#yandere cyclops

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

I would like to request romantic yandere scott summers x reader where his darling has amnesia. Now I don’t know how they got amnesia but scott brings reader home from the hospital one day and takes reader home claiming the reader is his wife or husband( gender does not matter), even though they were not married before. Scott takes advantage of the fact reader has amnesia, I would also have to assume they are not at the mansion so scott can do his yandere doings

BAG OF BONES

Sinopsis. You remembered nothing, not even your name, yet he wove stories with threads of gold and promises. His voice, a refuge; his gaze, a cage. He claimed to love you like never before, like always. How could you doubt someone who swore to be your everything, even if his love felt like a prison disguised as home?

pairing ── Yandere! Scott Summers x Amnesiac! Reader.

Content. MDNI ── Dark themes, violence/death, blood, retrograde amnesia, forced marriage, inappropriate touching, insolation, invasion of privacy, kidnapping?, Slight mention of pregnancy, delusion, Angst, murdering, Disturbing Content, Death of a canonical character, lgbt?, Unhealthy Obsession, Gaslight, Mental Illness, Corruption, Isolation, Paranoia, Manipulation.

A/N ── English is not my first language—Spanish— Honestly, I've always been interested in the Yandere x Amnesiac theme. It's really fascinating how the psychology of the characters can be so complex in these types of stories. Also, thank you for being clear and concise in your request, and I hope you enjoy it.

They say one should never try to go back to the past, that the present is where we must live and the future what we must build. But how could you do that when you felt a piercing emptiness in your chest, a pain you didn’t understand? Your heart screamed that something was wrong, that what you were experiencing wasn’t real, that danger lurked closer than you could imagine.

The white glare of the hospital lights blinded you as you opened your eyes. You felt your body heavy, your mind clouded, and an absolute bewilderment that made you tremble. Everything felt strange, as if you were a piece out of place in an unknown puzzle. Then you saw him.

A tall man, with a firm build, wearing burgundy glasses that hid his eyes but not his excited expression. His smile lit up upon seeing you awake, and before you could say anything, his lips pressed against your forehead, your cheeks, your hair, leaving desperate and anxious kisses.

“Thank God you’re okay,” he whispered with a warm, relieved voice.

But you weren’t. You remembered nothing. Not even your name. Confusion filled you, and words wouldn’t come to your lips. He, however, seemed to have all the answers.

“I’m Scott Summers, do you remember me?” he said, taking your hand gently. His fingers were warm, but the way he squeezed them made you feel trapped—“We just got married.”

Married? The impact left you breathless. You looked at your hands, and there it was: a beautiful diamond ring along with a wedding band. Its shine seemed to confirm his words. When you looked up, you saw he wore a similar set on his left hand.

“I... don’t remember...” you started to say, but he shook his head gently.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re alive, and that’s all that matters. I’ll take care of you.”

His voice was sweet, reassuring, and you decided to believe him. Why wouldn’t you? Everything seemed to fit: the ring, the familiarity in his gestures, the way he looked at you. But deep inside, there was something you couldn’t silence.

There was something in his smile, something in the way his fingers never stopped touching you, that made you feel exposed. Vulnerable. Like you were a butterfly trapped in a display case, admired but with no escape.

How naïve you were to think that warmth meant safety.

When he took you to what he said was your home, the confusion inside you grew heavier, more oppressive. It was a small cabin in the midst of a lush forest, completely isolated from the rest of the world. Scott explained that the distance was necessary, that you had always preferred the tranquility of nature, away from societal judgment, especially for what you were: a mutant.

“You used to say that here you could be yourself,” he murmured with a smile as he parked the car. His words were warm, but they sounded strange.

As he guided you through the house, you noticed how his explanations seemed overly rehearsed, almost mechanical. The master bedroom was cozy, with dark wooden furniture and a large bed, but there was something unsettling in how orderly everything was, as if you had never truly lived there.

“This is the guest room,” he said as he opened a door. The space was filled with tools and paint, as if it were in the process of being transformed—“I’m preparing it for something special.”

You didn’t ask for what. There was something in his tone that dissuaded you from doing so.

The kitchen, however, came with a warning. “Don’t enter here without me, okay? I want to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

“Hurt myself?” The phrase hung in your mind as he showed you the rest of the house. Finally, you arrived at the living room, the space that unsettled you the most.

It was a mix of museum and altar. There were photos of you everywhere: smiling, reading, walking in a park you didn’t recognize. Some included Scott, his arm always firmly around your shoulders, and others showed a group of people who seemed unfamiliar yet strangely familiar.

In one of the photos, a group dressed in flamboyant, almost theatrical clothes stood out. It was a mosaic of colors and textures that evoked something lost on the edge of your memory. In the image, you were in a corner, embraced by a young woman with pink glasses who seemed a few years younger than you. On your other side, a brown-haired woman with white streaks smiled subtly, though she didn’t touch you. She seemed close, important.

However, what caught your attention the most wasn’t any of them, but a figure in the background, almost hidden behind Scott. A woman with bright red hair who seemed to look at the man with particular intensity. The photo was slightly blurry, as if someone had manipulated it or neglected it on purpose.

“Who is she?” you asked, pointing at the blurred figure before you could stop yourself.

Scott tensed immediately. His smile vanished for an instant before returning, though more forced. “Oh, just someone from the past. It doesn’t matter now. The only thing that matters is you and how happy we are together.”

You didn’t press. His response wasn’t enough, but something in his gaze told you that pushing was dangerous.

That night, as you tried to sleep, doubts burned inside you. Who was that woman? Why couldn’t you remember anything about your life, not even the people in those photos? And above all, why did every time you looked at Scott, the weight in your chest grew heavier, as if you were trapped in a gilded cage?

You didn’t love Scott. You couldn’t. Maybe you had at some point, but if that was the case, that love didn’t survive the accident that erased your memories. Now, he was a stranger, and his constant need for contact suffocated you. Scott wasn’t just clingy; he was voracious. Every caress felt like an indelible mark on your skin, every kiss a reminder that you weren’t free.

He adored being glued to you, almost as if he feared you would disappear if he let go. He insisted on bathing you, choosing your clothes and dressing you, his fingers grazing your skin more than necessary. He prepared every meal with devotion and served it to you as if you were a deity to be worshipped. But even those gestures, so carefully disguised as love, carried a shadow you couldn’t ignore.

“I want you to feel cared for, protected,” he would tell you with a smile as he brushed your hair. His words were sweet, but the way he said them was unsettling, as if he were convincing himself more than you.

Days passed in suffocating routines and deafening silence. Scott took you outdoors, around the cabin, making sure not to stray too far. He said it was for your safety, but you knew that wasn’t true. Every time you looked at the forest, so vast and full of possibilities, you felt a growing urge to run, to escape, even though you didn’t know where to go.

And then the flashes began.

At first, they were fleeting images, fragments that emerged when you least expected them. A smile that wasn’t from Scott. A soft laugh. Bright green eyes framed by fiery red hair. The woman from the photo.

Every time those memories surfaced, a sharp pain pierced your head, as if your mind struggled to protect you from something you didn’t want to know. But the most disturbing thing wasn’t the woman, but how you saw her: standing next to Scott, his hand in hers, their lips forming words you couldn’t hear. Happy. United. Almost as if…

No.

The first day you had that memory, you screamed in the middle of breakfast. The spoon fell from your hands as you instinctively recoiled in your chair. Scott was beside you in an instant, his hands firm on your shoulders, his eyes hidden behind glasses but his face filled with concern.

“What’s wrong, love? Are you okay?”

“I... I...” You tried to explain, but the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was look at his hands, those same hands that in your visions touched another woman with the same devotion as they now touched you.

Scott frowned, his expression darkening for a moment before a nervous smile returned to his face. “It’s just your mind playing tricks on you. It’s normal, sweetheart. Take a moment.”

But it wasn’t. And you knew it.

That night, as you brushed your teeth, the mirror in front of you trembled. Not from any external movement, but because your mind was slowly breaking, releasing pieces of a puzzle you were just beginning to recognize. A flash hit you, as if a storm were dragging you to another time.

She was there, the red-haired woman you had seen before, but this time she wasn’t a blurry image. Her laughter was warm, almost contagious, and you were next to her, shy, with a small smile that barely dared to emerge. Her hand rested gently on your arm while the other figures around you joined in the conversation.

The dark-haired woman with white streaks watched you with a mischievous look, an eyebrow raised as she crossed her arms. Beside her, a young woman with pink glasses laughed loudly, patting your shoulder as if she had known you forever. Nearby, another tall woman, with deep eyes and a majestic demeanor, looked at you with a mix of understanding and affection. They all seemed to encourage something, their animated voices like a chaotic melody you could barely comprehend.

“He’s a good man,” one of them said, her tone firm but kind. “He adores you!” exclaimed the youngest, with a beaming smile. “Just go and have a little fun.”

But not all were so enthusiastic. The red-haired woman didn’t share their laughter or their words of encouragement. Her expression was softer, almost melancholic, and her eyes met yours for a long moment. When the others dispersed, she stepped closer to you.

Her hands took yours, warm and steady, and for a moment you felt more protected than you had in a long time. She didn’t say anything at first, just hugged you tightly, her embrace speaking more than any words. Leaning toward your ear, her voice was a whisper, but her words were etched into your memory.

“You have my blessings…” Her breath was shaky, and you felt her fingers tighten slightly on your back—“And I love you.”

You stepped back slightly to look at her, but her smile seemed like a mask. There was something in her eyes you couldn’t understand at that moment, something that hurt you in a strange way.

The memory faded as quickly as it came, leaving you standing in front of the mirror, gasping. You gripped the edge of the sink, your fingers white from the pressure. Your reflection seemed distant, as if it weren’t yours.

Who was she? What did it all mean? And above all, why did her face, her voice, her embrace fill you with a warmth that made Scott’s love feel cold and forced?

The mirror in front of you trembled as you hit it with your hands, gasping, your pupils dilated with terror. Your reflection didn’t look like you. It was a broken version, trapped in a life you didn’t understand.

Scott appeared behind you like a ghost, his hands wrapping around your waist firmly. His warm breath on your neck made you shiver.

“You look tired, love. Let me take care of you.”

The first time you saw him in full clarity was in a dream, or so you thought when you woke up, gasping and with your body soaked in cold sweat.

You were in a dark and damp room, the air heavy with the metallic smell of blood. Your hands trembled as you held a fragile, cold, lifeless body: a woman with red hair, now dulled and stuck to her pale face. Blood stained her lips and flowed from multiple wounds on her chest, as if something had pierced her repeatedly. They weren’t normal wounds; they were small, irregular caves, burned by a heat that couldn’t be human.

Jean. Her name hit you like lightning. Jean. Now you knew, and the weight of that name on your chest made you sob as you held her against you, trying, futilely, to cover the wounds with your hands.

“No... no, please, wake up...” Your voice was a desperate whisper, broken, a lament in the void.

The sound of footsteps behind you made your body tense. You recognized them before turning around. Their walk was unmistakable: confident, calculated, almost victorious.

Scott was there. His figure was silhouetted against the dim light, his burgundy glasses shining with an unsettling glow. His face showed no sadness, no guilt. Only satisfaction.

“It had to be this way,” he said with a calm voice, too tranquil for the scene before you. His tone was gentle, almost kind, as if he were explaining something simple.

You stood frozen, your hands still holding the body of the woman, while your mind struggled to process his words.

