gogol x Reader]

Title: Give Me Something Good to Eat [Yandere Nikolai Gogol x Reader]

Synopsis: Nikolai arranges for a special session of trick or treating for you... emphasis on trick.

For Horrorfest request:

hello!! could i please request trick or treating(with a deadly twist or something) with nikolai gogol from bsd?

Word count: 4059

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, torture, extreme graphic violence and gore (not against reader); a bit of vomit and throwing up; reader has a boyfriend;

“It’s so simple! All you have to do is say trick or treat at every door…” 

Nikolai gazed at you with his singular visible eye and a sweet, terrible grin on his face. He was decked out in an elaborate jester costume--though perhaps it was not so out of sorts with his ordinary clothing. 

Tonight he sported a purple and black concoction with dramatic patterns and bells sewn onto the sleeves. It was almost identical to the jester costume he made you wear tonight, except your bells were not on the sleeves, but on a collar he’d strapped around your neck. It made you feel, in turns, like a prisoner and a pet.

Perhaps, to him, you were both.

He snapped his fingers in front of your face, regaining your attention.

“Do pay attention, kukol'nyy, it would be so boring to repeat myself.”

You acknowledged him with a grimace that made the carefully applied face paint on your cheeks crinkle. The feel of it was stiff and sticky, but familiar--not just because he had a habit of dolling you up, but because it reminded you of the Halloween costumes you used to wear in childhood, always smeared with some kind of paint on your face.

“One,” he said, ticking up his fingers as he went on. “You have to knock on every door. Don’t be naughty and skip any!”  

The doors in question were not the doors of some neighborhood houses--you’re mildly grateful for that, considering the fact that the man in front of you was not above killing innocents --but the doors of a hallway in the compound where you were currently being kept. 

“Two,” he continued, flicking away a bit of hair from his forehead. “You have to say, ‘trick or treat.’” 

His expression seemed to take on a peculiar amusement, but you didn’t dare ask for an elaboration. Elaborations, you’d learned, were often disturbing. Or painful. Or both. 

“Three…” He hummed, and tapped his chin theatrically. “How about, have fun? Yes, that will do nicely!”

He clapped his hands together and thrust something into your arms, which you grabbed at instinctively. It was a large plastic bag with a Frankenstein pattern on it, the kind children carried around in droves on Halloween night, unless their parents gave them musty pillowcases instead. 

You stood, dumbly, until he gave you a nudge towards the hallway. Your legs obeyed the awful instructions your brain gave them, though your brain would have much rather run in the opposite direction. You knew this would not be some ordinary trick or treating. It couldn’t be, with the man behind you.

Or was he still…

Goosebumps sprinkled up your arm the moment you turned around. He was gone.

Fuck.

--

The hallway was dimly lit and bare, like every room in this compound except the one Gogol kept you in, which he’d draped in all sorts of mismatched blankets and decorations. You preferred the sparseness everywhere else, though, because at least it didn’t remind you of him.

You sighed. Nothing good would come of this. It made your stomach churn, but what else could you do? If you didn’t play his games, he hurt you. And you got the feeling that there were only so many times he would tolerate your refusals before he got far too annoyed to keep you around, no matter how much he seemed to enjoy punishing you for not obeying. 

It opened slowly, almost comically slow, like something out of a cheesy horror movie. 

So you swallowed against the tightness of your throat and knocked on the first door.

The door opened to reveal that Gogol stood there, and for a moment you thought--run--before he simply pulled out a large bowl heaping with candy. 

“Treat!” He said, beaming, and dropped a fistful of candy into the bag you were holding. His fingers lingered on your own, dancing across the top; the bells on his sleeves rang, a hollow sound in the still hallway.

And then the door shut.

If you had only been recently taken by him, you might have thought: this wasn’t so bad! Maybe he just wanted some Halloween fun. Maybe he would be content with silly trick or treating. 

But you weren’t so naive anymore. He knew it, too, which made you wonder why he bothered with such displays. Maybe he genuinely enjoyed doing a nice thing now and then. If handing you candy instead of, oh, making you tell him which of your friends you’d rather he kill was a “nice thing.” 

Or maybe he enjoyed pretending that you were lulled into a false sense of security before doing something awful. 

You knocked on the second door. It opened, and again you were struck by the almost comical nature of the creaking, but this time Gogol wasn’t standing there. There was only a muddy darkness, hiding everything but vague shapes and shadows inside the room. 

A smell came from the room. Something faint but distinct. Metallic and earthy with a sweet rot underneath. The smell had your innards feeling tight and light, a primal knowledge that made your senses start to prepare for what might be in store. 

“Treat or treat,” you said, breathy, to no one in particular.

And then Gogol’s voice called out jovially into the darkness: “Trick!”

Your stomach seemed to yank itself inward just as a light bulb was pulled on in the center of the room, one of those old fashioned things you usually only saw in warehouses and basements, complete with a dim, flickering light. 

But it wasn’t the light bulb that you focused on. No, no, no.

It was the scene in the center of the room, which your brain couldn’t fully comprehend at first. It was worse when it did finally catch up with what your eyes were visually processing, because instead of seeing vague blobs of red and black, you were able to genuinely see what was in front of you with awful clarity. 

There was a scarecrow in the center of the room, but it was immediately clear that the scarecrow was actually a corpse. Or part of one. The head was stuffed burlap, but the face--the skin of it--was real, stretched out and stitched on with slapdash stitches. 

The torso of the scarecrow was death-bloated underneath a plaid shirt, the skin all mottled, looking like it might begin to ooze all sorts of biles and pus at any moment. You could practically smile at what was hiding underneath all that bloat, stretching the stomach, begging to be released and spill onto the floor. 

Acidic, earthy rot, tinged with something your nose processed as sweet.

There was nothing sweet about the scene in front of you.

Your eyes raked in the rest of the creation. 

The hands were blackened, hanging slack. Maybe he’d been tied up until Gogol made him into this morbid decoration. Did he die fast or slow? Gogol could make both types of death sickeningly cruel, you’d found, so perhaps it didn’t matter. 

There were no feet hanging out of the trousers of the scarecrow. Did Gogol cut off the legs and leave them for the dogs to eat? A sick thought, the result of being all too familiar with corpses by now, came: maybe the corpse was old enough that the legs had simply fallen off when Gogol picked it up. Rotting flesh wasn’t terribly hard to tear apart. Under the right conditions, it might come off like pulled pork. 

Maybe so.

But it was the head of the scarecrow that interested you most, or rather, the face. The human face, dead skin, pulled and contorted over the farm-friendly burlap sack. Cartoonish white and blue eyes were painted underneath the holes cut where eyeballs had, no doubt, once rested.

Somehow you could sense an expression of agony on that face, although the lips were stitched shut to resemble a smile. If there had been real eyes underneath it, they would have been wide open, pupils blown, darting to-and-fro in a search for mercy. 

There was no such thing as true mercy once Gogol came into your life. 

The face skinned and sewn onto the burlap probably would not have been recognizable, except for one distinguishing feature that remained: a large mole on the cheek which almost resembled two moles side-by-side.  

The corpse was your boss. Well. Your former boss, in more ways than one. 

You’d hated him (but you didn’t want him dead) because he liked to pinch your ass and suggest you come to his office before you left work, an offer you never took him up on.

Maybe you’d complained about this in earshot of Gogol, when he was stalking you. Maybe Gogol saw your boss do one of these things. It was hard to say. Either way, he’d been targeted. Was he more deserving of death than the others in your life who had fallen victim to the monstrous jester who took you captive? You pushed such thoughts away--they were useless. 

Food lurched from your stomach into your esophagus as you turned around to leave, but you swallowed against it. He wasn’t the first person Gogol had killed and brought before you, like a cat leaving a dead bird on his owner’s kitchen floor. 

He probably wouldn’t be the last, either.

You shut the door behind you and found yourself mildly relieved at the loss of the smell.

There was nothing to do but keep going. 

You knocked on the third door, but you couldn’t muster up the energy to say trick or treat when it opened. You’d already seen a horror tonight, so what else might be in store? Thoughts slid into one ear and you forced them quickly out the other, flashes of the corpse of your friend, then your father, a favorite professor…

Someone pinched your arm, hard, and you gasped. A whisper of his voice tickled your neck. 

“Play by the rules,” the voice murmured, before whisking itself away.

Your mouth was dry and sticky as you forced the words out:

“Trick or treat.”

You didn’t hear your own startled scream over the sound of the party popper being launched in your face, but you did see Gogol’s face, grinning, laughing, as you fell back on the ground with a hard thump to your ass. 

“Trick!” He said. He looked down on you, eyes appraising, and then the door slammed quickly shut. 

As you gathered yourself up, hand hanging limply onto the candy bag, you thought: only two more doors. Only two more doors and tonight can be over.  But it didn’t reassure you, because there was no way to be reassured when you were in Gogol’s control. All it did was keep you from collapsing, mentally and physically, before the night was finished.

Your fingers trembled when you knocked on the fourth door. 

“Trick or treat.” Your voice was louder, but shook, all the same.

The door creaked open on its own into the darkness, which was the first sign, really, that it was going to be something awful. 

Another corpse, put on display? Maybe this time it would be someone you cared about. A police detective who reassured you that they would catch your stalker or your best friend from elementary school whose picture was in one of your photo albums or your childhood crush, all grown up and rotted. 

But when a light switch somewhere in the room was pressed on and the space was flooded with bright lights from the overhead fixtures, it was not a corpse displayed plainly or artistically or horrifically. 

It was not a corpse at all.

It was your boyfriend, handcuffed to a chair in the center of the room, a duct-tape gag slapped over his mouth.  Like something out of a horror movie.

It took him a few moments to recognize you, but when he did, his eyes widened and he began to speak muffled words from behind his gag. Begging you for help. Telling you to stay away. You couldn’t tell, but it didn’t matter, because every instinct in your body was telling you to run to him.

Stupid body, of course, but you couldn’t help yourself, despite knowing it was a stupid move. You rushed forward, heart pumping, tossing the bag of candy to the ground as you fumbled with the handcuffs around your boyfriend’s wrists and ankles.