“What... what did you do?” you managed to murmur, though your voice was barely a thread.

Scott took another step forward, his boots echoing on the stone floor. He knelt before you, ignoring the blood staining the ground and spreading like a river between you two. His hand rose to caress your cheek, and you flinched, unable to move.

“Now that she’s gone…” he continued, his tone filled with a sweetness that was terrifying—“nothing can separate us. We can be together, just as we were always meant to be.”

Your body reacted before your mind did. You let Jean’s body fall, stumbling backward, your hands still trembling, covered in her blood. “You’re crazy!” you shouted, though your voice broke into a sob at the end.

But Scott didn’t seem affected. He stood up with the calmness of someone who knows he has already won. He took a step toward you, and then another, until you had no space left to escape.

“No, love,” he said, leaning toward you, his breath brushing your ear—“I’m in love.”

The intensity in his voice paralyzed you. It was a declaration, not an explanation. He truly believed that everything he had done was out of love.

The dream, or the memory, ended there, with his face so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his skin. You woke up with a start, a muffled scream in your throat and your heart pounding in your chest.

Your hands continued to tremble as you looked around the room. You were in the cabin, in your bed, but the smell of blood still seemed to linger in the air.

“Are you okay?” Scott’s voice broke the silence. He was next to you, watching you with his typical feigned concern, his hand already reaching for yours.

You instinctively recoiled, pulling away from his touch, but you tried to hide it. Your breathing was ragged, and you forced yourself to nod. “Just... a bad dream.”

He smiled, but his eyes behind the glasses didn’t stop watching you with that intensity that always seemed to hide something more. “I’m here for you. Always.”

That night, you decided you had to uncover the truth, even if it cost you your sanity... or your life.

A/N ── Yes, it’s not a happy ending, but at least it’s an ending that leaves a lot of room for reflection. I wanted to try out a conclusion like this at some point, and I hope it didn’t make anyone uncomfortable. Thank you for reading, and if you want to request something, feel free to do so as long as requests are open. More information in the pinned comment!

Take a bath!

[fandomzwriterk]

i would like to request some yandere Scott summers x reader where he is pinning after his darling and eventually confesses

The New “Grey”

Warnings: yandere Scott Summers + ooc Scott + pinning + Divorced!Scott (?)

A/N: I hope you like! I’ll try and do my best!

“Y/n!” You heard a friendly voice say

You turned, seeing Gambit, the X-Men’s favorite man walk up to you as Jubilee, Rouge, and Jean turned to see the men of the X-Men (haha) walk up to play for a game of basketball. Well… almost everyone.

“Hey where’s the main man Scott at? I thought he would’ve been out here by now.” Morph groaned as he leaned on Logan, which Logan just growled and let happen.

“Maybe he’s inside. I’ll go look for him.” You spoke up

As you turned to walk inside, you saw Gambit’s eyes sadden, almost as if he wanted to make you come back. You felt guilty, being one of his best friends and not staying when he wanted you to.

“Tell em he’s late!” Gambit shouted as you walked inside

You rolled your eyes. Gambit was just being his normal self… again. But Scott hiding in the mansion without Jean near him? Now that was odd.

“Scott?” You asked looking up the stairs

Silence greeted you, so you decided to go up them anyways. His and Jean’s room was up there so you might as well start looking there.

“Scott?” You asked once more as the wooden floors creaked under your weight

You kept walking, ignoring the look Jean gave Scott earlier this morning. You had barely woken up and went do to the kitchen to find Scott and Jean fighting with each other. It scared you, you’ve never seen Jean so angry before. And when she was angry… she was angry. So, something must’ve happened for them to fight each other. Or, maybe that was just normal married stuff happening.

“Look Scott everyone’s looking for you so you should-“

You turned to the left, heading into one of the last largest rooms where Jean and Scott slept. There you saw Scott, sitting with his back to you, staring out the window. Almost as soon as you walked into the room, Scott turned his head to see you, standing up as if he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Oh hey Y/n! Did I miss something? Was there a discussion I missed?”

He was dodging the issue at hand. Why was he hiding in this room?

“No you didn’t miss anything. The team is just looking for you for-“

“I know. I know they are.” He said half interested

“Then come down! They’re looking for their leader.”

He sighed, just annoyed with the idea of going down there. He patted next to him on the bed as he sat back down.

“What’s wrong?”

He fidgeted with his hands, wondering where to put them as he moved to the side to let you have space.

“Y-You know how Jean and I are… not on good terms right now?”

You nodded. What did that matter? Was it bad? Scott has been nothing but loving to Jean… so what went wrong?

“Well… we uh… are getting divorced.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“Divorced… like not together anymore.”

You stood up, half angry at him for all things he and Jean had been through together.

“Jean just had your son! Then he gets sent to the future away from you and Jean forever! You’re just gonna quit on her?”

Scott looked like he was holding back the anger as he too stood up, walking forward causing you to walk back.

“Quit? I’m not quitting. There is nothing to quit on! She’s not even my Jean anymore. Besides I only married her because I had a crush on her and everyone kept saying they saw it coming.”

His voice was calm, but very firm, holding any bitter rage for Jean and using it on you. He was angry, and his walking could show that. You turned quickly, not wanting to be in the same room as him when his temper exploded. So, you ran to the door. But, as soon as you did… there was a firm hand on your wrist. It was Scott, pulling you back as his other hand shut the door loudly.

“You don’t understand… there was-

“There was what Scott?”

He let go of your wrist, realizing he went too far by putting his hands on you.

“I’m sorry. I just… there’s a lot I want to say to you, and to Jean.”

“What is it Scott? Did she do something to you?”

“No no that’s not it. It’s more of what I want to do.”

“Want to do?”

“Yeah. There’s something I’ve been wanting, no, needing to do.”

He gently moved his hands, resting them on your biceps, pushing you into the wall with force but not enough to hurt.

“S-Scott what are you doing?”

“Something I’ve been meaning to do for years.”

“And… what is that?”

He chuckled, realizing you were super dense to what he was saying. Finally, he had you right where he wanted you.

“I love you my darling… I always have.”

A/N: I apologize if this sucks I’m gonna keep trying but I hope you enjoyed it!

[pianocat939]

I haven’t posted in a longgggg time. Mostly because I’ve been on the grind for some video games + money to buy a new saxophone because my girlie is LIVING on tape rn ;-;

Anyway, this is just…a random idea I’ve thought of. I don’t have big plans yet, but just a little something to get me back to writing again.

So this idea is inspired by both Monster High and Monsters University. And the thing that might make this a shitpost is acrually the heavy design inspo from Mike Wazowski…save me from my brain-

Tw: Drugging, Needles (very brief), no consent mini surgery (installment of a device), implied stalking

So, MC is at university doing whatever studies they wish. Of course, they get assigned to a dorm to make transportation easier.

(MC can be human or any creature you choose, I’m bullshitting here)

Upon first entrance, their roommate happens to be some cyclops dude trying to cut his hair. Just…casually cutting his hair. Miserably. The more he cuts, the more it looks like a bowlcut.

(Now, unlike Wazowski, he actually is tall and has a proper body and head. More similar to the Ancient Greek myth than Mike. However, minus the giant part.)

MC is kind of feeling awkward but tries to introduce themselves. But he’s just snipping away, while talking. He’s quite friendly, but more quiet.

It’s only until he’s about to chop off a huge chunk that MC offers to do his hair since it’s about to be a borderline disaster. He agrees.

So somehow MC is stuck with trimming hair while they get to know him better.

He talks of how he’s a computer engineering major. How he’s building some grand PC of his own to game on.

Then he mentions how his family immigrated from Cyprus and has been living in [country idfk] ever since. Then goes on a ramble how despite his family’s culture he is the biggest hater of olives. He mentions mother complains to him he is avoiding his true nature.

But then, he asks MC, “If you had to offer your heart to let someone survive, would you?”

Of course, MC is stunned and is confused why he’s asking such a question. But answers soon enough.

He smiles. His one eye squinting with happiness.

“I would. I absolutely would. Especially since it took me so long to find you.”

Before MC could question him, they feel his hand quickly grasp away the scissors. His agility is a mystery. He then gets some form of spray can bottlefrom his hoodie pocket and sprays their face.

A suspicious, cheap looking can. MC starts freaking out: the chemical smell, his strange statement and question, and even his facial expression creeping them out too.

But then, they start feeling woozy. Weak. Extreme weakness you could call it. Having to settle themselves on the nearby seat. Their mind shutting down quickly.

And in moments slump over the backrest of the chair like they’re sleeping.

The cyclops just continues to smile. Before reaching to pet their hair. “I lied. I never was a computer engineering major. I’m actually a chemical engineering major.” He swishes a hand through his hair. He then comments, “Not bad at the cut.”

Before he drags them to a different room. The room is already decorated with things they would tend to enjoy. The colours, furniture, and items.

He tucks them into bed. Before leaving the room briefly, getting a tiny device (like lady bug small) with a needle attached to it. He leans down and pricks their neck, installing the device. He settled it deep enough to hide, but not enough to cause permanent damage.

He finished the installment off with a bandaid. Giving one last pat to their head before leaving the room.

——————————————————

Similar to what I said before, this isn’t a fully established idea. Just something I thought of while doing random things.

Now, just a bit of explanation because that’s what I love doing. So, he has in fact been stalking MC before this event. I’m not sure how/when yet, but definitely for at least a year.

The suspicious can of chemicals he had is actually something he engineered himself. It’s just a chemical that can knock someone out for less than half an hour, while also having the side effect of losing their recent memory.

The device he installed is a tracker. A very detailed one.

I don’t have a name for him. And idk if I’ll ever will, but just know he is in fact evil Mike Wazowski. /j

I’m thinking to add other characters to this idea I have. Including more ladies because I realized I rarely ever write women. And we need some.

Alright I need snoozers.

- Celina

[botched1up1brain]

Short story i made inspired by @meo-eiru 's yandere one eyed monster oc Theo

This is how my oc Zia meets Theo.

.

.

*click*

"My name is Zia Atreya, paranormal investigator. The date and time is September 18 20XX, 2203 hours. I'm on the trail of the creature who's been following me for the past few months, possibly longer. The last time I got a glimpse of the creature it seemed to be 5'8, was wearing a large raincoat, and had one. huge. glowing eye. I have salt, silver, a cross, and a knife, cause who knows what will hurt this thing if I must defend myself. I will be back when I have an update"

*click*

*click*

*sigh*

"My name is Zia, paranormal investigator. The date is September 19 20XX, about 0010 hours.. I've lost the trail, im tired, and I forgot water. I think I need to abandon this mission and resume when I'm *yawn* more awake-"

*leaves rustles amd footsteps*

"..that wasn't me.."

*silence*

*loud running steps, leaves crunching*

"..Oh my god, its right there!"

*more running steps, gasping breathes*

"I saw it's eye! Oh my god I found it! Oh shit- Oof!"

*thump on the ground*

"Fuck! Oww.."

*silence*

"um.. I.. I've lost the creature again.. and my foots- uh! stuck in this tree root.."

*sounds of this girlboss trying to get her foot unstuck from the tree root and failing*

"..Aw man.. okay uh hopefully I'll get unstuck and be back with an update.."

*thud*

".. of course, you dropped the recorder, stupid.. ugh.."

*footsteps getting closer*

"Oh shit.. its coming.."