“Don’t worry,” you said, words full of sweet reassurance that you had no right to give. “It’ll be okay. I’ll get you out of here. I love you, I missed you,” and your voice cracked on those last words. You never thought you’d see him again--alive. 

And then the door slammed shut behind you.

“Trick,” murmured Gogol, who was now standing in front of the closed door. Though only for a moment, because he flashed a grin and began to approach you almost comically slow. Step, step, step. Taking his sweet time so he could savor the moment and terrify you even further, no doubt.

“Please don’t,” you said--stupidly, like everything you’d just told your boyfriend. You had no right to beg Nikolai Gogol when you knew it was fruitless. But you did it anyway, because you were in love, because you were scared, because you wanted to save him. “Please, please, Nikolai--”

By the time you were begging him silly, Gogol was standing in front of you, hands on his hips. He pouted and looked cross. “No, no, no, you don’t beg for him. That’s not how this should go.” 

He sighed and brushed past you, forcing you to step to the side while he stood in front of your bound boyfriend. He casually reached out and ripped the tape from your boyfriend’s mouth.

“You beg her,” he said, addressing your boyfriend. The space around his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Go on.”

Your jaw began to tremble when your boyfriend slowly turned his head towards you--and then  you saw his own jaw trembling before he began to speak, words almost slurred, helpless, horrified. He’d never come up against such things before.

“Please help me,” he said, eyes wide, mouth red and raw from the tape. His cheeks were glossy with tears. “Please help me get… get out of this,” he continued. His chest rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell with his increasingly frantic breathing.

In front of him, Gogol sighed. Impatient. Annoyed.

“No, no, no,” he said, and the teasing drawl that crept in his words had your arms prickled with gooseflesh. “You shouldn’t beg her to help you. You need to beg her… not to kill you.”

The words came from your lips and the lips of your captive boyfriend at the same time: “What?”

 Gogol didn’t bother looking at your boyfriend anymore. He turned to you, giggling, voice choking with laughter as he repeated his awful words.

“He’s going to beg you not to kill him! Isn’t that fun?”

You knew better than to argue, to insult, to fight. But this was 

“I would never hurt him. Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. You’re sick.” 

Bells jingled--yours and his--when he leaned forward and grabbed the silky top of your jester costume and pulled you close to him.

“I’m not.” He murmured softly in your ear, smiling against it. “I’m really not.” 

He grasped one of your hands and slowly peeled back your fingers. An odd gesture. But then he reached into his pocket and put something in the flat of your palm. You didn’t realize what it was at first, because it was such an impossible thing to see there. And yet there it was, in your grasp:

A knife. A big long kitchen knife. 

There’s some primal part of your brain that shrieked--STAB THE BASTARD--but you weren’t fast enough for it. You heard the noise and felt the pull and before you could do anything, you saw a whirlpool forming behind your boyfriend.

You didn’t know what it meant, until you felt Nikolai grab your arm and saw a matching whirling portal in front of you then oh, God in heaven, you did know--

“No--” 

Your arm went through the portal, static and tingling. Gogol reached behind your boyfriend and grasped your fingers, keeping them wrapped around the knife as your arm hung out of the second portal.

The worst part wasn’t the realization of what was happening. 

It wasn’t the way that your boyfriend made some vague, confused sounds. Questions, all tinged with fear and the sound of him desperately trying to break the cuffs keeping him to the chair.

No. The worst part was the way that you couldn’t take your eyes off Nikolai Gogol, all painted up for Halloween, smiling at you with pure glee. 

“Ready for the trick?” He asked, voice lilting. 

You shook your head slowly. It felt like you were moving through something sticky and heavy, like syrup.

“Too bad!” His grin flashed white, practically stretching across his face, as he gripped your hand and moved his own, forcing your hand to bring the knife down into the soft flesh of your boyfriend’s side.

You felt it.  You felt the way the knife sunk into his flesh, like stabbing a thick cut of meat or a hard melon. But there was a softness to it. A wet sound.

And the noise--the noise your boyfriend made. It wasn’t the noise a person would make. It was an animal sound, a cry that forced its way out of his throat without a care.

Your free arm gripped at the shoulder of your captive one, tugging and tugging. You knew it wouldn’t budge, but at least if you tried, you could take some of the blame away. You could pretend that it wasn’t your fault that he was here. That he was tied up. That he was being stabbed to death with a knife.

The bells on Nikolai’s sleeve rang when he tugged against your wrist, pulling the knife and your captive fist away. Blood oozed from the wound, staining against the light color of your boyfriend’s shirt. Nikolai cooed appreciatively. You felt the world spin.

And then he brought your hand down again, this time into his stomach. This time, your boyfriend squealed--like a hog, you thought, and you hated yourself for it--as your captor forced you to pull the knife upwards, dragging against something that kept tugging against the knife. Organs or intestines, maybe. 

The wound bled more than the first. You found yourself staring at the blood, at the flesh you could see through his cut shirt, split open, almost flapping. 

“Please…”

Oh. Oh no.

Your boyfriend bubbled out the words from his sobbing lips. Each one stung you like a hornet.

Behind him, Gogol giggled.

“Please don’t kill me.” He said your name, then, he said your name and looked at you and begged you not to end his life.

“I--I’m sorry,” you mumbled. You wished he wasn’t here. You wanted him back home in his bed, fuck, you wouldn’t even care if he got over you and was dating someone else. You didn’t want him here, mixed up in all this, watching you in horror as he was stabbed by your own hand.  You swallowed hard against the awful tightness in your throat. 

Gogol’s hand moved your own until the knife was at your boyfriend’s throat. He dragged it lightly across, and a thin rivulet of blood dripped down from the blade. 

Your boyfriend hung his head low, though all it did was press the blade deeper into his skin. “Then stop fucking hurting me! Please…”  

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, voice choked. 

Didn’t your boyfriend understand? You didn’t have a fucking choice. 

Which is why you could do nothing as Nikolai gripped your fingers and brought the knife down with a renewed flourish into your boyfriend’s shoulder. His side. His back. 

Again.

And again.

And again.

And again, until his shirt was soaked with blood and his cries were feeble and wheezing. No more pleas for mercy. No more begging. Just awful grunting sounds, whining, the sounds an animal makes when they are at the end of their life. 

Gogol snapped the fingers of his other hand and you dully looked up at him. 

“Mmm, this is getting a bit repetitive, don’t you think, kukol'nyy?”

You didn’t respond. If you opened your mouth, you thought, you might just projectile vomit all over the scene. You didn’t want to throw up on your boyfriend, you thought, stupidly. That would be mean. 

If Gogol minded  your silence, he said nothing. Instead he hummed and pivoted your wrist just above your boyfriend’s face. His weakened, weeping eyes suddenly went wide. The pupils were like blown glass.

“I love you,” you said, pitifully. You hoped he didn’t hear you, because he didn’t say a thing. It was better to think he didn’t hear you anymore, but could only focus on his own agony. Better than that the thought that he heard you and didn’t care, that he hated you, that he blamed you for all this.

And then the knife plunged directly into his eye socket. And then further, into his head. Into his skull. Into his brain. He made a sound, surely he did--but maybe it came from your own mouth and his jaw only hung slack and silent. A guttural cry, the end of a life.

The knife stuck when Gogol tried to pull it out, so he had to yank your hand back with some force. Your boyfriend’s eyeball was stuck to the tip of the blade. Visceral gore stuck behind it. Bits of brain, perhaps, if you were to get technical.

Gogol released your fingers, which had long since begun to throb and ache, and you dropped the knife on the ground. The portals disappeared and your arm was back to yourself, muscles aching from the fervent exercise required to brutally stab someone to death.

You fell to the ground and had the presence of mind to whirl around and fling open the door, so that when  you fell to your knees and opened your mouth to cry, the vomit that came flying out was in the hallway and not in front of your boyfriend’s brutalized corpse. 

When nothing but bile came up, the sobs were finally given time to shine. Ugly things that wracked your chest and pushed snot and remnants of vomit bubbling out your nose. 

Eventually, the door opened, and Gogol’s footsteps came to rest beside you. He pushed at your side with his foot. You thought about the knife going into your boyfriend. 

“Don’t be lazy,” he teased, as if he didn’t just force you to commit murder. “Only one more door! It’s almost midnight!” Something dropped next to you and it took you a few moments to look and see what it was: the bag of candy.

Ah. Trick or treating. You had to finish it, didn’t you?  You… didn’t have a choice.

And so you forced your leaden body upwards, sidestepping your own throw-up, to get to the final door.

Your arm that was finally your own again reached up to knock on the door, and you had to pause. Your hand was covered in blood. Dried, globby. Sticky. 

You knocked anyway. 

“Trick or treat,” you said hoarsely. You could still taste vomit in your teeth. 

The door opened slowly, but you realized that you no longer had the ability to worry about what was inside. It couldn’t be worse than what you just went through, so it didn’t matter.

But there were no corpses or tied up loved-ones. Only Gogol, who smiled sweetly at you, and grabbed the belled collar at your neck to pull you close to him. You jingled with the motion. 

“Treat!” 

He kissed you, pressing his mouth against yours, moaning at whatever taste he found there. Perhaps bits of blood that had spattered onto your lips overrode the acidity of vomit in your mouth.

He tasted like candy, chocolate and sour gummy worms. He must have been popping them all night. 

When he pulled away, you noticed the matching spatters of blood on his cheek. What a pair you made--two jesters covered in the blood of your loved one. Sour candy and horror-borne vomit.

“Happy Halloween, my kukol'nyy,” he whispered, before pressing a smooch to your nose. 

[sky-high-standards]

Yandere Creature x Mad Scientist reader

This is not one of my greatest stories REQUESTS ARE OPEN

(This is set in medieval times and reader is kind of like Frankenstein its my weirdest story right now)

You always loved science and were very curious about the world which is why you became a scientist but you where most curious about how the body worked.

You worked a lot with the hospital and you studied the patients there and found a way to identify sicknesses which helped the doctors in many ways.