*girlboss panicking noises*

*closer footsteps*

"Uhm.. can I help..?"

*silence*

*click*

.

I was handed the recorder by a pale hand belonging to the figure. It was like time froze.

I stared at the figure, his face becoming clearer by the second. His eye really did glow in the darkness. His pretty golden iris was surrounded by long lashes and had a round wide nose sitting below, light freckles sprinkled on it.

I recognized that nose. It's usually peeking below a face covered with reddish brown hair, the same hair that frame the unique face of this creature.

I was so lost in his face that I barely noticed he grabbed my foot to pull it out of the thick coiled tree roots. I slowly found my footing despite my right foot aching in pain.

He seemed frozen too, but his face was in a more panicked state. My flashlight bathed us both in a yellow light for a moment, before the boy turned around and ran away.

I didn't chase him this time.

.

*click*

"Um, this is Zia Atreya, paranormal investigator. The date is September 19 20XX, it's 7am. So I did.. technically, succeed in my mission, and I now know who was following me. It's the quiet loner that sits behind me who covers his face, uh Theodore, i think it was? I'm going to hopefully confront him at school today. My foot still aches, but it's not that bad. And my parents didn't hear me sneak back in the house, so yay me. Okay, uh, be back with my update, bye."

*click*

[honey-minded-hivemind]

works best with the X-Men 97' universe but imagine what you want lmao

Gambit: Too bad so sad, little bat likes Gambit most!

Morph, Logan, and Scott: 😶😡😤😠

Gambit: Um... why y'all lookin' at Gambit like dat?

Scott: GET HIM!!!

Gambit: Mon petite bat, HELP ME!!!

[yandereunsolved]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯤ Yandere Scott Summers ᯤ ᯓᡣ𐭩

You were new to the school, barely able to grasp the abilities that had manifested in your body. Scott was the one to find you. It was purely accidental. You were having a panic attack behind the dumpster of the local supermarket. You were so vulnerable then, even more so now. You are in the one place that is always either under physical attack or social scrutiny.

You hadn't connected with anyone as of yet. Scott noticed that he has grown to have a tendency to follow you around. He wouldn't call it creepy or stalking; he is merely observing you. There are certain responsibilities that come with being a mutant. He is just following through on them.

You sat all alone in between classes. Your figure shys away from anyone who approaches. The professor asked him to try to be friendly with you. Apparently, your thoughts were less than healthy, and Professor Xavier didn't want to embarrass you. You poor thing. He completely gets it.

"Hey." He neutrally greets you.

He wasn't bold enough to sit next to you, but he wanted to do nothing more than scoop you into his arms and tell you that he was here for you. You are safe. You aren't a monster. 

"Mhm—Scott."

Your face was discolored; there were heavy, dark circles under your eyes. You hadn't slept well since you got here. He often peered through your dorm window at night to see you anxiously tossing and turning. It was lucky for Scott that you were on the ground floor. It made it even easier to monitor your condition.

He had gotten a response from you. That was better than nothing.

"I was gonna sneak outta here in a few hours. Get some ice cream floats and catch a movie. Wanna come with me?" He does his best to keep his tone level, but there is still excitement creeping up the back of his throat.

"No, thanks." You return meekly.

He felt crushed for a moment. He could see you retreating back into your shell. No, no. It wasn't supposed to go like this.

"We can go at night. No one will be around. We won't even be recognized." He urges.

"Too many things could go wrong." You mumble in reply.

"How about I sneak some treats from the kitchen, and you can hang out at my dorm? I could really use your help eating them. I was planning on doing it anyway, and if I got caught, I could say I was doing it for a good cause." He states it cheekily with a wink. You are unable to see it because of his protective glasses, but you get the spirit of it.

"That would be okay. I guess."

Finally, success. He sighs in relief.

"See you later?" He questions hesitantly.

"Yeah. I would like that."

He saw a small smile on you.

He was afraid his eyes would burn through his glasses because of how hot he suddenly felt. His heart was thumping so heavily against his chest that he was worried that it would burst out of his body. He just wanted to plant a kiss on those ravishing lips of yours. He refrains from doing so. Small steps. Small steps for you, for the both of you, and for your relationship as a whole.

[ainsellshadewalker]

oopsie, sorry totally didn’t see that message till today. This is about the platonic yandere x-men post i requested. For clarification i wanted yandere x-men 97( if you can do that), and just X-men( no brotherhood pleas), and in terms of characters i was looking forward seeing in particular, i think mostly Scott, hank, remy, hell maybe storm too i think there so underrated

Kay, Kay!

Let's start with some background and basics.

Like many mutant youths, you ran away from home once you realized your parents would never accept you. You've tried to suppress your mutation to appease your parents but it has grown to be too painful for it to be a permanent solution. You could store energy and release it in an assortment of ways. You could decide if it would be a permanent or temporary fixture and what forms it could take. You created butterflies of light, self-sustaining stars, little rabbits that left embers in their wake. You truly could make whatever you wished. But even though it was such a wonderful gift your parents refused to see you as nothing more than a freak that should not be accepted, so you ran.

You should've taken the time to give your plan more thought. So focused on escape you forgot how cold the nights would get and were left shivering in a corner of a dark and dingey alley.

That is how Scott found you and so soon after losing Nathan. Could you blame him for getting attached? For seeing you as a second chance at fatherhood? He couldn't even bear to give you the chance to say no to accepting help. So he took you away to the mansion and decided that it would be his responsibility to guide you. He often can come off as patronizing but well-meaning. He doesn't mean to treat you like a little kid, but you remind him so much of what he could've had. So you let him read your bedtime stories, leave kisses on your forehead, and wear the pajamas he was so kind to gift you even though they are childish in nature. And if he seems to coax you into calling him dad surely you're just looking too far into things.

You were such an inquisitive soul always looking to learn more. How could Hank not love you? You latched onto science so quickly and looked up at him as if he made the stars when he explained things to you. And how quickly you understood what he taught! Normally he wouldn't allow anyone into his lab unless they had a reason to be there. You were the sole exception. It was to the point that whenever you were in the lab with him the others weren't allowed to take you away unless they wanted to deal with an angry Beast. Nobody ever wants to deal with that.

Remy adored how clever and mischievous you were. Ma Lapin is what he likes to call you. Buckets of water and glitter glue mixture from doorways was your first prank. It took everyone at least three weeks to figure out it was you. Remy after that started to show you tricks of his trade. His obsession grew from there. Whenever you left the mansion he was never too far behind. Not that you knew that. He has taken out quite a few creeps who eyeballed you a little too much, or at least what he considered a creep. The human eye is so easily drawn by pretty lights after all.

Ororo's obsession started by finding you frightened in the dark. It was storming so hard that the windows shook. Why wouldn't you be frightened? And how could she not see you as smaller than you are? You were under a table shaking while little stars floated around you. She had to say farewell to so many people already and she does love being the protector. So, whenever a storm approaches you find shelter with her. If she creates a few of them, well, that isn't anything you need to know about. Just stay safe tucked into her arms while she runs her fingers through your hair and coos at you.

**This was fun! I hope you enjoy it!**

[myfavoritesstuff]

Greek Mythology

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Greek Gods

Nothing yet

Greek Goddesses

Nothing yet

Epic: The Musical

Nothing yet

Percy Jackson Series

Nothing yet

Record of Ragnarok

Nothing yet

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[baji-sideblog]

Day 14 cyclops

Neo is a young boy that’s eager to help you out.

Neo helps around at the local store bagging items while his mom rings up customers. And when Beau walked in with you Neo was amazed seeing a human for the first time. He was a bit nervous to ask you a question not wanting to be rude. But when you responded back politely and seeing how his mom was looking at you smitten he figured he’d be seeing you much more often in the family.

[princessheatherblossom]

Now go back to sleep so she can watch you 👁️

[nthflower]

Scott Summers being popular and everybody defending him when someone tells he is boring, and everybody getting him and understanding how he is autistic actually and fucked up, and loser and baby boy and messed up etc. Etc. in a exactly right way and how people see and comment his relationships in a right way makes me both happy but also also like I thought he was my guy I thought only I knew him :(

Stop getting him or even getting him better than me :(

Wish I could say you can not have what we have but I can't you guys shouldn't have what we have whyyy :(

[fandomzwriterk]

I want to request Yandere Scott Summers x reader. Basically they are in a situation where they get into a situation where they have to fake date, but they are not in an actual relationship but Scott is yandere for the reader. I think adding the yandere into the story add so much more drama into it lol.

A/N: for you Mon Ami, I’ll do it. (Damn it I can’t stop talking like Remy thanks X-Men ‘97)

Warnings: cursing

F.R.I.E.N.D.S

(Yes I listened to Friends by Marshmello while making this… and I might’ve been playing Ghost of Tsushima too…)

“Scott!” You heard from behind you

You turned your head, seeing Jean Grey walking up to you and Scott Summers while you two were out in the town for a little fun break from “work”.

“Jean? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

“No I just… I just wanted to see what you were up to. I see you’re pretty much free so would you like to go out for dinner?”

Jean ignored that you were there, standing right next to Scott, looking at him with a “what the fuck” kind of glance. He was conflicted, but looked Jean up and down before saying anything.

“Not interested Jean.”

“What? But I thought you liked me?”

“Still undecided about it. Now if you don’t mind I’m with another friend at the moment.”

He ushered you away, walking down the sidewalk grabbing your hand and pulling you along.

“Scott this joke… it’s causing a rift between you and Jean.”

Scott stopped, letting your hand go and watching you pull away from him.

“I’ll admit it, it was fun but I can’t keep doing this to Jean. You know we’re not actually in love right? I like Remy remember?”

“Right… Remy. I forgot about that.”

He looked disappointed, most likely disappointed in himself for agreeing to help you and then let it get to his head.

“Remember all I wanted was to make him jealous because he was pining for Rouge? I still want him Scott. We’re just friends, you and I.”

You felt bad, you really did. Scott was a good friend to you all these years and now it felt like you were betraying him and his trust. You could see the hurt behind those ruby glasses, you always could.

“I’m going to head back now. I think I need to clear my head.” Scott spoke bluntly, turning away from you to walk down the alley and into the darkness

You sighed, feeling a sense of worry and dread creep up your skin. But, you still felt true to your heart, knowing you had feelings for Remy despite “dating” Scott. So, you walked along the street to head back to the X-Men Mansion.

“My cherié what are you doing out at this time?” You hear behind you

You spin around, hiding your face by looking down to the ground as you noticed Remy following close behind you.

“Remy! What’re you doing here?”

He shrugged, walking up to you to walk right next to you. His charming smile made your heart beat so fast you thought all your blood was rushing to your face.

“Well I came here lookin for a very fine lady that I can take out to dinner tonight.”

“And you picked me? Why not Rouge?”

“Don’t worry about her my little lady Mister Remy Lebeau has you all to himself tonight.”

You could swear you were dreaming and even if you were, you sure as hell didn’t want to wake up.

“Now come on this way cherié. I’ve got plans at a place Gambit thinks you’ll like.”

And he held his hand out to you, waiting for you to grab it. Shyly, you took it, noticing Remy pulling you closer to him as he started to walk, you keeping pace with him.

“I take it Scott’s never done this before right?”

“Hm? Oh Scott? No we’re just friends. I could never love him that way.”

“Huh. Miss Jean says you and him were together. She’s been trying to get him to pay attention to her, but he’s got his eyes set on something else.”

“Well, I don’t feel the same way. If anything I like-“

And you just shut your mouth before you could say anything else to embarrass yourself. Remy looked to you, his crimson black eyes giving you a mischievous look, his smile was practically a grin that said “I’ve got you right where I want you” and you were trying so hard to not pay any attention to it.

“Go on cherié. Don’t stop now Gambit wants to hear what you were gonna say.” He teased

“Never mind I’ll just-“

Remy pulled you closer, your side right against his as you looked up, staring him in the eye. He knew what he was doing, and maybe he was reading your mind. Oh how you didn’t want him to see the things inside your head.

“Does somebody want to tell me something?”

His behavior had you melting, way harder than your dumb acting with Scott could ever do. Remy made you feel something, something that “dating” Scott can’t give you.

“I want to say a lot of things but I can’t find the words.”

He chuckled, putting a hand to your cheek while the other still held onto your hands. He caressed your face, resting his fingers behind your head and continued to stare into your eyes.

“I love you cherié. More than anything. Yes… more than Rogue and more than myself. You are so perfect to me my dear.”

You used your other hand, pulling Remy down for a kiss, feeling him ease the tension in his body as he held you against himself, feeling your chest against his as you two stared into each others eyes.

“Maybe I’ll take a relaxing night in bed with my cherié over dinner. How does that sound?”

You shook your head, no words coming out as you felt your brain just slowly turn back on. Remy kissed you! He actually did! So, that’s a victory for you isn’t it? Well…

“Y/N!” You heard

And it was Scott, just standing a few feet away almost in the middle of the street. Granted it was night, but he looked like he didn’t give a shit in this moment.

“Get your hands off of her Remy.”

“No chance mon amí. Finders keepers.”

Scott came running, Remy slightly pushing you out of the way as Scott took Remy down to the ground. Scott’s hand was around Remy’s throat, pushing him down hard into the pavement.

“I said she’s mine.”

That line came out of Scott like a feral growl. What was going on with him?

“And you… you don’t listen to a damn thing I say do you? You’re mine you get it? You may not love me but I love you, so you’re mine as long as I’m around.” He growled at you now

Remy looked between the two of you.

“So you used her to get over Jean well congratulations Scotty you did just that. But trust me my friend…”

Remy put a hand on Scott’s shoulder, both men staring each other down like they would kill each other over you. At least Remy would do it to protect you, like right now.

“You ain’t gonna like this when you wake up.”

And Remy sent Scott flying back with a small blast of his kinetic energy, getting up and grabbing your hand to pull you along. You could hear Scott screaming and yelling with anger.

“Bring her back right now Gambit! She’s mine! All mine! Not Jean! Her!” You heard him yell

A/N: continuation? I guess we’ll have to see. I almost made a reference to my Trailblazer X-Men OC and I just went “fuck I haven’t said that yet in my other story”. Anyways I hope you enjoyed!!

[warmilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood

(Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 10

______________________________

Present

"This is so unfair" Percy says as he scrubs the pots and pans

It would be fine if it was normal dirty dishes and normal water...

But it's magical dirty dishes and you have to wash them with molten magic iron...

Great.

Percy sighs "I have been getting dreams... Of Grover, he tells me he's trapped on an island being held hostage by a... Cyclops, and the thing we need to save Thalia's tree is there as well- golden poncho or something"

"golden fleece. Percy, it's a fleece" you smile

"right. Fleece"

"so this calls for a quest" Annabeth says with a hint of excitement in her voice

"but..." She says

"but?" Percy questions

You grumble and scrub harshly "Tantalus won't allow it, he wants Thalia's tree to die so the barrier breaks completely, thus putting all of us at risk"

Annabeth smirks as she places the last of the dirty pot "Then we have to propose the quest to him in a way he can't say no"

______________________________

Past

"it's not (Name), maybe they switched them out, or cloned them, I just don't believe it" Damian says as he glares as the sitting figure in the garden of their house

The office is dark and a bit humid, Jason speaks up "When 'it' got out, they couldn't remember anything and 'it' only started to remember after a few minutes, like it was processing memories, 'it' could be a clone"

"Even if it is a clone, it doesn't matter, same DNA, same memories, 'its' a carbon copy, if it keeps Bruce from crashing out, 'it' can stay" Stephanie says

A "mission gone wrong", that's all it was, reports of people going missing after entering a certain hotel

We investigated, Batman sent (Name) inside the hotel to see the area, but comms were cut the moment they entered

Tim tried to hack, but there was no gadget to hack, not one inside the Hotel, Damian got so fed up, he threw a grenade at a window, but the hotel didn't budge, (Name) still hasn't come out of the building

Then they saw it, through a window, hundreds maybe even thousands of people, in one hotel, some were wearing ball gowns from like the 1700's, some were in punk 80's style, some were dressed in ancient Greek clothing, like time was mixed in the hotel

The problem was workers, no one paid them any mind as they just stood at a rooftop from a building near the hotel

Tim went to the entrance and was greeted by workers "Sir! Would you like to come in? We have a spa, a bar, a golf course, a race track, a pool, a climbing area, an arcade-" the worker continued to ramble

"Hello sir, would you like to try some of our lotus candies? They're complementary" another one smiled

It was creepy.

He immediately went back to report "It's like they want people to go inside, and none of the evidence shows that everyone who went missing was forcefully shoved in the hotel, they went in willingly, I think it's best to not enter, there's this weird vibe to it, like the hotel itself is the problem"

The silence was deafening, and Batman whispered "So you're telling me I sent my kid to a trap?"

They tried everything, they went back almost everyday, bombing the hotel, shooting it, the hotel would remain pristine, the only way was to enter

And it was after two years that passed that (Name) walked out of the hotel, they were out of their bat costume, instead they were in some clothes you'd wear to go gambling

Their minds were fuzzy at first, it didn't matter to Bruce, all he saw was his kid that he sent to hell and god knows what happened in that hotel

'it' would try to make inside jokes that (Name) made during missions

Batsibs were all happy when Bruce laid 'it' off from the vigilante job

Cassandra couldn't bring herself to talk to (Name), avoiding 'it' by closing her eyes

(Name) didn't act differently, no signs of trauma, in fact they testified the hotel was awesome, (Name) claimed that the hotel was so breathtaking they forgot about the mission, but it was fine, (Name) claimed they were only gone for 20 minutes

This was not (Name), no way...

______________________________

Present

"We know how to heal Thalia's tree! We know the place to go and everything!" Percy announced at the dinner table

Everyone murmured and Percy continued "Me and a select group of friends will go on a quest"

Tantalus roared "I didn't approve of this! I'd rather you all die in this wretched camp than- I mean..." He stopped yelling

But now the campers were yelling as well

"You already went on a quest, give others a chance!"

"You just want all the glory again!"

"Greedy Poseidon child"

With the new uproar Tantalus smirked "Well... The quest shall be approved, if! I choose who's going, and I choose you! Clarisse Daughter of Ares! You may choose two selective friends to go with you"

"But I was the one who-" Percy tried to reason

Tantalus glared "Do you all know a story? Where stupid children, anger the Great and smart and beloved me? Do you know what happened to that kid? You want it to happen to you?"

With that Percy shut up

I leaned in and whispered to Annabeth, Percy and Tyson, "So we are still going right?"

"Oh definitely" Percy said

______________________________

Okayss man there's this hurricane in our city and it hit yesterday, while I was outside, literally got the storm warning at school, so school was dismissed early but it was too late, it was flooded, then we had to parkour on some of the cars (not a joke, the car owners were like so understanding and let a bunch of students step on their hoods so we can pass) to get to higher ground

It was fun ngl

@delias-stuff @sadslasher13 @ellaprime7 @wpdarlingpan @mountvesuvu @chinxinsomnia @nathaly36 @vanessa-boo @bat1212 @ceramic-raven @sweetconnoisseurgardener @dhanyasri @bella-wolf100 @shortnsweetsposts @roseapov @d3sperate-enuf @d3kstar

[sagesskies]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴅᴇꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴅᴇɪᴛʏ

✒ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ, ᴡᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀʏ ɢᴏᴅ

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ɪꜱ ꜱᴏ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴏᴡ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴀꜱ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ. ʜᴇ'ᴅ ᴀ��ꜱᴏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ @hana-no-seiiki ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴꜱᴘɪʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴘʀᴏᴠɪᴅᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍ, ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴜᴇʟ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴏᴛɪᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴏɴ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ.

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ᴡᴀʀ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴛʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ, ꜱᴛᴀɴᴅᴀʀᴅ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ, ɢᴏᴅ ɪɴᴄᴇꜱᴛ (ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ Qʜᴇᴛᴏʜʀ), ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ. ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟꜱᴇ!

Yandere Destruction Deity who, just like you and all your other siblings, was born from the remains of Kases: the strongest of the Great ones. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who even then, was already an outcast from the others in the (then yet to be formed) pantheon.

Instead of joining Uren in their rebellion, they chose to spend their time doing more fun activities. Like exploring the new world they've just been born into, interacting with all the strange yet fascinating creatures, fiddling with the inventions and gadgets crafted by the Great ones, all with you, the only one among their siblings who seemed to actually get them. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who spends days with you in the garden you’ve cultivated, laughing and bonding. Growing closer together.

You talk about many things; stars, Kases, your siblings, Uren, the rebellion. It was inevitable that your conversations would eventually go in that direction, they just wished it didn’t have to be so soon. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who immediately tries to convince you to back out of the war when you tell them you’re helping Uren. You can’t! You’re too weak, too soft.

They’ve seen the beasts the Great ones have at their beck and call, and not to mention the giants, the cyclopes, and all manner of creature they were going to sic on Kases’ children. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who begrudgingly approaches Uren, and tells you not long after that they’re going to join in this foolish endeavor. They can’t exactly leave you alone, you’ll need somebody to protect you after all.

Who cares if they themselves don’t know the first thing about fighting. All you have to do is swing some blade, right? Bah, it doesn’t matter! They’re going to keep you safe, nothing will ever even come close to harming you as long as they’re here.

Yandere Destruction Deity who soon finds that they’re rather good at this whole fighting thing, hell, they’re probably the best. Probably only second to Itia, but they were a brute who simply relied on sheer force to get what they wanted, however when it came to skill? To prowess? To the ability to wield a weapon like it was simply an extension of your own body? Nobody could beat Qhetohr in that aspect.

Yandere Destruction Deity who became an entity whose name was whispered only in the darkness illuminated by a campfire, between soldiers of the Great ones who dreaded meeting them on the battlefield, especially once they were able to harness the power of the literal void to their advantage.

They were reminded again of the overwhelming difference between the two of you when they learned that you had become a name that was spoken by hopeful prisoners who wished for you to arrive to grant them freedom, while they would solve problems with their blade, you were far more diplomatic in your approach. Convincing generals to side with Uren, and freeing the enslaved soldiers. 

Yandere Destruction Deity, who even amidst the rebellion, always makes time for you regardless of how busy they get with managing their own forces. They fuss over you, and grow red with fury whenever they see a new scar on what used to be a flawless landscape.

But all worries are washed away whenever you flash them a kind smile, and assure them that all is well; “This shall come to pass.” You remind them, and they must force themselves to accept it. Regardless of how they wish they could just shield you away from all this violence, they’re stronger now, they could protect you, you could both still run away from this. However you only shake your head and tell them you’re both in too deep now to quit.