Pretty soon you wanted to learn more about the bodies and started to study the bodies of animals and preformed surgery on them and sometimes created hybrids of different animals and the towns people did not like this.

The one person who supported you was you best friend Thompson but unfortunately he died of unknown causes and you were devastated and driven mad with grief you decided to bring him back using science.

You asked for Thompsons body and the hospital agreed due to the help you have given them but you needed more bodies for this experiment so you spoke with families and surprisingly they allowed you to dig up the graves.

Ounce you had done you joined all the limbs and preformed your most difficult surgery yet.

Then it was time to pull the lever and after 5000 volts of electricity your creature was alive ounce it sat up you ran over and gave it a hug unfortunately your creation had the mind of a baby and you had to teach it everything you knew.

You had cared for the creature for about a year but you didn't know your creation had grown romantic feelings towards you.

Your clingy little monster always patiently waited for you to come home at the door and daydreamed about you with every passing second.

Your creature was also incredibly scared that one day you would walk out that door and never come back and he would jump for joy when you came home and would cling onto you when you tried to leave.

At some point the hospital wanted to know what you did with that body and came to your home only to be greeted by an incredibly tall creature covered in stiches, they immediately run out and gather a angry mob to kill the monster and the person who mad it.

When you saw the angry mob you were about to accept your fate when you were suddenly your creation killed everyone in the mob in under a minute it was the most horrifying thing you had ever seen in you life and you had never felt this scared before.

When it turned to you it gave you a crazed smile and said "They try to hurt master me hurt them instead" he then caressed your cheek with his bloodstained hand.

You would've never thought your gentle creature would turn out to be a monster.

[pynkgothicka]

Ａｌｗａｙｓ Ｆｏｒｅｖｅｒ ＭＹＧ

Pairing - Yandere! Dark! Min Yoongi x Frankenstein! AFAB! Reader

Featuring - Sarah Paulson (HELP THE KILLER IS ESCAPING HELP ME)

Tags and Warnings - death, sex, yandere tendencies, grotesque descriptions, gaslighting

Authors Note - this counts as my Halloween fic since I be lazy, but I promise to write more! First I'll finish the monster series then the reqs! Then I'll write what I wanna write yada yada probably do a non bts series or fic

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! These depictions don't pertain to reality.This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

He needed something, anything.

Staring at he conglomerate of body parts he stole from previously dead people of the outskirts of the village he found himself by.

Yoongi shook his head as he looked at the body parts. He wanted to focus on the task at hand, even if it was considered testing death itself.

He was meticulous, finding different shades of her skin tone to fit his new creation. All to top it off was her head.

The head of his dead wife, you.

He looked at it, running his finger down it's cheek. It was cold, too cold. He missed seeing you alive, having any ounce of warmth from your body. It was such a loss when he had to take and cut off your rotten body parts. He wanted you to be perfect.

Yoongi planted a kiss on the top of your severed head, a stray tear going down his face. “I'll get you back my love, I need you back.”

🪡

You blinked, seeing as you were covered in a sheet. Taking a deep breath you breathed in the scent of fresh linen. A shadow came over you, peering at your covered body. Your head was uncovered as you looked into a man's face. Blonde hair and dark eyes that sparkled once seeing you.

His hand trembled as he ran his shaking thumb on the side of your face. “Y- You're alive… you… you're beautiful.” His lips came to the top of your head, as he kissed it. You tried to speak but all that came out was a small squeak.

But the man found this amusing. “It seems like you forgot everything… Seems as if I didn't have my science all down.” He adds smiling. He held your hand helping you to move off the lab table. You almost immediately fall, the man taking your arm and holding you up. “Don't fall now come on let's get you to the wheel chair.”

He placed you down gently, running his hand over your stitches. He pulled at a few and securing them. “Okay, it's all in place… I'm so happy you're back. Well not all the way back I just have to do some reteaching. Like me, I’m Yoongi. Min Yoongi your husband.”

Yoongi made faces to help you pronounce his name correctly. “Y-You. Yoon-gi.” You finally muttered out in which Yoongi smiled and kissed your head.

“See look how easy it is for my brilliant wife to learn. I'm going to reteach it all to you my love…That and so much more…”

🪡

Having to be retaught everything wasn't the most normal feeling. But Yoongi, was more than helpful in making you remember who you were and the basics of living.

Yet he pushed for your captivity within the walls of his mansion. You stay at his feet most of the time while he worked and wrote letters.

He even constantly reminded you of your beauty and how you were the most beautiful girl hes ever seen. It was sweet in your eyes yet you were surrounded by so many depictions of beauty that weren't what you looked like. Different shades and natural movement you've yet to nail down.

But still you wondered about what existed past the mansions walls. Especially the village in the distance. You wondered about the women there and if they looked and aced like you. Your mind was busy and it could be shown on your face.

Snap!

You blinked as Yoongi snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Sorry, I was thinking.” You said quietly looking back towards Yoongi as he read a book.

“Thinking? About what?”

“I don't… look like. The paintings. Or the films.” You were able to piece together to form a sentence. It was degrading yes but true.

“Well who told you that?” Yoongi inquires while raising a brow at you. Gulping at the sternness in his voice, you speak up against him.

“No one told me that. I… I don't look like them. I don't, look like any of the women you've shown me.” You say getting up from your spot besides Yoongi. You look out the window in his study at the town in the far off distance. “I bet the village has-”

Yoongi gets up and grabs your hand gently. He runs his hand down the side of your face and leads you to turn away from the window. “Is that what this is about? Going into town?” He mumbles leaning into your neck. He peppered kisses along a stitch that tickled in particular. You giggled and looked at Yoongi your mind going blank at what you were mad at. “Is that better my love?”

“Mhmm. Yes Yoongi…”

“Good let's continue reading.”

🪡

Of course the thought came back.

The lights and the sounds of joy and fun. It haunts you, the time known as Halloween the same night as tonight. Yet here you were with Yoongi, his body over your own.

His thrusts increased in speed as he pounded into you. It was weird how full he made you feel. But you didn't mind it, you enjoyed it actually. Yoongi wrapped a hand around your stitched throat, pinning you to the bed. You let out a groan as Yoongi filled up your cunt, his cum spilling from inside of you. He pulled out and laid on top of you, peppering more kisses along your face.

“That was amazing…” Yoongi mumbles as he rolls over from on top of you. He wraps a arm around your naked form. You feel his lips against the middle of your neck, and soon the silent breathing known as sleep.

Tonight was the night.

No matter what you were getting out of here.

You hobble out of bed, limping towards the wardrobe. You grabbed a sweater he made for you and a long white skirt. Throwing both of them on you sneak out of the bedroom. You head to the bathroom and wipe your legs, making sure you were clean. You quietly make your way down the stairs to the front door. You look back making sure Yoongi wasn't behind you.

Nothing.

So you kept moving. Walking along the side of the road, dirt and rocks digging into the bottom of your feet. Your limp was soon gone as the pain dulled. It was a long walk and you made it eventually. Finally you see orange light shining on your face.

The village was full of people. Children dressed up as well as adults. Peering into windows you saw fashion portrayed in paintings and jewelry Yoongi only showed you from books of art. You ran a hand down the window but was pulled from it as you felt a touch on your shoulder.

There was a woman, her face framed by brown hair pulled into a bun. Stray hairs fell down her face. She was a tad bit older, but not too old. “Hi, were you looking at the jewelry in there?” She asked smiling. You nodded and she nodded with you giggling. “You don't talk much huh? It's alright, I was asking because I was going to buy it for you.”

Clearing your throat you finally spoke up, “Really?” You exclaimed excitedly. She nodded and pulled you into the shop.

“Choose anything I don't mind.” She says looking at the wall of fancy jewelry. “I have no one to spend it on so why not you…” Finally you choose one silver necklace with a diamond pendant in the center. Your plan was to give it to Yoongi, as a sort of thank you. It would also double as a apology for leaving when you eventually did come back. e woman purchased it and smiled taking you out of the store.

A gush of wind made you shiver and the woman gasped. “You're freezing, come on. I'll give you something to eat and get you warmed up.” You didn't know why but you followed behind the woman as she led you to her small quaint home in the village. You enter and are welcomed by a fireplace.

It was something you never felt nor seen your entire life, even if it was as small as it was. “Go sit by the fire while I go heat up some soup.” The woman says ushering you to go sit by the fire. You do, the warmth making everything feel better. It was bright and brilliant as Yoongi would've said.

You were passed a bowl of chicken noodle soup. It had vegetables and overall smelled delicious. The woman passed you a spoon and draped a blanket over you. Yoongi taught you to how use utensils, so you were familiar as you began to eat. “Good isn't it? I'm Sarah by the way, Sarah Paulson, the towns widow or whatever they want to fucking call me.” Sarah said making you gasp. Her language made you laugh yet also made you amused. Yoongi usually only spoke like that during sex or under his breath.

Was never for you to pay attention to nor recite

“What's a widow?” You ask eating more. Sarah seemed more than happy to have someone to talk too. She sat down on the couch, becoming even more comfortable.

“Well, a widow is someone whose husband or lover has died. It's mainly the villages women trying to make fun of me. But I say hey, if I'm a widow than I'm a widow.” Sarah exclaimed. “What about you? What's your name and slash or title?”

That made you think. You knew your name but what were you. After telling you your name, you went quiet. “I don't think I have a title. Except for what Yoongi calls me.”

“Wait like Min Yoongi? The one that lives in the mansion out of town?” Sarah asks looking at you with a inquisitive eye. You nod slowly and she looks away looking out the window. “Oh you poor thing. You don't even know the half of it do you?”

You shake your head no looking at Sarah. “W-What? You have to tell me.”

“Yoongi he… he stopped coming into town a while ago. He was caught digging up corpses, he went to me as he lost his lover and wanted some common ground with someone who understood him.” Sarah started but you cut her off.

“But, I'm his lover. He told me I was his one and only…” You say frantically.

“He had another, no one saw her though. He kept her in that mansion for fucks sake. He wanted to try and revive my husband, Mr Paulson. But I told him no…” Sarah trailed off and took a look at your neck and arms. She let out a quiet gasp as she moved to sit next to you. She ran a thumb over one of the stitches. “You're her… his creation.”

You furrowed your brows and looked at Sarah with concerned eyes. “I- What? What are you talking about? I'm his love, no I'm not-”

“You're a bunch of body parts… God I'm so sorry… your brain. He must've had to throw out your old one… he kept going at it. He kept running the experiment to revive Mrs Min.” Sarah said bringing you in for a hug. You quickly hugged her back crying into her shoulder. But she pulled away so you could look at her. “He's going to come looking… and I don't want you to get hurt. Yoongi is crazy… and you need to hide.”

A loud set of bangs were heard from her front door. Sarah covered you in the blanket and bent down to whisper. “Lay down and don't move, I'm going to try and save you.” Sarah said and you listened. You trusted her, but you couldn't see Yoongi as a violent man. But finding out all you now knew you couldn't risk it.

You heard the door open and feet moving into the home further. “Where did you put her?” You heard a voice that was similar to Yoongis speak up.

“Put who? Don't tell me you've found a new lover. Did you remarry Mr. Min?” Sarah said, keeping her tone respectful. She kept away from the living room where you laid on the ground.

“Don't play dumb. You are the only one I told about her.” Yoongis voice raised and you heard more steps being took away from you and towards where the first set stopped. You started to slowly move, one limb at a time, to under the couch.

“Well yes, but I didn't even know you succeeded in your experiment. Congratulations on that but you'd trust the people who rat you out about the body snatching?” Sarah came back stepping away and moving in a circle to the front of the couch. “Besides quiet rude entering my house this way, don't you think?”

“Rude my ass, I know she's in here. If there's anything those people want is to get me away from them. So they'll lead me in a direction to where I don't have to talk to them and I'm not going to be mad with them. So that leads to you.” Yoongis voice raised as he stood in front of the couch towering over Sarah. “So I'll ask one final time, where is she?”

“Get out of my ho-”

BANG!

You covered your mouth as the sound of a revolver echoed from within the home. You felt your cheeks grow wet.

“Where are you my love? I'm not mad I promise, it's okay I knew this would happen.” There it was, that sweet voice that was always coated in honey to coax you successfully. You moved from under the couch and let the blanket fall from your head. Yoongis face was covered in Sarah's blood as he gasped pulling you in for a hug. He kissed your head and lips, hands on your cheeks. “I was worried sick!”

“W- I'm… what ju-” You were cut off as you felt the necklace you brought earlier being pulled from your hand.

“Is this for me?” You nodded. “Thank you baby… this is beautiful my love.” He put it on and smiled at you keeping his thumb on your cheek. You kept stuttering though, confused and unaware of what just happened to you. “Shhh, it's okay just stay with me from now on okay? I can keep you safe, forever.” Yoongi said keeping your head faced away from the half bloodied mess that he made of Sarah's head.

[gojoidyll]

Honkai Star Rail

Jing Yuan

Drabble | Jing Yuan x Reader

Smut | Jing Yuan x Fem!Reader

Fic | There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Summary | You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

fic's taglist

Drabble | A Bad Day, Jing Yuan x Reader

Drabble | mara struck jing yuan

Drabble | jing yuan x reader

Gepard

Oneshot | Just a Little Crush, Gepard x Reader

Headcanons | Dating Headcanons, Gepard x Male ! Doctor ! Reader

Caelus

Oneshot | We Meet Again and Again, Caelus (male mc) x Reincarnated ! Xiao ! Male ! Reader

Sunday

The Day To Day Life Of An Angel And The Oblivious Believer He's Fallen For!

Angel ! Sunday x Oblivious ! Reader

Summary | In which I write short drabbles here and there about Sunday struggling to try and get y/n to take a hint.

First Dates and The Friendzone

I Love You, But...

The Cliché Beach Episode

Imagine | Worry, Sunday x Reader

Imagine | Unknown ! Yandere x Reader

Imagine | Wrong Name, Right Name, and I Love You, Sunday x Reader

Headcanons | Yandere ! Sunday

Drabble | Sunday x Reader

Teacher!Sunday

Imagine | Aeon!Sunday x Reader au

Smut | Sunday x Female!Reader

Dan Heng

Drabble | Dan Feng/Dan Heng x Reader

Drabble | Dan Heng x Reader, Caelus x Reader(?) + Pt. 2

Aventurine

Imagine | Aventurine x Casino Dealer ! Reader

Drabble | Aventurine x Vidyadhara ! Reader

Teaching Aventurine how to dance

Drabble | Aventurine x Reader

Aventurine's Fem ! Significant Other getting Misgendered

Fortune Teller ! Reader x Aventurine

Longing | Aventurine x Reader

Longing Pt. 2

Longing Pt. 3

Imagine | Slight Yandere ! Aventurine x Reader

Headcanons | Yandere ! Aventurine x Reader

Drabble | Aventurine x Sick ! s/o

Imagine | modern high school au ! aventurine x reader

Topaz & Aventurine

Topaz x Reader x Aventurine Poly Relationship Headcanons

Aventurine x Reader x Topaz Angst + Fluff

Aventurine x Reader x Topaz

Headcanons | Aventurine x Reader x Topaz

Reader taking care of sick!aventurine and sick!topaz (separate)

Yanderes calling s/o "good girl"

Blade

Drabble | Blade x Reader

Imagine | Blade x Reader

Drabble | Blade x Reader

Imagine | Blade x Reader (angst)

Sparkle

Imagine | Long Gone, Sparkle x Reader

Boothill

Drabble | Boothill x Insecure ! Reader

Drabble | Boothill x Reader

Smut | Boothill x Reader

Story Teaser | Boothill x Reader

Imagine | Boothill x Child ! Reader [PLATONIC]

Drabble | Boothill x Ghost ! Reader

Drabble | Boothill x Reader

Drabble | Boothill x Reader

Drabble | Boothill x Reader

Drabble | Boothill x Reader

Denting Boothill and/or scratching his paint by complete accident without him noticing (or not knowing it was you who did it).

Drabble | Boothill x Sad!Reader

Drabble | Self-aware ! Boothill

Topaz

You and Numby Talk, and Topaz Catches You

Oneshot | Topaz x Worried ! Reader

Topaz x gn ! Reader Headcanons

Yandere ! Topaz x Princess ! Reader Headcanons

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

NSFW Headcanons

More Topaz <3 or When You Ask for Something Way too Expensive

Headcanons | Topaz x Reader (who works at a hedgehog café)

Drabble | Topaz x Injured!Fem!Reader

Drabble/Headcanons | Topaz x Injured!Reader

Frankenstein Monster Topaz

Black Swan & Acheron

Headcanons | Yandere ! Black Swan x gn ! Reader x Yandere ! Acheron

Ratio

Dr Ratio

Robin

Drabble | Yandere ! Robin x Reader

Smut | Yandere ! Robin x Fem ! Reader

Yanderes calling s/o "good girl"

Fu Xuan

Lady Fu always looks for reasons to talk to you

Jing Yuan & Jiaoqiu

Drabble | Foxian ! Jing Yuan x Reader x Jiaoqiu

Jiaoqiu

Drabble | Jiaoqiu x Reader

Drabble | Jiaoqiu x Reader

Drabble | Jiaoqiu x Reader

Drabble | Foxian ! Jing Yuan x Reader

drabble | jiaoqiu x reader

Acheron

Drabble | Acheron x Reader

Robin & Himeko

Reader taking care of sick!robin and sick!himeko (separate)

Feixiao & Jingliu

Request | Jingliu x Reader x Feixiao (smut)

Natasha

Yanderes calling s/o "good girl"

nsfw headcanons for yan!natasha

moze

drabble | yandere ! moze

[spaceagebachelormann]

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

!!REQUEST REQUIREMENTS!!

-> state the character, romantic or platonic, the format of the request, and a plot

-> do you have any specifics for the reader? blonde, poc, male, neurodivergent, etc? (please keep in mind i will write poc readers but i’m white so they may be a little difficult for me)

-> requests are preferred to be sent through inbox, but i can make dms work if needed

-> PLEASE ACTUALLY SPECIFY WHAT YOU WANT WITH YOUR REQUEST!! ITS VERY HARD FOR ME TO WRITE “____ x reader fluff” GIVE ME A PLOT LINE

!!WHAT I WILL WRITE!!

-> platonic

-> romantic

-> familial

-> any gender x any gender

-> headcanons

-> long fics

-> multi character

-> blurbs

-> poly relationships

-> x reader

-> i will only write cheating if it’s a character comforting r after being cheated on, not a character cheating on r

!!WHAT I WONT WRITE!!

-> smut (i’m 14)

-> yandere

-> most aus, ask about the specific au before requesting an au

-> incest

-> age gaps

-> canonical gay/lesbian character x a man (if lesbian) or a woman (if gay)