Yandere Destruction Deity who runs up to you, swings you up, and spins you around, laughing all the while. The rebellion is over, and Uren won. The both of you can retire back to your garden! And spend the rest of eternity there, just you and them. Isn’t that amazing? It’s the best thing that came out of this stupid war. Forget the fact that all these enslaved races have been liberated, who cares really? All they can think about is how you’re now safe in their arms. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who isn’t all too pleased to learn that they’ve been appointed as Uren’s general for their exemplary performance during the war. What the hell? They didn’t sign up for this! They’re meant to spend their retirement with you, damn it. Yes, they enjoyed fighting, but not as much as being with you, duh. Stupid Uren! But after some convincing from you, they reluctantly accept this position. 

Yandere Destruction Deity decides that this isn’t too bad, really, not when they get to put down any possible threats to your safety. There’s a lot of people who’d like to get their filthy hands on you, you know? Especially since you played such a big part in Uren winning the war. Don’t worry, they’ll get rid of all these bugs for you. It’s no big deal for somebody with their power. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who is confused when they learn of Uren’s new creation: Humans. What were these things sculpted in the gods’ own image? What were they meant to do? How long could they last in a fight? Safe to say, when their questions were answered, Qhetohr wasn’t too pleased. They don’t get what’s so great about them, when they’re basically just useless flesh sacks. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who still doesn’t get it when you explain to them that it’s because humans have so much boundless potential that they’re so exceptional, but they lie and promise you that they do. Even if they’re soft, squishy, and the least impressive of all of Uren’s creations, they’ll spare them. Especially since you’re so enamored with them.

Yandere Destruction Deity who gets restless when things finally become peaceful. They thought they’d be happy now that there’s less threats to you, but their body has gotten so used to fighting all the time that anything else feels strange. Any time they hold your hand, they have to remind themself to loosen their grip, and any time you come close to even hugging them they have to restrain themself from grabbing you by the collar and flipping you over then pinning you to the ground. Though… in retrospect it doesn’t sound that bad in the right context.

Yandere Destruction Deity who spreads whispers, inciting fear, paranoia, and destruction. Mortals, who had at that point established tight-knit communities, became wary of their neighbors, and it didn’t take long before conflict was starting to brew between them. Their words even affected Uren, who was growing suspicious of their own son, Ebris, the god of the Sun, who was more beloved by the pantheon than they were. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who encourages Uren as they descend into tyranny. Delighting at the feeling of warm blood staining their skin once more, as they cut off the heads of who Uren perceived as treasonous. Mortals, monsters, even some who were minor gods, none were safe from Qhetohr’s ‘punishing’ blade. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who feigns innocence when confronted by the other gods of their possible involvement in Uren’s change, a sly smirk on their face as they tell their siblings they don’t know what on earth they're talking about! They swear on Kases’ grave. But when it’s you who asks them if they really have no involvement, they falter at the fact that you’d think of them as the cause behind this, even if it’s true, their chest still clenches at the thought you could think of them like this. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who denies it, of course they would. But the look in your eyes tells them enough. They ask you if you’re going to tell the others, and they can’t help but smile when they see you visibly hesitate. You tell them you’ll keep it a secret, but you won’t dissuade the others from trying to discover the truth themselves. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who isn’t surprised when another rebellion emerges, this time led by Ebris. It was inevitable really. But what truly shocks them is when they learn that you’re joining Ebris’ faction. They knew you’d never side with Uren, not when everything they were doing now stood against you as the God of Mercy. But never did they think you’d betray them by joining forces with Ebris. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who never thought it’d be you forcing them to their knees in surrender, they’ve never seen this expression on your face. So cold, yet in your eyes they can see pity, and so much sorrow and regret. It was like you blame yourself for this six decade long mess. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who fully expects to receive the same fate as Uren, a beheading for all of the world to see, but is surprised when they see you speaking to Ebris in hushed tones. Your gaze flickers to them every so often as the conversation continues on. What are you doing? Are you actually- 

Yandere Destruction Deity who is stunned speechless when Ebris announces that instead of a beheading, they would instead have their powers restricted and be imprisoned.

Compared a beheading, this was an improvement. Or, at least it seemed like that to others. In reality death would have been better, so much better than years locked away unable to see you.

Twas the night before Qhetohr would be locked away, trapped in one of Ularus’ inventions. The thought of being imprisoned wasn’t what bothered them, but instead being apart from you for that long. 

They’ve been told tales by Nuyja, stories of husbands away at war, and of wives mourning the distance that had to be between them. It always sounded so dramatic, probably because it was, but right now they’re starting to feel like one of those wives. 

As the Ofriedian metal dug into their pale, marble skin that you always admired for its flawless texture, their dark eyes caught onto something past their bars. The familiar hem of a [f/c] robe. Their eyes widened, and their suspicions were only confirmed when they saw you walk out from wherever you were hiding. 

“[N-Name]?” They spoke in a whisper, like you were some animal that they’d scare away if they spoke too loudly, “Is that you?” They got up from where they sat on the cold, stone floors and approached the bars.

You pulled down the hood of your robe, “It’s me, Qhetohr.” Your voice was equally as gentle, but that was just how you always spoke. Instead of greeting him with your usual smile, your face was impassive and as impenetrable as stone. 

“Have you come to free me?” Qhetohr knew better than to hope, but they couldn’t help it. Ever since they’ve been imprisoned here while Ularus worked out the final kinks in their next cage, all they had for company was their mind.

And all their mind could do to stave off the madness that came with boredom was daydream of a life with you in seclusion, on some beautiful island where you could have a new garden and they would have enough room to take out their frustrations on the wildlife.

The disappointment that followed when you shook your head was immeasurable. 

“Oh…” 

You are silent in response, you were never one for speaking much. You always preferred to listen whenever you talked with Qhetohr, giving your wise input every now and then. They didn’t mind the silence before, but why did it bother them so much now? 

“Qhetohr,” Your voice was different as well, they noticed, colder than before, “Before you are imprisoned, I must know one thing.” 

Qhetohr placed a hand around one of the bars separating you two, “What is it then?” If only they didn’t have this chunky bracelet, perhaps they could’ve reached a hand through the bar and touched you. 

You took in a deep breath, and let out a shakier one. You licked the bottom of your lip, and then wrapped a hand around the same bar Qhetohr was gripping. You moved your face closer to them, and they tried not to gulp, “Do you regret what you’ve done?” 

At that, Qhetohr had no answer. 

You had the rare ability of being able to render Qhetohr speechless, cultivated from countless hours listening to them, observing them, and well honed through debates about topics such as the difference between the gods and the Great ones, the meaning of life, and whether or not the gods were all that different from mortals. 

It was the one of the many reasons you were the only god they had a truly functioning relationship with.

At their silence, your face contorts. Your brows furrow, your lips purse, and your [e/c] eyes fill with what can only be described as sorrow. They cannot bring themself to look at you, for they do not want you to see the shame that is starting to invade their heart. 

Your hand falls from the bar, and as it does it brushes against their own and they restrain themselves from reaching out to try to clasp at your warm fingers, instead tightening their grip on the inflexible steel. 

When you speak, your voice is hoarse, and if Qhetohr were to look at you right now they swear your eyes would be wet with unshed tears.

“I truly am as weak as you say I am,” You speak quietly, voice barely above a whisper, “Despite the sins you’ve committed, I cannot find it in myself to hate you.” 

Their eyes widen, and their head snaps to look at you, but it is too late. The hood of your cloak is pulled back up, and you’ve already turned to leave. The last they see of you is the hem of the cloak they had sewn for you themselves.

Yandere Destruction Deity who is stuck in an endless void similar to the ones they are able to harness themself, and tries to break out. Even if their powers were restrained, surely they’d be able to access at least some of them, right? But unfortunately for them, nothing works. They’re stuck. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who wanders the endless void, trying to find a gap somewhere, some sort of imperfection Ularus made when creating this prison. All the while their mind races with thoughts of you. Your first meeting. Your laugh. Your smile. Your kind eyes. Your final expression as they were sealed away. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who feels like they’re going insane. They’ve never spent so much time without you before. They’re starting to feel like the mortals they’ve seen on the streets during Ebris’ rebellion, deprived and hungry for the filthy substances Boztrix’s temple produced. But all they’re craving is you, the sweetest drug they’ve ever tasted. Sometimes, they swear they can see you. A specter haunting them in this fucked up hell, comforting them yet at the same time driving him down the rabbit hole further and further.

Yandere Destruction Deity who swears that they see light, in what seemed like a never-ending black landscape. I-is it you? Have you come to free him from this cage- Oh wait, it’s just another one of Uren’s children. Vetnos, god of the Sea. They can’t help but sigh, they still remember when they used to bully the god when they were but a small babe. Scaring them using their void powers whenever he wouldn’t go to bed. Perhaps he’s coming to taunt them? Something something, “How ironic that you’re trapped in the same shadows you’ve used to haunt me with,” something like that, maybe?

If Vetnos thinks he looks any way intimidating, then he’s sorely mistaken. Even bound and trapped, Qhetohr could probably take him down. 

“What brings you here, insignificant son of Uren?” Qhetohr drawls, a single dark brow raised, “Here to taunt me? I thought you’d be more mature than that by now.” They can’t help but tease him, it’s not their fault that Vetnos was so fun to mess with, he always had such interesting reactions, even when he was a child. 

Vetnos glared at them, eyes the same color as the sea during a harsh storm, “Silence, Qhetohr, if I must remind you, it is you who is restrained here.” Qhetohr can see it in the way that Vetnos is carrying himself, the boy is practically shaking in those leather boots of his. 

“And if I must remind you,” Qhetohr sneers, and walks over to Vetnos till they were eye-to-eye, “I didn’t need my powers when I killed your father.” At that, Vetnos flinches. Dhealdir, the first God of War, and one of Uren’s lovers. Vetnos’ father was one of the best soldiers in Uren’s army, but Qhetohr was the general for a reason. 

Qhetohr smirked, and then backed away from Vetnos. They cross their arms, “You still haven’t answered my question Vetnos.” They tap their finger against their bicep, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of the bracelet digging into the flesh of their forearm. 

Vetnos huffs, the storm brewing within his gaze tempered reluctantly, “I have come to offer you a deal.” 

It was hard for Qhetohr to restrain the urge to chuckle, and so they didn’t, the sound flowing easily past their lips, “Let me guess, you want me to fight for you in exchange for my freedom?” 

“What- How did you know that’s what I wanted?” Vetnos asked with a bewildered expression on his face. 

“Before I was ever the Deity of Destruction, I was simply an outcast among my siblings,” Qhetohr explains, “When I sided with Uren during their rebellion, they all changed their opinion about me rather quickly.” 

That’s how the gods were, unless you were able to give them something of value you were no better than the dirt beneath their heel. The only good thing about mortals is how they foolishly waste their time on things that don’t matter, they don’t care if something has a use or not, as long as they like it they’ll keep it around. 

“All my family wants from me, is for me to be the dog on the leash they can sic on their foes,” Qhetohr narrows their eyes at Vetnos, “What is there to suggest that you’ll be any different.” 

They smirked when they saw the vein bulge in Vetnos’ forehead and how he clenched his fists tighter, the gods never liked having their own flaws pointed out to them, it made the reality that they were just as imperfect as the lowly mortals they looked down upon all the more real. 

“Anyways, how’re you going to free me in the first place?” Qhetohr asked. Ularus’ creations were annoying as hell because the bastard always built them to only have one weakness, and it was always way too complex for its own good. 

Suddenly in Vetnos’ hand appeared an orb of water the size of a child’s toy ball, “Ularus always has such unorthodox solutions to his machines,” Vetnos played with the water idly, “That fact, all the gods are aware of.” 

Qhetohr rolled their eyes, “And so?” 

“So, I thought if you were to bind a god in a void devoid of anything except the never ending darkness,” Vetnos approached Qhetohr, who watched with wary eyes, and held the orb of water over one of their bindings, “It was best to go for the simple approach.” 

Vetnos dropped the orb of water, and it splashed onto the bracelet. 

Qhetohr stared, “Was that supposed to do something?” They should’ve known better than to trust the younger gods, but here they were, letting one drop a ball of water on their hand and getting it all wet. 

Vetnos sighed, it was clear to Qhetohr that whatever patience he had managed to gather was already starting to run out, “You are familiar with Ofriedian metal, correct?” 

Qhetohr’s gaze flicked over to Vetnos’ hand, which still hovered above their own, now soaking wet, hand, “It is older than you are, of course I am familiar with Ofriedian metal.” They sigh, “If all you are here for is to soak my hand, then I’d like you to go back where you came from-” 

But Vetnos interrupted them, “Ofriedian metal is surprisingly very similar to iron,” His fist then clenches, and the water coating the bracelet seems to change and then seep into it, “And iron, as you may know, rusts.” 

It started off small at first, but as the seconds passed, the change became more noticeable. The Ofriedian metal started to lose its dark color, and slowly the color of rust started to invade the bracelet. Qhetohr watched with rapt attention as one of their bindings, that after so many years, was finally showing the signs of age. They could feel the changes too, the sharp spikes that had pierced their skin when the bracelet locked itself onto their wrist were starting to recede into the bracelet. 

But then, Vetnos’ hand spread out, and whatever was happening ceased. 

“Fascinating…” Qhetohr murmured. If Vetnos had allowed it to continue, they would’ve been halfway over to being a free god. 

“You see the power I hold now, Qhetohr?” Vetnos’ voice held an arrogance that wasn’t there before, “I am your only way of escaping this prison.” He had a smirk on his face, and despite how it frustrated Qhetohr to be so weak as to need the help of others, they couldn’t deny that this was the first time in a long time that they ever dared to hope of being free. 

Qhetohr’s thoughts went back to you, as it always did during their time here. Would you be happy to see them, and welcome them back with your warm embrace? Or would you scorn them, and draw your blade against theirs? They hoped it’d be the former, but they had enough sense in them to know it’d most likely be the latter. But still, they had to take the chance that you value your relationship enough to show the mercy that you’re famed for.

Qhetohr sighed, “Fine,” They placed their hands on their waist, “What is it you want me to do?” 

Vetnos grinned, “Swear your allegiance to me,” From the expression on his face alone, Qhetohr knew the younger god was giddy. He looked like a boy again, instead of the divine being that was freeing a force that he could not hope to contain.

Qhetohr considered the offer. They did not find the idea of being bound to one of Uren’s sons pleasing, but then again, there were always loopholes to be exploited. As long as they can twist their words then whatever forces above the gods would turn a blind eye to what they planned to do. 

“Very well,” Qhetohr sighed, and then took a knee, “I, Qhetohr, child of Kases, and deity of destruction, madness, and the void, swear to fight for Vetnos, god of the seas, in exchange for my freedom.” They hadn’t sworn an oath of allegiance to any other since Uren, and so the words felt unnatural on their tongue. 

Vetnos puffed up his chest, and had all the arrogance of a spoiled child who finally got what he wanted after throwing a tantrum, “I, Vetnos, son of Uren, and god of the seas, accept this oath, and swear to free Qhetohr, deity of destruction, madness, and the void, from their chains.” 

A tense atmosphere seemed to envelop the two of them, as the entities above watched Vetnos, who approached Qhetohr and used his powers to destroy the bracelets, and the collar around their neck. When the last one clattered to the ground, a red, glowing thread appeared between the two of them, tying them together by the wrist. 

Qhetohr ignored the string connecting them to Vetnos, and instead inspected the holes that the bracelets left in their wrists. They were small, and interspaced perfectly, like the pricks of a needle. That is, if the needle pierced through their skin and buried itself deep in their godly flesh. 

“Since we’ve finished the vows, I must remind you of a few things Qhetohr-” But before Vetnos could continue speaking, and setting down rules that Qhetohr would be forced to follow for the rest of eternity as long as they’d serve under him, Qhetohr flourished their hand and a piece of the void that surrounded them leapt out and wrapped itself around Vetnos’ throat. 

Vetnos choked on the air, as he felt the newly formed collar wrapping itself tightly, with enough force to crush his throat. His stormy blue eyes bulged out and were filled with righteous fury at Qhetohr’s trickery. 

Qhetohr chuckled, “You didn’t really think I’d just let you do whatever you wanted to me, did you?” They shook their head and clicked their tongue in disapproval, “Truly, Vetnos, I thought with age comes wisdom, but clearly that doesn’t apply to you.” A wicked grin formed on their face, “But I guess that doesn’t apply to you.”

If Vetnos’ face wasn’t turning blue from the lack of oxygen, it would surely turn red from, if not anger, then humiliation. 

Qhetohr stroked their chin as they contemplated what to do with Vetnos. They could kill him, which would remove the oath, but then the other gods would get suspicious. They do not know why Vetnos wanted them to fight for him, but if he went so far as to look for them of all people, then that must only mean there was a war brewing among the gods once more, and Vetnos was one of the key players.

Qhetohr’s mind wandered, going back to the last conflict they participated in: Ebris’ rebellion. As their gaze focused on Vetnos, who was only turning more blue as the seconds ticked by, they recalled Uren, Vetnos’ parent, who they were able to control with the same darkness choking Vetnos.  

Their eyes lit up as an idea entered their head, and then they smirked, “Do not worry Vetnos, for this day shall not be your last,”  They reached out their hand, and the void from the collar flowed like smoke to Vetnos’ gasping mouth. Vetnos’ eyes widened, and he struggled even further, moving wildly like a fish out of water. 

“It would do you well not to fight it, Vetnos,” Qhetohr drawled, “Just let go, let it consume you.” 

Vetnos ignored their advice, and closed his mouth, keeping his lips firmly shut so as to not let more enter him. But they simply entered through his ears, and his nose instead. Soon, as more of the void started to fill him, Vetnos’ resistance faded and then he nodded his mouth once more, welcoming the darkness inside him. 

When there was no more collar around his neck, and Vetnos’ eyes held a strange gleam, Qhetohr smiled, sharp and unnerving. They did not need to speak, and Vetnos fell to his knees, and then bent his back and pressed his head against the floor, right in front of Qhetohr’s feet. 

“I, Vetnos, son of Uren, and god of the seas, release Qhetohr, deity of destruction, madness, and the void from their oath.” 

The string binding them snapped, and Qhetohr let out a deep sigh of relief. Finally, they were now truly free. 

Qhetohr gestured for Vetnos to rise, and he did. They raised their hand, and called upon the void that had once been their prison, and it obediently followed their orders, and gathered swiftly in their hand. 

Once the last of it joined in, what they held was a pure black cube. They then placed their other hand on top of it, and crushed it as one would crush a fly.

Qhetohr looked around, and was pleased to see the bright blue sky, to feel the tall grass tickling their legs, and the radiant sun that had trapped them in the first place beating down upon their pale skin. 

Thoughts of you immediately flooded their head, and a smile formed on their face. Not harsh, not cruel, but instead it was one that a poet would make thinking of their beloved muse. 

“Soon, [Name],” Qhetohr relishes in how the sound of your name still rolls off their tongue as naturally as their own, “I will be your steadfast companion once more, and no war will ever separate us.”

Yandere Destruction Deity who never thought they’d be able to leave the stupid box, but here they are, neck free from that heavy collar, wrists no longer being wrapped by those thick bracelets, the sun which they wish to consume with their void shining down on their marble skin. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who decides to lay low for a while. Although they want to see you so much it physically hurts to be apart from you, they have to be patient, though it’s hard, they never were good at this whole waiting thing like you were. They decide to learn more about what’s happened since their imprisonment nearly two centuries ago. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who is tempted to reveal themself and challenge the God of Victory to a duel to the death when they learn of the state of your relationship. No, they’re not just tempted. They need to. But for now, they’ll restrain themself. That can come later. You were always naive and oblivious to others' feelings for you, despite your seemingly infinite wisdom. They’re sure you didn’t mean for it to happen, it was surely that young upstart’s fault. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who finally decides that it’s the right moment to strike, and appears at your temple. It’s the only one you have. The one they built with you back all those years ago, when things were far more innocent than they ever were now. They’ll make sure not to make too much of a mess. 

They are outside your temple, the elegant, pale marble untouched by the war and devastation that has plagued the earth since they've been unleashed. Good, your house remains as safe as it was during Ebris’ rebellion.

Qhetohr’s eyes wander over the marble pillars, the sturdy roof, and the well-trimmed shrubbery; the green served as a fine contrast against the pure white of the marble. Nothing had changed much since the last time they were at your temple, and that was nearly two centuries ago. A new statue, a tree cut down, flowers blooming where there was only grass, but everything else was the same. 

They walked up the steps, their heart racing faster. Qhetohr paused in front of a statue. You, not in the nude like other gods, but instead in your old cloak, head bowed and a small, gentle smile on your face. Hands clasped together in prayer. For who, even they are not sure. 

Inscribed on the pedestal, are familiar words. 

[Name], God of mercy, Patron of slaves and the shackled, Father of Dakmes, Ugrena, Bagbris, Ather, Rhohdos, and many heroes. Kindest of the gods. 

Kindest of the gods. If a mortal were to call any other god this, they would be smited for such blasphemy. All gods were gracious, at least that was what they all claimed. But all the gods acknowledged that you were the one with the most love in your heart, and so this inscription remained. 

Qhetohr entered the temple, sandal clad feet silent, face cloaked just like your statue. The fabric is as dark as the voids they summoned, the only splash of color being the gold embroidery at the hem, a match for your own. 

One of your followers, young and still filled with the last flushes of boyhood, notices them first. He looks up from his sweeping, “Good day to you,” Like all your followers, he spoke slowly and with a calmness that is hard to find these past years, “What brings you to this temple?” Qhetohr noticed the discomfort in the boy's expression, he could tell that there was something strange about them but could not place his finger on it.

Qhetohr surveys the area, and finds that, save for a few other followers strewn about cleaning the floors, that it is barren. “Where are all the others?” They ask. 

“They are in the libraries, or in the gardens,” The youth replies, “Why? Are you looking for one? A sibling perhaps?” 

Qhetohr smirks, “Something like that,” You were more to them than just one of their many siblings, you were their only confidante, their first and only love, but to call you their brother was not wrong. 

“What is their name?” The youth inquires.

Qhetohr’s eyes narrow, like a fox, and they grin, “[Name],” They supply. The youth flinches, the oppressive aura he felt was because in front of him was a deity. He falls to his knees, the broom clattering to the ground and attracting the attention of the others, who watch as he bends down and his head presses against the cool marble. 

“Forgive me, lord!” The calmness in his voice is gone, replaced with a high pitched begging, “I- I did not realize I was in a presence of one as great as yourself-” 

“Shh,” The boy flinches, but does not dare look up, “Stand, child.” Qhetohr has a smirk on their face, but their eyes are as cold as any other god when they meet with the boy's fearful gaze. Not warm like yours, for there was never another god quite like you.