-> song fics

-> things about ocs

-> ships

-> sunshine x grumpy tropes, i’m horrible at this trope

character list

keeper of the lost cities

sophie foster, dex dizznee, fitz vacker, keefe sencen, biana vacker, marella redek, maruca chebota, tam song, linh song, wylie endal, jensi babblos, stina heks, elwin hesledge

chronicles of narnia

peter pevensie, edmund pevensie, susan pevensie, lucy pevensie, caspian

riordanverse

percy jackson, annabeth chase, grover underwood, jason grace, piper mclean, leo valdez, hazel levesque, frank zhang, nico di angelo, will solace, reyna arellano, rachel dare, travis stoll, connor stoll, thalia grace, magnus chase, alex fierro, carter kane, sadie kane

harry potter

harry potter, ron weasley, hermione granger, neville longbottom, luna lovegood, ginny weasley, fred weasley, george weasley, sirius black, james potter, remus lupin, mary macdonald, marlene mckinnon, lily evans, dorcas meadows, regulus black, barty crouch jr, narcissa black, andromeda black, bellatrix lestrange

ride the cyclone

ocean o’connell rosenberg, noel gruber, mischa bachinski, ricky potts, jane doe/penny lamb, constance blackwood

shadow and bone

alina starkov, malyen oretsev, genya safin, zoya nazyalensky, david kostyk, tamaar & tolya, nikolai lantsov

six of crows

kaz brekker, inej ghafa, jesper fahey, nina zenik, wylan van eck, matthias helvar

the outsiders

ponyboy curtis, johnny cade, sodapop curtis, darry curtis, steve randall, twobit matthews, dallas winston, cherry valance

the hunger games

katniss everdeen, peeta mellark, finnick odair, johanna mason, cinna, effie trinket

it (2017)

bill denbrough, eddie kaspbrak, richie tozier, stan uris, beverly marsh, ben hanscom, mike hanlon

the school for good and evil

agatha, sophie, tedros, hort, hester, anadil, dot, nicola, rhian mistral, rafal mistral, clarissa dovey, leonora lesso

the land of stories

connor bailey, alex bailey, red riding hood, jack, goldilocks

scooby doo

shaggy rogers, fred jones, daphne blake, velma dinkley, thorn, dusk, luna

little women

jo march, amy march, beth march, meg march, laurie

dracula

dracula, lucy westenra, arthur holmwood, john seward, mina harker, abraham van helsing, renfield, quincey morris, jonathan harker, the brides

frankenstein

victor frankenstein, elizabeth lavenza, henry clerval, adam frankenstein, justine mortiz, ernest frankenstein, the bride

dr jekyll and mr hyde

henry jekyll, edward hyde, richard enfield, gabriel utterson, hastie lanyon, lucy harris

phantom of the opera

christine daaé, erik destler, raoul de chagney, meg giry, carlotta giudicelli

a good girls guide to murder

pippa fitz-amobi, ravi singh, naomi ward, cara ward, connor reynolds, jamie reynolds, nat da silva

the mighty ducks

charlie conway, adam banks, lester averman, guy germaine, connie moreau, fulton reed, dean portman, julie gaffney, ken wu, luis mendoza, dwayne robertson

monster high

frankie stein, draculaura, clawdeen wolf, cleo de nile, abbey bominable, ghoulia yelps, operetta, rochelle goyle, spectra vondergeist, elissabat, clawd wolf, deuce gorgon, heath burns, jackson jekyll, holt hyde, kieran valentine

the powerpuff girls

blossom utonium, bubbles utonium, buttercup utonium, brick jojo, boomer jojo, butch jojo

david bowie

david bowie, ziggy stardust, jareth, thomas jerome newton, celliers

sweeney todd

sweeney todd, anthony hope, mrs lovett, johanna todd

the rosewood chronicles

lottie pumpkin, ellie wolf, jamie volk, ollie moreno, raphael wilcox, anastacia alcroft leblanc, saskia san martin, lola tomkins, mickey tomkins, binah fae

hairspray

corny collins, link larkin, amber von tussle, tracey turnblad, penny pingleton, seaweed j. stubbs

attack on titan

eren yeager, mikasa ackerman, armin arlert, jean kirstein, sasha braus, connie springer, annie leonhardt, bertholdt hoover, reiner braun, hange zoe, levi ackerman, erwin smith, colt grice, niccolo, yelena, onyakopon, zeke yeager

daisy jones and the six

daisy jones, billy dunne, graham dunne, karen sirko, warren rhodes, pete loving/roundtree, eddie loving/roundtree, camila dunne, simone jackson

doctor who bbc

ninth doctor, tenth doctor, rose tyler, jack harkness, mickey smith, donna noble, martha jones, clara oswald, river song, simm! master

miss peregrines home for peculiar children

jacob portman, emma bloom, millard nulling, enoch o’connor, olive elephanta, alma peregrine

miscellaneous characters

sarah williams, bernard the elf, rodrick heffley, varian, lisa frankenstein, the creature (lisa frankenstein)

UPCOMING FANDOMS : les miserables

[lolahauri]

✎ Introduction ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Requests are always open, and you can send as many as you want, as detailed as you want! I just get to them whenever i can/feel like it.

Anon's: 🌹-🕯️-🍁-❤️-

Other Accounts: @lolas-favfics @lolamultifandom @lolahaurisfw

AO3: Here

-> MASTERLIST <-

DNI: MAP, ZOO, Pro-Para, Pro-Ana, TERF, Zionist, Bigots, Minors!!!, Discourse Blogs. ❤️🖤🤍💚

Things I Won't Write:

Sex Crimes of ANY KIND, Super Violent/Xtreme Kinks, Inflation, Feederism, Abuse, Puke, Shit, DDLG, Age Play, Raceplay, Wound Fucking, Gore, Vore, Misgendering, Stepcest etc... no exceptions!

Fluff, Angst, Platonic. (Go to my other fanfic blog for that.)

Things I Will Write:

Mild Yandere, Daddy/Mommy Kink, Cheating, Mild BDSM, CNC, Dubcon, Monsters, Hybrids, Sex Pollen, Legal Age Gap, Power Imbalance (Prof/Student, Boss/Employee), Feet, Armpits, Piss, Breeding, Mild Bloodplay & Knifeplay, Cock Warming, Dry Humping, Voyeur, Public Sex, Orgy, 3somes, Sex Toys, Overstim, Edging, etc... etc... :P

*if you aren't sure, just ask!* :)

HC's, One Shots, Multi-Chapter, Drabbles, F/O Imagines.

Canon-friendly, AU's, Canon Divergence, Out of Character.

Ch x Ch / Ch x Reader / Ch x OC / OC x Reader / Poly Ships of any kind.

F/F, M/M, F/M, GN/F, GN/M, Poly Ships of any kind.

Now that that's out of the way, here's the list of fandoms and characters i'm familiar with and will happily take requests on! (you can request other characters from these fandoms, but it might take me longer!)

FNAF Movie: Vanessa, Mike, William/Steve. Turning Red: Ming Lee, Jin Lee. YOU: Joe, Love, Beck, Peach. Encanto: Isabela, Bruno, Dolores, Julieta. Regular Show: Mordecai, Margret, Eileen, CJ, Benson. (Human Ver) Attack on Titan: Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Sasha, Levi, Hanji, Annie, Historia, Reiner, Erwin. BNA: Michiru, Shirou. Stardew Valley: All Adult Humans. (Including SDVE & RSV) Total Drama: All season 1 contestants, Chris, Chef, Blainley. SheRa: All Adults (Except Rogelio) King Of The Hill: Hank, Peggy, Luanne, Nancy, Dale, John Redcorn, Kahn, Min. Shameless: Lip, Fiona, Kev, V, Tony. Riverdale: FP Jones, Jughead, Veronica, Hiram, Betty. Creepypasta: Ben, Jeff, Jane, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Slenderman, Masky, Hoodie, Toby, Nina, Clockwork, Splendorman, Kate. Gravity Falls: Stan, Ford, Soos, Giffany Steven Universe: Jasper, Amethyst, Blue Diamond, Peridot, Lapis, Garnet, Rose, Bismuth, Greg. Adventure Time/Fiona and Cake: Princess Bubblegum, Marceline, Marshall Lee, Winter King, Candy Queen, Simon, Ice King, Fiona. COD: Konig, Ghost, Mace, Keegan, Krueger, Valeria. Desperate Housewives: Bree, Gabby, Edie, Mike, Lynette. DC: Batman, Harley, Joker, Ivy, Lex Luthor (Jesse Eisenburg). Slashers & DBD: Brahms, Ghostface (general), Michael Myers, Jason Vorhees, Pyramid Head, The Spirit, Wraith, Huntress, Trapper, The Trickster, Pearl, Carrie White, Jennifer Check, Stu Matcher, Billy Loomis, Tiffany Valentine, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Eric Draven. Nintendo: Link, Zelda, Peach, Daisy, Rosalina, Luigi, Waluigi, Bowser. Squid Games: Gi-Hun, Sae-Byeok, Ali, Sang Woo. Rick and Morty: Rick, Beth, Jerry. Stranger Things: Robin, Billy, Eddie, Chrissy, Hopper. Bee & Puppycat: Bee, Deckard, Cass, Toast. Princess & The Frog: Shadow Man, Tiana, Lottie, Naveen. Ratatouille: Collette, Linguini. The Nanny: CC, Fran, Maxwell. Full House: Danny, Jesse, Joey. BigBang Theory: Raj, Leonard, Amy, Penny. Spiderverse: Miguel, Jessica Drew. Black Dynamite: Honeybee, Black Dynamite. Breaking Bad: Skylar, Jesse, Walter. National Treasure: Benjamin Gates, Riley Poole. Superstore: Jonah, Amy, Dina. Spongebob: Man Ray, Dennis. Tangeled: Flynn, Rapunzel, Mother Gothell. Lisa Frankenstein: Lisa, Creature, Taffy. Jane the Virgin: Jane, Micheal, Rogelio, Petra, Xiomara, Rose, Luisa. Young Sheldon: Mary, Connie. Twilight: Edward, Carlisle, Alice, Charlie. Scott Pilgrim vs The World: Kim, Gideon, Ramona, Wallace. American Animals: Evan Peters (Warren), Barry Keoghan (Spencer). The Batman (2022): Batman, Riddler. Little Mermaid (2023): Ariel, Eric. Bob's Burgers: Linda, Bob. Avatar: Jake, Neytiri. Frozen: Elsa, Anna, Kristoff.My Hero Academia: Dabi, Hawks, Aizawa. Futurama: Leela, Amy, Fry, Bender. Earth Girls Are Easy: Mac, Wiploc, Zeebo, Valerie. Supernatural: Dean, Sam, Castiel.

Sherlock (2010): Sherlock Holmes, John Watson. Silverado: Slick, Rae, Mal, Paden.

Nani Palekai (Lilo & Stitch) Paul Cable (Last Stand at Saber River) Peter Mitchell (3 Men & A Baby) Randy Marsh (South Park) Charles Ingalls (Little House on the Prairie) Master Chief (Halo) Ian Hawke (Alvin & The Chipmunks) Poe Dameron (Star Wars: The Force Awakens) Linda Gunderson (Rio) Bruce (Beyond Therapy) Jack Harrison (Transylvania 6-5000) Peggy Bundy (Married… With Children) Kitten (Breakfast on Pluto) Scarecrow (Batman Begins) John Wick (John Wick 4) David Levinson (Independence Day) Jackson Rippner (Red Eye)Mike (5lbs of Pressure) Santa/Babbo Natale (Violent Night) Dan Conner (Roseanne) Tate Langdon (AHS: Murder House) Lt. Robert 'Bob' Floyd (Top Gun: Maverick 2022) Francine (American Dad) Beverly Goldberg (The Goldbergs) Fujimoto (Ponyo) Thomas Magnum (Magnum, P.I 1980) Doug Remer (Baseketball) Ian Malcolm (Jurassic Park 1993) Rose Tyler (Doctor Who) Moe Doodle (Doodle Bops) Astarion (Baulders Gate 3) Trevor Phillips (GTA5)Shaun Murphy (The Good Doctor) Georgia Miller (Ginny & Georgia) John Doe (John Doe Game) Paul Blart (Paul Blart Mall Cop) Fezzik (Princess Bride)

[rdiowx]

Hi im rdiowx, you can call me Ray or radio since rdio is just radio without the “a”.

NON ACTIVE ACCOUNT :[

KINKTOBER 2023!

Im autistic and Mcr is my special interest! I do take requests (however they aren’t open for mcr, Gideon graves or ryan ross rn!) if you have any ideas you want written so dont be afraid to ask!

They/them but he/him is fine too

This is a nblm/mlm blog.

Both my ao3 and Wattpad are: Cndlewax

I write for… (hcs are in white fics are in blue)

GERARD/PARTY POISION

— EDGING BASEMENT GEE (special appearance from bullets! Frank)

— BACKSTAGE WITH FRERARD

—KITTEN GEE

FRANK/FUN GHOUL

—EDGING BASEMENT GEE (special appearance from bullets! Frank)

— PUTTING FRANK IN HIS PLACE.

— FRANKS LOVE HANDLES

— COMFORT W/MIKEY AND FRANK

—BACKSTAGE W/ FRERARD

—TEASING W/ LEATHERMOUTH FRANK

—FRANKENSTEIN FRANK IERO

—PUPPY FRANK

RAY/JETSTAR

—COCKY RAY TORO

— RAY AND A READER THAT HAD A BAD DAY

MIKEY/KOBRA KID

—FUCKING UP YOUR HANDS WHIPLASH STYLE

— COMFORT W/MIKEY AND FRANK

GIDEON GRAVES

nothin yet

RYAN ROSS

nothin yet

PILOT KELSON

nothin yet

DONNIE DARKO

—YANDERE DONNIE HCS

—DONNIE X MENTALLY ILL READER HCS

—HELPING DONNIE WITH DELUSIONS HCS

— DONNIE X SKATER READER!

— DONNIE X MALE! GOTH STONER READER HCS

JIMMY LIVINGSTON

Nothin yet

MCR AUDIO LIST

GIDEON GRAVES AUDIO LIST

MCR + GIDEON GRAVES AUDIO LIST

DONNIE, PILOT AND JIMMY AUDIO LIST

BLOODSUCKER SERIES.

PLAYLIST

PROLOUGE

Kinks im fine with

I will write…

Smut

Fluff

The occasional angst (not a big fan)

Pretty dark fics if i have an idea i really like, ex: kidnapping and yandere themes > I HAVE A BLOG FOR THIS NOW ! :3 : @rdiowxdeaddove

Poly x reader relationship, Ex: frerard x reader, rikey x reader

Kinks that arent illegal and dont gross me out :) rn i have no idea what that entails

I will NOT write

Fem readers

Scat kink

Age gaps that are illegal

Pregnancy fics

Angst without comfort/a good ending (i dont know i just dont like them)

Vore (i feel like that speaks for itself no?)

Definitely not major character death man im a crybaby

Most drugs, HOWEVER marijuana is fine cause i have the most experience with it and cigarettes are also fine cause i grew up around a bunch of cigarette smokers.

Selfharm or suicide, i dont read thoes fics let alone feel comfortable writing them

💧🐕🦇💚🦴🌹🧩🩺🕯️🧟‍♀️👾 ,🦈🎸,🫘👽 🐾 🪰, 💣‼️,…

I don’t write for female readers at all.

[yandere-wishes]

With who would you ship yourself in MHA? 👀

@yandere-romanticaa

Omg, it's been a hot minute since I dabbled in MHA… But let me crack open the vault real quick.

So first off, and this should be obvious…

Dabi! The reason I started the show in the first place!! This boy's Frankenstein aesthetic had me swooning from the moment I saw a GIF of him!! And unconventional colored flames that probably symbolize a deep-seated trauma!! YES!! I honestly think we would make a good couple, kinda like Frankenstein and his bride (in a romanticized way), we'd have the Goth BF x Lolita GF vibes which are a bonus. I also get the inkling we'd share the same taste in music (Chase Atlantic, Neighborhood, Mr.Kitty)

Shigaraki is next and tbh I don't really know when I feel for him. Just that at one point he was all I could think about. I think it's something about his twisted legacy and conflicting nature that has rendered him into a decaying amalgamation of hate and misplaced ambitions, that really gets a girl's heart beating out of her chest, you know? He was always like an odd species that I came across in the backyard one day and had to analyze under a microscope. Desperate to learn his fundamentals, to unravel his soul. Understand him in the same way an archaeologist longs to understand the past.

I think our love is something like that of an obsessive scientist and her new discovery. Chaotic and all-consuming yet so frail and feeble to onlookers. A tame fire that leaves one utterly devoured, yet still longing for more. I think we'd be pretty good for each other.

NINE! He appeared in one movie and I was SO obsessed with him!! I had a countdown for when his movie would release. I remember for my 16th birthday we went to the fancy movie theater in town just to watch this guy on the big screen. And then all my friends burst out laughing when he died at the end. Ultimately my 2 month long craze over him died in that dark movie theater. TBH I don't really think we'd make a good couple, maybe just a casual fling or some hookups when life gets tough/boring. Nothing serious yet still a fundamental part of each other's lives.

Finally, we have Bakugo, the love-hate relationship I had with this guy was crazy. I was so madly in love with him one minute and the other I just wanted to suffocate him!! IDK what it was he was just so irritating and lovable at the same time. Another relationship that wouldn't work out. I don't even think he'd notice me in school and I'd just be in the corner secretly hating him because he has the perfect life. Popular, lots of friends, good grades. Even if we were in UA together I still don't think we'd end up together. Maybe a slight nod of acknowledgment in the halls one time when he's in a particularly good mood. But that's about it.

Now that I'm revisiting my tween crushes, I got a fun little au for Bakugo.

Imagine being Pro-Hero Bakugo's mistress. Just his girl on the side. For whatever reason you can't be together in public, you'd ruin each other's images. I think the reader kinda wants to ruin Bakugo's life just because she hated him in middle/high school. But Bakugo becomes too infatuated with her to let her leave him. Somehow they both end up destroying each other's lives. Yet ultimately Bakougou couldn't be happier.

This was such a long awnser🤣🤣

[your-regular-toast-enjoyer]

An awkward smile pt. 2: Yandere Damian Wayne x Reader.

Damian Wayne x reader. Yandere!Damian Wayne x reader/ Yandere Damian Wayne x Reader

Word count: 4834 words

Part 1 HERE

TW: GN reader, Yandere, kidnapping, adult Damian Wayne (inspired and mostly based off of Damian in Batman beyond & Injustice 2: Gods among us), toxic family relations, obsession, someone getting stabbed with a katana, semi-vivid description of death. Other than that, there's no s*x or anything of the like.

It was dark outside, and still, you could hear the persistent chirping of some feathered foe just outside your balcony. You had attempted to fall to rest for over an hour, yet the constant outside noises kept distracting you from your goal.

Closing your eyes tight, you tried to let sleep take its place, but the bird seemed to take offence to this and turned up the volume of its screechy chatter. Giving up on your long-awaited sleep, you slowly sat up. 

A cold breeze blew in from your left, right through the doorless opening to your balcony. The sandy-coloured walls had been darkened with the shadows cast by the moonlight, which shone brightly that night. 

You sat alone in the enormous silken bed. Damian was fulfilling his duties as the Head of the league, overseeing large-scale plans of destruction. 

“Demon Spawn no longer, now a fully-fledged Demon”, you whispered to yourself. Speaking to yourself was a habit you had since you were a child, but after Damian brought you to 'Eth Alth'eban, you started doing it more frequently. There was no one else to talk to except Damian and his mother. The servants either didn’t speak a word of any language you knew, or they were too afraid of conversing with the spouse of the Demon. Both were equally likely possibilities to you. 

Looking at the balcony again, you thought about going out and admiring the moon. Damian would have a fit when he came in, and you weren’t lying in bed, ready for him to tuck you in, but it wouldn’t matter. As long as you stroked his thick hair and kissed his plump lips, it’d all be fine. No one would get hurt.

Crawling on all fours over the green and gold silk blankets, you slowly reached the edge of the bed. Swinging both of your feet over the side, you reconsidered momentarily. Should you really get out of bed, knowing full well that Damian would end up agitated? 

You stood still. 

Then, the bird screeched out again, and you felt a burning desire to see the perpetrator. Letting your foot gently fall on the brown tiles, you carefully made your way out on the balcony. It was high up, at least four or five stories, if you jumped, you’d die. That was probably the only reason why Damian had let you have it. He didn’t believe that you’d rather die than stay with him. He was right, partially. You had no wish for death, at least not such a gruesome one. But you were desperate. Desperate people sometimes do things they wouldn’t have under normal circumstances.

Looking out into the darkened view of 'Eth Alth'eban, you considered its beauty. Large sandstone buildings stretched as far as the eye could see, their doors and windows cut into intricate patterns reminiscent of flowers and plants. Their roofs were inspired by Chinese architecture, their building style Arabic and the city’s layout western. It was a weird combination, but it somehow worked wonderfully. “Like Damian”, a small voice in the back of your head whispered. You ignored how this city perfectly encompassed Damian’s heritage, his strangely frankensteined accent and how, if he hadn’t been so… psychotic, as Tim had put it, he would have been just as wonderful as the city he ruled with an iron fist.