The others watched with wide eyes as they realized who it was they were staring at, and immediately resumed their work, but their ears could not help but continue to listen. 

“Where is he?” Qhetohr asks. 

“Lord [Name] is in the gardens,” The youth steadies his voice, and it impresses Qhetohr how assured he sounds despite how he's shaking like a leaf, “If you’d like I can-” 

“No need,” Qhetohr was already walking past him, “I know my way around.”

Qhetohr walked through the elegantly carved halls of your temple, unlike other temples, it was built during the first rebellion. From the hands of the cyclopes, who you had freed from the Great ones, and who had in return swore their lineage’s loyalty to not only Uren, but to you as well. 

Perhaps that was why among all the gods of the oldest pantheon, yours and Qhetohr’s siblings, you were one of the few that remained. On the very marble hung paintings depicting your deeds, drawn by the hands of Addia herself, a Great one who sided with the gods after you had slain her husband Lilios. 

Even if their eyes have seen these landscapes many times, they never grew wary of the sight of them. You swearing an oath to Uren. You freeing the Cyclopes. Your form clad in your Ofriedian armor, plunging your spear into Lilios’ neck. You fighting by Qhetohr’s side, watching their back as their blade slices through the necks of the Great one’s soldiers. 

Qhetohr slows to a stop at the last one, your face is as hard as stone, yet still as beautiful as no other god has ever been or will be, and kinder than any creature on earth. They remember watching as Addia painted this one, and critiquing how harsh she had made you look. In contrast, Qhetohr’s face is one of devilish delight as blood splatters on their pale skin. 

You shook your head when you saw it, “I do not want you to be immortalized like this,” You rarely complained about anything no matter how much it bothered you, “If it would not stain Addia’s name, I would have this painting burned.” 

Now, Qhetohr’s name is only remembered by the bloodshed and devastation they’ve caused, and even if it displeases you, they do not deny that they prefer it this way. 

Qhetohr finally arrives to the entrance to your garden, the only place they've ever felt at peace. The sound of running water from the fountain, your doves chirping, and idle chatter between those working in the garden takes them back to more innocent days, when the only people in the garden would be the two of you. 

Qhetohr steps foot inside the garden, and sticks out like a sore thumb. Their black cloak, a stark contrast against the verdant green, and immediately one of your priests approaches them. “Excuse me, young one, but you are not permitted inside Lord [Name]’s gardens,” The old man speaks like he does not sense Qhetohr’s naturally oppressive aura, “I must ask you to leave.” 

They sigh, this old man surely recognizes them, does he not? The paintings are still on the wall, and though they were not the main subject they were still a prominent figure standing beside you. Qhetohr’s eyes narrow down on him, “Who are you to order me around, mortal?” 

The old man flinches at the sight of Qhetohr’s eyes, and his lips tremble, and then he shrieks, “I Ávyssos!” The Abyssal. Qhetohr snorts, they haven’t heard that title in years. 

The other priests and priestesses look up from their work and their eyes widen at the sight of Qhetohr, who clicks their tongue and then glares at the old man, “Should’ve held your tongue,” They smirk, “No need to hold your tongue when you won’t have one, eh?” 

Before Qhetohr’s words could settle in the old man’s feeble mind, they shot out their hand and a black beam shot out and forced itself into the old man’s mouth and wrapped around his tongue. Then, it crushes the tongue till it’s nothing more but a bloody mass of flesh in the old man’s mouth. He tries to scream, but he cannot. 

Only then do they see you, you came as soon as you sensed your followers’ terror. Your beautiful [e/c] eyes widen in shock, and then harden, “Qhetohr,” Their name falls off your tongue like it’s an insult, “How did you get out of your prison?” 

The rest of your priests and priestesses try to run away now that you’ve arrived, but Qhetohr summons tendrils made from the void that hold them in place and gag their mouths.

They smile pleasantly, “Did a bit of bargaining, but that’s not what matters,” Qhetohr walks closer to you, and their smile grows wider when you do not back away, “Aren’t you happy that I’m back, [Name]?” 

When they reach out to touch you, only then do you step back, “You’re not meant to be here, Qhetohr,” You remind them, “You were in that place for a reason.” 

Qhetohr groans, “Oh come on, [Name]!” They whine like a petulant child, “You were always such a stick in the mud,” Qhetohr then grins, and snake an arm around you before you could get away, “You really don’t miss me, hm?” 

You push them away, “How could I miss somebody like you?” They know you’re lying, they know you better than the back of their hand. But it’s difficult to keep that smile on their face. 

Qhetohr grins, and then the gagged followers let out muffled screams as the tendrils tighten around them. Your eyes widen, and they chuckle, “Be careful what you say, love,” They croon, “It just might kill these poor mortals.”

“What do you want, Qhetohr,” You’re getting afraid, afraid of them, afraid of what they could do to your followers, their grin grows forced, “Is this for Ebris’ rebellion? Do you resent me for the consequences of your own actions?” 

Qhetohr snarls, and the tendrils grow even tighter around your followers and the both of you can hear the sound of their bones creaking, “I don’t! I fucking don’t, okay?” They feel like they’re a godling again, small and powerless before they ever discovered how strong they truly were, “You just- You’re not meant to be like this!” 

You don’t even have to ask what they mean. “You’re meant to- You’re meant to be kind, to- to welcome me back into your arms with a big smile and-” 

“Qhetohr,” Your voice is cold, “What do you want.” 

Qhetohr takes a deep breath, and then smiles, “I want you to come with me.” “To where?” 

“That doesn’t matter,” Qhetohr’s smile widens, “Come with me, or I’ll kill all of your followers.” 

Your eyes widen, and you hiss, “You monster,” Your nostrils flare, and your fists clench. Like an angry bull seeing red. Never have they seen you so angry before, and their stomach twists from how it’s because of them. You grit your teeth, “Fine.” 

Their smile grows even wider, and they summon more tendrils that wrap around your wrists like handcuffs. A chain materializes in the middle between the two cuffs and the other end is being held in Qhetohr’s hand, who tugs it towards them, “Come on, [Name], let’s go.” 

“Free them first,” You remind them, and they look at your followers whose faces are filled with sorrow for you, and fear for themselves. Qhetohr nods, but instead of the tendrils disappearing, they instead wrap tighter. Your eyes widen, “I said free them, not-” But it is too late, their bones crack and when the tendrils finally fade away, all that’s left are bloody remnants of what was once a human body. 

“The [Name] I knew would’ve been wise enough to make me swear to free them,” Qhetohr chuckles, “But unfortunately my dear, I cannot leave any witnesses behind.” 

“You-!” But Qhetohr gags you with more of the tendrils, and leads you out of the temple. Any followers that scream at the sight of the blood covering Qhetohr, or see you in chains and try to help gets killed. Some are spared, but cursed. 

Qhetohr glances at you, your face is splattered with blood, and your eyes are still wide in shock. They smile, and wipe away the blood from your face, “It’s all right,” They coo, “You’ll be able to move on, eventually.” 

Yandere Destruction Deity, who finally has you back where you belong: Right by their side. They keep you with them back in those islands they claimed during Uren’s rebellion, what was it called again? Ah right, the Ivory Isles. They erect a pale tower as white as the bones from the Great one that made up the island, out of the ground, and now you both have a home suitable for gods such as yourselves. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who doesn’t mind that you act so coldly, of course you would. They did kill a lot of your followers back in the temple, and there was still Ebris’ rebellion. Bumps like these didn’t just go away overnight, or they suppose over two centuries, even they were aware of that. You’ll forgive them eventually, you always did. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who delights in all the small ways you’re slowly letting them back on your good side, they’re allowed to stand closer to you, allowed to hold your hand again, allowed to wrap their arms around you. Hell, one night you even allowed them to kiss your forehead, the same way you always told them you loved, because it sprouted a warmth within your stomach that spread throughout you. They wonder, as you close your eyes, what they make you feel now.

Yandere Destruction Deity who spends the next few decades puppeteering Vetnos’ body as their conflict with Aenar, dubbed by the mortals as the War of Storms, continues on. It is only when Aenar’s blade finally slices through Vetnos’ neck does it end, but they know the gods will still be too busy to find you, because they’re all too busy starting new wars. Seriously, what in Kases’ name was wrong with the newer generation of gods? 

Yandere Destruction Deity who is able to spend the rest of their days in peace with you; tending to your new gardens, watching the stars together, talking about any topic that comes to mind, sometimes even sparring if they’re feeling lenient. It felt all so idyllic, so domestic. In their younger days they sparked an entirely new rebellion just because they were getting bored, but now all they want is to continue living with you peacefully in the tower. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who isn’t pleased when they detect that the curse they’ve placed on that young priest of yours has been triggered, who could be the fool daring to search for you? 

Yandere Destruction Deity who can’t stifle the laugh that slips past their lips when they learn that it’s the God of Victory. When they learned of your relationship with him, they decided to learn more about this upstart. They wonder what you could ever find of value in this arrogant little bastard to ever tolerate him so much. They’re excited to see what their void will do to Faius’ already decaying mind. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who decides to pour more of their energy into Faius’ bracelet, just to ruin the boy further. You notice, and ask them why they’re looking so tired, and they laugh and tell you they’ve just been spending many nights sleepless thinking about you. Their flirtations are enough to dissuade you from asking more. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who is surprised when it only takes four months for Faius to arrive at the Ivory Isles, but perhaps they really shouldn’t. If Faius was anything like them, then this level of dedication was to be expected. Really, the things gods do for true love. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who persuades you to stay in your gardens, while they prepare for Faius to arrive at their tower. It’s been so long since their blade has tasted blood, they hope for your sake and theirs that their skills haven’t rusted too much. 

Qhetohr had seen the statues of Faius, of course they did. In war it was important to make offerings to the God of Victory, but they had only done the more human-looking forms instead of his divine one, which was the one that Faius had arrived in.  

What he did share with the statues however, was the way that his armor was depicted. He wore a cuirass made of Ofriedian metal, greaves from the same material, and carried with him his sword, a familiar dove carved onto its hilt that had topaz for eyes. 

His eyes were perhaps the most striking thing about him, the whites of his eyes were eclipsed by velvety black and really made the amber color of his iris pop. They hardened when they came to rest upon Qhetohr, who smiled as they waved at him. 

“Greetings, I take it you are Faius?” Qhetohr noticed the dark bracelet around his wrist, and smirked. They could end the battle right now, but where was the fun in that? Besides, this guy was the only one who bothered to search for you, so they had to give him some respect. 

He grunts, “You’re Qhetohr, aren’t you?” 

“Indeed I am,” Qhetohr beams, and then spreads their arms, “Welcome, to the Ivory Isles, God of Victory.” They chuckle, “Apologies, I couldn’t welcome you when you got on the island, I was preoccupied.”

“Save the pleasantries,” Faius takes a step closer to them, “Where is [Name]?” 

“Rather impatient, aren’t you?” They sigh, and go down the stairs, “You’re just like your mother, Gholyja. How is she anyway? Still as bloodthirsty as ever I take it-”

Before they can even finish their sentence, the tip of Faius’ sword presses into their neck, “You didn’t answer my question, Ávyssos,” He hisses, “Where. Is. [Name]?” 

Qhetohr raises one singular brow, and then takes a step back away from the sharp blade, “I see you’ve inherited your mother’s lust for violence,” Their eyes narrow, “Or perhaps that’s simply my own powers at work.” 

Faius’ brows furrow, “This,'' He raises the hand that has the bracelet on it, “Is your doing?” They can see how much it’s affecting him. What should be a flawless face, is weighted down by the dark circles around his eyes that have a wildness to them that they are willing to bet wasn’t there before.

Qhetohr gave him a sly grin as they nodded, “Mhm, who else could possibly be giving you such delicious thoughts if not for the deity of madness themself?” Thoughts similar to the ones that were running in Uren’s head must be going through Faius’ mind as well. 

Faius grits his teeth, “I’ll have you killed for this,” He promises, “And [Name] will not mourn your death.” 

Qhetohr wants to laugh at that, nobody knows you better than they do. Certainly not this foolish boy with too big a head, so who was he to assume you’d feel such a way? Besides, they only needed to show you the effects of what Faius has done in search of a way to you and then you’d be recoiling in disgust at the mere mention of his name.

Qhetohr summons their blade, crafted from the void, it crackles with dark energy, “I can say the same about you, God of Victory,” They say his title like a mockery and delight in how it causes him to tighten his grip further on his sword’s grip. 

Oh, how they’ll enjoy the sight of his ichor on their blade.

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

🖤Dark AU, Post Two, Same As It Never Was:

(Warning: This fic contains medical trauma and depictions of wounds and scarring, drugging and sedation, darker themes and implications, mentioned and implied death, and features darker platonic yandere content! You have been warned...)

• It was hard to believe they were back after all this time.

• The flight back home is abuzz with unspoken questions, careful touches checking for pulses, and the steady, hopeful feeling they haven't felt in years. They never thought they'd see their friends and kids again. Yet there they were, calling them in the dead of night from a payphone, then waiting for them to arrive, hidden away... And here they are now, passed out in their arms, their faces peaceful in a way they never thought appreciated in full in the past.

• Magneto holds Pietro, stroking back his hair and holding him close, Wanda checking his pulse and frowning deeply at the scar above his eye, at the dried specks of black and red flecked across his face. The speedster is unusually still, too deep under to stir as his father and sister watch over him. His legs show deep bruises, as though something had hit them, hard... Mystique murmurs to Kurt, rocking back and forth lightly in her seat as Rogue whispers small promises to him. The fuzzy blue teen is limp, not even his tail wiggling or wrapping around their wrists or legs for comfort. The discolored flesh of the scar across his throat is stark compared to his fur, and so too is the dark black-brown staining his shirt... Kitty is beside them, held by Scott, Logan sitting across from them, rubbing her back, and both trying not cry or stiffen when they see the hole in her blouse, nor when they feel the dark, sticky stain around it. Her head is tucked into the crook between Scott's neck and shoulder, his arms hugged tight around her like she might disappear. Logan's free hand is grasping her's, while curled into him is...

• Reader... Their face is too still, their shirt useless to hide or stop the bloody gash in their abdomen. There's dried blood in their hair and across the old worn lab coat pressed against them, dark reminders of what happened. Their arms are scarred, flecked in smears of brownish-red, the wound on their head is still damp, their breathing flutters lightly, as though they're still in pain, even in their sleep... Logan keeps his free arm wrapped around them, pulling them into his chest and stomach, keeping them where he can feel the beat of their heart and hear the rasps of their breathing...

• The tapes they'd all watched... Hours, days, weeks worth of footage, depicting what those scientists had done to their missing kids... Taking blood samples, scraping patches of skin off, collecting DNA and cells, taking bone marrow... not to mention all the extra ones done to Reader, or what seemed to be hours of torture, all meant to tear them down and leave them broken. The adults were barely able to watch the entirety of them, ending up having to watch them with one another just to make it through the upsetting footage. Scott had forced himself to watch the tapes, throwing up and crying when they went darker... Evan had tried, so had Jean, and Lance, even Laura... but in the end, all it left was a rotten pit in their stomachs, sending them searching for any of their friends or parents, wanting comfort, any form of it, to stave off the pain and agony and crushing weight of what they'd seen...

• But it would be better now. It is better now. Their friends, their kids, their siblings, are back with them, they're alive, and they won't be hurt ever again. The jet rumbles as it lands, the panels of the ceiling closing above it and sealing it safely into the mansion. The group is careful, maneuvering their wounded ones so they're held tightly, cradled to them as they exit the Blackbird, working their way into the halls and corridors of the mansion, into the medbay... They end up deciding to keep the kids to two larger room, with cots and medical beds ready and waiting as they're set down. Pietro is set up in the first room, his legs wrapped up carefully, an IV inserted into the crook of his arm, supplying much-needed liquids and medicine. His head is checked for any damage or concussion, the blood wiped up and the scar sanitized, any stitches needed added carefully, sealing shut the remains of the wound... In the same room is Kurt, attached to a monitor to alert the others if he teleports in his sleep. Bandages are wrapped around his throat, a coating of antibacterial cream underneath. Any leftover blood or dried ichor is wiped away, the fur and skin cleaned and smoothed down... Kitty is in the other room, a pillow propping her upper body up. Her wound is inspected, swabbed and sterilized and stitched closed, then bandages are wrapped around the area, a few gauze pads added to soak up any small droplets of blood. Her arms are inspected, a dose of sedative given to help with any pain... Reader resides in the room as well... Their head was checked, the wound cleaned and wrapped in gauze... Their arms were looked over, any scratches or gouges wiped with anti-inflammatory and antibacterial medicine, then wrapped up in thick bandages. The gash in their stomach was stitched up, a bit of blood given, and an IV was inserted, sending heavy drugs into their system to keep them asleep as they healed...

• They visited their children, their friends, their siblings. Magneto and Wanda hardly left him. Erik would sit there, keeping him silent company, occasionally holding his son's hand between his own. Wanda would tell her brother how much she missed him, that things were changed now, she'd even read her books to him, her voice emotional. Lance and Todd and Fred would visit, usually in the early mornings or during the afternoon, telling him to get better fast, like he always used to do, saying they had so many new schemes and powers to show off when was back... Charles would roll in, resting beside Erik, encouraging Pietro to recover soon and that he had been missed each day. He'd check his mind, smoothing away any nightmares or fear, leaving calm and warm, quiet fuzz... Evan and Storm would stop by, late at night, Evan recounting old basketball games they'd played together, or field trips they'd gone on, even embarrassing moments the two had gone through together... Mystique and Sabretooth came by, quiet, wishing him well, saying their nephew would need to recover soon so he'd see all he missed with being gone... Scott and Jean would sit by him, saying that his dad and the Professor were together, making them siblings in a way... even Logan and Rogue would wander in, telling him he would make it, he'd beat whatever had been done to him...

• Mystique and Rogue were beside Kurt, telling him they'd missed him and how proud they were of him, how once he was awake they'd have so much to catch him up on... Logan and Sabretooth would wander in, patting his head and saying he'd always made them laugh... Ororo and Evan and Todd and Wanda would come in, cracking jokes and hoping Kurt heard them in his sleep... Xavier and Hank would read to him, comedies and some of his favorite books from when he had been with them... Magneto would read to him in German, speaking words of care and comfort... Scott and Jean would ask him to wake up soon, to wait a little longer, that it would be worth it... Gambit would pat his hand, saying he and Rogue had taken care of each other while he was gone...

• Logan and Ororo and Scott and Jean and Rogue would take turns watching over Kitty, stroking her hair and telling her they loved her and had missed her greatly, holding her hand in theirs... Xavier and Wanda and Magneto would recount her achievements and best test scores, reminding her how she was so smart... Evan and Lance would visit in the morning and at night, saying she was always a fun friend and that it wasn't the same without her... Laura curled her fingers in her's, frowning but holding it together... Gambit and Piotr would wander in, offering to talk and keep her company when the others were checking on her friends... Hank would teasingly say they'd work on cooking classes when she was up to it, offering a few new books to help...

• And they all took turns with Reader... Xavier and Magneto tended to take afternoon visits, trying to invoke peaceful thoughts in them as they rested, assuring them they had been brave... Logan and Sabretooth took late nights, keeping them company and promising they were wanted... Ororo and Storm took early mornings, thanking them for protecting the others... Hank made sure they received their doses of drugs and sedatives, saying he was glad they'd made it back to them... Scott would visit at odd hours, saying he'd misses them... Jean and Rogue thanked them for keeping Kurt and Kitty safe for as long as they could... Evan came in after his aunt, greeting them and thanking them for looking out for all of their friends, saying they had to wake up... Lance and Todd and Fred tended to sneak in and tell Reader they were glad they made it, how they appreciated them doing everyone a solid... Wanda read to them, reminding them they couldn't leave them, not when they'd only gotten them back... Gambit and Pyro and Piotr would come in, jokingly saying who else woukd they tease if Reader wasn't around...

• The next few days were filled with worry, hope, fear, and joy, all one mixed concoction of battling emotions, everyone trying to believe this was real...

• And then Pietro woke up, and they were all focused, making sure he was alright, keeping the scared boy company, making sure he ate, and soon checking his thoughts and asking questions about what had happened...

• The same happened when Kurt, then Kitty, awoke, Mystique and Rogue and Logan and Scott and Jean and Evan and Ororo hugging them, making sure the medicine and needles were in place, smiling softly and saying it had be so long, that they'd missed them all so much, how they were safe now... They felt bad that all three were scared, shaking, confused, trying to make sense of what had happened and trying to figure out if they were real, and if they were, why they were older...

• "Dad... Wanda... please, just tell me... what happened?" Pietro didn't whine, and he didn't beg, but at this point, he was close to it. "Son, do not worry about it. Everything is taken care of..." "Pietro, you're safe, there's nothing to fear..." He still wasn't convinced... Something was off with their family...

• "Mother! Please, I am fine! But vhy von't you tell me vhat has changed?" Kurt didn't want to worry anymore, but when his mother and sister would dodge his questions, he knew they and the others were hiding something... "You're here, and until Hank says you are well, you are staying here, my son..." "Kurt, it will be okay. You'll be out soon!" He didn't think things were as okay as everyone said they were...

• "Logan... Can't you tell me anything? Please?" Kitty didn't know how to feel about the adults and the others being older and acting so strange, but it made her shiver... "Half-pint, there's nothing to say. Now please relax, I don't want ya straining yerself..." She didn't like this one bit...

• And finally, a day or two after the others, Reader began to wake up... Their head felt fuzzy, soft, and their vision wobbled for a minute... but then they were waking up, groaning at the stiffness in their joints...

• "Sweetheart... We're so glad you're back... Welcome back, little one..."

• Reader somehow knew something was wrong, and it seemed that their and their friends' troubles had only increased...

@sugar-soda @vivid-bun @danni1323 @weebwholovesuchihasasuke @crowwithguns @bloodytea @thewickedweiner @opossumdaydreamz @roxanndrummond @c0ld0utside @foundfamyanderes @ainsellshadewalker

[yandereunsolved]

Can I request some yandere Scott summers. There is hardly any yandere x-men content and I have been having withdrawals.

Yes, you are so right! That's the only reason I haven't written a lot of X-men content. I didn't think there was a want. Some yandere Scott Summers coming up—a drabble and probably some headcanons in the future.

જ⁀➴ ᯤ request fufilled here ᯤ ᯓᡣ𐭩