Leaning over the roundly carved railing of the balcony, you spied after the screeching little antagonist who had kept you awake. It was neither on the wonderfully curved roofs around you nor on any of the near-growing palms. You were much too preoccupied with attempting to find the annoying menace to hear as the door to the outside hall unlocked and slowly opened.

“Beloved!” Damian’s brass voice rang out throughout the room and you swallowed hard. “Bullocks…”, you whispered gently, as you turned around and slowly peeped out from the side of the balcony’s entrance. 

Damian hadn’t noticed you yet as he scoured the entire bedroom and adjacent bathroom on the left side of the bed. “I’m here”, you muttered quietly, afraid of his reaction. Turning around fast, Damian stared you down, his green eyes shining like a cat’s, ready to pounce at any moment. 

“What were you doing out there?!” Damian practically hissed. 

“I was just looking for a bird that kept me up”, you tried to keep your voice level, but it was difficult when you had seen what Damian could do if provoked. 

The man in front of you raised one thick eyebrow, a clear sign that he didn’t believe you. Despite the curses you had mentally thrown that damned ball of feathers previously, you now wished deeply that it would call out once again. Damian moved his tongue to the inside of his right cheek as if he was looking for any pieces of food that might’ve gotten stuck there. Slowly one of his feet started tapping the floor impatiently, his head bopping along to the rhythm gently. At first, you were at a loss for what his body language was trying to tell you. But then you realised. He was waiting to see if there really was a bird or not before he took any further action. 

You stayed where you were, on the balcony, holding the side of the entrance tightly as you were only letting your head into view from the inside of the room.

The seconds seemed to pass incredibly slowly, and your fingers and toes turned cold despite the tropical weather. Damian sighed and was about to take a step closer to you when the infernal fowl finally whistled its hellspawn song. 

Damian stopped in his tracks, his jaw slowly losing its tenseness. A gentle “oh” pressed its way through his lips as he stood still, looking awkwardly towards you for no more than a second before regaining his composure. 

“I apologise, my beloved.” It came out more as realisation than as a true apology, but you’d take it. Damian rarely admitted fault when it came to anything.

“It’s okay”, you whispered, but it was not and you knew it. You shouldn’t have to be afraid of the man you married. It was wrong. It never felt like this with Tim… You reprimanded yourself mentally for thinking of your old friend. If you just ignored the bizarreness of Damian’s obsession with you, the fact that he forced you here against your will, that he may or may not have killed Tim, and everything else relating to the darker sides of his love, then your life might have seemed like a movie. You supposed most wouldn’t consider living in gilded luxury as a horrible fate, even if that entailed being locked within the confines of a room or next to your husband’s side for the rest of eternity. You lived in a cage of gold, with yourself being adorned in the finest fabrics and fed the best-made food imaginable. It was all too much. You had never enjoyed this type of excessive opulence and it all felt forced, a useless attempt at covering up the cracks in your relationship with gold.

Damian bowed his head down, just a bit, enough to make him seem less threatening. Opening his arms for you to step into, “Come, beloved. It’s late. You should be asleep”. Your younger self would’ve fought back, spat insults in his face or avoided his gentle caresses. You had been naive to have thought it mattered. 

Tentatively stepping straight into his chest, your face pressed into his silk robes, you let him wrap his strong arms around you. Tightening his grip around you like you were a stuffed toy and he was a child. “I missed you, my love”, Damian gently whispered in your ear, the hairs on your neck standing up straight, you knew that meant nothing good for you. As he guided you towards your shared bed, he stopped just short of the edge, gesturing for you to crawl under the covers, you complied. Damian went over to one of the many intricately carved wooden closets which lined part of the left wall. As he softly pulled open the closet doors, you observed how the muscles in his arms pulled tautly. His arms had gotten more muscular than they had been back in Gotham, you supposed that Bruce’s and Damian’s training styles worked on different areas of the body, not that you knew anything about Batman’s training regiment.

When Damian had pulled out a long and loose silken dress, the same type that you were currently wearing. Undressing and redressing in his nightwear, he took his old clothes and threw them in a woven reeds basket next to the bathroom door. 

Turning to you, he smiled. Striding to the side of the bed, he climbed under the smooth covers as well, pulling you close and kissing the top of your head.

“Did your day go well, beloved?” You nodded, you knew that this was a test. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for your day. He did. But what he really wanted was for you to return the question. To feel that you cared just as much about him as he did you. If you didn’t ask him back, he’d turn agitated and come tomorrow a servant would lose their head. He would never physically hurt you, he worshipped your skin like it was made of diamonds. But, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t punish you by letting you know that your action or inaction was the cause of multiple servants’ deaths.

“What about you, Damia-” You caught yourself, Damian despised it when you used his full name. He’d often cite how you’d called his brother Tim and not Timothy, so it was only fair that you used his nickname, as well. 

“-Dami”, you corrected smoothly. 

He hummed, content. “Thank goodness”, you mused to yourself. 

It didn’t take long for Damian to fall asleep, he had always been a light sleeper, but he was also quick to fall asleep. You supposed that was useful for a soldier. Being able to sleep as soon as your head hit the pillow and wake up at the slightest disturbance. It took you a while to sleep. The thoughts of all your old friends, family and especially Tim flooded your mind. How did you let it all go so wrong?

You sat in the league’s massive library in the early morning. The first time you were alone in months. Damian had been forced to oversee an emergency and you had reassured him that he could simply drop you off in the library and you’d be there when he came back. He decided to trust you. Besides, it wasn’t as if you were really alone, there were guards stationed on the outside of the library doors, ready to capture you and bring you to Damian, should you decide to run. Still, this was the most alone you had been in a while and you had missed being by yourself. Dancing around on the polished wooden floor, with a book in your hands, you laughed loudly.

“What’s so funny?” An unfamiliar voice questioned with an amused lilt.

You stopped immediately, looking in the direction of the voice. A man with bone-white hair and even paler skin stood in front of you. His eyes were covered by green-tinted sunglasses and his age was hard to discern. Younger than Talia, but older than you was your best guess. Then again, from what Damian had told you, Talia was near immortal, so you supposed that most people were younger than her.

“Nothing.” You replied courtly, not wishing to appear rude, nor wishing to get this man killed for interacting with you.

“You were dancing around with a book, laughing like a madman, darling”, the man chuckled. Staring deadpan at the man, you noticed how he wore a deep green cepken. Green was reserved for the Al Ghuls. Either this man had stolen his vest, which was unlikely as he would’ve been killed for such an offence, or something else was going on. “Who are you?” Your voice was much louder than you had intended and your eyes swiftly turned to the library’s door, hoping that the guards hadn’t heard you.

“Ah, interested in the stranger, are we?” The man smirked, he had the same calming yet unidentifiable accent as Damian, although the stranger’s were on the thicker side. Taking a step back, you made sure not to trudge on the long viridescent robes that your husband had made you wear. You were tempted to threaten the pale man by calling the guards but decided to simply turn around and start walking away. The library was large enough for multiple people to be within it and never see or hear each other. Besides, if the man posed a danger, the large floor-to-ceiling bookcases would prove excellent in helping you hide. 

As you walked, you heard the man come running up behind you. “Aw, come on sweetheart, I was just teasing”, he threw his hands into the pocket of his loose trousers, walking alongside you. 

“Please leave me alone or explain who you are”, you spat. Before Damian took you, you might’ve held a more tactful tone, but a combination of getting used to the royal treatment and having lost the naivety you held before your kidnapping, had made you uncaring of others’ perception of you. 

The white-haired stranger didn’t seem to mind though, instead, his smug smile broadened, “Ah, of course! How could I possibly refuse the order of the Demon’s spouse? Dusan Al Ghul is the name.” 

You stopped in your tracks, and so did Dusan. “Al Ghul?” You exclaimed surprised. He looked nothing like Talia or Damian. His hair was as white as snow, theirs was dark, bordering on black. His skin was like ivory, both Damian and Talia held a golden tan, Talia, more than Damian. Something was wrong, you discerned. Yet, when you let your eyes take in his face, you could see the resemblance to Talia. Same roman nose, same high cheekbones and same broad face.

“Albinism”, Dusan offered, his tone amused. Like he had given the same explanation hundreds of times, but never stopped finding others' reactions hilarious.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry”, you stuttered out, your intentions hadn’t been to offend the man.

He waved your concerns off with a limp hand movement, “Don’t worry about it. I’d probably be confused too if some ghost-looking man claimed to be the son of Ra’s Al Ghul.”

Now your confusion was made worse, son of Ra’s? Wouldn’t that make him the true heir of the League of Assassins, not Damian? You wanted to ask, but you were afraid of further insulting the man. You settled on consoling him for the death of his father. Damian had told you that Ra’s died in an attack a few years back, how long ago? You had no idea, but it couldn’t hurt to be polite after the stunt you had pulled earlier.  “Oh, I’m sorry for your loss.” It came out as little more than a whisper, and Dusan raised his eyebrows mockingly.

“Don’t apologise for that old idiot’s death. It was well deserved. I certainly felt next to no sorrow over his long-overdue end.” 

“Still. Losing a parent must be hard.” You tried to justify.

Dusan shook his head and raised his shoulders, “Eh, he cast me aside for my appearance, I seldom thought of him as a father.” 

That’s why he isn’t the one sitting on the League throne, you realised. Ra’s had rejected him for his condition. 

“I see, then I’m sorry for you not losing him earlier”. Your eyes widened, that wasn’t how you had meant your words to come out. You had often ended up with quotes like that one when you were around Tim. Too comfortable to think how your overly-analytical thoughts might sound to others. You must’ve gotten too relaxed in Dusan’s company without realising it. You gulped audibly, ready to apologise when the white-haired man let out a burst of roaring laughter.

“Oh wow! I can see why my nephew likes you. Yes. That is exactly what you should console me for! My father passing too late!”

You chuckled quietly as well, your infamous awkward smile pulling on your lips. It felt refreshing to not have to walk on eggshells while conversing, you had almost forgotten what that felt like. Feeling emboldened, you asked a question which had plagued you for a while, “How old was he anyways? I always hear everyone call him immortal, but surely not, right?”

Dusan took a second to think, then grinned sheepishly, “Don’t judge me for not knowing the exact year, but I believe he was around five hundred years old when he passed.” 

If your jaw could’ve dropped to the ground, it would. “Five hundred?!” You exclaimed.

“Yeah, Talia is a hundred and fifty. Guess my age!” Dusan gave your shoulder a push, he was strong and almost drove you into one of the bookcases beside you. 

You stared at him in bewilderment. Talia was a hundred and fifty! She didn’t look a day over thirty-five! You knew of the Lazarus pit’s powers, but still, to the uninitiated, it was astonishing how well it truly worked. Taking a good look at Dusan, you thought he couldn’t be more than twenty-seven, maybe twenty-eight. However, if Talia was a hundred and fifty, he would have to be a hundred and something as well. “A hundred and ten?” Your answer was less of an educated guess and more of a wild shot in the dark.

Dusan looked impressed, “Close, a hundred and five.”

You looked over at him again, debating if it would be appropriate to joke about his non-existent plastic surgeon. Suddenly, Dusan’s face turned even more mischievous, “You really think I look five years older? Wow! Unbelievable! What if I said that about you?!” He dramatically threw a hand to his forehead and held his shirt tightly, posing like a character from a Shakespeare play. He looked absolutely ridiculous, and you laughed loudly. It was hard not to, Dusan seemed like a natural-born entertainer. The first of his kind that you had seen in the League.

Dusan was gone when Damian picked you up again. The green-eyed man had been impressed with how much more energy you had for him that evening, even joking around like you had done back in Gotham. Damian came to the conclusion that perhaps your previous apathetic behaviour was simply a result of you being an introvert, and not getting alone time to recharge. Grayson had once explained the concept of introverts vs extroverts to the youngest Wayne, and if Damian was honest, he had thought it was all a bunch of pseudo-science, not to be taken seriously. Yet, here you were, living proof of the theory presented by his brother. It encouraged Damian to let you stay on your own in the library more often. Every time you returned to him, you’d be more energised than the last. 

What Damian didn’t know was that you weren’t alone in the library. No, every time Damian let you alone in the library, his uncle would know and join you. 

This routine of yours went on for months. A few days every week, you would ask to go to the library. Damian would relent as you initiated deep kisses with him, convincing him to let you stay for hours by appearing overjoyed in his presence. You had even once jumped into his arms, folding your legs around his waist, as he came to pick you up from your “alone time”, as he called it.

One late afternoon, Dusan and you had been joking around in the library. The way the bright sun entered the large windows, hitting the sandy walls, the large bookcases and Dusan’s green-tinted spectacles, it all felt familiar and freeing.

“You’re pretty spry for a hundred-something-year-old, you know?” You teased the man, as Dusan climbed up on one of the bookcases to fetch a book that had caught your eye. “Yeah? How would you know? What other hundred-year-olds do you have to compare me with?” He laughed as he threw the book at your feet, jumping down and sauntering over to your side. As you bent down to pick up the book, you mumbled your response, “Your sister. But she’s even more active than you.” Dusan heard you, despite your attempt to partially hide your answer and he smirked. “Oh yeah? How would you know? You’ve only ever seen me in the library, darling. You don’t know what I get up to on the outside.”

Shaking your head at his silliness, you turned to look directly into his glasses. “What do you get up to, then?” 

Dusan raised his chin, and you knew he was about to come out with a teasing response, “Well, I quite like to train with the katana… and flirt with charming and intelligent individuals. Although, the latter I also do quite often in the library.”

You blushed a little, you knew he was just joking, but you couldn’t help but play along with a challenging smirk. “Oh really? How many people visit the library regularly?”   

Dusan cocked his head to the side, pretending to count, “Two, unless you’re bringing your husband along secretly, which I’d find just a bit awkward.”

“Just a smidge”, you agreed with an awkward grin. Deciding to join in on the teasing, you crossed your arms, your eyebrows drawing upwards in mock disgust as you joked, “Don’t you think you’re a little too old for me?”   

Dusan shrugged as he looked at you from the top of his glasses, his pinkish eyes on full display. You had seen them a few times before, but that didn’t change the fact that they appeared like the most beautiful spinels to ever exist. It was such a shame that he hid them behind the green-tinted lenses. “Don’t they say age is just a number?” You both laughed louder than ever before. Looking to the side, you both realised that you were right in front of the closed library doors. Dusan and you turned to each other, and giggled again, this time more quietly. As you kept your gaze on the white-haired man and he kept his on you, something started to bubble in your stomach. It had been there for a while. Those feelings. Dusan wasn’t really the type of guy you would’ve usually gone for back in Gotham, but here? In a palace where you were trapped by your obsessive husband, who had kidnapped you and maybe even killed your best friend. Dusan was the only good thing you felt like you had left. Dusan felt the same, or at least he very much appreciated your company. You knew it to be true because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have risked getting caught by Damian, just to meet you for a few hours. You would have usually felt bad about having such intense feelings for someone else when you were technically married to Damian. But the circumstances around your wedding made you feel as if the vows exchanged were nullified. You had fought Damian, and anyone else who aided him, all the way up to the altar. It had so clearly been against your will, yet none had stopped it. 

You kept repeating this in your head as you carefully stepped closer to Dusan, reaching up for his glasses, and gently taking them off. Your movements were slowed as much as possible, giving the man ample opportunity to stop you. He didn’t. Instead, he tenderly touched your cheek. This was the closest you had ever been to him physically. You noted how he held the same scent of burned incense as Damian. Leaning towards you steadily, he halted right as his lips were hovering above yours, giving you time to step away. You stood your ground, and Dusan placed a heavy kiss on your lips, closing his eyes.

Just before you leant in to reciprocate the affection, the library doors swung open. Damian stood there. Fuming. He had been informed by the guards of the loud laughter and had immediately sensed something off. He had been correct.

You didn’t know how it happened. It felt as if Damian had suddenly teleported next to you. One second, you stood with Dusan close to you, the next he lay bleeding on the tiled floor.

Your scream echoed throughout the entire library. Guards surrounded you and the two Al Ghuls. You were about to run to Dusan, when he discreetly lifted his hand, stopping you. He knew it was over for him, but he could still save you from Damian’s wrath.

“Nice spouse you got there, nephew. I thought you probably didn’t mind me smooching them a bit. You know, a family shares everything, r-right?” His speech was interrupted by Dusan heaving quietly for breath. Damian had stabbed him straight through the abdomen, and not in any of the safer areas. Of course, he hadn’t, Damian was a professional in the field of killing, he knew exactly how to snuff someone’s life out slowly and painfully.  

“How dare you?! You filth!” Damian roared, and you flinched.

“Ah! I see that the two of you have something in common! T-that’s what t-they said as well!” Dusan attempted to laugh, but it came out more as a wheezing. You were confused by Dusan’s words, you had been the one initiating the kiss. Then it hit you. Dusan was taking full responsibility for the kiss. He was making sure that Damian wouldn’t hurt you. You stared at his pink eyes, they were getting glossy and it frightened you. 

Damian’s nostrils flared, his face heated and his teeth ground each other harshly. He was giving you the same impression as a bull seeing a Matador flailing a red cloth in front of it. “You will pay for touching my beloved”, Damian whispered. Somehow, his quiet tone was more horrifying than his yells. 

“You stabbed me dear nephew, isn’t this payback e-enough?” Dusan uttered in his best attempt at a jovial manner, you knew he was doing this for you. You knew he didn’t want you to realise that he was scared, but his eyes betrayed him, and the worry behind his irises was clear as day. 

You took a step towards the two men, and your eyes travelled to the slim hole through Dusan’s stomach. The red splatters of thick and warm blood were everywhere. It contrasted terribly well with Dusan’s milkwhite skin, a few drops had landed in his long snowy hair. A maroon pool of the thick liquid mixed with the dust of the floor was spreading out from underneath the only friend you had left. You noticed how Dusan’s deep green cepken was stained darker around the pierced flesh, yet it hadn’t turned colour. It was almost calming the way the vest covered the actual wound, it was hiding the actual damage from your sight. That was something Dusan was grateful for as well. 

The man had known that this would happen sooner or later. His nephew kept constant tabs on you, besides, Dusan had never been known for being discreet. He didn’t mind dying like this. He had lived a long life, longer than he had ever wanted, and despite his horror at not knowing what came next, he didn’t mind dying after having kissed the only person who ever cared enough to get to know him. It seemed like a poetic ending for someone as old as him. 

As Dusan’s body turned cold, Damian had turned your head into his shoulder, whispering gentle praises and apologies for not being there before tragedy struck.

His long and thin fingers raked through your scalp, gently scratching the skin in a comfortable rhythm. It would have been nice if the dead body of your only friend didn’t lay behind you.

After Dusan’s death, you lost hope. He had been your only ally in this strange and unwelcoming place. And as much as you hated to admit it, he had reminded you of a more extroverted version of Tim. The way you just clicked instantly, the way he didn’t mind your at times bizarre humour, instead indulging in it. It felt just like when Tim was there. You loathed yourself for his death, entirely your fault. But what was even worse was that it wasn’t just Dusan that you mourned. It was Tim’s possible death as well. 

Somehow, having seen Dusan’s passage from this world to the next gave you a sense of melancholic closure for both him and Tim. It was as if, by seeing Damian’s reaction to Dusan kissing you, you could imagine his reaction to Tim’s friendship with you.

These were the thoughts you contemplated every night as you stared into Damian’s beautifully carved face, born to look perfect. How cruel was the world? To give a monster the magnificence of an angel.

A/N: There was technically a bit of Dusan Al Ghul x reader in this, but it's my horrendously OOC version of Dusan. Dusan is not an OC, I don't really like to use OCs in works based in other universes, other than the reader themselves, of course. Dusan is very much a real character within the Batman extended universe... I urge you guys to search him up, the real version is much cooler than my ESTP/ENTP-ified version. Anyways... I hope you enjoyed it! (And thank you to the anon who requested a part 2).